Chapter 25: Scars

Choose.

In my last life, I couldn’t choose what to eat for dinner. I’d stand in front of the convenience store fridge for ten minutes and then buy the same triangle kimbap I always bought.

Now two of the most powerful women in Hangju were kneeling naked on either side of me, and my meridians were cracking, and they wanted me to pick.

I looked at Hwang. Long. Strong. Calm. Scars on her ribs. A woman who’d destroyed an entire sect and never even raised her voice about it.

I looked at Ji-yeon. Spectacles off. Brown hair falling down. Chin up. Cheeks burning. A woman who, ten minutes ago, couldn’t take her robe off in front of her rival.

She was trying so hard to look like she didn’t care which one I picked.

She cared. A lot.

"Ji-yeon," I said.

She blinked. Like she hadn’t expected it. Like she’d already decided she’d lose.

I looked at Hwang. "Her ink’s still calling her. And she’s..." I tried to find the words. "She waited eight years. You told me yourself. I’m not making her wait anymore."

The room was quiet.

Then Hwang Yu-seon smiled. Not the snake smile. Something smaller. Almost proud.

"Good," she said quietly. "That was the right answer."

She leaned back on her heels, giving Ji-yeon room. Then she reached over and, very gently, tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind her rival’s ear.

"Go on, Ji-yeon," she said. "I’ll pull from the other side. Don’t you dare cry on him. It’s unprofessional."

Ji-yeon let out a shaky, wet laugh.

Then she climbed over me.

[Target: Gwak Ji-yeon.] [Desire — MAXIMUM.]

The next part I only remember in pieces.

Ji-yeon above me, her hands braced on my chest, her eyes squeezed shut, saying my name like she was scolding me and begging me at the same time.

Hwang beside me, her palm flat on my dantian, counting breaths in that low wine voice. In. Hold. Out. Like a drill instructor. Like a priestess.

The cold ink pouring out of me into Ji-yeon. Her gasping every time it went. Her nails in my shoulders.

[Overflow draining... 70%.]

[Overflow draining... 80%.]

At some point Hwang’s breath counting got ragged. At some point she stopped counting at all, and Ji-yeon reached over without opening her eyes and grabbed Hwang’s hand and held it.

Eight years of banquets.

They held hands.

[Overflow draining... 90%.]

And then it was Hwang’s turn.

She was different. Slower. More careful. Like every movement was a decision she’d made before she made it. Ji-yeon lay beside me with her head on my shoulder, watching, flushed and dazed, her fingers still laced with Hwang’s.

Hwang pulled the last of the overflow out of me — the angry blade, the fighting wind — and I watched her face as it went into her. I watched her whole body shudder, and her head tip back, and that silver streak in her hair catch the lamplight—

[Target: Hwang Yu-seon.]

[Desire — MAXIMUM.]

[Attempting Harmony...]

The coal in my belly flared. Reached for her.

And hit a wall.

[Harmony failed.]

[Target’s yin is sealed.]

I felt it. Like reaching for someone’s hand and touching cold stone. Something inside her was locked. Old. Scarred. Bricked up a long time ago.

Hwang felt it too. Her eyes opened. She looked down at me.

And for one second — just one — the most dangerous woman in Hangju looked like she’d been slapped.

Then her face smoothed out. Calm again. Headmistress again.

"Ah," she said softly. "Of course."

"Yu-seon—"

"The Lotus took that too." She brushed my hair off my forehead. Her hand was steady. Her voice was steady. Only her eyes weren’t. "Six years of pouring yourself out. Eventually the well closes so nobody can take any more. I thought it might be like that." She smiled a little. "It’s alright, boy. I’m used to giving. I didn’t do this to get anything."

Ji-yeon lifted her head off my shoulder. Looked at her rival for a long moment.

Then she pulled Hwang down and held her. Just held her. The headmistress of the Hangju branch academy, with her face pressed into the neck of the widow who’d been judging her robes for eight years.

Nobody said anything for a long time.

I lay there between them and stared up at the painted cranes on the ceiling.

In my last life, I thought people like this only existed in dramas.

I woke up in the academy infirmary.

Sun coming through paper windows. Clean sheets. The smell of herbs and boiled ginger. Every bone in my body aching like I’d been run over by an ox cart. Then reversed over. Then run over again.

The window was waiting for me.

[Overflow resolved.]

[Warning: Meridian scarring detected.]

[Existing Harmonies: dormant. Estimated recovery: 7 days.]

[New Harmony formation: locked. Estimated recovery: 30 days.]

[Refinement progress lost: 40%.]

I read it twice.

Forty percent. Gone. Weeks of slow braiding, cooked off in one night.

Thirty days with no new Harmony. Seven days where the five I had were basically asleep.

I could still... do things. The system didn’t say I couldn’t do things. It just said I wouldn’t get anything out of them.

Honestly?

I thought about it for a second.

Then I laughed out loud, alone in the infirmary, and it hurt my ribs.

Because I didn’t care. Not really. I didn’t start sleeping with Yeon-hee to get stronger. I didn’t go to Ji-yeon’s palanquin for qi. The yin was a bonus. A really good bonus. But it was never the point.

The point was that I wasn’t alone anymore.

That was still true. Scars or no scars.

"Something funny?"

I turned my head.

Seo-ah was standing in the infirmary doorway.

Blue ribbon. Gray robe. A cloth bundle in her arms that smelled like sesame. And a look on her face like she’d been crying earlier and then had a long, angry talk with herself about it.

The system didn’t say anything. It never does with her.

"Hey," I said.

She walked over and set the bundle down on the table beside my bed. Very carefully. Very precisely. Then she sat down on the stool and folded her hands in her lap.

"The laundry women," she said, "say that you were carried into the headmistress’s private quarters last night. Unconscious." Her voice was perfectly even. "And that Madam Gwak of the Gwak family ran across the academy grounds in the dark with her robe buttoned wrong. And that neither of them came out until dawn."

I didn’t say anything.

"And that this morning, the headmistress and Madam Gwak had tea together in the courtyard. Smiling. Which has never happened in the history of this academy."

"...The laundry women are very thorough."

"They are." She looked down at her hands. "I’m not angry."

"You look angry."

"I’m not angry." Her knuckles went white. "I knew. In the fire chamber, I asked, and you told me the truth. I knew what you were before I ever kissed you." She swallowed. "I’m just... I’m not used to wanting something I have to share."

I reached over. Put my hand on top of hers.

She let me.

"I’m sorry," I said.

"Don’t be. I don’t want you to be sorry. I want..." She stopped. Shook her head. Pulled a folded letter out of her sleeve and set it on the bed beside me. "This came this morning. From my father."

I picked it up. Thick paper. A Ministry seal in red wax.

I didn’t open it. I didn’t have to. I could see it on her face.

"He’s arranged a marriage," she said. "The second son of Minister Jang. I’ve met him twice. He talked about his horses both times." She laughed. It came out broken. "I’m to return to the capital in ten days. To prepare."

Ten days.

I just stared at her.

"I’m a Ministry daughter," she said quietly. "This was always going to happen. I knew that before I came here. I just didn’t think I’d..." She looked at me. "Meet anyone first."

Then she stood up.

And before I could say anything, before I could even sit up, she climbed onto the narrow infirmary cot and straddled my lap.

Right there. Broad daylight. Paper windows. Anyone could walk past.

Her thighs settled over mine. Her hands came down on my shoulders. Her chest was right at my eye level, rising and falling fast under that gray robe. She was shaking. I could feel it all the way through her.

"Seo-ah—"

"I’ve never done much," she whispered. "You know that. The bell tower. Your room. That’s... that’s everything. That’s all there’s ever been." She pressed her forehead to mine. "If I go to the capital, I’ll marry a man who talks about horses, and everything after this will be decided by somebody else. Forever."

Her breath was hot on my lips. Her hips shifted on my lap, just a little. I gasped. My ribs screamed. I didn’t care.

"I want one thing," she said, "that I decided myself. Before it’s taken."

She kissed me. Slow. Shaking.

Then she pulled back an inch.

"Please be careful with me," she whispered.

And then — like she was snapping back to herself — she climbed off the cot, straightened her robe, and picked up her sword from where she’d leaned it against the wall.

At the door she stopped. She didn’t turn around.

"Not here," said Yun Seo-ah. "Tonight. My dormitory. The east window on the second floor."

A pause.

"I’ve decided something else."