“I try to do the right thing,” Detective Hae said.
“I know.”
They walked again in silence, but she lifted her fist to knock at her chest. It was suddenly difficult to breathe, like a heavy cloud had filled her lungs.
She couldn’t think about the old wounds. She had to concentrate on following the thread toward Jihoon. And to her mother.
If she had to fight Yena to protect Jihoon, could she? If this ended badly, would she be able to move on? She looked at her father’s profile and believed for the first time that maybe Yena wasn’t all she had.
The thread slowly grew stronger. So bright it lit her path. Miyoung glanced at Detective Hae, but he didn’t seem to see the thread. It was only visible to her, a connection to her bead. A connection to Jihoon.
Snaking through the thick trunks, she inhaled the scent of the spring forest. New buds and green leaves. The beginning of something new. But when new things began, that meant old things had to end. She was ready for it all to end tonight. One way or another.
And then, through the trees, she heard a voice and strained to listen. It was clear and smooth. A voice she’d know anywhere. Her mother’s voice. They were close.
72
“I’M GOING TO tell you a story.” Yena spoke in a melodic flow that would have been soothing if Jihoon’s nerves weren’t all sparking at once.
“Miyoung used to love my stories. After each, she’d ask me if they were true.” Yena sounded like a mother yearning for her lost child.
“Is this one true?” Jihoon asked.
“That’s for you to decide after I tell it,” Yena said. “There once was a fox who was always alone. Her family had shunned her, beaten her, and discarded her. She grew up and grew smart, learning that those she lived among were not allies but her prey.”
The story seemed like every other gumiho tale Jihoon’s halmeoni told until Yena said, “Then she met a man.”
Yena no longer looked at Jihoon as she spoke. Her eyes reflected the moon, like she read the story from the clear white face of it.
“He was charismatic and handsome. But most of all, he was kind. She never thought kindness was something she craved until she had it. The fox realized there was an ache in her.”
Jihoon didn’t want to sympathize with the broken heart Yena described. Just the sight of her face reminded him of the night she came into his home and tore it apart.
“This man gave her love, a home, and a child. It was all she could ask for. But when someone gives, they can also take away.”
Jihoon didn’t want to hear this part. The abandonment that Yena would use to justify her horrific actions. To explain why Jihoon had to die.
“When he found out what she was, he betrayed her to a shaman family that wanted to use her gi to cure their child of the sight. It afflicted the infant so that she saw spirits.”
She must be talking about Nara’s family. Jihoon wondered if the young shaman knew this version of the story.
“I didn’t mean to kill them. Though now I wish I’d killed the old woman, too. If she hadn’t gotten away, none of this would be happening.
“I was going to tell him the truth about what I was. Because I was fool enough to believe he’d still love me. But Shaman Kim got to him first. She told him everything that had happened. And instead of standing by me, he let her turn him against me. But that’s not the worst of it. He turned against our Miyoung, too. He let Shaman Kim take her.”
This was not the story he was supposed to hear. He wasn’t supposed to feel sympathy for Yena.
“It was a simple trade. My yeowu guseul for my daughter. They gave it to me like a choice. But that is no choice for a mother.”
“You gave up your bead for Miyoung.”
“He took my bead and he tried to kill her anyway. Because, he said, she was a monster just like me. He drowned her in the tub and left us both for dead.”
73
MIYOUNG COULDN’T BREATHE. It felt like the light of the moon was burning her skin. And her mother’s words made her head spin.
This couldn’t be right. This story she’d never heard, but it felt so familiar she ached.