can’t say how nice it is for you to come and help,” Ms. Moon said, and there was that kind smile.
“Of course. I’m always here for a friend.” He emphasized the word and gave Somin a wink.
Her mouth formed a thin line, and he imagined she was trying to hold back harsh words that would earn her a smack from her mother.
Junu almost gave another wink just to annoy her, but Miyoung stepped out of the bathroom.
She was hauling what looked like a very full and very heavy box. The sight of her made Junu lose any of his glib words. He never knew the right thing to say in front of Miyoung these days. Every time he saw her, he felt a rolling in his stomach. In the past, when he felt uncomfortable around someone, he’d just leave. But for some reason the idea of leaving made him feel even worse. For the first time in his immortal life, he felt like he owed a debt to someone. And he hated it.
Despite her disheveled hair, tired eyes, and the light sheen of sweat on her brow, Miyoung was gorgeous. Though, Junu would expect nothing less from the former gumiho. A girl so beautiful men fell instantly in love with her only to find themselves missing a liver. He’d once thought they could be confidants, two immortals living with the burden of being seen one way and, when that glamour faded, labeled as monsters.
But that was the old Miyoung, and she hadn’t even been that good at the whole predatory immortal lifestyle of the fabled nine-tailed fox.
Miyoung stopped short when she saw him. Her eyes narrowed as if deciding how to handle his presence. It was clear she wasn’t happy to see him.
“Hello, Miyoung-ah,” Junu said. “You need help with that?”
She tilted her head in a way that reminded him of a fox, then set down her packed box on a far pile and turned to Somin’s mother. “I need another box.”
“Here you go.” Ms. Moon handed her one from her pile.
Without another word, Miyoung disappeared into the bathroom.
Junu watched her retreating back, wondering if she would ever truly talk to him again. It wasn’t that he missed her conversation. Miyoung had always been a prickly companion at best. But he couldn’t deny that her company had been an interesting change from his loner lifestyle. The three months they’d lived together had been quite eventful. And if he was being honest, he’d become quite invested in Miyoung’s life.
But of course, he’d made mistakes that had cost them their unlikely alliance. Perhaps Junu could have even called it a friendship for a time.
Still, one mistake had cost a life. It had cost Miyoung her mother. A long time ago, Junu had sworn to himself he would no longer deal in games of life and death. So, whether she would accept it or not, Junu felt like he owed some kind of restitution to Miyoung for his actions. He would stick around until he’d paid back the debt. The problem was he wasn’t sure when that would be. He might be an immortal dokkaebi, but even he couldn’t know when this weight of guilt would ease from his chest. It was damned inconvenient if you asked him, but it was something he could not ignore.
“So, Junu, how are classes?” Ms. Moon brought him back to the present.
He thought about whatever lie they’d told Somin’s mother.
“At Hongik University, right?”
“Ah yes,” Junu said with a pleasant smile. “It’s great. Love the area.”
He forever looked like he was just leaving his teens. Some, Ms. Moon’s daughter being one of them, might even claim he still had the maturity of a prepubescent child, but he was centuries old. Still, he accepted the fact that Ms. Moon lumped him in with her daughter’s classmates, though the story was that he was a twenty-year-old student in his first year in university. He hadn’t even remembered whether they’d told her an actual university when they made up the lie of who Junu was—Miyoung’s cousin.
“So will Miyoung be moving back in with you?” Ms. Moon asked, and Junu didn’t process the words at first. He’d just assumed Miyoung would find a place of her own, but he remembered that nineteen was still one year away from being a legal adult even though he could argue that it was an arbitrary designation. He still didn’t feel like an “adult” half the time.
Somin paused in her packing, turning toward them. Her eyes