Chapter Thirteen #2
“I’d love to!” I said, because that was the right answer, the one that he wanted. “Have you ever seen videos of that architect who only builds bunny mansions?”
Jihoon’s eyes went wide. “No, but I need to. Right this minute.”
I grinned and started to dig through my purse for my phone. I’d thrown everything a bit haphazardly from my school bag into a somewhat nice-looking bag for the date, and my phone was currently swimming somewhere at the bottom.
A shadow fell over me. I looked up as someone wearing a hoodie drew to a stop in front of the table. I barely caught a glimpse of my own face before the Echo grabbed what remained of my ramen and dumped it into my purse.
“Are you serious?” I said, shooting to my feet as the hooded Echo ran off. Jihoon stood up too but luckily didn’t try to chase down the Echo, saving me from having to make up a story about an evil twin.
I frantically dumped my purse out on the table as the Echo disappeared.
I fished out my phone, which was already damp, the screen flickering dangerously.
I bundled it in napkins, praying it somehow recovered.
My wallet was slowly soaking up pork broth, which was rapidly spilling across the floor.
I swore and tried to wipe it up with napkins as an employee appeared with a mop.
“Are you … okay…” Jihoon trailed off, clearly dumbfounded.
“It’s fine,” I said. “At least I ate most of it first.”
To my surprise, Jihoon laughed. He grabbed a few more napkins and leaned over to help me clean off the table.
“What’s so funny?” I said, still mummifying my phone in napkins.
Jihoon shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, still giggling. “Everything is funny with you. You make things interesting.”
I let out an incredulous laugh. That’s a generous way to put it, I thought.
Jihoon kept laughing—he truly had a ridiculous laugh, which sounded like squeaky windshield wipers—and soon I was laughing too.
Why not? My bag was full of pork broth and noodles and I had to stop the apocalypse. My whole life was absurd.
Miraculously, my phone seemed to have survived the ordeal, though I couldn’t say the same for my bag.
Jihoon paid while I stuffed my bag with napkins and we headed outside.
The sun had set and Hongdae glowed with neon street signs.
A crowd was gathered around a group doing some K-pop dance, and I pressed closer to Jihoon so we could squeeze through.
He put a hand on my waist to guide me, and at last we emerged on the other side.
It was slightly quieter here, the K-pop music a distant soundtrack to the night.
“Mina,” Jihoon said airily. Something about his tone sounded so gentle, so earnest, that I turned around at once.
He had such big brown eyes, which looked even bigger behind his glasses.
He reached into his pocket and held something out to me.
In the darkness, I couldn’t figure out what it was at first. But then my breath caught in my throat when I realized.
The bracelet he’d picked for me.
“You fished this out of the stream?” I said.
“Of course,” he said. “I got it for you. If you still want it, I mean.”
He looked away, his cheeks pink. I took the bracelet from his hand and slipped it onto my wrist, the cool beads tight against my racing pulse.
“Thank you,” I said. “Seriously, Jihoon, thank you. This was nice.”
Jihoon’s whole face was pink now. I took a step forward, but my foot slipped off the curb.
Jihoon caught me by the waist and steadied me before I could fall on top of a storm drain.
He didn’t move his hand from my back as I straightened up.
We were so close now, and all I could think was that he could definitely smell all the ramen on my breath.
“Jihoon,” I whispered, not sure why I said his name. It was hard to think with him so close. I’m so sorry, I thought. I wish I could be the person you want, the person you deserve.
I stayed perfectly still—it didn’t count if I kissed him—and dropped my gaze to his lips.
This time, he took the hint.
Jihoon leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.
It was such a soft, gentle kiss that lasted only a moment, like a flower petal brushing against my cheek as it fluttered into the sky.
I did it, I thought, my whole body alight as I tallied the points in my mind. I would get to stay in Seoul, where I would find my sister. Yejun and I would fix the timeline and get rid of Hong Gildong and all his corruption.
Then Jihoon pulled back with a smile, bumping his nose against mine, and let out a nervous laugh. He hugged me, tucking my face over his shoulder, and as I felt how fast his heart was beating, any trace of happiness melted out of me.
The fate of the world was supposed to matter so much more than one boy, but it was hard to feel like anything but a monster when Jihoon was so sincerely happy.
He’d become yet another pawn in the great chess game of the descendants—his feelings, his life, his future were all expendable. Just like Hana.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I seized the excuse to pull away and start unbundling the napkins. Jihoon waited awkwardly as I wiped down my phone and a text from Hyebin appeared across the flickering screen, demanding that I report in.
It was a strange request. I never had shifts with her this late, and my quarterly report wasn’t due for a few days, so I was pretty sure I hadn’t missed any deadlines. I texted her back asking what she needed me for, but of course she left me on read.
“That’s my boss,” I said, pocketing my phone. “I have to go.”
“Okay,” Jihoon said, reaching for my hand.
I let him hold it, even though I felt like a corpse he was now puppeting around as he maneuvered me to the subway.
He walked me back to the train station and stood close to me in the packed train car, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
We reached the mouth of the station, where he kissed me again before saying goodbye.
I hoped he hadn’t noticed how I hadn’t kissed him back.
I turned and walked alone through the darkness, toward the heart of the dragons’ lair.