Chapter Eight Sunny
Chapter Eight
Sunny
My mouth drops open. “What?”
“It’s true.” Minju’s mother walks the rest of the way over to our table. “When shinbiins live in the Mortal Realm for long enough, they begin to age at the same rate as humans.”
I want to ask why that happens but hold my tongue because it’s starting to feel too much like caring about shit.
“We fall to illness, and it takes time for us to heal from our injuries.” Mr. Ha transfers the plates from the tray until food covers every inch of the tabletop. “We couldn’t force such a fragile, fleeting life on our daughter.”
“But it would be worth it to be with you,” Minju whispers, making her parents gasp.
“What are you saying?” Her father shakes his head.
“Once all this is over, I’m coming here to live with you.” She juts her chin. “This is Minju’s Place, after all.”
Her mother opens and closes her mouth several times, twin grooves forming between her brows. “Let me start with this question. What do you mean, all this? Once what’s over?”
The historian pales, her bravado draining out of her, and her panicked gaze jumps to meet mine.
“You should tell them.” I take her hand under the table. “Your parents chose mortality for you. They have a right to know.”
If Minju goes back to the Realm of Four Kingdoms to fight the Amheuk, she might not live to see the next Hangawi. Hell. None of us might.
“The Kingdom of Sky has waged war against the Kingdom of Mountains.” Minju starts with the less horrifying part of all this, but her parents’ eyes widen with horror regardless.
“To stop the tyrant?” her mother whispers.
“No, a new king has taken the throne.” Minju smiles faintly. “The true heir to the Kingdom of Mountains.”
“The Queen of Mountains’s son?” Her father gasps. “The King Foretold?”
Captain Seo, Minju, and I gasp in return.
“How do you know about the King Foretold?” the captain demands, then remembers her manners. “That is . . . could you tell me how you know about the King Foretold, Mr. Ha?”
“The same way we found out about a secret group sworn to serve him.” Mrs. Ha clicks her tongue when Captain Seo chokes on her saliva. She sits next to the captain and pats her back until she stops coughing. “Gossip, child.”
“Gossip?” A vein pulses on the captain’s forehead, her patience waning. “What gossip? Please explain, Mrs. Ha.”
“Don’t fret.” Minju pats Captain Seo’s white-knuckled fist, lying on top of the table. “They’ll explain everything. Just give them time to get there.”
“Your parents give convoluted answers that jump all over the place?” I snort. “I didn’t know that was a family trait.”
“Oh hush.” Minju crinkles her nose at me.
“We only recently found out about the prophecy of the King Foretold.” Mr. Ha pulls up a chair for himself at the short end of the table and takes a seat. “The Queen of Mountains was a legendary diviner, but there are diviners here in the Mortal Realm as well.”
“All of them have been bombarded with the same prophecies these last few months.” Mrs. Ha seamlessly picks up where her husband left off. “The beings of the Shingae in the Mortal Realm are a tightly knit group. We watch each other’s backs and share information.”
But my mother and I were always alone . . . It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Why do I keep forgetting that?
“Ah yes.” Captain Seo huffs a tired laugh. “Gossip.”
“Exactly.” Minju’s mother punctuates her word with her index finger in the air. “The best source of intel.”
Wait. My face scrunches up in confusion. Did she say prophecies? There’s more than one prophecy? I shake my head to dislodge the pesky question. I. Don’t. Care.
“Well?” Mr. Ha glances between the three of us.
“Well, what?” I blink at the distinguished seonnam, the whole not-caring thing taking a toll on me.
“Is the Queen of Mountains’s son truly the King Foretold?” Mrs. Ha answers for her husband. It’s like the two of them share a hive mind.
“Yes,” I say simply. When Captain Seo and Minju look at me with twin expressions of affront, I shrug. “What’s the point of keeping it a secret? The diviners in the Realm of Four Kingdoms must have seen the prophecy as well. Everyone will find out soon enough, if they don’t already know.”
“The point is we must keep the king safe at all costs. The realm needs him for the fight against the Amheuk—” The captain catches herself and claps a hand over her mouth. So much for delivering the horrifying news gently.
I halt the direction of my thoughts. What horrifying news? I do not know of what you speak.
“The Amheuk?” Mr. Ha bolts to his feet, his chair screeching against the floor, and plants his palms on the table with a loud thwack.
“Oh yes,” Minju murmurs sheepishly. “That’s the other part of all this. The Amheuk has breached the Realm of Four Kingdoms.”
La la la la la, I shout in my head, I can’t hear you.
Her mother makes a choked sound as her hand flies to her throat. “You are definitely staying with us. A fragile, fleeting life is better than certain death.”
“Mother.” Minju puffs a small sigh. “I will come live with you after all this is over. For now, my place is in the Realm of Four Kingdoms.”
“Your place is—” Mrs. Ha’s words come to an abrupt stop when her husband places his hand on her shoulder.
“Yeobo,” he says, “we didn’t raise our daughter to turn her back on the people who need her.”
“But . . .” Mrs. Ha’s bottom lip trembles.
“You know she won’t be safe here for long.” He gently cups his wife’s cheek. “The Amheuk will not be satisfied with conquering the Realm of Four Kingdoms. The Mortal Realm will be next unless it is stopped.”
My heart pounds at every pulse point. I don’t want to hear this—to face this. I want to tear off my skin. I want to disappear. I don’t want to save the worlds. I can’t choose to be good. I can’t. I’m no good.
Don’t think, Sunny. Stop thinking.
“You’re right, yeobo.” Minju’s mother presses her lips into a firm line. “We should be helping her, not holding her back.”
“And we will help.” Mr. Ha looks around the table with a determined smile. “But first, let’s celebrate Hangawi with our daughter and her friends.”
Thank gods.
My avoidance muscles were beginning to cramp from the strain. A short reprieve from the tension sounds like heaven.
“Yes.” With a matching smile, Mrs. Ha mimes putting food into her mouth. “Please eat. There’s plenty more in the kitchen.”
“There’s more?” Captain Seo squawks in surprise.
I can see why the captain’s iron composure cracked. The table is filled with japchae, jeon, galbi jjim, and a dozen different banchans. And our rice bowls are piled so high that they’re shaped like long capsules.
I’ll worry about all this later. Or maybe never. Never sounds like a better plan.
For now, I’m going to stuff my face with extraordinary amounts of homemade food.
I go for the japchae first. It’s my number one favorite food.
Soy sauce, garlic, and toasted sesame oil coat each strand of bouncy vermicelli.
And the strips of marinated beef and the rainbow of sautéed vegetables—spinach, carrots, shiitake mushrooms, and onions—are perfectly seasoned.
Every bite of japchae explodes in my mouth in a symphony of flavors and textures.
“It tastes just like how my mother used to make it,” I whisper.
Before sentimental tears sting my eyes, I grab a giant piece of braised short rib and bite into it.
The meat falls off the bone and melts in my mouth.
I nearly moan from the richness of the galbi jjim and the burst of umami flavor.
Then I make sure to taste each kind of jeon—bites of egg-battered fish, oysters, and gray squash, pan-fried to a golden brown—dipped in a tart, sweet, and nutty seasoned soy sauce.
These foods transport me back to my childhood, where I took love, comfort, and safety for granted. And sharing this Hangawi table with my friends is a privilege I don’t deserve but will cherish forever.
I manage to swallow past my tight throat, thanks to the savory beef and taro soup. Focus on the food, Sunny. I take my own advice and eat like there’s no tomorrow. Shit. Bad choice of words. I ignore the slip and clean off the last grain of rice in my bowl.
Mrs. Ha looks at my bowl and smiles. “My cooking wasn’t to your liking?”
“This is the best meal I’ve had in a century.” I grin back at her. I might have secretly unbuttoned my jeans in the middle of the feast.
“I have to agree with Sunny.” Captain Seo leans back in her seat with a hand over her flat stomach. “This was amazing. Thank you so much, Mr. and Mrs. Ha.”
Mr. Ha doesn’t respond right away, his gaze turned toward the night beyond the windows. “Oh, yes. Of course. We are so happy to meet Minju’s friends. It would’ve been unthinkable for us to send you off on your journey without filling your stomachs first.”
“We will definitely need the energy.” Minju exchanges a loaded glance with her father.
“Girls, can you help me clear the table while Minju chats with her father?” Mrs. Ha asks in a shaky voice, standing from the table.
“Please sit down, Mrs. Ha.” Captain Seo bolts to her feet and jerks her chin at me. I struggle to my feet, feeling like I ate my weight in food. “You’ve already done too much. We will take care of cleaning up.”
“That’s lovely of you to suggest.” She piles empty dishes onto a metal tray. “But I won’t understand a word of what they’re talking about. That’s what happens when both your husband and your daughter are renowned scholars.”
My gaze shoots toward Minju and Mr. Ha, who have already moved to a corner table near the front of the restaurant.
They bend their heads toward each other as they speak in low voices, their faces shining with twin expressions of passionate curiosity and determination.
Whatever lies ahead, they will consider every possibility and make sure we’re as ready for it as we will ever be.
We? Who is this we?
“Please promise to stand back and tell us what to do,” I concede to Mrs. Ha. “The captain and I’ll do all the work.”
“You girls are very sweet.” Mrs. Ha puts one last plate on the tray and clasps her unsteady hands in front of her. “Come this way.”
Picking up the tray full of dirty dishes, I follow the older female into the kitchen and get to work.
I haven’t washed dishes since we—I course correct my thought—since I left Las Vegas the night the red assassin attacked me in my apartment.
The rush of warm water, the soft suds, and the clack of plates and saucers soothes the open wound inside me, like a cool hand on a feverish forehead.
I pass a clean dish to the captain, and she dries it, frowning down at her hands with intense concentration. It’s adorable. She’s a warrior with zero experience in domestic endeavors. I tuck my chin to hide my smile and slow down with the washing so she doesn’t feel rushed.
Mrs. Ha is quiet as she puts the clean, dry dishes into the cupboards. I can’t see her face, but her shoulders droop as though an aching sadness weighs them down. The coming of the Amheuk will do that to a person. But I have a feeling her worries are more immediate.
What exactly are Minju and her father talking about that has Mrs. Ha so scared?
When all the dishes are cleared away, the three of us step out from the kitchen. Minju looks up and gives the captain and me a solemn nod, but she avoids her mother’s eyes. My stomach tightens with nerves. I’m worried for my friends, especially since I won’t be going with them.
How will they get back to the Realm of Four Kingdoms? The question sneaks past my firewall before I can stop it. Shit. Now I can’t unthink it, and more questions rush into my consciousness.
Does the Amheuk still lie in wait at the entrance to the Realm of Four Kingdoms? Or has the darkness already seeped inside the realm? Is everyone . . . okay?
I reach behind me for a handhold as the corners of my vision darken. Oh gods. My frantic fingers feel the back of a chair, and I grip it tightly.
Are you okay, Ethan? Please be safe.
The sound of Mr. Ha’s chair scraping across the floor jolts me back to the present before I spiral out of control. Minju gets to her feet as well and switches places with her mother, so the three of us face her parents. She slips her cold hand into mine, and I squeeze it without thinking.
“Girls,” Mr. Ha says in a voice that reminds me of Optimus Prime, “are you ready to walk the moonglade?”