Chapter Twenty
Humans brushed past me as I walked down the stream, but I hardly felt them. I was barely even aware of my legs propelling me forward. Passing cars were shapeless blurs of headlights, the sky a dark veil overhead.
Hana’s note—my note—was crumpled into a tight ball in my hand. I wanted to hurl it over the bridge into the stream but couldn’t seem to unclench my fist. I dropped onto a bench, not sure if I would ever be able to stand up again.
I was supposed to meet Yejun back in the present, in the alley where he’d given me his yeouiju, but I’d returned an hour early because I didn’t know what to say to him.
I couldn’t bear the idea of returning alone, of seeing the pity in Yejun’s eyes.
So now I was sitting here alone in the dark, wasting precious time.
But what did all the time in the world matter anymore if I didn’t know what to do with it?
Ever since I’d come to Seoul, I’d looked to Hana’s promise like a North Star, the only thing I could turn to when the world was dark.
I’d clung to the idea that there was someone out there whose love for me couldn’t be erased, someone who would bend the rules of time and fate to protect me. The note was my proof of that love.
But now, I knew nothing about my sister at all. Not even if she loved me.
“Hana,” I whispered to the stars, as if she could hear me somewhere out there. “What am I supposed to do without you?”
“Mina?”
A shadow was approaching me from under the footbridge. I half expected it to be Yejun, popping up unexpectedly like he always did. But a bike rolled out of the shadows, and there was Jihoon, unclipping his helmet.
“Are you crying?” he said, his eyes so wide and worried. He was probably coming home from his night classes right about now.
I shook my head and tried to wipe my eyes on my sleeve, but it was pointless to deny what he could so clearly see.
He sat down beside me, then dug through his bag for tissues. I blinked up at the moon, trying to stop my tears as Jihoon set a gentle hand on my back.
“I’m sorry,” I said, wiping my nose. “I’m being gross. I didn’t mean to—”
“Don’t apologize,” Jihoon said, shaking his head quickly. “Seriously, I cried over my breakfast this morning. It’s fine, Mina.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Why did you cry over your breakfast?”
“Oh, uh…” Jihoon looked away, blushing. “My mom made me eggs and rice, but I dropped them. In hindsight, that’s not a very good reason to cry, but in my defense, it was 6 A.M. and I was very tired.”
“That is absolutely worth crying over,” I said, wiping my eyes. “I once cried because I had a doughnut so good it changed my life.”
Jihoon laughed. “I hope that’s why you’re crying now. And that you have more doughnuts to share.”
“I wish,” I said, slumping back against the bench.
Jihoon said nothing, but his unasked question lingered in the air. I’d lied enough to Jihoon, and I couldn’t quite conjure up a good excuse when my brain felt like mashed potatoes.
“My sister is gone,” I said. “I don’t know where she is, or if I’ll ever see her again.
For so long, everything I did had meaning because it was all for her.
But now I don’t know what the point of anything is anymore because nothing will bring me closer to her.
I gave so much to find her and now she’s… ”
I trailed off, looking away from Jihoon. I’d used him to find her, and now it was all for nothing. She was never even here.
“I’m so sorry, Mina,” Jihoon said. He balled up a tissue and wiped my face, even though tears were still falling. I wanted him to give me a solution like Yejun had, to tell me I could bring her back if I was smart and strong enough, that there was still a way, that she wasn’t gone.
But Jihoon didn’t live in a world like that. The most he could do was wipe my tears and pat my hair, and something about giving in to that pathetic, human helplessness felt like a relief.
“Are you in a solutions mindset?” Jihoon said quietly. “Or would you rather just get some ice cream?”
I laughed, wiping my eyes. “Ice cream can be a solution,” I said. “Maybe not now, but it can solve more problems than you’d think.”
“I have never once underestimated ice cream,” Jihoon said. “Or you, Mina.”
I looked up.
“Your sister is lucky to have someone like you, who cares about her so much,” Jihoon said. “Someone so smart and devoted. If anyone can find her, it’s you.”
I sighed. “I’m not smart,” I said.
Jihoon frowned. “Of course you are.”
I shook my head. “You have no idea.”
“Oh?” Jihoon said. “Is that why you asked Yejun to tutor you in calculus instead of me?”
I grimaced. “Uh, I mean—”
“It’s because you didn’t want me to think you weren’t smart, right?”
My shoulders drooped. “Yeah, basically.”
“But I never would have thought that, Mina,” he said, setting his hand on mine.
“You work so hard at everything. Nothing ever stops you, no matter how difficult. You moved here in the middle of the school year and caught up so quickly. You were kind to me even when I spilled orange juice on you when we first met. Did you know that last year, before I grew six inches and got my braces off, no girls would even talk to me? I still feel like that person sometimes, but not around you. That’s why I like you, Mina.
Not because of your calculus scores.” He swallowed, dropping his gaze to his shoes.
“And, I mean, you’re also really pretty, so that’s part of it too. ”
I leaned forward and hugged Jihoon. As always, he was kinder than anyone deserved.
I never should have dragged him into this. It had been so easy to say it was my mission, that I had no choice because I was a descendant and this was what descendants did. But I’d known all along that descendants could be cruel and unfair. I’d tried to make myself one of them so I could find Hana.
But I would never be a true descendant, and I didn’t have to play by their rules anymore.
“Jihoon, I’m so sorry,” I said, pulling away. “I think we should just be friends.”
Jihoon froze. “Oh,” he said quietly, drawing his hand away from my back.
“You’re going to have a good life without me,” I said.
“You’re going to be an accountant, which is kind of boring, but you’ll like it anyway.
You’re going to meet someone in grad school who you really love.
You’re going to get this cute little dog together and dress her up in sweaters in the winter.
You’ll have two kids, and you’ll live to be ninety-four, and when you die, everyone will talk about how kind you were, even to people who didn’t deserve it, like me. ”
Jihoon blinked at me with his big, adorable eyes, and I realized how strange this must have sounded to someone who wasn’t a descendant and hadn’t read the file of his life according to the current timeline.
“I mean, that’s what I want for you,” I said quickly. “That’s the story I imagine for you.”
He let out a laugh, shaking his head. “You’re strange, Mina,” he said, giving my hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away and sliding a few inches away from me. The distance that friends sat, not boyfriend and girlfriend.
“I’ve been called worse,” I said, shrugging.
Jihoon nodded like he didn’t really hear me, staring at a family of ducks bobbing down the stream. After a moment, he let out a sigh and his gaze dropped to his lap. “It’s because of Yejun, isn’t it?” he said.
I grimaced. “Yes,” I said.
Jihoon nodded, like he’d expected it. “I hope he’s good to you, Mina.”
I turned my gaze to the sky that for once wasn’t covered in smog, the stars so stark and perfect against the velvet night.
There, mockingly bright, was Horologium, Hong Gildong’s favorite constellation.
Maybe I would always see it etched into the sky, as if he was watching over me, hunting me down no matter where I went.
My mind traced the empty space between the stars, filling out the pendulum, the six prickly stars curved into an L. Almost like a scar …
Or a signature.
I sat up straight. “I have to go,” I said.
I had to find Yejun and get to headquarters.
If I couldn’t find Hana in the past, there was only one more place I could find her—in the descendants’ records.
The kind of records that only Hong Gildong could unlock.
That was, unless someone else knew his signature.
“Okay,” Jihoon said, standing up stiffly. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
I shook my head. Even now, he was too nice. Before I could forget, I took his bracelet out of my bag and held it out to him.
He shook his head. “It’s for you, Mina.”
“But I’m not…” I looked down, a thousand thoughts blurring in my mind. I’m not the person you deserve. I’m not who you thought I was. I’m not even Mina Yang.
“It’s not like I could give it to anyone else,” he said, smiling softly. “‘Beautiful jade,’ remember? It’s yours.”
I closed my hand around the cool beads. “Thank you,” I said, for what felt like the thousandth time.
Jihoon moved to hug me, then hesitated, taking an awkward step back. He pressed his lips together as if contemplating something, then held out a stiff hand.
“A handshake?” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Should we just bow instead?” he said with a laugh. “I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.”
“Then don’t,” I said. “Goodbyes are sad anyway.”
“Right,” Jihoon said. “Not goodbye, Yang Mina.”
“Not goodbye, Kim Jihoon,” I said.
He bowed stiffly, then pushed his bike the opposite way down the path. I slipped his bracelet back around my wrist, a relic of the life I once thought I’d have. I closed my eyes and felt nothing but the coldness of the beads, tight against my racing pulse.
Police had blocked off the main road to headquarters for the political rally, so I had to weave through side streets, cutting down on what little time I had left.
I fought through the crowd but came up against a metal barricade.
I would have to go through the rally to reach Yejun at the meeting spot.