person shocked back to life.
“I think it’s working,” Jihoon murmured beside her.
The bead was so bright in her hands, she feared it would burn her mother to ash before it revived her. Yena’s body began convulsing.
“What do I do?” Miyoung asked no one in particular.
“Keep going,” Jihoon answered. He pulled off his jacket and bunched it under Yena’s neck.
Miyoung pushed on the molten-hot bead with all of her might.
Yena’s body shuddered like waves of energy ran through her. Her mouth wrenched open, and her wailing pierced the air.
Then, echoing silence. Yena’s body no longer shook. And the bead was gone.
Miyoung watched Yena’s face. “Eomma?”
Her mother’s eyes fluttered open, and Miyoung let out a breath of relief. “It worked.”
Yena’s cracked lips tilted into a sweet smile. She gripped Miyoung’s hands.
“We’ll get you somewhere you can rest, Eomma.”
“You haven’t called me that since you were a baby.” Yena’s voice sounded faint, like it was cast from some faraway place.
“I’ll call you that every day if you want.”
“I’m proud of you, Daughter,” Yena said. “I never told you that enough.”
“Well, you have a chance to now.” Miyoung’s tears caught in Yena’s hair like falling stars.
“There are so many things I never got a chance to tell you”—Yena paused to catch her breath before continuing—“because of my pride.”
“Why are you talking like this is it? Don’t you get it? I did it. I saved you.” Miyoung gripped her mother’s hand, a desperate fear taking root in her.
“I’m sorry for so many things that I can’t make up for now.”
“Don’t talk like that. Don’t talk like you’re still dying,” Mi-young demanded. “You’re scaring me.”
“No, nothing can scare my brave daughter.” Yena sighed the words. “Miyoung, who are you?”
Miyoung tried to reply, and it came out a sob. She took a deep, shuddering breath and tried again. “Gu Yena’s daughter.”
“And what does that make you?”
“Smart.”
“And?”
“Beautiful.”
“And?”
“Strong.”
“And loved.”
Miyoung felt when her mother’s life left her body. Yena’s cold hands loosened around hers. Her body let out a final sigh with the relief of letting go.
“No,” Miyoung sobbed. “I saved you. I saved you. I saved you.” She repeated the words again and again. A mantra she couldn’t give up.
Then she did stop. And she wept.
She wept as Yena’s body faded to nothing. Not even leaving dust behind, but becoming air and vapor.
77
AFTER MIYOUNG CRIED herself dry, she left the clearing without a glance at the charred remains that were her father. He could be picked at by the crows. She rushed to the shaman shop. Nara would have to help her—it was only right the shamans undid what they’d created—but it had been emptied. Cleared so completely that not even a speck of dust lay on the worn wooden floor. And Miyoung collapsed in the middle of the empty store to weep out her anger and despair until Jihoon found her.
* * *
• • •
They placed a placard for Yena below a maehwa tree. The plum blossoms would flower in winter despite the cold. It was a hardy tree, but beautiful when it bloomed. It reminded Miyoung of Yena, so that was where they laid her to rest.
It was a simple ceremony lit by the waning moon. When Junu arrived, they exchanged no words, but Miyoung had no strength to make him leave.
With nowhere else to go, she stayed with Jihoon. His room became her sanctuary where she waited for her death. Her bead had disappeared with Yena’s body. And without it she expected to soon join her mother. As she lay with the curtains drawn to block out the sun, she didn’t know how many days had passed.
The full moon had marked the ninetieth day, which meant she had ten days of feeling like her grief would consume her. Ten days of mourning before she could go to oblivion.
A fever raged through her like a flash fire sweeping through a forest. She slept through days and wept at night. And every time she woke, Jihoon was there, wiping her sweaty brow or napping beside her.
It was her only comfort, that he’d be with her in the end. Though she felt sorry when she saw the pain in his eyes.
“This has to stop,” Jihoon said one day, stomping to the curtains and flinging them open. “You’re not dying, Miyoung.”
She didn’t reply, didn’t even move to block out the light.
“Miyoung-ah,” Jihoon said, his voice softer. “I don’t know what to do for you. Can’t you tell me?”
She stared at him, resting her cheek against the pillow, still damp from