When Sana said that word, there was a general rumble of sinister laughter from the crowd surrounding us. And by laughter, I mean the supernatural kinds: squawks, barks, shrieks, and every other sound that sent a chill up my spine. I don’t think I need to remind you that the Slums —in case the name doesn’t give it away— tended to remind me a lot of places in the city that you do not want to visit unless you live there. Like Harlem, or Brownsville, just to name a few. Now add that to the fact that the sky was a permanent overcast mushy gray, and that we were surrounded by a crowd of preternaturals that I dared not look at to identify for the sake of my sanity, the laughter scared me more than anything else they could have done.
“No, that’s bull,” I said, slicing the air with my hand. “You granted us guest rights.”
To my surprise, it was Wol who shot down my argument. “She did, my practitioner. But the innate laws of hidden places precede guest rights.”
“Ixnay on the awlay, Wol,” I said through gritted teeth.
“I am not familiar with this language,” Wol said, troubled.
Goddamit, this wasn’t going to end well.
“It’s not a matter of forgetting or not, Shaman. It’s a matter of what is, and what must be exacted,” Sana said. “Besides, I speak to the Baek Practitioner behind you.”
I looked next to me. Mina’s eyes widened for just a second, enough to show real, genuine fear. Then she quickly schooled her expression, as if she were used to doing something like this, and raised her staff in one hand. In the other, she bought out these paper talismans she’d been using to power her spells. Seoul stood between her feet, sturdy and eyes dripping with righteous rage.
They were getting ready to fight.
The fairy inside the cage started howling, grabbing hold of the bars and shaking them. I once saw a show about chimps that acted exactly like that—something about chimps and empires.
“Try me,” Mina said. Her words trembled a little at the end.
You know, I’ve been bullied a lot as a kid. And throughout my life, I met a lot of other bullied kids. One of the things that those kids do a lot is to try to look like they don’t care. They try to look nonchalant or uncaring. Because it’s a pretty good tactic against bullies—if you show that you don’t care and that they can’t hurt you, they tend to lose interest quickly.
But some can pick up on the slightest of fears in their voices. Those who can tell that your front is just that: a facade meant to throw you off. I saw it a lot on those nature documentaries, too. Birds that throw up their wings and try to look bigger than they are, and schools of fish that group up to imitate bigger creatures. It works sometimes. And other times… it doesn’t.
Look. My point is, Mina was scared. And if I could see it, every preternatural within a twenty-foot radius could see it too. Sana probably knew it. You can say what you want. Maybe I’m a simp. Or that I’m gooning, or whatever. Maybe even a ‘hero complex’, or wannabe white-knight in shining armor. But at the end of the day, we were in this together. And she hadn’t betrayed me yet. She was a bitch, for sure. But did she deserve to face this alone?
Hell no.
The more I think about magic, the more it’s connected to who I am. How I act, what type of choices I make. I think that goes double for someone whose whole talent relies on negotiating with preternaturals. If I was ever going to be a conjurer whose words carried weight… I felt that I needed to do this.
And it felt right.
Besides, I had a pretty good idea of what this ‘price’ was going to entail.
So I took one foot and purposefully placed myself between Sana and Mina, just enough to show that I was on her side.
“Hallow?” Mina hissed. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I think,” I took a deep breath. “I’m in front of you just in case things go to hell. But look, she’s not holding any weapons. I doubt this’ll be the type of problem you can solve with your staff.”
“Meow, I do believe that’s what she said,” Yokocho muttered under his breath.
Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.
All jokes aside, Sana nodded at my words, agreeing. She glanced at the three figures behind her, then returned her attention to us. “The Shaman speaks true. This will not be a price of might. Rather, a price of will.”
“Will?” Mina said. Her staff dropped an inch.
Sana gestured all around us. “All those who are here run from something. Enemies, pain, memories, loss, themselves. But you, Mina Baek, you do not run from anything. On the contrary, you are someone who chases.”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
I took a closer look at the preternaturals. All I could see were monsters. Man-eating, scary-looking monsters who were criminals. I don’t think anyone here was running from a tragic backstory.
…I think. Were they?
“So what does that mean?” Mina asked.
“It means that you must become someone whom the law of this place conforms to, little one,” Sana said, despite the fact that she didn’t look much older than us. “You must become someone who is chased. Someone who seeks refuge.”
Mina scowled. “You just said I’m not.”
“Practitioners have always been so limited in their thinking,” Sana said, sighing again. She did that a lot. “We are all running from something, young one. Even if you may not want to admit it. If you truly are not running from anything, you would have been denied entry by this place. The fact that you are here, yet feel like someone who does not belong, means that you have not yet embraced that part of yourself.”
Listening to Sana’s words set my thoughts on fire. This place, it wasn’t just some pocket dimension. It was more than that. As much as it was magic, it was law, and rules, and in some ways, some kind of sentient touchy-feely, emotional, therapy-counselor room. This was beyond what I could have imagined it was. It was like the entire place was created by magic, and that magic conformed to our self-perception of who we were.
Emotions. Relationships. Feelings. Self-value.
“Enchantment,” I whispered under my breath. “That’s one of the aspects that make up this place, isn’t it, Wol?”
Wol’s claw gripped my shoulder, a little painfully, might I add. “Yes, practitioner. I reached that conclusion as well.”
The conversation continued without us. “I’m not running from anything,” Mina said. Her staff pointed towards the floor now.
“You are, little girl,” Sana replied. “You just don’t want to admit it. But if you wish to stay, you will.”
“Maybe I’ll just leave.”
Yokocho butted in. “Ah, might I add that if you leave without conforming to the rules of this place, you will forget all that happened here?”
Mina opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. She stomped her feet on the ground, frustrated.
“Do you know the answer? For the price, I mean.” I asked under my breath.
She gave me a scathing look, then nodded.
I felt bad for Mina. The whole time she’s been here, she’s been cat-called —harassed, really— then molested. That’s… that’s really fucked up. Girls have it hard in New York.
“You don’t have to do this. You can just wait outside. If you forget, I’ll just fill you in.”
“That’s not how memory loss magic works, Hallow,” Mina said, her voice defeated. “The world will lean in a way to make sure I have nothing to do with the memory.”
“Uh, explain?” I asked Wol.
“It’s called Karmic Inevitability,” Wol said calmly. “The universe will always work against the chances of her regaining this memory. Even if you hand her a note, chances are that she will misplace it. Or she’ll spill water on it. Bugs, fire, birds, wind—anything. If you tell her directly, she might remember. For a day, or two. Maybe even a week. But eventually, she’ll forget. Important things will happen toredirect her attention.”
I swallowed. “That sounds serious.”
“That’s the world we live in, my Practitioner,” Wol answered. “Each action has a reaction, and sometimes, your actions are heavier than you assume.”
“Is there a different price she can pay?” I asked Sana.
Sana shook her head. “I do not decide the rules. I merely inform those who are unaware. Know this, little girl. If you make a conscious decision to stay without giving what this place demands, I cannot predict what will happen.”
“What? Is she going to turn into a pig? Or get button eyes?” I joked, but my heart wasn’t in it. Nobody got the reference anyway.
“It’s fine, Hallow. I’ll give her what she wants,” Mina said. “Who do I tell it to?”
Sana smiled. “No one. That’s the beauty of it. Simply admit it to yourself. The place will accept you.”
“Like a prayer?” Mina asked, suspicious.
Sana nodded without saying anything.
Mina sighed, then got to her knees. She folded her hands into a prayer, somehow managing to make the motion genuine.
“You go to church?”
“Obviously not,” she snapped, eyes still closed. “Shut up, Hallow. I’m trying to concentrate.”
I did.
At first, nothing happened. Then, something did.
It was a subtle change, things I hadn’t noticed before. Mina usually had perfect wavy hair. But here, it was a little frizzy, and the edges just slightly out of place to make it look less than stylish. That messiness disappeared. Her clothes, too. The jacket, the boots, they seemed to regain a little more color; just enough polish to look good again. The glowing runes on her staff pulsed with more strength, like a healthy heartbeat. Her skin became smoother, turning back to the flawless K-pop idol skincare commercial quality that it was before.
I could only put it this way: Mina didn’t look out of place anymore. Like this place had stopped rejecting her.
My Third Eye picked up on subtle details, too. The magic around Mina flowed more smoothly, no longer swimming upstream. She felt more powerful, too.
Could my magic have a little more oomph because my self-perception conformed to the laws of this place?
Mina got up. “Is it done?”
“Yes,” Sana said. “I believe there are other matters.”
“Kind of a let down, considering the trouble we went to, no?” I offered.
“It is not the powerful wind, nor earthquake, nor fire. It was the whisper,” Sana said mysteriously.
“…Was that a bible verse?” I said incredulously.
Sana didn’t confirm nor deny. She spun on her heel. “Follow me.”
From my peripheral vision, I saw Mina whisper in Yokocho’s ear, and the black market merchant gave her a wide grin, whispering back. She scowled, but nodded, and the bakeneko split away from us.
“What was that about?”
“Getting even,” Mina muttered. She made a meaningful gesture at Sana. “Do you see the two following Sana? Not the Inugami, but the other two. Keep an eye on them. They have some kind of attention-deflecting veil over them, but I still picked up on their emotions. Fear, and surprise.”
I frowned, turning to try to look at the figures. They strode a few paces in front of Akasa, making sure to stay between Sana and the inugami. I studied them, thinking of what Mina said. Besides being a transmutator, she had some talent in enchanting, which meant she dealt with emotions, connections between people, that kind of thing. I hadn’t felt anything from Sana and her followers, yet Mina had. Was it possible that Mina saw the world differently from me? Whereas I saw it as contracts and promises, she saw it in emotions and things that could be changed. It made sense, in my head at least. I made a mental note to check on it later.
We finally entered the true Sana’s Cafe.