Chapter Eighteen
The next morning, I finished my red velvet cheesecake and wiped my mouth, reapplied my lip balm, then took out my phone and dropped Yejun a pin with my location, followed by a panicked text.
THERE’S A PARADOX HERE.
I pushed my plate away and leaned back in the booth.
My phone lit up with texts, but I ignored them all and examined my new locks of white hair in my phone camera.
It had taken a metric ton of bleach to make it look like the timeline had stripped part of my hair of color, and it still looked a bit too yellow, but I figured it looked convincing enough for Yejun.
It wasn’t like he was a hairdresser who would know the difference.
My parents had left for their flight before sunrise, leaving me full reign of the house to destroy the bathroom with bleach.
I’d even bleached half an old shirt for good measure, which I was currently wearing.
It was a pretty basic scenario setup—I wasn’t Yejun, after all—but I was good at lying, and that was how I would sell it.
I silenced my phone, because it was still lighting up with texts from my dad, updating me on every nanosecond of their travel.
Just arrived at the airport! Got through security—mom almost lost a shoe. Waiting at the gate eating a sandwich—not very good.
My phone started vibrating, but I ignored that as well, wondering if I had time to get another piece of cheesecake before Yejun showed up. It was tempting, but the last thing I wanted was for him to arrive and see me calmly eating cheesecake.
I’d come to a café in Hapjeong early that morning and tucked myself into a back booth, shielded from view by a huge model train—the café had some sort of steampunk theme, with giant gears and dissected clocks sparkling on every wall.
I’d chosen this location partially because all the chaos would make time travel easier, and partially because it was famous for its huge selection of cheesecakes.
A long display case stretched across the room, filled with an array of cheesecake flavors—chocolate, red velvet, raspberry, coconut, peanut butter.
I told myself that this was a strategic choice because most Koreans didn’t want cheesecake for breakfast, which made the café less crowded this early in the morning, but mostly I’d just wanted to sample the different flavors.
I scrolled on my phone for another fifteen minutes, then scattered my silverware across the table, messed up my hair a bit, and tried to work myself up to near tears, which was hard to do when my dad kept bombarding me with ridiculous texts.
Airplane food is OK. Was hoping no one would sit near us. Should I trust airplane sushi? Is it legal to paint nails on plane? Mom wants to know. Should we eat BBQ or ramen when we land?
I started to type up a response, when Yejun rushed through the door, his hair wet and sticking up, a bright blue raincoat flapping behind him, gaze darting around frantically. He locked eyes with me and hurried across the café.
I jumped up and rushed into his arms, letting him sweep me into a hug. It was almost physically painful the way his magic hummed through my bones, warming me as I pressed against him. Now that I knew all of this was a lie, each beautiful moment felt so sharp.
But I was good at infiltration missions, at pretending not to feel. It was the only reason I’d made it this far.
“Are you okay?” Yejun said, pulling back and examining my white locks of hair, my bleached shirt. He reached for my arm on the bleached side and held it up to the light as if checking for marks.
“I’m okay,” I said, sniffling. “It only got a small part of the café and went away pretty fast. But I’ve never been alone when a paradox came before, and I almost fell into it, and I…” I turned away, letting my hair fall over my face as if to hide my tears.
Yejun cupped my cheek and angled my face toward him, his eyes so wide and concerned that the next tears that tracked down my cheek weren’t a lie. Stop pretending, I thought. I can’t bear it.
“Did you tell Hyebin?” he said, wiping my tears away gently with his thumb.
I shook my head, leaning into his hand. “I didn’t want to talk to Hyebin,” I said. “I wanted to talk to you.”
The words felt so foolish now that I knew the truth, but it was what he wanted to hear. His touch scalded me as he wiped more tears away, a cruel reminder of what could never be real.
Yejun smiled sadly, then tucked my head against his shirt and petted my hair. “I’m here,” he said, the warm words vibrating through his chest. “What can I do?”
I took a steadying breath, tugging at my sleeves while I pretended to contemplate the answer. “Can you take me somewhere else?” I said at last. “I don’t want to be here right now.”
He nodded quickly. “Anywhere,” he said, holding my face so delicately in his hands. “Where do you want to go?”
I glanced forlornly out the window at the gray sky.
“How about that day when it was sunny last week?” Yejun said quickly, just as I’d planned.
I pretended to contemplate it for a moment, then nodded and grabbed a napkin to wipe my face.
“Okay, stay right here,” Yejun said. “I’m gonna go clog a sink and scry for a sec. Don’t go anywhere!”
He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, then dashed off toward the bathrooms.
The moment he was out of sight, my shoulders drooped. I could still feel the warmth of his chest against my face, the sound of his heartbeat against my cheek.
Remember why you’re here, I thought, clenching my teeth and slumping over in the booth. Focus, Mina. You’re supposed to be scared. Think of scary things. Spiders. Clowns. Global warming.
Yejun hurried back a few moments later. “Okay, got it,” he said. “October eighth.”
He glanced around to check for humans or cameras, then held out his hand.
I hesitated, memorizing the pattern of his veins, the shape of his nails, the sight of his slender fingers that I had seen dance across scrying pools, changing the world like it meant nothing at all. This would be the last time I held Kim Yejun’s hand.
I took his hand and his magic sang through me. He would be able to taste my sadness, but he would think it was because I was scared after a paradox, not because I was about to say goodbye.
As we landed in the past, I squinted at the harsh morning sunlight through the windows, the unfairly beautiful sky.
“Better?” Yejun said, turning to me.
“Yes,” I said, smiling stiffly. I leaned forward to hug him but this time didn’t press my face to his chest. I locked my eyes with him, so close to his face, my hands clutching his jacket. “Thank you, Yejun,” I whispered. “You’re always here for me. You’re the only one who is.”
It was almost easy now. I had waded so deep into the lie that I felt like I was telling the story of someone else’s life, a dream that would never be mine.
“I’ll always be here for you,” he lied, tucking my hair behind my ear.
I leaned closer, so close I could almost taste his next words on his lips, the sound of my name …
I slipped my hand into his pocket and closed my fingers around his yeouiju.
I turned away right as he leaned forward, pocketing his yeouiju before he could see the blue light between my fingers.
“I have a new plan,” I said, sitting back down in the booth.
Yejun blinked quickly, startled by the sudden change in mood, but nodded and slid into the booth opposite me.
“I’m not going to do the mission,” I said.
Yejun stared at me blankly. “Okay,” he said. “So what are you going to do instead?”
“I’m going to go rogue,” I said. “Like Hana. She has the gene, so I must have it too.”
Yejun frowned. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t have a choice,” I said. “I’ve decided, so I need to do it now before the hour resets.
This is the last time you’ll see me, at least for a while.
I’m sure Hong Gildong will be looking for me, so I should keep my distance to make sure you don’t get caught.
In fact, it’s probably safer if I don’t even tell you where I’m going. ”
Yejun had gone very still in the booth, as if afraid to move a muscle. “Mina,” he said, “I think—”
“I’ve already decided,” I said, because apparently I needed to make this clear. “Fuck Hong Gildong and his plans. I’m never going to do what he says. Unless they find me in the next”—I glanced at my watch—“fifty-one minutes, they’ll never find me again.”
Yejun dropped his gaze to the table, clenching his jaw.
Now he would have no choice but to apprehend me. Except, when he reached for his yeouiju, he would realize it was gone. I’d stranded him in the past with no powers. Neither of us would show up to my mission, Min Sungho would live, and there would be no war.
I waited for the moment he tried to take me, braced to jump and run. I couldn’t wait to see the look on his face when he realized I’d tricked him.
But Yejun only sighed. “First of all,” he said, “there are tests for the rogue gene. You should get tested before just throwing yourself into a timeline refresh.”
I frowned. “Are you … trying to talk me out of it?”
He shook his head. “No, you should definitely go rogue,” he said, “but in a way that doesn’t leave you dead.
Your plan has too many holes. For one thing, going rogue doesn’t suddenly make you invisible.
Hong Gildong will probably be keeping close tabs on you until the mission is over.
You need to find a way to shake him before just running off, or else—assuming you actually survive the timeline refresh—a thousand alarms would go off in headquarters once they register that you’re not on your origin timeline anymore. ”
I shook my head. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. I had deviated from my instructions, and this was his last chance to apprehend me. He should have been dragging me back to headquarters, but for some reason, he was helping me.