Wicked Fox (Gumiho #1)(3)

All the color leached from the man’s face. “How do you know?”

“Don’t you regret what you did?” she asked, as if the question was rhetorical, but she hoped for a sign of repentance.

As always, she was disappointed.

“Why should I be sorry? It was her fault.” The man’s face became bright red. “She should have kept quiet. I only tried to make her stop screaming.”

“Then you’ve made your choice and I’ve made mine.”

She felt the moon, heard it whispering to her, telling her to feed.

Miyoung let her energy flow, let part of her true form free.

The man gasped.

They wove behind her, nine tails made of moonlight and dust.

In this last moment before she took a life, she had a need to be her true self. No more lies or false facades. She’d show these men what took their lives in the end.

She gripped the man by the shoulders, letting his gi fill her until her muscles vibrated. The moon urged her to let go, to allow her baser instincts to take over. If she ripped out his liver, the process would be over in seconds. But Miyoung couldn’t bring herself to do it. And so she watched him die slowly, yet painlessly, as she siphoned his gi bit by bit. As simple as a person falling asleep.

While she became full, the man deflated like a balloon losing air. She loved the energy filling her, even as she hated herself for being a monster.

“Why are you doing this?” The man’s voice became slurred.

“Because I don’t want to die.” She watched the light fade from his eyes.

“Neither do I,” he mumbled just before he lost consciousness.

“I know,” she whispered to no one.





2





THE PC ROOM was hot with thirty running computers, though only three stations were occupied. It was stuffy and dark and smelled like the shrimp chips and instant noodles sold as snacks.

Ahn Jihoon loved it. He clicked with nimble fingers, his left hand glued to the hot keys, his right hand sweeping the mouse over the screen.

“If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late,” Oh Changwan said, his hands waving like anxious butterflies with nowhere to land. He’d long since logged off after losing his own game.

“Then we’ll be late.” Digital armies marched across Jihoon’s screen.

“I can’t be late again.” Changwan frowned. It highlighted his exaggerated features. His ears were too big and his nose too long. A puppy who hadn’t grown into his looks yet.

Jihoon knew being late wasn’t Changwan’s problem. His problem was being timid and having a family rich enough to care. As the eldest son, he held the weight of the Oh name on his shoulders, which was only doubled by wealth. It didn’t sit well on Changwan, who was prone to anxiety and merely mediocre at anything he tried. It made Jihoon grateful he’d been born poor.

“Changwan-ah, you always worry about the future instead of enjoying what’s happening now. You need to learn that life isn’t worth living if you’re not having fun.” Jihoon narrowed his eyes, searching for the final tower on his opponent’s base. He found it with a triumphant grunt, and the screen announced victory in bold green letters hovering over his Protoss army.

“Great, you won. Time to go?” Changwan asked.

Jihoon stood and shrugged on his navy-blue uniform blazer.

“Changwan-ah, no one likes a nag.”

Changwan scowled and Jihoon added a friendly smile. One that said he meant no harm but knew he spoke the truth. He wielded his grin like a weapon, a crooked tilt of his lips that revealed deep dimples. When he used it, few could stay mad. It worked, as Changwan gave a reluctant smile.

Outside, Jihoon took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of car exhaust and simmering oxtail from the seolleongtang restaurant down the street. He swung an arm around his friend’s shoulder as they walked in and out of the sun that peeked between the tall buildings.

“Is it me, or does the morning always smell fresher after the thrill of victory?”

“It smells like someone needs to clean their fish tanks.” Changwan scrunched his face at the seafood store. Jihoon followed his gaze to one of the giant glass aquariums, the bulging eyes of a flounder stared back.

The city bus pulled up, and Jihoon slapped Changwan’s shoulder cheerfully. “Come on, don’t want to be late.”

They were late.

By the time they reached the school, the front gate sat closed, a signal that class had started without them. Jihoon helped boost Changwan over the side wall before climbing up himself. He miscalculated the distance and his pant leg caught.

“Aissi!” Jihoon grimaced at the long rip in the calf of his beige pants.

He’d had a growth spurt the past year, making him the tallest in his class. It also made him unintentionally clumsy.

The school was a U-shaped building with long narrow hallways, lined on one side by classrooms and on the other by wide windows facing the inner courtyard and sports fields. The building was old, and there was no central heat to warm the halls in the brisk fall chill.

They snuck into the back of the classroom with ten minutes left in homeroom. The teacher, Miss Kwon, was still addressing the class.

“I’d like to remind everyone that now is not the time to slack off.” She zeroed in on Jihoon. “Next year is your third and final year of high school. It’s our job to prepare you. And your job to learn.”