Chapter Thirteen
My mom seemed blissfully unaware of the parade in my skull as she slammed the cabinets open and shut, rattled silverware in its drawer, and shuffled metal pots and pans around.
I should have been grateful someone else was home at all, because I couldn’t have peeled myself from the couch if I’d wanted to—the overhead light was too painful. My mom plonked a cup of tea on the coffee table and sat down at my feet, rubbing a hand up and down my legs.
“Drink that when it’s cool,” she said. “It will help your headache.”
I groaned. “Is it some Japanese drug again?” Once, my mom had sent me to some herbalist for insomnia who’d prescribed me a tea that knocked me out cold for fourteen hours.
“No,” my mom said. “It has a shot of bourbon.”
I cracked an eye open. “Seriously?”
“You’re legally allowed to drink now, and it works on timesickness!” she said, putting her hands up defensively.
“I don’t think this is timesickness,” I said. “I don’t have any open loops. Hyebin already checked for me.”
In fact, she’d checked again today when I’d called out sick because of my headache.
My mom frowned and jabbed a finger behind my right ear. Pain flared where she’d touched, making me wince.
“It’s classic timesickness,” she said, leaning back and crossing her arms.
At first I thought it was a trick of light, but my gaze focused on her pinky finger, which was a different color from her other fingers. It looked oddly gray, blue veins visible beneath the surface, the skin wrinkled and nail yellowed.
“What happened to your finger?” I said.
My mom froze, recrossing her arms so I couldn’t see. “What finger?” she said.
“You know what finger.”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” she said, standing up and pretending to rearrange the cereal boxes, her back turned to me. “I got caught in a timeline fluctuation. It doesn’t hurt, it’s just a bit … aged. Like your new hairdo.”
I sat up, wincing as the blood rushed from my head. “Can you fix it? What did your boss say?”
“My pinky is hardly a priority when the whole timeline is falling apart,” my mom said.
Hyebin had told me that the timeline was not, in fact, falling apart, but she’d been known to lie. The good news was that she hadn’t burst into my apartment to arrest me for timeline interference, which meant that Yejun was probably right about it not being our fault.
“Did you even ask?” I said.
“Mina, it’s fine,” my mom said. “I trust the descendants to figure it out, don’t you?”
I took a sip of tea rather than answer, which seemed to satisfy my mom, who tucked my white hair behind my ear and headed back into the kitchen. I coughed as the bourbon burned down my throat, but I could already feel my headache releasing its claws from my skull.
As the fog cleared from my vision, it occurred to me that my mom hadn’t even asked about my being caught in a timeline fluctuation.
She clearly assumed that a paradox was the cause of my white hair, but there was no Oh my gosh, Mina, are you okay?
or Did you see the medics? or things that I knew moms were supposed to say when their only children were nearly devoured by the timeline.
Last night, my dad had raised an eyebrow at me while I made myself a cup of coffee at midnight and said “cool hairdo” before kicking his boots off and heading to bed.
Did they really trust the descendants that much?
I drained the rest of the teacup and set it down heavily on the coffee table.
They’re just busy with work, I thought. I don’t need them fawning over me.
Soon enough, they would understand. I was going to bring Hana back with me, and they would finally see exactly how much they’d lost.
The bourbon was already going to my head, so of course it seemed like the perfect time to try to dye my hair before I saw Hyebin again.
The moment she saw three new stripes of silver in my hair, she’d know I’d gotten caught in another paradox and hadn’t told her.
I couldn’t exactly explain that I’d been traveling on an unauthorized sushi date with Yejun.
I fumbled with the box of black hair dye I’d grabbed from Emart and realized belatedly that I’d forgotten latex gloves. I shrugged and started the process of dyeing both my hair and half my bathroom black as my phone lit up with a text.
I hurried to wash the dye off my hands and seized my phone from the edge of the bathtub.
Yejun hadn’t responded to my texts or shown up at school since running off yesterday.
I hoped that meant he was hiding and being extra careful, not that he’d been caught because he used too much of his own magic to save me.
The only thing keeping the panic at bay was the fact that I was still very much here and not being dragged off by a neutralization team, which meant no one had found out what Yejun and I had done.
When I tapped my phone screen and it lit up with a text from Jihoon, I sighed before I could help it, then immediately felt guilty for being disappointed.
From: Kim Jihoon
On my way!
I frowned in confusion for a moment before gasping and dropping my phone to the floor.
I’m supposed to have dinner with Jihoon tonight!
I turned on the shower and frantically washed my hair even though I hadn’t dyed all the silver strands yet, already mentally preparing my outfit and the half dozen excuses I could use that wouldn’t make Jihoon hate me for being so late.
I pictured him waiting at the restaurant with that same sad look on his face as when I’d run away at the river.
But then, like always, my thoughts shifted from Jihoon straight to Yejun.
I imagined that Yejun was the one waiting for me at a restaurant, not just for work but because he liked me as much as Jihoon did.
Yejun pulling out my chair for me, Yejun holding my hand as we left the restaurant, Yejun putting his hand on my waist and …
I turned the water all the way to cold to force myself out of the shower, or else I was going to be even later than I already was.
It occurred to me that I could always cancel on Jihoon. He would be sad, but probably a lot less sad than if I kissed him and then dumped him after. The idea of kissing anyone but Yejun felt wrong …
But why should it? It wasn’t as if Yejun had staked his claim on my mouth, much less my heart. Why should I give up my mission—and any hope of finding my sister—for Yejun, who had no problem seeing other girls?
Jihoon deserved better than me, but if I had to choose between him and Hana, I would choose Hana every time.
I seared my mouth with mouthwash until I couldn’t taste bourbon anymore, scorched my hair with a blow dryer, then hurried out to catch the train, still feeling as if the world was slightly off-kilter, thanks to the bourbon.
I put on some mascara and lip gloss on the train using my phone camera, then sprinted up the subway stairs at top speed. Somehow, against all odds, I made it to the date only twenty minutes late.
Jihoon stood waiting outside a ramen restaurant in Hongdae, backlit by white paper lanterns with tiny red cat faces painted on them. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt and holding a single pink rose in one hand. He brightened when he saw me, as if he wasn’t actually sure that I would come.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I said, jogging up to him. “I got caught up with work.”
“It’s no problem,” he said. “I’m just glad you came.”
“Of course I came!” I said, smiling. He flinched a bit, and I got the impression I was talking too loudly, that my smile was too tight across my face. My mom had truly picked the worst night to slip me a shot of bourbon. “I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
Jihoon smiled back, but it was thin, like he could smell the lie. “Really?” he said. “I feel like I get mixed signals from you sometimes.”
Yes, because Yejun keeps trying to sabotage everything, I thought, hoping my smile hid my sudden urge to commit murder.
“That’s strange,” I said. I turned and gestured toward the rose. “Is that for me?”
Jihoon nodded quickly and held it out to me.
“I picked out the prettiest one I could find, but it’s still not as pretty as you,” he said quietly, his voice shaking like he’d rehearsed the line before coming here.
Something about his sincerity made me suddenly feel rotten inside. This meant something to him.
“Thank you,” I said quietly, taking the rose. He’d even broken off the thorns. I slid my hand into his. “Come on, I’m hungry.”
Like always, he grinned and followed me without question.
I truly, sincerely, did my best to listen to Jihoon tell me about his summer vacation to Japan.
He knew a lot about Kyoto and asked me if I knew anything about the different palaces he’d visited, so sweetly careful not to act like an expert when he knew I was Japanese.
But my mind kept wandering back to the wave of white devouring the bathroom, the way that Yejun had ripped me away from its teeth.
I couldn’t talk to Jihoon about the most important part of my life without putting him in danger.
I had to smile in front of him and pretend to be a normal high school girl even when I felt like I was clinging to the back of a moving train.
All his problems felt so minor compared to the world I was trying to hold together.
I pinched my leg under the table to ground myself in the present. I was here to finish my mission so I could stay in Seoul and save Hana. I could do it for her.
I was doing my best to nod emphatically as Jihoon talked but realized I must have missed something when he stopped and stared at me.
Quickly, I wiped my mouth on a napkin. “Sorry, did you ask me something?” I said. “I just … this ramen is so good, I kind of forgot what planet I was on for a second.”
Jihoon laughed. “I’m happy you like it,” he said. “I just asked if you wanted to go to the bunny café with me next week?”
Next week? Yep, I just need to go save the Sewol ferry from sinking a couple decades ago, then I can go pet some bunnies.