talkingtothemoon | 맘을 숨겨둔 Lonely night

맘을 숨겨둔 Lonely night

Never miss a hunt. It's one of Yena's rules.

Miyoung has broken more of those than she wants to think about this year, but she's tried hard to keep the rest. She tries, too, not to think about how tired she is, how unhappy; she never misses a hunt, feeds every month. On her own, it takes a lot more work to be sure she chooses her victims well, but she does it. Part of her wonders what the point is in being a monster to stay alive when it means living in a place like this, so far from wherever their home would be now, so far from her mother. From Jihoon.

She's been away longer than she knew him. Does he still remember her? They say people don't even notice the absence of those in Darrow, but she doesn't trust that.

Why doesn't Yena find her?

Her life moves in predictable cycles, shifting with the moon. She goes to school, she keeps her head down, she gets her work done. She avoids the other students and their snide comments, avoids the others in the Home. The more she ignores her classmates, the more she fades into the background for them, though that isn't as easy to keep up in the Home where she has to live with others. A few more weeks, though, and that will be over. She's been saving her monthly stipend from the city, buying very little she doesn't need, so she can rent her own apartment the minute she's able to do so. Even if she knows she'll be a proper adult in a few days, the Home will have to agree in mid-January.

She tries not to think about how it means living alone for the first time. At least she'll have her own space.

And every month, she hunts. Her free hours are spent in only a few ways: watching television, listening to music, exploring the city to see if she can find an exit in spite of what everyone else says and so she can learn it, and hunting. Watching her prey. Stalking men in the night. It turns her stomach to do so, if only because of all the things she has to see or expects to see. Choosing to eat only predators means seeking out the worst of the worst. She has no one to blame for that but herself.

Tonight will be the full moon, her tenth in Darrow.

She's made her choice already, though, and if she just sits around, waiting, for nightfall, she'll absolutely lose her mind. With school out for the winter holiday, she doesn't have much else to do, though.

There is one thing, though, that she wants to do, and today is as good as any for it. She's heard talk of Kagura for weeks, listening in on classmates and roommates alike. It sparked her curiosity from the start — she saw the building earlier in the year, when it was empty, abandoned — and she wanted to go sooner. There's a rumor, though, that makes the rounds, hand-in-hand with all the other gossip about the place, whispers of cursed mistletoe. It sounds silly, really, that a plant could trap someone under it until they kiss someone, and she's inclined to dismiss it as nonsense. Still, she of all people knows better than to think magic can't be real, especially here. So she's been waiting.

But Christmas was last week, so it should be safe now, she decides. It's a good day to go — somewhat cloudy, but not too dark, no snow — and she bundles up and takes the little tram out through the countryside and up the hill.

She's not entirely sure what she was expecting. Having seen the building abandoned, it's unsettling to see it now, like this, bright and alive, people coming and going. There are couples wandering arm in arm, hand in hand, through the snow, some of them carrying ski gear and others carrying cocoa. Children play in the snow. Miyoung is alone.

Would Jihoon have liked it? She wonders this so often. He would have found a way to make this fun — Darrow, Kagura, all of it.

There would probably be snow down the back of her shirt as a result, though.

She marches inside, bewilderment flickering across her otherwise placid features. What was once entirely empty is now glittering, the silence replaced with soft music and distant conversations punctuated by laughter. She hesitates a moment, taking it in, unsure what she wants now. Part of her tried to look at this as some kind of fact-finding mission. Part of her just wanted to do something fun. Instead she just feels lost. Even with the holiday over, there are bits of Christmas decorations still strewn about, holdovers easing into the New Year festivities. It's not like she and Yena ever did anything special, really, no extravagant tree or traditions, but it still aches to have spent Christmas without her mother.

She swallows hard, glancing around, then abruptly takes a left turn down the hall. There's no right way to go about exploring the place. She can't just stand here and feel sorry for no good reason. Walking quickly enough won't mean leaving her thoughts behind, but maybe she can just occupy herself with other thoughts.

Something in her jolts, sharp and sudden, like she's come up against an unexpected wall, and she almost tips over, head over feet. Almost, because she can't seem to move forward at all. Whirling around, she tries to go the other way and comes up short again. Whatever's holding her has her stuck in a very small radius, her hands curling into fists as she scowls, trying to pretend her heart isn't beating faster with fear. There's nothing here she can see that should hold a gumiho, nothing but clear air, but she's trapped.

She tips her head back, barely repressing a frustrated sigh — and then not repressing it at all, spotting the mistletoe overhead. "Are you kidding me?"

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The question draws Miyoung out of her thoughts, and she tilts her head to the side thoughtfully. What method, she wonders, does Yona know that she hasn't heard the others speak of? And then she realizes it's probably the same one, which is unexpected. Yona is so blithe about it that it's easy for Miyoung to nod. Why protest when it's a simple enough transaction? Though Yona is undeniably very pretty, it's just an act of kindness, and Miyoung is grateful for it. Yona won't be the kind to make a big deal of it, and so Miyoung doesn't feel it's such a big deal. Besides, it's not as if she has anything against such things. It may not be as common at home yet, but Miyoung's never really cared one way or another what gender someone is. When she has forever, who cares about such silly labels?

"You want to give me a kiss, unnie?" she asks, playful. Yona puts her at ease somehow, perhaps because she herself always seems so relaxed. It's an unfamiliar attitude for Miyoung, not one she thinks she can afford to engage in often, but it makes for a pleasant change under such strained circumstances. She doesn't wear it as comfortably as Yona, but it's nice to pretend for a moment.

"I wouldn't mind," Yona says with a shrug and a little grin, playful, almost teasing, in turn. She would feel far worse about just leaving Miyoung there for someone else to come across, and the offer seems to have gone over well enough. For her, it's easy, something that doesn't take much thought, but she's been in Darrow long enough to know that many people aren't as casual about kissing as she is. Things are so different here than they were on the train. If such a thing had ever happened there — which it wouldn't have, but if it did — she suspects there wouldn't have been any need to ask at all. Everyone living in one small space together meant that boundaries were considerably lower there, if or when they existed at all.

But Miyoung has agreed, and Yona thinks it would be rather pointless to draw it out, even if it would also be somewhat amusing. Crossing to where Miyoung is trapped under the mistletoe, Yona tips her head up, hands resting briefly on Miyoung's cheeks as she kisses her, sweet and chaste, smiling after. "There. You're free."

It's quick and simple, but Miyoung doesn't allow herself the luxury of relief until she tries to step away and finds she can. Though the tension never goes out of her entirely, perhaps, it eases now. No fox likes to be caught in a trap.

"Thank you, unnie," she says with the slightest inclination of her head. Yona unnie isn't one to stand on ceremony, and so it seems silly to bow the way she might to someone else, but she can't curb the manners she grew up with so easily. In any case, she is thankful. She worried this would be much worse than it was. Even the kiss was nothing at all, so fleeting she thinks she can let it simply not count. A foolish game, probably — Yena would think so, fussing about whether or not she's kissed one human or two — but there's something soothing, if bittersweet, about letting Jihoon being the only one she's ever kissed.

"I'm glad you were here," she adds. "I don't know anyone else."

"Of course," Yona says with an easy smile. "I'm glad I was here, too." Not everyone is so free with kissing strangers. She doesn't really understand it, but she's lived here long enough and been acquainted with enough people here to know and respect it. With that being the case, at least she was here to help get Miyoung free of the mistletoe, rather than that task being left to anyone who might have stumbled across the scene. She might not know Miyoung well, but Yona doesn't get the impression that she would have liked that very much.

"I'm here all the time," she continues by way of explanation. "My friend Frank lives near here. And the drinks are good. Want to get one?"

So many people speak so casually of having friends. It's no surprise from Yona. She seems to Miyoung like someone who makes friends easily, who drifts through life whatever comes her way with this cheerfulness Miyoung has never possessed. She envies that. She just also knows she can't abandon Yena's rules here. They're all she has of home.

There's no harm in having a drink with Yona, though, especially when unnie is the one to ask. Miyoung nods. "I'd like that," she says. "I wanted to see what this place is like."

"I like it here," Yona says, pleased when Miyoung agrees, glancing over and continuing as she starts to walk, gesturing with her candy cane towards the large window overlooking the ski slope. "Not... that," she adds, her voice still light, friendly, but her distaste genuine. It's prettier up here, at least, the world gleaming and white, but she knows how easily it can turn sinister, too. At best, she's cautious, but while she'll generally try anything, she doesn't foresee herself becoming much of a skier. "But inside is nice. A change of scenery is, too."

She would like just about anything that felt new, probably. Even though she comes up the mountain often enough in the off-season, bringing snacks to Frank and hanging out for a while, the length of time Kagura is closed each year means it always feels fresh when it opens again.

Miyoung nods, thoughtful, and glances out the window. She's never been skiing. She's not sure she'd much care for it, but she might try it later, just to do something different and new. Anything that feels new must be good here, where the days so often blur together.

"It is," she agrees. "It's nice to see something different. This place is closed most of the year, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm," Yona replies with a nod of her own. "It's open from December to March." Usually, she doesn't bother paying much attention to such things. In this case, though, it's easy to remember — about as long as winter itself, time she always feels a bit like she's holding her breath, and also when the tram is running, preventing her from having to find another means of getting up the mountain. She always does, not wanting Frank to be lonely for eight months out of the year, but still, this is much simpler. More fun, too, despite the snow and the cold and the mistletoe.

"People will tell you it was always here, but it wasn't when I first got here."

That's interesting, catching Miyoung's attention, her head tipping to the side in curiosity. "The inn?" she asks. "The business, you mean?" If that's all it is, that isn't that strange, though. People forget dates, get things confused. If something else was here before, it would still make sense.

But for them to believe an entire building has been here well before it opened is something else altogether.

"The whole place, I think," Yona says with a slight shake of her head. "People weren't coming up here much before it opened, but that's because there wasn't anything." She doesn't find it very surprising, or even very weird anymore. Such things happen in Darrow. This whole building was transformed once, and now it's just back to normal, as if no such incident ever took place. Besides, if people can just appear here, why not buildings, too?

"It happens sometimes."

It amazes Miyoung what people can accustom themselves to. Of course, Yona isn't entirely ordinary, but it's still, Miyoung thinks, part of the same human instinct to balance things out. People will do anything to explain away the things they think are impossible or too disturbing, while Yona simply accepts it, but it all amounts to maintaining some kind of equilibrium in a world off its axis. It's true everywhere. In Seoul, people did it, too, simply explaining away the supernatural to avoid expanding the way their world works. For some reason, Yona seems better equipped to handle these things than most, though.

"I guess in a place like this," she allows, "it does." Darrow isn't like anywhere else she's ever lived. "Most of the people here don't even seem to notice."

"No, they don't," Yona agrees. That, she finds stranger than the rest of it, though she's learned to take it in stride like so much else here. "Some people think it's some... conspiracy they're all in on. But I think they really don't know." It's hard to explain. She can't actually see into their heads, but she tends to get a good sense of people, and she doesn't get any sort of sinister feeling from them, or even from this place at all. From things that happen sometimes, yes, without question, but Darrow and its residents don't seem inherently so to her at all.

She's seen evil men who ran their worlds in evil ways. This isn't that.

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맘을 숨겨둔 Lonely night

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