acne. Though back then, people thought it could be a pox when it got really bad. Oh, the joys of living before modern dermatology,” Junu said, sarcasm lacing his tone. “I had a weak constitution. Was constantly sick when I was young. I was never good enough for my father. Never good enough to carry the family name. And he reminded me of that every day. I guess, with Changwanie, I was trying to help him find a shield so it wouldn’t get so bad for him. So it wouldn’t end so horribly.”
“How did it end?” Somin asked.
“They died,” Junu said quietly. “Because of me.”
Somin kept quiet, knowing she didn’t have the words he needed. Maybe there were no words that could help him.
“After I was changed. It took me a few weeks to get the courage. But I had to see them again. I wanted to see if maybe . . . if maybe I could go back home.”
There was such a longing in his voice when he said the word home.
“At first they didn’t recognize me, so I told them things only I could know. I thought they’d be happy to see me. I thought they’d welcome me back with open arms. I was wrong. My mother broke down. Said I had turned into a demon. My nunas became cruel. Telling me I shouldn’t have come back. And my hyeong . . .” Junu paused a moment, his eyes looked like they were watching something far away. As if the things he was remembering were playing out before him. “He went to get my abeoji.”
“What did your abeoji do?” Somin asked gently.
“I think there was always something in him that was on the verge of snapping. I think I broke that part of him that night. He was in a rage. He said that his family had been cursed. That I was proof of that.”
Somin wasn’t sure anymore if she wanted to hear the rest of the story.
“He made them go into the back room, away from me. Maybe if he hadn’t, they would have gotten out in time.”
“What?” Somin asked, her voice shaking. “What did he do next?”
“It wasn’t him,” Junu said, his voice a hoarse choke. “It was me. I didn’t know I could do something like that.” He lifted his hands, staring at them like they were loaded weapons. “I was still so unused to this body, to controlling it. I’d forgotten the stories about what a dokkaebi could do. But even the stories didn’t tell me that our abilities are tied to our emotions, especially in the beginning.”
“Junu, I don’t need to know,” Somin said. She could tell that this was hurting him.
“There’s a tale about how dokkaebi are linked to fire. Because we can create it from our very flesh. A goblin fire that burns so bright it’s blue. And when the room caught on fire, I could hear them banging for my father to let them out, but he wouldn’t. He said he’d rather they all burn to death than live with the curse I’d put on the family. I tried to save them. I did,” Junu said desperately, as if he was trying to convince her. “But he’d bolted the door shut, and when I tried to unlock it, he knocked me out somehow. I woke up surrounded by ashes and bodies. He’d meant for us all to die together, but the dokkaebi fire didn’t hurt me. I wished for so long that it had killed me too.”
“You hate fire,” she whispered, remembering Junu’s words.
“Yeah, it took me a long time to control it, a long time to lock it away. I’ve never used it since that night. Until tonight.”
“Your hands. The fire,” Somin said.
“It’s the first time in centuries that I’ve lost control like that,” Junu said.
“That’s not your fault,” she said. It seemed like such an insufficient reply, but it was all she could think of. She wished she had something epic and comforting to say to him in this moment. Hyuk had told her that Junu had never told this story to anyone, but he was telling it to her. It was a responsibility she didn’t take lightly.
“I killed them. They would have lived if not for me. If I hadn’t been so selfish. I should never have gone back to see them.”
“Wanting to see your family isn’t selfish. You loved them,” Somin said, and she wanted to pull him close again. But before she could, Junu shoved