I swore that once I found Hana, I would never talk to Yejun again. I despised how he played the world like a concert pianist, how nothing seemed hard for him at all, how none of it really mattered. Dragons were always supposed to look at ease while undercover—something that Yejun had clearly mastered, while Hyebin said I always looked like an ostrich ready to jam its head into the sand.
Yejun returned with two tickets and an infuriatingly smug grin. “It’s a good cover,” he whispered in my ear. “The elevator, I mean.”
“Thanks, I’ve taken Time Travel 101,” I said under my breath,hiding it with a plastic smile as we approached the staff member who took our tickets and gestured for us to pass through.
“What did you have to do to make sure we got the elevator to ourselves?” I said as we waited for it to arrive. “Slash the tires on the shuttle bus?”
Yejun shook his head. “It’s an advanced time travel strategy,” he said. “I call it… ‘checking the weather.’” He nodded toward the foggy skyline beyond the windows. “No one wants to pay for a scenic view when the city is covered in smog.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “The staff must think we’re strange.”
“People have thought more offensive things about me,” he said, shrugging and bowing slightly to another staff member as the elevator doors opened.
As soon as the doors closed behind us, Yejun pulled his yeouiju out of his pocket and held out his other hand to me.
“The year 2007, March 5, 15:45:11,” he said.
I stared at his hand as the elevator went dark, the OLED screen on the ceiling lighting up with an image of outer space. What, exactly, did he want me to do?
When I didn’t move, he sighed. “I do wash my hands, you know,” he said, rolling up his sleeve, “but you can take my arm if I repulse you that much.” But now I could see the tattoo with his mother’s note, and that was even worse.
“It’s not that,” I said, dropping my gaze to the dark floor. Above us, the screens played a video from the perspective of a bird—or a dragon—sailing through clouds, dodging airplanes, flashing through the atmosphere. “I’ve never…”
“Oh,” Yejun said, blinking. “You’ve never used your time magic before?”
I glared at the floor, wishing the darkness of outer space would swallow me whole. He made it sound like he’d thoroughly researched me, so I thought he knew this. But once again, I was less than what everyone expected.
“That’s fine,” he said, shrugging.
I looked up. He was smiling again like it truly didn’t matter.
“My magic will reach out to yours,” he said, holding out his hand again. “Do you remember the date?”
“The year 2007, March 5, 15:45:11.”
Yejun smiled and nodded, moving his hand closer. “Remember that. You’ll know how to do the rest.”
The elevator rose higher into the sky, gears whirring, my ears aching from the change in pressure.
Slowly, I set my hand in his.
Time magic rushed through me, nearly knocking me off my feet. It was as if the sun had breathed me into its core, enveloping me in liquid gold. Its warmth washed away the tension in my muscles, soothed away my timesickness headache, sparkled across my skin. Other people’s time magic felt like an unmaking, but Yejun’s was a symphony of light.
His eyes gleamed blue, and I sensed the bright spark of his smile even before it crossed his face.
Do it now, he said. Or at least, I thought he spoke the words out loud. His mouth didn’t move, but the words rang through my blood.The doors will open soon.
I had no idea what I was doing, but Yejun seemed so certain I would figure it out. This was supposed to be a natural reflex for all dragon descendants—it should have been easy to access the vast library of time that my ancestors had saved for me.
But as Yejun’s magic hummed through me, my own magic stayed trapped in the tortoiseshell box. I was filled up with his light, but my own body was a cage of darkness.
The year 2007, March 5, 15:45:11, I thought, hoping that repeating the time would prompt my magic to come out.
Look, I would love to help you out here, but if I use any more magic, the agency will detect it and come running, Yejun said, an edge of panic beneath his words. The light in his eyes flickered, his gripon my hand growing colder. What would happen to him if all the time magic he released didn’t go anywhere? Would he be stuck in between dimensions like at the restaurant? Or would he go halfway to his destination and be unable to come back without using more magic and alerting the agency?
I closed my eyes and gripped his hand tighter, my other hand clutching the tortoiseshell box as if I could wring the time magic out of it. But all I felt was Yejun’s bright magic singing through my skin, and none of my own.
I don’t know how, I thought, my eyes closed so I wouldn’t have to see the look on Yejun’s face, the disappointment I knew would be there. He thought I could help him find his mother and save the world, but he’d picked the wrong girl.I’m sorry, I don’t know how.
