BA3 - Chapter 33

I ran my fingers over the foreign scar decorating the side of my head. Who knew make-up could do such a convincing job of masking one’s identity. Keeping up every little detail of the façade would’ve been exhausting, and a waste of ry, but Hana’s suggestion to use performers tools had truly been valuable. While I’d never admit it out loud, she was quite resourceful. Having grown up in the entertainment business gave her an advantage for options I’d never consider myself.

“Are you done?” My own voice asked from behind me.

I looked past the reflection of my jade eyes and darker skin to the doppelganger of me. He stood behind me with arms crossed, a terrible scowl wrinkling my beautiful face. He’d never learned my body language, but fortunately it wasn’t himwho would be scrutinized, it would be me.

“Nearly,” I said in Jiyong’s voice. It was perfectly convincing. With my knowledge of the inner workings of his mind and having had way too many dry conversations, I knew how Jiyong worked. Yamamotto would never be able to tell the difference.

“All right, last step,” Hana said, holding up the terrifying contraption.

I grimaced. “Does it really go in my skin?”

“Are you thinking of backing out over a few cuts?” The doppelganger growled, somehow scowling harder.

I blinked at him exaggeratedly. “No. I’m simply wondering if we couldn’t wrap it around my leg or something.”

Ko-nah shook his head. “Back will give me better options for escape. I doubt you want me navigating her up through your trousers.”

I sucked air through my teeth. “Not so much. Fine. Just do it.”

Hana lined the metal monstrosity up with my spine. Ko-nah reached out, then flexed his fingers. Pain shot through my back from a million different points, forcing me to cry out. I gritted my teeth and slowed my breathing. Trickles of blood tickled my skin. He flexed his hand again and the tiny blades twisted, then dug deeper. I bared my teeth and groaned through the pain. That asshole was doing this on purpose.

“Are you done yet?” I hissed angrily.

“I need to make sure it’s secure.”

I closed my eyes against the intense torment. “It’s secure! I can feel it burrowing into my muscle.”

Hana’s warm hand smoothed across my upper back and icy relief filled the space where stabbing agony once was. She did this again across my lower back, and then the pain was gone, leaving only a nagging throb behind.

I looked at her over my shoulder, fury burning in my chest. “You couldn’t have done that before?”

“I didn’t know it’d hurt that bad,” she said defensively.

“Little diamond claws digging into my muscles and you didn’t think it’d hurt that bad?” I demanded.

My body double shrugged. “It didn’t hurt me that much.”

“Boys,” Zari said over the chatter and we quieted. “We need to hurry.”

Hana mopped up what little blood had escaped me, then helped me into my shirt. I didn’t know how Jiyong did it, moving around with this thing nailed into his back. Well, he had put up with me at my most annoying behavior for months.

I straightened the shirt in the mirror, then wrapped the Anbura robes around my tall, muscular frame. I turned to face the others, arms out, looking for appraisal. My double tapped his chin, then messed with my hair.

He nodded. “Good. This is going to work.” He looked up at me, his brow pinched in concern. “Are you sure you’ll make it to the rendezvous in time? We won’t be able to wait long.”

I wasn’t certain escaping Dokun would be possible, let alone making it to the rendezvous, but I smiled confidently. “Of course. I’ve got this.”

Cho passed me two unmarked vials, their reflective casing making it impossible to tell what they might be. “Nevermore Draught. It’ll drop you into an unconscious state that mimics death and lasts up to eight hours, and only takes seconds to kick in.”

“And the other?” I asked, taking both potions.

He pointed to the different colored stoppers. “Black is Nevermore, white is Swimmer’s Lung. You’ll be able to breath sea water for up to fifteen minutes. It tastes horrible, but don’t spit any out.”

I tucked them away in the inner lining of the robe with a smirk. “It’ll be easy. Don’t worry.”

The doppelganger crossed his arms. “Don’t get too cocky. Stay alert, and be careful.”

“Trust me, I’m a ball of nerves under this confident Jiyong mask.” I patted his shoulder, feeling a sense of fondness for him. He did care—truly. I wished I’d…

There was no time for wishing. All the time I had left was for righting wrongs.

“Fifteen minutes to curtain. We have to go now,” Zari said, fixing her dangling hair chimes again.

“I’ll see you later.” My body double knocked his chest twice and held out his fist. Cho and Hana did the same, holding their fists together, then looked to me. Guilt constricted my stomach like a viper_TK. I’d betrayed him before, yet he offered me this chance—they all did. I wouldn’t let them down this time.

I smiled and returned the bumps. “Yeah, later.”

He turned to Hana, gripping her hands tightly. “No unnecessary risks. Promise me.”

“I should be the one demanding that promise of you,” she said with a teary-eyed chuckle. “I promise.” She leaned down and kissed him. I felt a sudden pang of jealousy for my double.

“Ready, my darling,” I said, offering my arm to Hana.

She pursed her lips and took it but kept herself a good distance away from me.

“Just pretend it’s me,” my double said, pushing her against me.

I’d never had a girlfriend, never thought to make time for one at that, but I had to admit, it was nice having Hana hang off my arm. She was warm, and smelled of lovely lilacs. I smiled down at her.

Her lip curled back, and she whispered, “You’re vile.”

“Hana,” the doppelganger warned sternly.

She grinned, leaning her head against my shoulder as she hugged me tighter. “Oh, I love you so much. We’re inseparable.”

He didn’t look pleased, but the double nodded. “Better. Let’s go.”

We parted ways in the hall back to the reception area, and Hana tried to loosen her grip on my arm. “Ah, ah. Remember, every piece of the performance must be convincing. You’ve been hanging on Jiyong this whole trip, and it would look suspicious if you stopped now.”

She grumbled lowly, but kept the smile on her face and cozied back up next to me.

We wound through the narrow halls and finally made it back to the grand open space where the students mingled. Yuri and Shin-soo were gathered near the door to the auditorium, smiling while they talked. Yuri wasn’t faking, she was excited for the dance, but Shin-soo looked about as natural as a goat among wolves.

“How was it?” Shin-soo blurted when he caught sight of us.

“The dresses are so beautiful,” Hana remarked to Yuri with a wistful grin.

Yuri’s eyes sparkled and she balled herself up, trembling with excitement. “I can’t wait!”

“Here you are,” Yamamotto said, dropping his hand on my shoulder.

I smiled. “Yes, sorry it took so long. We, uh—” I brought a blush to my face—“got distracted.”

Hana scowled at the implication, her own cheeks going red. Good, that looked convincing, too.

Yamamotto laughed. “Oh, to be young.”

Chimes dinged overhead and the din of chatter around us faded.

“Come along, I’ve reserved the best box for the three of us.” The old would-be tyrant patted me on the back and pain rippled from the claws stuck in me.

We waved farewell to Cho, Yuri, and Shin-soo, promising to meet up at the mid-set break. Yamamotto lead us to a set of stairs on the far end of the hall, then up to a secondary walkway. Hana’s grip was tight on my bicep and I patted her hand gently. It was all going to be fine—other than the irritating itch of this machina lodged in my spine.

The walkway narrowed as we rounded away from the atrium, and little doors popped up every few meters. Yamamotto opened the door labeled “Box Five,” and waved us in. It was a lavish balcony with velvet drapes the color of midnight and plush seats—two rows of two—aligned with the stage. Yamamotto wasn’t wrong, we’d have the best view of the show from here, and we weren’t with the expendables.

I showed Hana to the first seat like a gentleman would and she thanked me, then sat delicately on the edge.

“Oh no, take the front. You’ll want to see everything clearly.” The older man smiled and grabbed Hana by the elbow, leading her forward.

I took the seat left vacant by Hana and Yamamotto scowled. “You don’t want to sit with her?”

I smiled. “How often do I get to see a performance with my great-uncle_TK?” I used the Busa-nese_TK word, just to drive home my Jiyong-ness.

“All right, then,” he said with a chuckle and took the seat next to mine.

Hana fidgeted as we sat in silence, then rotated in her seat to look at me lovingly. “I’m so excited.”

My heart fluttered for a fraction, and I smiled back. “Me too.”

By Jigu, she was good when she wanted to be.

“Hana, you’re a dancer, are you not?” Yamamotto asked.

“Mm-hmm. But I had a bit of a fall from grace,” she said with a wrinkle-nosed shrug.

“How so?”

“I made choices my former mother disapproved of. It cost my inheritance, but it was an easy price to pay, for him.” She looked at me with another coy smile, then reached out. The butterflies returned and I took her hand in mine. Even the thrill of pretending she was mine had my heart beating fast, but I reminded myself it was all an act.

Yamamotto scowled. “You lost everything for him?”

Hana nodded. “Even my name.”

He hummed approval and looked at me. “That’s true love, my boy.”

“I know.” I grinned, basking in pretend love for however long it could last.

The lights overhead dimmed low, and the audience clapped. Hana turned back to the stage and we joined in clapping as the curtain rose. Six figures sat motionless on the blue-lit stage. The four women were dressed in silver silk, and the two men, a deep purple—symbolizing the main colors of ry munje.

The ceiling far above was a fair white stone, reflecting the light of the stage to create an aurora glow. Two stagehands in tight black suits walked tall, near invisible catwalks overhead. The pushed and pulled the light, shaping it into rippling clouds.

Gentle flute tones drifted on the air, quiet at first but as the volume lifted, so did the dancers. They moved in exaggerated movements in unison, as if waking from a long slumber and stretching. The dancers continued these slow movements, drifting across the stage like snow blowing over the mountains.

The dance was enchanting, but my gaze kept drifting to the back of Hana’s head. Her hair was up in a loose bun that left strands of silky black hair hanging around her neck. Her skin was fair, and smooth. The blue light of the stage highlighted her high cheekbones and long lashes. She was beautiful. It was no wonder Shin-soo fought so hard for her.

But, she was more than beauty to Jiyong. She was fire, strength, grace, light, and life—among other qualities like nearly intolerable stubbornness and adrenaline addiction. I’d heard enough of his thoughts to know how enduring their love was, despite both of their flaws. I’d envied him more than once in the years we attended school, but never because of Hana. This was a first.

Yamamotto leaned close to me. “The show is over here,” he said, pointing toward the stage.

“Yes, great-uncle_tk,” I replied, a real blush coming to my cheeks this time.

He chuckled silently and returned his attention to the performance. I didn’t let my eyes or my thoughts wander back to Hana, reminding myself that at any moment, everything could be turned upside-down. We had no idea what kind of attack was going to be used, but given the nature of the many others, we had to assume it would be a powerful munje user—perhaps more than one.

I kept my face pointed at the stage and allowed my gaze to wander around the room, taking note of objects, materials, and people. The terrorist might have already been inside the building, and could even be Yamamotto himself.

No. He wouldn’t jeopardize his reputation in such a way. He’d try to look like the hero.

The halls had mainly been constructed with wood, the front was glass and steel, the chairs and curtains were all out of the question too… the ceiling. I looked up again to the white stone above, and the hundreds of students blow. The nerves in my stomach squeezed at the image of heavy stone slabs crushing them. Yes, that was a likely scenario. What a horrific tragedy he had planned.

The slow, opening dance faded out to silence, the dancers going still once more. We clapped when the lights dimmed out, which covered the sounds of pattering feet as the stagehands moved the backdrops for the next set.

I had filled my reservoir to bursting with ry munje, not knowing how long I’d have to maintain the Jiyong façade, but now I thought it wise to recycle some into en. Even if my mask failed me too soon, that would be better than letting all these people die in such a horrible way. Jiyong was down there, too… without him and Mae, the rest of this mission was moot.

The stage came to life once more, this time in an explosion of bright orange. My heart hammered for a second and I jumped, thinking this may be the attack, but it was only the performance. Yamamotto patted my shoulder and I sighed, then leaned back.

Men and women in the colors of fall twirled and weaved across the stage like autumn leaves caught in a strong breeze. The music was fast paced, giving my nerves a jolt of frenzy. I was too on edge for this. I could imagine this was how Jiyong, Hana, and the others felt. We all knew something terrible was coming, and every second we sat here brought us another moment closer to that event.

There was a good chance my intuition was right on the ceiling, and so I committed. I dropped my hand over the side of my chair and let as much en munje as I dared leak into the floor. I felt the mild reply from the composite stone, and sensed the dead, emptiness of the wood and rugs.

I raised my arms in a stretch, guiding the munje up the walls toward the ceiling. I didn’t know how many more stretches I could get away with before Yamamotto said something. I did it again and again over the course of the next two dances until finally he leaned over.

“Tired?” He whispered to me.

I shook my head with a scowl, then muffled a fake yawn.

“We’re almost to the first break,” he said with a knowing smile, then sat back in his chair.

I glanced down, trying to catch a glimpse of the audience. There, in the third row, I caught sight of my distinctive hairstyle. I looked up to the massive ceiling and the intense dread of failure washed over me. There was no way I could contain the whole thing, even with all the munje I’d poured into it. It wouldn’t be enough, and there was nothing I could do to save them all.