Vicious Spirits Page 3

  That stung, and Junu was about to give a sharp retort when Somin’s mother walked back in, extra boxes in her arms. “Found these in the back room, figured we could use them out here.”

  Somin jumped up to help her mother with the pile. Junu was debating whether to stick out his tongue at Somin’s back when her eyes shot to him, an unspoken warning sharp in her brown irises. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought her a gwishin or other evil spirit descended on him as some kind of curse.

  Somin’s mother was on the shorter side; it was clear that’s where Somin had gotten her height. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun, but a few wisps still fell around her forehead, giving her the illusion of youth. She was energetic, always ready with a smile that created lines around her eyes. Instead of adding age, it made her look like a warm welcome. She was more scattered than her tightly controlling daughter. But Somin also broke rules, like the dress code at her school, and got into fights. It would seem like a contradiction, except Junu could tell that it wasn’t that Somin didn’t live by rules; she just lived by her rules. She truly fascinated him.

  “Junu, I can’t say how nice it is for you to come and help,” Ms. Moon said, and there was that kind smile.

  “Of course. I’m always here for a friend.” He emphasized the word and gave Somin a wink.

  Her mouth formed a thin line, and he imagined she was trying to hold back harsh words that would earn her a smack from her mother.

  Junu almost gave another wink just to annoy her, but Miyoung stepped out of the bathroom.

  She was hauling what looked like a very full and very heavy box. The sight of her made Junu lose any of his glib words. He never knew the right thing to say in front of Miyoung these days. Every time he saw her, he felt a rolling in his stomach. In the past, when he felt uncomfortable around someone, he’d just leave. But for some reason the idea of leaving made him feel even worse. For the first time in his immortal life, he felt like he owed a debt to someone. And he hated it.

  Despite her disheveled hair, tired eyes, and the light sheen of sweat on her brow, Miyoung was gorgeous. Though, Junu would expect nothing less from the former gumiho. A girl so beautiful men fell instantly in love with her only to find themselves missing a liver. He’d once thought they could be confidants, two immortals living with the burden of being seen one way and, when that glamour faded, labeled as monsters.

  But that was the old Miyoung, and she hadn’t even been that good at the whole predatory immortal lifestyle of the fabled nine-tailed fox.

  Miyoung stopped short when she saw him. Her eyes narrowed as if deciding how to handle his presence. It was clear she wasn’t happy to see him.

  “Hello, Miyoung-ah,” Junu said. “You need help with that?”

  She tilted her head in a way that reminded him of a fox, then set down her packed box on a far pile and turned to Somin’s mother. “I need another box.”

  “Here you go.” Ms. Moon handed her one from her pile.

  Without another word, Miyoung disappeared into the bathroom.

  Junu watched her retreating back, wondering if she would ever truly talk to him again. It wasn’t that he missed her conversation. Miyoung had always been a prickly companion at best. But he couldn’t deny that her company had been an interesting change from his loner lifestyle. The three months they’d lived together had been quite eventful. And if he was being honest, he’d become quite invested in Miyoung’s life.

  But of course, he’d made mistakes that had cost them their unlikely alliance. Perhaps Junu could have even called it a friendship for a time.

  Still, one mistake had cost a life. It had cost Miyoung her mother. A long time ago, Junu had sworn to himself he would no longer deal in games of life and death. So, whether she would accept it or not, Junu felt like he owed some kind of restitution to Miyoung for his actions. He would stick around until he’d paid back the debt. The problem was he wasn’t sure when that would be. He might be an immortal dokkaebi, but even he couldn’t know when this weight of guilt would ease from his chest. It was damned inconvenient if you asked him, but it was something he could not ignore.

  “So, Junu, how are classes?” Ms. Moon brought him back to the present.

  He thought about whatever lie they’d told Somin’s mother.

  “At Hongik University, right?”

  “Ah yes,” Junu said with a pleasant smile. “It’s great. Love the area.”

  He forever looked like he was just leaving his teens. Some, Ms. Moon’s daughter being one of them, might even claim he still had the maturity of a prepubescent child, but he was centuries old. Still, he accepted the fact that Ms. Moon lumped him in with her daughter’s classmates, though the story was that he was a twenty-year-old student in his first year in university. He hadn’t even remembered whether they’d told her an actual university when they made up the lie of who Junu was—Miyoung’s cousin.

  “So will Miyoung be moving back in with you?” Ms. Moon asked, and Junu didn’t process the words at first. He’d just assumed Miyoung would find a place of her own, but he remembered that nineteen was still one year away from being a legal adult even though he could argue that it was an arbitrary designation. He still didn’t feel like an “adult” half the time.

  Somin paused in her packing, turning toward them. Her eyes were wide, as if warning Junu to tread carefully. So, of course, he wanted to do the exact opposite.

  “Eomma, I don’t think Miyoung has decided where she’s going to stay yet,” Somin said at the same time Junu blurted out, “Of course,” without pausing too long to consider it.

  Somin’s mother let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, good. I was so worried about where Miyoung would go.”

  At the sound of her name, the girl in question poked her head out of the bathroom. “Did you call for me?”

  “I was telling your cousin I’m so glad to hear you have a place to stay,” Somin’s mother said.

  “What?” Miyoung’s eyes shifted to Junu with suspicion.

  “I told Somin’s mother that you’re moving back in with me, right, cuz?” Junu said, plastering a bright smile onto his face.

  Miyoung’s scowl was so immediate that he wondered if it was brought about by the mere sound of his voice. “I don’t—”

  “That’s such a relief,” Somin’s mother said, giving a small laugh. “I really was worried when Somin said she had no idea where Miyoung was going to live. And with our place so cramped already with Jihoon now, I didn’t know how we’d cram another teenager in there.” It was almost cute, how Ms. Moon babbled to cover her obvious discomfort with the idea. She really wasn’t one to filter her thoughts.

  “Thank you for the thought. And I appreciate the offer . . . , cuz.” Miyoung bit out the last word like it was a vile curse. “But I don’t want to be a burden.”

  “Oh, it wouldn’t be a burden at all. I’d be happy to have you.” Junu added one of his charming smiles.

  There was a minute of silence. Even Somin seemed frozen. But Ms. Moon, either completely unaware or willfully ignorant in the face of an easy solution to her guilt, spoke up. “I think it’s best if you stay with Junu,” she said. “Wouldn’t you be happier to be with family?”

  The look in Miyoung’s eyes seemed to transmit a message clear as if she’d spoken the words. You’re going to regret this.

  So, because Junu couldn’t help himself, he gave the hornet’s nest one more poke. “That’s right. Trust your oppa.”

  “Sure,” Miyoung bit out.

  5

  AFTER MIYOUNG AND Junu had gotten into their non-fight, there was a palpable tension between them. Everyone felt it. Well, everyone except Somin’s mother and Changwan, who was so oblivious to life that Somin sometimes wondered how he functioned.

  But Changwan had to leave to meet a private tutor. Without his mindless chatter, Somin could feel the tension between Miyoung and Junu n
o matter where she went in the small apartment. And after two hours of it, she felt suffocated. She was debating the best way to escape when there was a knock on the door.

  “Eomma,” she called. “I think lunch is here.”

  Somin opened the door and blinked in confusion as she stared at the men with matching T-shirts. They carried reusable moving boxes she’d seen in nicer neighborhoods and padded furniture covers.

  “This the Ahn household?” the first man asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t understand. We didn’t hire movers.”

  “I did,” Junu said, standing up from his packing. He let out a groan and bent to stretch his cramped legs. “Come on in. We’ve still got a lot to do in the living area.” He turned to Somin. “Figured since we lost Changwan, this would be easier all around.”

  “You hired them?” Somin asked as the men brushed past her into the apartment. “Wait, no, don’t touch that.” She yanked a photo frame away from one of the movers. “We don’t need movers.”

  “It’s not a case of need. But why not take the help?” Junu asked.

  “These aren’t just things. They hold sentimental value.” She shook the frame she still held at him.

  “I hired movers, not circus jugglers. They’ll take care of the stuff,” Junu said, laughter in his voice.

  Somin’s anger drove her forward. “This is so typical.” She jabbed a finger into Junu’s chest. “You come in and create a scene and then throw your money around to get what you want. Why did you even come here in the first place if you didn’t want to work?”

  “Lee Somin!” Her mother’s voice echoed through the apartment, effectively freezing Somin as she was about to drive her finger into Junu’s chest again. Miyoung and Jihoon stood in the hallway behind her mother, watching the scene with curiosity. “I will not have my daughter speaking that way in front of guests.”

  “Guests?” Somin asked incredulously, but she let her hand drop.

  “Well, we weren’t expecting help, but it’s appreciated. Why don’t I show one of you what needs to be packed in the back room?” Somin’s mother said to the movers. “Jihoon-ah, show the other gentleman what to do in the kitchen.”

  Somin waited for Jihoon to back her up, to say they didn’t need help, but he just shrugged and walked into the kitchen to help the mover.

  The other man followed Somin’s mother. With a final look that clearly said behave, her mother disappeared down the hall.

  “Miyoung-ah,” Somin said, futilely searching for an ally.

  But Miyoung just shrugged.

  With a grunt of disgust, Somin turned back but spotted Junu watching her with his arms crossed. Instead of saying something she’d catch heat from her mother for, she grabbed a trash bag and stomped out the front door.

  The air outside was thick and humid, almost unbearably so, but she had to get away for her own sanity.

  She took her sweet time separating out the recycling from the trash and putting them all in the correct receptacles, stopping every so often to wipe sweat off her brow. There were no clouds in the summer sky to block the intense rays of the sun. It was as if the weather knew that today would be hard and just wanted to add more suffering on top of the pain.

  She upended the bottom of the bag with the last of the recycling, but a can hit the edge of the receptacle and bounced across the asphalt, rolling down the incline. Hot, sweaty, and still annoyed from her fight with Junu, she wanted to just let it go, but she’d been raised better than that and jogged after it. The can came to rest centimeters from a pair of battered loafers.

  “Oh, sorry,” Somin said to the man. He had salt-and-pepper hair mostly covered by a baseball cap. His back was to her, but there was something about him that felt eerily familiar.

  Why was she so intrigued by this man? He was just standing there. Perhaps it was because he stood so still, he could have been made of stone. Anyone else might turn, bend down to pick up the can for her, or at least acknowledge her, but he just stood there. Maybe he hadn’t heard her. As she approached him, she could just make out the scent of licorice.

  She picked up the can, but when she stood, the man was gone. Somin could have sworn he’d been there just a second ago. She scanned the road but saw no sign of him. She hadn’t even heard his footsteps as he’d retreated. In fact, she might have convinced herself no one had been there at all except she could swear she still smelled the faint scent of licorice.

  “Strange,” she murmured to herself as she walked to the trash receptacles.

  As she dropped the can into the recycling bin, a cold sensation washed over the back of Somin’s neck. So chilly, it made the hairs at her nape stand. The wilted trees by the roadside stood still. There was no breeze, but she felt the chill again, a prickle against her skin.

  Then Somin saw him, not the older man but a teenager. He stood out somehow. Like he didn’t belong here. Not just in this neighborhood, but in this world.

  Maybe it was because he was dressed head to toe in black with a brimmed black hat to match. He even had a matching black trench coat over his suit; he had to be roasting. But that wasn’t the strangest thing about him. She was pretty sure he was staring straight at her. Though he was a few meters away, she could see his eyes. They were as black as his clothes and unblinking as they watched her.

  He was tall, and even though half of his face was shaded by the hat, he was striking. Pale skin, full lips, dark eyes.

  “Can I help you?” Somin asked.

  The boy finally blinked. “You can see me?”

  Somin frowned. “Yeah, you’re standing right in front of me, staring like a byeontae.”

  “So strange,” he said, but it seemed mostly to himself. He didn’t even care that Somin had called him a pervert.

  Somin let the lid of the recycling bin fall as she fumbled in her pocket for her phone, just in case she needed to call for help.

  “You slam those lids any harder, you might break something,” called the old woman who sat across the street.

  She spun around, then bowed in apology. “Sorry.”

  Hwang Halmeoni was a fixture in this neighborhood, a woman hovering around the century mark who still ran her medicinal wine shop across the street from Jihoon’s old apartment. She sat on the wooden deck outside of her shop, an umbrella perched to protect her from the sun and an electric fan blowing from the open doorway. Rain or shine, hot or cold, you could depend on Hwang Halmeoni to be on her perch watching the neighborhood.

  Somin turned back to the boy, but he was gone. Just as suddenly as the old man. Strange. Was the heat affecting her somehow?

  “Did you see that boy?” Somin asked Hwang Halmeoni, walking over to the medicinal wine store.

  “Which one? That cute Junu that keeps hanging around here?” Hwang Halmeoni wiggled her brows. “He’s sure been a treat for my eyes lately.”

  Somin didn’t want to talk about Junu, so instead she asked, “Should you be sitting outside in this heat?”

  Hwang Halmeoni waved away Somin’s concern with the giant fan in her hand. “Inside. Outside. It’s hot no matter where I sit. At least this way I can see the goings-on in the neighborhood.”

  Somin laughed and nodded.

  “Moving day?” Hwang Halmeoni asked, her eyes sad as they focused on Jihoon’s apartment.

  “Yeah,” Somin said. “We’re packing everything up today.”

  “Mrs. Nam had been in this building for over forty years. It won’t be the same without her, even if I did tell her she made her kimchi jjigae too spicy.”

  Somin laughed at that. Leave it to Hwang Halmeoni to be brutally honest. “I’m sad you and I won’t be able to have our talks anymore.”

  “Well, you should still come visit me. One thing is for sure, I’ll never leave.”

  “Why not?” Somin asked. She knew that Hwang Halmeoni had a daughter who’d moved sou
th around Busan a while ago, but still Hwang Halmeoni had stayed.

  “When I was younger, we were forced to leave our home. Not out of a desire to see the country, but out of a desire to survive.”

  Somin knew Hwang Halmeoni was old enough to remember a unified Korea, and how it was broken in two, but she realized she’d never heard the woman talk about it.

  “We weren’t able to come back for years, and when we did, everything seemed different to me. Perhaps when you’re forced out of your home like that, you’re willing to hold on to it with all you’ve got when you get it back. I’m sorry Jihoon wasn’t allowed to hold on to his.”

  The way Hwang Halmeoni looked at Somin made her self-conscious, like the old woman was looking into Somin’s soul. Like she could see the secret desire that Somin had never told anyone—that sometimes she wished she could just leave. To go and be anywhere but here. But she knew it was a pipe dream. Where would she even go? And where would she get the money for it? She should just take a lesson from Hwang Halmeoni’s words and appreciate what she had: a good family, good friends, a place to call home.

  Somin’s mother stepped out of the apartment and lifted her hand to her brow as if scanning the terrain, stopping when she zeroed in on Somin below.

  “Your mother should find someone,” Hwang Halmeoni said. “Such a pretty woman like that, a shame for her to be alone.”

  “She’s not alone,” Somin said. “She has me.”

  “Of course she does.” Hwang Halmeoni patted Somin’s hand.

  “Somin-ah,” her mother said, jogging across the street to join them. “Hello, Hwang Halmeoni.” She dipped into a bow.

  “Moon Soohyun, you look like you could be Sominie’s sister instead of her mother.”

  Somin’s mother blushed. It was true, Somin thought. Her mother always had such a youthful glow about her. Despite the things she’d been through—getting pregnant right after high school, losing her husband when Somin was still so young—she was ever the optimist. Somin wondered why she hadn’t inherited any of that positivity.