salt-and-pepper hair under a dark cap. But his face was younger than Junu expected. A young man whose face was thin, ravaged by illness. Still, there was a glint in his gaze. And Junu recognized the shape of his eyes.
“You’re Somin’s abeoji.”
“I’m here to take you to her,” he said, holding out his hand. “She is holding on to you. She is waiting for you.”
Junu nodded and stepped into the dark after Somin’s father.
65
SOMIN COULDN’T LET go of him even as Miyoung called her name. Even as she heard Jihoon moan and regain consciousness. Even as her friends told her that they couldn’t find a pulse. That they had to leave Junu’s body. She wouldn’t let go.
“Somin-ah,” Miyoung said. “We have to get Jihoon to a doctor. We have to make sure he’s okay.”
At that Somin finally studied her friend. Jihoon leaned heavily against a boulder. The bleeding from his wound had stopped, but he looked awful, with his washed-out face and bloodshot eyes. And she knew that they couldn’t stay. She knew that they had to leave. But she couldn’t get herself to let go of Junu. Like this, he looked like he could just be sleeping. There had been no blood when the blade had gone into him and none when she’d pulled it out. So she could almost convince herself that he was asleep.
“He hasn’t turned to dust. Not like the other dokkaebi. That has to mean he’s still alive,” Somin argued. She’d been arguing this point for almost thirty minutes. As the moon had risen. As the night had deepened.
She wrapped her arms around Junu, trying to find a way to say goodbye. But instead she just whispered his name in small sobs as she held on. “Junu. Junu.”
Somin-ah. Her name tickled her ear. A familiar voice. A flash of salt-and-pepper hair racing through her mind. A glimpse of eyes framed by smile lines.
“Appa?” she whispered.
My daughter. Be happy.
“Somin-ah.” The croak of her name was spoken against her neck this time.
Shivers of hope raced through her. But she didn’t let the tears fall until she pulled back and saw Junu blinking up at her.
“You held on,” he said.
66
SOMIN WASN’T SURE what to do with herself. A week had passed since they’d gotten back from the mountain. A week where Jihoon had to stay overnight in the hospital for observation, despite his objections. Somin and Miyoung had told her mother a horrible excuse, that they’d gone hiking and he fell, practically skewering himself on a tree branch.
No one pointed out that Jihoon would never be caught dead hiking.
Miyoung was also recovering, gaining back her strength and looking more like the girl Somin had first met almost a year ago.
And Junu . . . she hadn’t seen Junu since they’d returned to Seoul. Somin had gone to his house at least a dozen times in the last seven days. And finally, she’d stopped because it had hurt too much to feel the rejection every time his door stayed shut.
She’d tried to throw herself back into school as it started up again in mid-August. But today was Sunday and she was stuck with nothing but her brooding thoughts at home.
“You know, if you pick up your feet, you won’t make that annoying shuffling noise,” Jihoon said from the couch as Somin came out of the kitchen.
“You know, you’re not actually a permanent resident of this house, and I’d be happy to relocate you onto the balcony,” Somin bit back.
“I hate mopey-Somin. She’s so mean.” Jihoon pouted and went back to surfing the channels on the television. He stopped at a weekend drama, the soapy kind with melodramatic story lines and lots of slapping and water thrown in faces.
“I can’t believe you watch these,” Somin said, flopping onto the couch beside him. She hadn’t changed out of her pajamas yet even though it was almost noon. She just didn’t see the point.
“Miyoung got me hooked on them. Girl loves her dramas.”
“Where is she? You two have been glued at the hip these days.”
“She’s going to her mother’s grave. Said she needed to be alone for it.”
Somin nodded. She knew what it was like to need to be alone for these things. Sometimes she went to see her father in the columbarium alone. She didn’t tell her mother because she didn’t know if she’d be upset to know how often Somin went.
She’d gone this week. She’d felt her father that day on the mountain. And somehow, she was sure her father