can’t imagine turning on someone you claimed to love.”
“Well, I suppose you don’t know me that well, do you?”
“I guess not.” And Somin’s expression seemed to shutter, like she was locking away her emotions.
“And when you trapped your former love, you used your staff,” Miyoung continued the story quietly. Junu and Somin both turned to her. In the heat of the fight, they’d forgotten she was there.
“Yeah,” Junu said. “And now it’s gone. I left it in that cave. I thought it was what held her there. But I must have been wrong, because someone took it.”
“So . . . it’s over.” Miyoung’s head hung, her shoulders hunched.
“No,” Junu insisted. “I’ll figure this out.”
From the expression on Miyoung’s face, it was clear she still had no faith in him. What did he have to do to prove himself? And why did he still need to?
“We don’t have time to come up with any more big plans. The reapers are already here. We have to close the tear, or they’ll take care of matters. And I’m assuming they’re not really motivated to keep me alive.” She paused and closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ll figure something out. I need to learn how to clean up my own messes or to at least face the consequences of them.” She left before Somin or Junu could respond.
Junu clenched his fists. He wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated or annoyed, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t want to deal with the disappointment that still hung heavy in the air. He waited for Somin to leave, but she didn’t.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Junu asked, his tone sharp. Filled with all of his pent-up frustration. “Is there another traumatizing story from my past you’d like to hear?”
“I just don’t get you,” Somin said quietly. “I thought maybe you were different from what I initially thought. I was willing to admit I was wrong. But it’s like you’re constantly asking me to hate you.”
“Then maybe you should,” Junu said, suddenly wanting to punch something. “Maybe you’re trying to look for something in me that just doesn’t exist.”
“I don’t want to believe that.”
“Why? Because otherwise you’d be ashamed of kissing me? Well, I absolve you of any responsibility there. I was already getting bored of you anyway.”
He started to turn, and Somin grabbed his arm to stop him.
“Do you really mean that?” she asked, her eyes searching. “If you say yes, then that’s it. But once the door is shut, I’m not opening it again.”
Junu started to say yes. But he couldn’t. The frustration that burned through him was sliced by the chill of fear. He was afraid of losing her. And suddenly all his anger seeped away and he was left feeling drained. “I don’t know what to say to you. I don’t know what to do here.”
“Will you just tell me the truth?”
“I don’t know if the truth will help,” Junu said, but he knew he’d give it to her.
“Why did you do what you did? Why would you turn against someone you loved like that?”
He yanked his arm free like a petulant child. “You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone in your life tell you you’re nothing. And then, when you think you’ve found someone who says they’ll love you no matter what, they betray you, too. Worse, they turn you into a monster. You’d gladly take back the pathetic life you used to hate because anything is better than the hell you’re living through now, living through it against your will. Living against your will.”
“Do you really wish she had let you die?”
“She did let me die,” Junu said. “She was the reason I died.”
“Fine, do you really wish she’d let you stay dead?” Somin asked.
“I wish that I’d been given a choice.” Maybe if his family had let him have a choice, then he wouldn’t have been so enamored by Sinhye. He wouldn’t have been so taken in by her.
“But you loved her.”
Junu measured his reply. This felt like some kind of trap, but he couldn’t tell what kind. And he’d promised Somin he’d tell her the truth. Stupid promises. Junu hated that he felt so honor bound to keep them. “It wasn’t a healthy love.”
“What does that mean?”
“Not all love is good for you,” Junu said with a harsh chuckle.
Somin looked confused, like he was speaking in a language she couldn’t understand. Of course she didn’t. She’d grown up with