Chapter Twenty-One
I jumped to my feet. Yejun moved in front of me as Hong Gildong entered the office, the door slamming shut behind him.
“Mina,” Hong Gildong said, his fangs glinting as he smiled. “Welcome back from the dead.”
I clutched Yejun’s arm. “How did you know we were here?” I said.
Hong Gildong laughed, but it sounded less like a human laugh than something he’d studied and rehearsed, thorn-sharp as it echoed across the room. “Very little surprises me when I can see the entire timeline.”
I shook my head. “I’m not on the timeline right now.”
“But he is,” Hong Gildong said, waving at Yejun, who flinched. “This wasn’t just a test for Mina, but for you as well, Yejun. And in case it wasn’t obvious, you both failed.”
Yejun pressed me back against the desk as if to shield me, but Hong Gildong didn’t move toward us. He only strolled toward the bookshelves and examined the spines, as if we were making casual conversation over tea.
“It’s unfortunate,” he went on. “You both would have been such valuable assets to our team, and we don’t exactly have many descendants to spare these days. Yejun, your scenario planning is truly impressive. And Mina…”
He trailed off, appraising me with his golden eyes. “After Hana, I long suspected that you would possess similar abilities.”
“Abilities?” I echoed. I thought back to Yejun’s mission report.
Yang Mina is flagged for extra review due to suspected genetic predisposition for enhanced powers—see file 1475B, “Yang Hana.”
Hong Gildong wiped some dust off the edge of the shelf with his finger, frowning at it as if that was truly the greatest inconvenience at the moment.
“Yang Hana was an exceptionally powerful descendant. She retained many dragon abilities despite how diluted her bloodline was. You understand now why we couldn’t simply wipe her mind—stripping her of her memories wouldn’t remove her claws.
We suspected there was a genetic component to it.
But, despite all of Yejun’s hand-waving in his report in an effort to convince me otherwise, it is painfully clear to me that you cannot compare to her. ”
I glared back at Hong Gildong, my skin burning. Not at the idea that I was less than Hana—that had never mattered to me—but the idea that he had known her better than I ever would.
Before I could respond, the ground began to tremble.
I fell to the right, catching myself on a bookcase.
The whole room vibrated, potted plants overturning and books sliding off the shelves.
At first, I thought Hong Gildong was using some sort of dragon power to rend the earth in half.
But he stumbled against the desk and caught himself with one hand in his scrying pool, like he hadn’t expected it either.
At the top edge of the bookcases by the window, color began to slough off the walls like dead skin, a wave of whiteness oozing across the room.
A paradox.
Yejun grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the whiteness that was now dripping down the bookshelves, the rainbow of spines all fading to muted gray.
“We have to get out of here!” I said.
But Hong Gildong wasn’t gawking at the paradox or running in fear. Instead, he let out an impatient sigh and checked his watch. He straightened up, then began chanting in a language I couldn’t comprehend.
Each word sounded like a facet of a diamond glinting in the sun, sharp and bright. It must have been the ancient dragon tongue, which only the highest-ranked descendants were ever taught.
The paradox shivered and shrank back into the wall. Then the room settled, colors blossoming across the white stain.
Hong Gildong has dealt with paradoxes before, I realized as he straightened his tie with one hand.
At first, I had thought the paradoxes were caused by me and Yejun going against Hong Gildong’s orders and messing up the timeline.
But if Yejun was working for Hong Gildong the whole time, then Hong Gildong knew everything we were doing and would have made sure none of our actions damaged the timeline.
No wonder Yejun was so certain it wasn’t our fault, and was so perplexed that paradoxes were popping up anyway.
“Why is the timeline breaking down?” I asked Hong Gildong. “And why aren’t you worried about it?”
Yejun scoffed, “Because all that matters is who gives him more gold for his hoard.”
Hong Gildong growled, the sound like a low peal of thunder through the floor. “I don’t expect children to understand,” Hong Gildong said. “Explaining the intricacies of dragon negotiations to you would be a waste of my breath. You’ll both be gone soon anyway.”
Then he turned, drew a gun from beneath his jacket, and pointed it at Yejun. I tried to step closer but froze as Hong Gildong clicked off the safety.
Instinctively, I reached for my box of time magic. Maybe I couldn’t outrun a bullet, but I could go back and make sure we were never in this situation in the first place.
“Before you try to travel,” Hong Gildong said, “there’s something I think you should know.”
Magic was already curling around my wrist, but I hesitated at his words.
“I’ve just flagged you both for neutralization,” he said.
“The moment you run to another time, the timeline architects will see it, and a team will already be there waiting for you. So, before you go anywhere, it’s worth considering whether or not you like the taste of time magic crammed down your throat. ”
I remembered the hazy image of my last neutralization mission, the way the woman whose name I could no longer remember had turned to dust that the carpet inhaled. Even that broken shard of a memory made me shiver, and I reflexively pulled my hand from my pocket, the magic fizzling out.
“Good girl,” Hong Gildong said, smiling darkly as he turned back to Yejun.
“Yejun—” I started to say, but froze as he smiled. He was no longer looking at Hong Gildong, but at me. He wore the same carefree, easy smile I once despised.
“It’s okay,” he said quietly. “This isn’t the first time this has happened. I’ll find you again.”
I shook my head. He’s going to erase us this time, I wanted to say. “Yejun, you can’t—”
“I’ll find you,” Yejun said, his words tinged with desperation, like he wanted so badly to believe it. “I’ll comb through every timeline, okay? Please don’t cry.”
I didn’t even realize I was crying until he said it.
I could only shake my head, for all words in every language seemed to have left me.
I should have said something more to him.
Something kind and comforting, an apology for how rude I’d been, gratitude for giving up everything for me, but I couldn’t find the words.
I thought of Yejun bringing me strawberry cheesecake, holding my hand as magic flowed through both of us, telling me he would never hurt me. I thought that Hana was the only person to care for me exactly as I was, but it was always Yejun.
I couldn’t let this happen.
“Wait!” I said, taking another step forward.
But before I could do anything else, the door to Hong Gildong’s office slammed open. All three of us turned toward …
“Dad?” I said.
My dad was standing in the doorway, waving awkwardly as my mom peered over his shoulder. At this, Hong Gildong actually did lower the gun as confusion crinkled his face.
“Allen-nim?” Hong Gildong said.
“Um, hello, Sajangnim,” my dad said, giving half a bow and staring unsubtly at the gun in his hand.
My mom pushed him into the room so she could see, bowing slightly before she noticed the gun as well.
“It seems I’ve interrupted a … training exercise?” my dad said. Then he noticed Yejun and his eyes brightened. “Oh, Yejun! Good to see you!”
“Uh, you too, Mr. Yang,” Yejun said. “Despite the circumstances.”
Hong Gildong narrowed his eyes and turned fully toward my parents. His towering silhouette blocked the city lights from the window behind him, casting darkness across the doorway.
“Leave,” Hong Gildong said. “This is none of your business.”
I expected my parents to bow and then scurry away at the direct order from their boss, but neither one moved.
“Mina,” my mom said hesitantly, “I found your note in my bag.”
Oh no.
They weren’t supposed to come back. Now they knew too much, and Hong Gildong might decide to erase them too.
“Your note had us worried, and you wouldn’t answer your phone,” my dad said. “Why are you talking about us remembering you?”
“Both of you need to leave,” Hong Gildong said, his words thundering across the floorboards. “We will discuss this tomorrow.”
Still, neither of my parents moved.
“Sajangnim,” my dad said, bowing his head, “I’d like to leave with Mina and Yejun.”
“That’s not possible,” Hong Gildong said. My dad flinched at the sharpness of his words. “Everything will be in order by tomorrow, Allen-nim. You can trust me. This is all part of the timeline.”
My dad opened his mouth to respond, but then his gaze settled somewhere beyond Hong Gildong, and his face drained of color.
“What exactly is this training?” my mom said.
“Eri,” my dad said, tugging at my mom’s sleeve.
“Please just leave,” I said to my mom. The longer they stayed here, the more likely it was that Hong Gildong would decide to just erase my whole family and be done with it. It’s not like they could ever stop him, even if they wanted to.
“Are you even old enough to use firearms?” my mom said.
“Eri!” my dad said.
He was no longer looking at me, or my mom, or even Hong Gildong, but at the scrying pool.
The pool where Hana’s file was still open.
My mom followed his gaze, and after reading for a few moments, clapped her hands over her mouth.
“Hana,” my dad whispered, as if testing out the word. He looked to Hong Gildong, his face deathly pale. “I had another daughter, and I forgot her?”
My mom shook her head quickly. “I wouldn’t forget my own daughter,” she said. “I … there’s no way I…”