Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(27)

“You’re so strange.” Miyoung shook her head. “I should get going.”

But she didn’t leave. Instead she narrowed her eyes, like she was debating something. Then she held out her umbrella.

“What’s this for?” Jihoon asked.

“Gumiho don’t get sick. I don’t need it.”

“Be careful,” he said, accepting the umbrella with a grin. “I might start thinking you like me.”

She rolled her eyes as she left. Her form faded long before he was able to tear his gaze away.

It’s not smart for a person to go looking for trouble among things he doesn’t understand, he reminded himself.

But it seemed he wasn’t that smart.





10





AS MIYOUNG MADE her way through the forest, unease sat heavy in her chest. Was she a fool to allow a person to roam free while he held her secret?

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

Still, Jihoon worried her 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 her lies. Like how she claimed to control their shared dream. It had been as much a surprise to her as it was to him. But she needed him to believe she was more powerful than she was. She needed to scare him into silence. He’d given his word, but she couldn’t trust that. Even though she wanted to.

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

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

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

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

Miyoung’s 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. They were completely unpacked the same day they’d moved in. There would be no living with moving boxes for Gu Yena.

Glass cases displayed relics from societies past.

Terra-cotta horses, posed for eternity with their regal heads held high. Given to Yena 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 Yena 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 her from across the room. Miyoung wasn’t sure who’d given her mother this artifact, though she liked to think they had a good sense of humor and a strong constitution. They had to if they had the gumption to gift Yena with such a symbol.

Sometimes Miyoung felt like one of those antiques, something Yena had collected over her centuries of life. And that was Miyoung’s problem. How could she compete with thieves and princes and royal scholars?

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

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

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

She clicked on the large TV in the corner. The sound of it in the background always helped calm Miyoung’s nerves, drowning out the anxious thoughts that swam through her 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 Miyoung’s favorite part.

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

“You took a long time getting home.”

“I’m sorry,” Miyoung said.

“Don’t be sorry. Be better.”

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