The last fallen moon vol.., p.22
The Last Fallen Moon (Volume 2), page 22
“Then the first thing we need to do,” I announce, feeling stronger than I have in a very long time, “is rem Jangsoo’s memories. We need to see if we can pick up on any strange happenings in his final moments before—”
Angry shouts ring down the hallway, interrupting me. It sounds like a heated argument. Bobby holds his finger to his lips and we all crane our ears, trying to make anything out.
“Yes, understood, sir,” a voice calls out.
“I’m sorry, sir,” another says. “It won’t happen again.”
Then footsteps—slow, certain strides—echo down the passageway toward us. It’s one person. As they get closer, we hear them whistling the melody to “Arirang” in a clear, controlled tone. Their keys jingle. The fabric of their clothes swooshes.
I hold my breath.
After all that, are we too late?
Are we being taken to be erased off the Jokbo already?
“Annyeong haseyo,” a deep, velvety voice says as a figure appears between the bars of our locked cell. I can’t quite make him out in the dim light, but he’s tall, broad-shouldered, and seems to be dressed all old-school Korean, like from those historical K-dramas that Eomma loves.
He bows deeply. “You will have to excuse the uncivilized and brutish manner in which you have all been treated today. I assure you that this is not normally how we care for our citizens and guests in this realm.” He holds up a set of keys. “As a token of my sincerest regret, please join me for some light refreshments in my banquet hall. You have all been much too patient and understanding. Please, I insist.”
I frown so hard my face hurts. So this man is not our executioner, and he is here to feed us? And in a banquet hall at that? Something smells fishy—and not in a yummy, fish-stew kinda way. What has suddenly changed? What are we missing?
“He has keys,” I hear Dahl murmur from behind me. “Just saying…”
The man lodges the key into the lock and twists it with a satisfying click! The bars of our cell swing open, and he steps into the light of the enclosure, cupping his hands demurely behind his back.
That’s when I finally get a good look at his face.
The prominent nose. The chiseled jaw. Those dreamy eyes. That beauty spot above his mouth…
I gulp. I know that face. It’s only been on the billboard in Jiok, on the logo of Stairbucks, in the photo frame on the Horangi memory archivist’s desk, and in the tabloid magazine covered with Sharpie doodles. It’s the face of the Lee Minho lookalike.
Yup. This man who has spared our lives from being erased is none other than King Yeomra the Great, ruling monarch of the afterlife.
Otherwise known as the corrupt mayor of the Spiritrealm.
“MAYOR YEOMRA?” Dahl breathes, scrambling to his feet and bowing deeply. “Is that really you, Your Highness—I mean, sir—I mean, Your Honor?”
Bobby jumps up beside him, and the two of them bow profusely at ninety-degree angles.
Under the sunlight and with the cell bars now gone, I can see the mayor in his full glory, and I’ll admit—he looks undeniably regal.
He’s dressed in the attire of a traditional Korean king, with a red silk robe down to his shins, red jeokseok boots with ankle ribbons, and a strapping hyeokdae lined with jade encircling his waist. There are large round hellbeast emblems embroidered in gold on the red silk, and he’s even sporting an ikseongwan on his head—a black velvet crown that kinda looks like an equestrian hat with an extra bump and small Mickey Mouse ears at the back.
“Oh wow,” Bobby murmurs as he bows again. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mayor. Oh wow. It sure is.”
I give him the side eye. It was only recently he was throwing the mayor under the bus. But now that the mayor is here, Bobby is acting like a nervous fangirl. Wasn’t this the corrupt leader that probably poisoned his own citizens?
“He’s just so…majestic!” Bobby whispers to me, as if trying to explain his sudden change of tune.
“Please, please, there’s no need for that,” the mayor says, releasing the cuffs around Dahl’s and Bobby’s wrists. He greets us all one by one, and when he gets to me, I hold my breath, remembering the hell insignia stamped on my forehead. But he doesn’t seem to notice, let alone be bothered by it.
Instead, he opens the cell doors wide and motions for us to step out. “Come with me, and we’ll get you fed and watered. The conditions of these cells really are preposterous. Not even any central heating or slippers!”
My stomach rumbles at the mention of food, and I realize we haven’t eaten since we snacked on those yakgwa cookies at Saint Heo Jun’s house. I could do with a bit of food and drink. It seems the same thought has crossed everyone’s mind, because we all dutifully follow the mayor out of the cell.
“Again, I do apologize for my constabulary’s terrible behavior,” he says as he leads us down a dark, narrow maze of stone-floored hallways. “I had my CFOs step in while I took a few mental health days, and honestly, things have just gone to hell in a handbasket! Arresting peaceful protestors? Jailing innocent souls? This isn’t a police state! It’s shameful, really. A disgrace.”
The mention of jailing innocent souls reminds me of Jennie, David, and Emmett, and I hurry to catch up with the mayor’s long strides.
“Excuse me, Mayor, but do you know of three other souls who have been wrongly captured?” I ask. “They’re good friends of mine who came down here to find me, and I understand they were also taken away by your officers.”
He looks at me, alarmed. “There are more of you?” He takes out his phone from an inner pocket of his kingly hanbok, and furiously thumbs a message. “They were very clear that only four of you were captured today”—he looks over his shoulder at Areum and raises his eyebrows—“but it seems there are five of you, which means my CFOs can’t even count.”
Having sent off his message, he puts his phone away. “I have inquired about your friends, and as soon as I hear any news, I will let you know.”
I nod gratefully and continue following behind him as the hallways become wider and more brightly lit. I don’t know at what point they began to change, but the ground is now covered with a red velvet carpet, and the walls are full of vivid paintings and stately portraits of important-looking people. There’s even a collection of frames that seem to feature various scenes from the old hell prisons. The one called Hell of Sinking Sand: A Day in the Life is particularly disturbing, with souls dotted like ants on a landscape of barren desert land, in various states of sinkage into its sandy depths. I gulp. I guess I really was lucky to have come down after the restructuring….
The mayor looks nostalgically at the paintings as we pass by. “Gosh, I haven’t seen these in a while. Things have changed a lot since then, haven’t they?” He stops and lets out a deep, chesty sigh as if he’s been dying to unload his woes to anyone willing to listen. “Did you know that I’ve been here for thousands of years? And the whole time, you think you’re making a difference. You think you’re listening, adapting, making things better for your soul citizens. But the same old problems circle around, over and over again. And you ask yourself—what is this all for? Will things ever change? Why do I even bother?”
He appears open and honest with us, and it confuses me. I thought he was supposed to be this proud and corrupt figurehead. Instead, he just seems a little demoralized and discouraged. And in need of an ear.
The mayor shakes his head. “Anyway, I digress. That’s got nothing to do with you. What does have to do with you, however, is that you have been treated so poorly. I do hope this will make up for everything somewhat.”
We stop in front of two large French-style doors, which the mayor opens using both hands with a grand flourish. “Welcome, everyone, to my banquet hall!”
When the mayor mentioned taking us to his banquet hall earlier in the cells, I wasn’t sure what to expect. At first I’d imagined some old Gothic dining hall with floating candles. That would have been cool. But then when I saw his traditional king garb, I started to think we’d be dining old-school like in the period K-dramas, probably on the floors at a stout wooden tiger-legs table, sitting on silk-embroidered cushions that make you feel bad about putting your bottom on them.
But this banquet hall is like neither of those things. In fact, it doesn’t seem like a hall at all. As we file through the door at the mayor’s behest, I feel disoriented. This door is leading us outside. Into the woods.
“Whoa,” everyone breathes in unison, taking in the vast treescape and wilderness surrounding us. There’s hardly a cloud in the sky.
“Where are we?” Hattie asks.
The air smells warm and sweet, like roasted caramel chestnuts and pumpkin pudding. The dirt under our feet crunches like broken candy, and the trickling sound of a stream comes from somewhere nearby, bringing a waft of something sugary and cinnamony on the breeze. We’re definitely in a forest, but it smells like we’re in a food wonderland.
The mayor takes delight in our confused expressions, and he chuckles. “Smells good, doesn’t it? Wait until you get a taste.”
He walks over to a pine tree and breaks off a bit of the bark of the trunk with his fingers. It stretches out like elastic before breaking off easily, its insides white and fluffy. He puts it in his mouth, and little bits of the bark crumble off and fall on his immaculate silk robe.
“Mmm,” he murmurs, giving a chef’s kiss of approval. “Sirutteok. My favorite. Not too sweet and perfectly chewy. Divine.”
Hattie’s jaw drops open. “No way. Are you saying that the tree is made of red bean rice cakes?”
She runs up to the tree and takes a chunk off the bark, like the mayor did. We all watch in anticipation as she plops it in her mouth, and then squeals with pleasure. “He’s right. It’s the perfect amount of sweet and chewy.”
“Is everything in here edible?” Dahl asks, tentatively reaching out to a patch of orange tulips whose heads seem to be filled with a thick golden liquid.
The mayor nods proudly. “Indeed. Give those tulips a go. It’s hobak-juk. They’re a little bitter in the winter, but they’re a delight in the summer.”
I knew I could smell pumpkin pudding in the air!
“There are seasons in this food forest?” I ask curiously, looking up at what I’d assumed was a fake sky.
Yeomra nods. “Oh, of course! Just like the circle of life and reincarnation, forests go through seasons of death and revival. It’s a virtuous cycle, because one can’t exist without the other. We die. We live. We die again. We live again. Otherwise, there’d be no growth, you see. It’s essential.”
Dahl drinks from the tulip like a cup, and he bursts out into giggles as the rich custardy dessert overflows out of the flower and dribbles down his chin.
“Guys, you have to try this—it’s delicious!” he exclaims. He tries the red tulips next and grins. “Ooh, these are red-bean pudding!”
The mayor waves his hands, signaling the wide expanse of the woods. “Everything you can see, you can eat. I called upon the most skilled Tokki and Gumiho witches in the realm and gave them the task of designing the most delicious, beautiful, and environmentally friendly snack bar. And this is what they came up with.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “It was so successful, in fact, I’m thinking of turning it into a reality show. The Great British Bake Off meets Love Your Garden. I do love my British reality shows. Something so wholesome about them, don’t you think?”
Hattie must not be listening, because she just stares at her surroundings and murmurs, “You’d need truckloads of food to come up with something like this.”
“We are inside an H-Mart,” Bobby reminds her, which jogs my memory of us being hurried into the grocery store by the mayor’s overzealous officers.
The mayor nods matter-of-factly. “Indeed, we are. My office can be accessed through any of the H-Marts in the realm.”
“And why exactly is your office inside a supermarket, if you don’t mind me asking?” I say.
“Simple, really. Because as well as being mayor, I happen to be the founder of the Spiritrealm’s H-Mart grocery chain—the one that even inspired the Mortalrealm’s version, in fact. How else will the citizens of my realm get free and unfettered access to the best snacks in the three realms?” He smiles joyfully. “You do know what H-Mart stands for, don’t you?”
I shake my head. This has never featured in the Saturday School curriculum.
“Hell Majesty’s Royal Throne,” he responds. “As you can see, it’s quite a mouthful. Hence why I shortened it to H-Mart. Rolls off the tongue a lot easier.”
Hattie lets out a long whistle and I, too, am genuinely surprised. All this time in the Mortalrealm, we’ve been using our local H-Mart as a portal to our temple. Who knew the chain was inspired by none other than the ruler of the underworld!
The mayor chuckles and clasps his hands behind his back again. “Now, enough of that. Less talking, more grazing. Please, don’t hold back. Go ahead and enjoy yourselves.”
We don’t need any more encouragement. Soon, Hattie and I are on all fours, exploring the forest bed. I decide against trying the Venus flytraps or the thorny patch of weeds. Instead, I cautiously nibble a stalk of what looks like a baby scallion, and it crunches in a satisfying way in my mouth. Green-tea-flavored Pepero stick! Go figure!
My mind goes momentarily to Taeyo and the Pepero vending machine at the Horangi HQ. It feels like a lifetime ago that I saw him, even though in living-realm time, it’s only been about two hours. I really hope Taeyo and Noah and Cosette haven’t gotten into trouble at the temple. They did open an unauthorized door to another realm, after all….
I look up to see Dahl and Bobby work together to lift a log, unearthing a hotbed of gummy worms underneath, in every color imaginable. Areum squawks excitedly from somewhere in the distance, and when I go in search of her, I find her sitting by a flowing stream.
She dunks her beaked mouth into the caramel-colored water and caw-caws happily. “Riley Oh, can you believe this is made of sujeongga? You must try it.”
I cup my hand into the cinnamon punch and bring it to my lips. It’s cool and sugary and spiced, quenching the thirst I didn’t realize I was nursing. A funny-looking fish swims past, and I squeal with glee. It’s one of those ice-cream sandwiches in the shape of a carp that Hattie and I used to get when we were little. Filled with vanilla ice cream and a sweet red-bean paste, and covered with a fish-shaped waffle shell, it used to be one of our favorite things to get from the H-Mart in the summer.
We explore freely, and we feast until our bellies are full. And it’s only when the thrill of the edible forest finally dulls that I realize we probably should have been a lot more cautious about eating here. Admittedly, I’m feeling nothing but well-nourished and refreshed, but who knows what’s in these snacks. We can’t trust the mayor. Didn’t we learn anything from Hansel and Gretel?
The thought brings me back to my senses. I notice the memory book clutched in Bobby’s hands. I recall my accomplices crying Fight, fight, fight! while we were captured in the holding cell. We agreed to solve the mystery of the polluted Spring of Eternal Life and fix the broken cycle of reincarnation.
I stride toward the mayor, feeling bold and brave, ready to ask for his cooperation. As delicious and fun as this experience has been, we need to get back on task now. Too many people are counting on me.
“Mayor,” I say, clearing my throat. “Thank you so much for letting us feast in your wonderful food forest. It’s been amazing—it really has. But I have two important things to discuss with you.”
He smiles serenely and tips his head. “Yes, of course. Please.”
“First, any news about our friends?”
He takes out his phone and checks his messages. “Hmm, it seems my CFOs are adamant no other souls were taken prisoner today.”
I bite my lip. That can’t be right. “Are you sure?” I demand. “My inmyeonjo saw them being taken away by your officers.”
Areum squawks in confirmation from over by the delicious stream.
The mayor furiously thumbs another message into his phone. “Don’t you worry, dear, we will find them. Just give me a little bit of time.”
It’s not the answer I wanted, but he does seem to be trying, so I decide not to push it further for now. Instead, I take a big breath. I need to suss out where this mayor stands, once and for all.
“Second, did you know that there is something wrong with the Spring of Eternal Life? And that it’s infecting the River of Reincarnation? We think the spring has been poisoned. The glass above the chalice is broken, so we suspect foul play.” I think of Bada and her empty black eyes, attacking Dahl in the water. And then how horrified she looked when our combined eum-and-yang stone cleared the gunk from her mind and she realized what she’d done. “Your citizens are getting sick, and something even worse than sickness is starting to happen to them, too—a type of violent delirium.”
He pauses and carefully studies my face. “Is this one of those so-ridiculously-not-funny-that-it’s-funny type of jokes that’s all the rage these days? Because I’ll admit—I know you young mortals enjoy sarcasm, but it is missing the mark for me.”
Frustrated, I shake my head furiously. “No, Mayor. This isn’t a joke. These are facts. The Spring of Eternal Life is infected, the entire realm is sick or getting sick, and no one can leave the realm to be reborn. I don’t know the rules around here, but I would say this warrants a Spiritrealm code red!”
The mayor’s perfectly shaped dark eyebrows rise in alarm. “Well, I…I…” He frowns hard. “I don’t think I’m understanding….”
“Do you mean to say that you had absolutely no idea what’s been happening in your own backyard?” I demand.
“Don’t you approve the reincarnation applications?” Bobby asks, coming over with the memory book clutched close to his body. There are crumbs all over his leotard, and his splotchy face is getting redder with anger. “Surely you’re aware of the backlog, which means you must be aware of the stalled river, the closed soup restaurant, the ferry that isn’t running. Surely this can’t be the first you’re hearing of all this!” The previous adoring look has disappeared from Bobby’s eyes and been replaced with accusation. “Or is this whole innocent-mayor act just for show because you infected the river?”
