Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(13)

Halmeoni stared at him so hard he practically heard her thoughts. She was deciding if she would push the subject or not. She let it go along with his chin. “I had a dream about a pig last night,” she said.

Jihoon looked over to Somin for clarification. She shrugged.

“It brings good fortune. So you two should study hard.” Halmeoni swept her ladle between Somin and Jihoon.

“Yes, Halmeoni.” They gave twin bows.

“Eat yeot. It’ll make the knowledge stick.”

“Yes, Halmeoni.”

“Here, take this out to table three.” Halmeoni handed him a tray of stews, still boiling in their stone pots.

“Then get back in here. I’m going to finish fixing the seasoning in this next dish for table six,” Somin’s mother said before resuming her bickering with Halmeoni.

Somin gave Jihoon a smile and an eye roll as she also picked up a tray.

Jihoon followed, for once grateful for the chaos that was his life. By the end of the lunch rush, he’d almost completely forgotten about fox-girls and goblins.





WHEN THE FIRST gumiho neared the age of a thousand, the Silla Kingdom joined forces with the Chinese Tang dynasty and overthrew much of what used to be Prince Jumong’s Goguryeo. It brought with it the rise of Buddhism.

Nine (gu, 九) was the symbol of the dragon and, therefore, the symbol of the king. It was the symbol of longevity, the symbol of immortality.

Nine nations were to submit to the Silla dynasty. They built the grand imperial dragon pagoda with nine tiers. The largest of its kind in all of East Asia, it symbolized the power of Buddha and Silla.

The fox grew eight extra tails.

Nine tails for power.

Nine tails for immortality.





6





MONDAY MORNING, MISS Kwon quieted the class to start homeroom. As the kids settled, she didn’t launch into morning announcements as usual. Instead, she cleared her throat and glanced at something written in her notebook. “We have a new transfer student today: Gu Miyoung.”

She gestured to the open door.

The girl moved quietly into the room. That was what Jihoon noticed first.



He half rose from his seat at the shock of seeing her. The dozens of times he’d thought of her over the weekend, he never imagined she’d do anything as boring as attend school. Let alone his school.

In the sunlight her face was striking. All angles and planes, a straight nose, and dark eyes framed with long lashes and curving brows. The boys in the room sat up straighter, like they were all puppets with their strings suddenly pulled taut.

“Introduce yourself.” Miss Kwon invited Miyoung to step forward.

“My name is Gu Miyoung.” She bowed. “My mother and I recently moved to Seoul. Please take good care of me.” It was the generic introduction of any new transfer student, but the way she said it held an edge of warning: Stay away from me. Her eyes were hard as they swept over the room. Jihoon waited for them to find him. But she didn’t even pause when she saw him.

“I think I’m in love,” Changwan whispered.

“Stop drooling.” Jihoon didn’t spare his friend a glance. He was too busy staring at Miyoung, who refused to meet his gaze.

“You may sit by Lee Somin,” Miss Kwon said.

Miyoung took her seat, keeping her head down and thwarting Jihoon’s attempts to catch her eye.

Miss Kwon finished the morning announcements as the bell rang. As soon as she left, the room erupted into chatter. While the teachers moved from classroom to classroom for each period, the students gained a few minutes of freedom to gossip and eat forbidden snacks previously hidden away.

Jihoon usually used the break for the latter, but this time he pushed back from his desk, stepping toward Miyoung.

He was beat to the punch by Baek Hana.

“Transfer student,” Hana said. She was pretty in a traditional way: classic oval face, pert nose, and rosebud lips. Her straight bangs perfectly styled, her pleated skirt perfectly pressed. She reminded Jihoon of a porcelain doll, if dolls had judgmental eyes and sharp tongues. “Where’d you transfer from?”

It took Miyoung so long to answer, it seemed she intended to ignore the question. Finally, she said, “Jeollanam-do.”

“The whole province of South Jeolla?”

“Gwangju.” Another clipped answer.

“I have cousins in Gwangju.” Hana smiled, but it held no kindness. “You’re very pretty. Who was your plastic surgeon?”

Jihoon rolled his eyes at the barb. Everyone knew that Hana had begged her parents for double-eyelid surgery; just because they denied her didn’t mean she was above plastic surgery. He saw Miyoung’s hands clamp, two tight fists folded together. He wondered if she did that to save Hana from a well-deserved punch in the mouth.

“Do you need something, Hana-ya?” Somin asked, and half the class stopped their conversations. Some settled in for the show.

Hana squirmed under Somin’s stare. Jihoon didn’t usually find pleasure in other people’s discomfort, but he felt a grim sense of satisfaction as Hana’s eyes darted back and forth between Somin and Miyoung. She seemed torn between playing with her new target and preserving her own skin.

Hana lifted her chin and Jihoon couldn’t help but think she’d made the wrong choice. “I’m saying hello to the new transfer.”