The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea(76)

Exactly one year after I arrived back in the world above, I’m waiting on the beach, my family surrounding me, when the sun sets and the moon rises. Shin doesn’t appear. The next day we return to the beach, and then the next, and the next, until it’s only me who waits every day by the sea as summer turns to fall.

First confusion clouds my thoughts, then doubt that he ever loved me, then understanding. Because if the emperor lost his memory when his soul was returned to him, then likely Shin did as well.



* * *



Fall turns to winter, and the following spring the same messenger comes back, surprising us all by declaring that the emperor has plans to travel to our small village in order to celebrate the anniversary of his miraculous return. A festival to honor the Sea God is to take place, first in the village and then on the cliffs by the sea, and the villagers rejoice.

Soon caravans arrive from the capital, bringing with them noblemen and court ladies whose servants pitch elaborate tents in the fields, exciting the children and setting the elders to grumbling.

For weeks, the whole village prepares for the emperor’s arrival, stringing up lanterns in the eaves of the buildings in the village square and between the branches of the trees that line the pathway up to the cliffs.

Cooking fires blaze far into the night, and the loud banging of iron against wood can be heard from sunup to sundown as roofs are repaired and new buildings constructed to accommodate the hundreds of merchants and craftsmen who flock to our village in hopes of enticing the nobles.

The seaside temple dedicated to the Sea God is restored to its former glory, and an artisan is commissioned by the village to paint a mural of the dragon on the wall, surrounded by ninety-eight lotus flowers, to honor every bride sacrificed to save our people.

The hard work makes me wistful for the magic of the Spirit Realm, but it’s also a welcome distraction from when my thoughts turn heavy, the longing I feel like a splinter in my heart.

The morning before the festival day, there’s a loud commotion outside our home. Cheong and I look up from where we sit by the hearth, picking the tails off bean sprouts.

“What’s that?” Cheong says.

I listen carefully. “Circus performers?”

“Maybe it’s the eldest Kim son again,” Cheong teases. “He is quite determined to claim your favor.”

I fling a bean sprout in her direction. “I’m only eighteen. I won’t get married for another ten years, at the least!”

The door slides open, and Joon rushes in. We watch as he leans against the doorway, panting. He opens his mouth, closes it. Opens it again. No words come out.

“Joon, my love,” Cheong says patiently. “Who has come to visit, making all that ruckus? Are those drums I hear?”

“The emperor,” Joon says, breathless. “The emperor has come.”

Cheong stands abruptly, eyes widening. “To the village?”

“To our home! He’s right outside the gate.”

Time seems to slow. Cheong’s and Joon’s excited voices become incoherent murmurs. Cheong rushes to tell my grandmother and Soojin, while Joon runs into the garden to get Sung. I look down to see the bean sprout I’ve been holding is now crushed in the palm of my hand.

We gather in the small courtyard of our house. Sung and Soojin holding Mirae at the head, then Joon and Cheong, then my grandmother, and, lastly, me.

Our servant, an elderly woman we hired after Mirae was born, opens the doors. The emperor strides through our small wooden gate. I try to see the Sea God in him, that scared, sorrowful boy, but he’s no longer there. This man with his straight back and proud stance is like the young man from the memory, the one who faced death on a desolate cliffside and made a wish to live. He sweeps his gaze over us. His eyes meet mine, and I immediately lower my head.

I hear Sung approach him. “Your Majesty. You honor us with your presence.”

When the emperor doesn’t speak, Sung says tentatively, “May I offer you some refreshment?”

“No,” the emperor says, and even his voice sounds different, deeper and more commanding. “Please introduce me to your family.”

Sung hesitates for only a moment. “This is my wife, and my daughter.”

I can hear the tread of their boots. “My brother and his wife, Shim Cheong. You might have heard—”

The emperor must make a sign of impatience because they move down the line. “My grandmother,” Sung says.

They stop before me. “And my sister.”

I look down at the emperor’s shoes.

“What is your name?”

I swallow thickly. Why is he here? He should have no memories of me. I am a stranger to him. His hand takes my chin and lifts my face.

“Your Majesty,” I say. “My name is Mina. I am the daughter of the Song family.”

“Mina,” the emperor says, in that deep, unfamiliar voice. “Will you walk with me? Perhaps, in your garden?”

I look to my family, who all stare at me with wide eyes. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

We head into the garden, his back to me. He’s different from my Sea God. He has broader shoulders and a warrior’s height. He wears a sword at his side, and his hair is longer. A strange longing for my Sea God builds inside me. I realize—he no longer exists. The thought brings me to tears.