Legend [YEONBIN] ✓

ten ; soobin

As I made my way through the forest, unease sat heavy in my chest. Was I a fool to allow a person to roam free while he held my secret?

My mother would just make him fall in love with her. She always claimed that when humans thought they loved, they’d do anything. I didn’t like the idea that love could be manipulated. My mother might be jaded about the human heart, but I wasn’t yet.

Still, Yeonjun worried me with his observant eyes, devil-like smile, and glib tongue. It was a bad combination. Someone who knew too much and cared too little.

It felt like he could see right through my lies. Like how I claimed to control our shared dream. It had been as much a surprise to me as it was to him. But I needed him to believe I was more powerful than I was. I needed to scare him into silence. He’d given his word, but I couldn’t trust that. Even though I wanted to.

Will you be okay? His question echoed in my head. It had sounded like he truly worried for my well-being. Just thinking about it made my heart ache.

I squeezed my hands into tight fists and felt the tissue still wrapped around my right hand. It was tied in a neat bow despite the delicate material. I ripped it off, revealing skin that had already healed.

Maybe it would be best to tell my mother everything. My mom always knew what to do. But that might mean mom would take care of Yeonjun by making sure he never talked to anyone, ever again. I didn’t like that Yeonjun knew my secret, but I didn’t think he deserved to die for it.

And my mom’s mood was bound to be severe after her trip to the school. It would be best to keep Yeonjun a secret a little while longer.

My house sat at the end of the road. The structure was made of glass and wood, open to the nature all around it.

The living room was pristine, not a mote of dust on any surface. We were completely unpacked the same day we’d moved in. There would be no living with moving boxes for my mom.

Glass cases displayed relics from societies past.

Terra-cotta horses, posed for eternity with their regal heads held high. Given to my mom as a token of affection. The man had smuggled them into the country as proof of his love.

A six-pointed crown, dripping with jade beading and gold pieces. A gift to mom from a cousin of a king.

Long jade binyeo, hairpins with smooth shafts. The ends carved and whittled into intricate maze-like patterns creating delicate vines tipped in lotus flowers. A set of them commissioned by the head scholar at Sungkyunkwan.

A bronze fox leered at me from across the room. I wasn’t sure who’d given my mother this artifact, though I liked to think they had a good sense of humor and a strong constitution. They had to if they had the gumption to gift my mom with such a symbol.

Sometimes I felt like one of those antiques, something my mom had collected over her centuries of life. And that was my problem. How could I compete with thieves and princes and royal scholars?

I felt like I had to be stronger than the terra-cotta, more regal than the gold, and more beautiful than the jade. If I wasn’t, would I be relegated to a glass case of her own? Packed away where mom could remember her fondly from a distance?

I stuck my hand into my pocket and wrapped my hand around the yeowu guseul nestled there. A new habit I’d already formed.

I made my way to my room. A poster of my favorite singer, hung over my bed. Something mom originally protested. Why idolize singers when there existed real gods and demons? I had insisted and my mother gave in, one of the only times I had ever won an argument.

I clicked on the large TV in the corner. The sound of it in the background always helped calm my nerves, drowning out the anxious thoughts that swam through my brain. The drama playing was popular right now and halfway through its run. That meant there would be fewer long, angsty looks between the main leads and more confessions of love. The middle of a drama was my favorite part.

I’d barely had time to settle on my bed when there came a knock on my door. Without waiting for an answer, it swung open. I stood and gave a bow of greeting. “Hello, Mother.”

“You took a long time getting home.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be sorry. Be better.”

I nodded and gripped the hem of my shirt to keep my fingers still. A piece of tissue was still stuck to the side of my knuckle, reminding me of Yeonjun carefully wrapping my cuts. I clamped my hands together, hiding the bloodstained tissue between them. I didn’t want mom to find out about Yeonjun. Not yet.

My mom leaned forward, peering into my lowered eyes.

For a minute, I worried my mother saw through my skull to the secrets I hid. But I knew that, despite the myths, gumiho who read minds were long extinct.

“Soobin, who are you?”

I almost gave a sigh of relief, but instead exhaled deliberately slow. “Choi Ara’s son,” I replied to the familiar question.

“And what does that make you?”

“Smart.”

“And?”

“Handsome.”

“And?”

“Strong.”

“Good.” My mom nodded, satisfied. “You should not let the mortals affect you. My son is better than that. And I expect better things from you than getting into petty scuffles with your classmates.”

It was said as more of a command than a comfort, but still gave me strength.

“I’m sorry for causing problems today, Mother.”

“I know,” my mom said, and left me alone with only the sound of my drama as company.