Chapter Eighteen #2
When I didn’t answer, he started digging through his backpack. “I didn’t grab a tray before I left,” he said. “Maybe I should buy some bingsu, then we can eat it and use the bowl for scrying? We’ll think of a better plan.”
“We?” I echoed, clenching my fists. Tears burned my eyes, but this time I couldn’t stop them. “Why are you still pretending?” I whispered.
Yejun raised an eyebrow. “Pretending?”
“I told you I’m not going to kill Min Sungho,” I said. “Why aren’t you dragging me to HQ like you’re supposed to?”
He froze. “Why would I…” But he trailed off as he read my expression.
Maybe it was the hate in my eyes, or maybe my words had finally sunk in, or maybe it was just because I’d been foolish enough to let him into my soul and he could see exactly what I was thinking.
Understanding dawned on his face, and he dropped his gaze to the table as if ashamed. “Mina,” he said unsteadily, “I—”
“Don’t,” I said, taking a shuddering breath to stop myself from crying more. “Please stop lying to me.”
Yejun’s shoulders drooped. He looked so pathetic and sad, but that only made the rage burn brighter inside me.
“I know you were just doing your job,” I said, talking louder to fight back the tears.
“I know that’s what all the descendants are doing.
But that doesn’t make it right, and that’s not a good enough excuse for me anymore.
I trusted you because I thought you knew that. ”
“Mina,” Yejun said sadly, reaching out as if to take my hand.
I yanked it away before he could touch me.
“And the worst part of all? You used my sister to sell me on your lie. I never would have used your mom against you, Yejun. And maybe that’s why you’re a good descendant and I’m not.
I know I never would have been like you or Hyebin.
But I don’t think I deserved all this just for being so”—I unclenched my fists, looking at my pale palms scarred from nail marks—“human,” I finished quietly.
“Mina, I’m so sorry,” Yejun said. He sounded sincere enough, but his words meant nothing to me now. They wouldn’t change what he’d done. “I didn’t want to lie to you. But I wouldn’t have hurt you or turned you in. Please believe me.”
I scoffed. “Why would I believe you?” I said. “You lied to me about everything! Were we even going to save the Sewol ferry? You just used all those deaths to add some drama to your story? To make you seem like a good person?”
He shook his head quickly. “I petitioned Hong Gildong to really let me save the ferry,” Yejun said.
“I scripted a thousand scenarios telling him how we could pull it off without actually breaking the timeline, but he wouldn’t even read my proposal.
He kept talking about the ‘integrity of the timeline.’ I’ve been trying to find a way out of this, Mina, just like you. I swear.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
Yejun sighed and raked his fingers through his wet hair, rustling his blue raincoat …
which looked strangely familiar. It was the same bright blue as the raincoat that Yejun’s Echo had worn when he stole Yejun’s laptop and poured water on his head.
Sure enough, there was Yejun’s black school bag on the seat beside him.
“You got your bag back?” I said, frowning.
Yejun followed my gaze to his school bag. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Losing my laptop gave me an excuse to turn my mid-quarter report in late, so I had to make sure it happened. I was afraid Hong Gildong would make me test you even sooner.”
“So you mugged yourself?” I said.
He shrugged. “I mean, gently, yeah.”
I shook my head. My mind felt like it was full of sand flies. “And dumped water on yourself? How did that help anything?”
“It didn’t,” Yejun said with a grimace. “I was just mad at myself and thought I deserved it, like in those K-dramas when the woman does it to the man, but I knew you were too nice to do it to me. I swear I didn’t want to turn you in, Mina. I wanted it to be different this time.”
“I already told you, I don’t…” I paused as the rest of his words sank in. “What do you mean, this time?”
Yejun leaned back against the booth, crossing his arms. “There is not a single timeline where I could hand you over to Hong Gildong,” he said. “Do you have any idea how inconvenient that is for me?”
I tried to conjure a response, but no matter how many times I played back Yejun’s last sentence, it didn’t make any sense. This felt more like a fever dream than an actual conversation. “What are you talking about?” I said at last.
Yejun sighed, glaring down at the table.
“The first time this happened, I really thought I could do it,” he said.
“I’ve always been the top of my class, and I was first in line for a promotion.
All I had to do was get rid of you, and I would be the next Jang Hyebin.
But do you know what I did instead?” He let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head.
“I shot the supervising agent at the rally.”
Yejun waited for my reaction, but I was still caught on the whole “first time this happened” bit that he glossed over. He already failed this mission once, and he got to try again?
“The descendants sanctioned a redo for you?” I asked.
Yejun scoffed. “Of course not. They threw me in a cell while they decided whether to erase me or just wipe my brain. I had to choke a guard through the bars to take his keys and get my yeouiju back. I barely made it before the refresh, but I managed to send an Echo back with a note for the shoe rack. I nearly put it in the wrong shoe, too. I’m honestly kind of shocked that I’m still alive. ”
He raked a hand through his hair, jaw clenched, all his muscles tense.
“The second time, I spent as little time with you as possible. I tried to be just rude enough to you that you wouldn’t open up to me, but nice enough that you would still work with me.
But then we ran into my mom, and you defended me when she started insulting me in public, and of course I couldn’t kill you after that.
At least Hyebin spilled some coffee in my cell that time so I didn’t have to nearly bite my own tongue off to make a scrying pool and figure out another plan. ”
He leaned across the table, his eyes swirling with gold, so bright that they reflected my own face back at me in shifting shades of sunlight.
“I’ve tried so many times to make myself hate you,” he said, “or at least not care about you so I could do this mission. But I don’t think the timeline is as malleable as the descendants would like to believe.
I think there are some things that even dragon gods can’t change. ”
“What do you mean?” I whispered. He was so close to me, his words warm on my face.
“I don’t know if there really is a Timeline Alpha or not,” Yejun said, “and I don’t know if it’s too late to fix it this time around. All I know is that no matter how many times this plays out, I’ll choose you every time.”
I looked away as his perfect promise hovered in the air between us, the words he surely knew I wanted to hear. Every part of me wanted to forgive him, to let go of that bitter sting of betrayal and let our souls braid together.
But I couldn’t just forget how I’d felt when I read his report.
I’d come so close to feeling like a true descendant when I was with him, someone powerful and smart and capable.
But I was only ever another casualty to the timeline.
I was the Seongsu Bridge that Hyebin had destroyed, and the sinking ferry that we never could have saved, and the scorched, ruined world I’d imagined beyond Hong Gildong’s office windows.
I’d managed to shove the sorrow down, smother it under my plans to go rogue and get revenge and find my sister. But only because I knew if I dared to stopped running, I would find out exactly how deep Yejun had cut.
And what if this was just another test? What if he turned around and wrote on his next report that I was stupid enough to fall for his lies not once but twice? He’d promised not to lie to me, and yet he’d lied to me every moment since I’d met him.
I leaned back, watching his eyes go dim. “It’s too late, Yejun,” I said.
His expression crumpled, but he nodded as if he expected this, then pulled a notebook out of his bag and set it on the table. “Luckily, it’s never too late for a time traveler,” he said, pulling a pen out of another pocket and starting to scrawl something on the blank page.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“Writing myself another letter for the shoe rack at the restaurant,” he said, not looking up from the page. “So when I go back and try again, I’ll remember.”
“What do you mean, ‘try again’?” I said, reeling. “I told you—”
“Hang on,” he said, still writing. I caught a glimpse of my own name in the book and leaned closer, but he angled away from me.
“You can’t just try again!” I said, reaching for the notebook. “You don’t get to just go back and erase your mistakes!”
Yejun tried to tug the notebook out of my reach, but I grabbed the corner and snatched it from him. I started to tear out the note he’d just written, intending to crumple it up and throw it away, but hesitated when I read the first line.
Dear Yejun,
You’ve managed to mess this up once again, despite our best efforts, so here’s all you need to know this time around: Soon, you’re going to fall for a girl named Mina. When you touch her magic, you’ll feel safe. And when you touch her, you’ll feel like you’re home.
Just do it again, and do it right this time. If she doesn’t forgive you in this timeline, try again. Fall for her in a thousand lives if you have to. Don’t ever give up until you get it right.
Sincerely,
A less-successful Yejun
P.S. She loves cheesecake.
Slowly, I looked up and met Yejun’s gaze. His eyes were no longer gold with dragon fire or blue with time magic but a warm, human shade of brown.
I knew, in that moment, that he was sincere.