Sponsor:National Aerospace Industries Korea
Mission Objective:Korean government purchases arms from National Aerospace Industries, totaling no less than 100 billion won.
Adjustment Target:Declaration of war with North Korea
Butterfly Origin:Spilled bottle of chocolate milk at 37.50083, 127.02560, December 11, 2008
“National Aerospace Industries Korea?” Yejun said over my shoulder as he read. “That’s an arms manufacturer. I thought Hong Gildong was just taking Samsung’s money or something. He’s taking money from people who makebombs?”
“That explains why he wanted me to start a war,” I said, clenching my fists. “That would make a lot of money for people selling weapons.”
I held back the urge to dump Hong Gildong’s scrying pool out on the floor, or to take a hammer to it and shatter it into a thousand pieces. All this time, he’d said we couldn’t save anyone because of the integrity of the timeline, but that had never been the truth. We couldn’t save anyone because saving lives didn’t make him money.
As I clenched my jaw so hard that my teeth ached and my burning blood screamed through my veins, I felt closer to Hana than Iever had before. She had found out this same information, and I imagined she’d felt exactly as I did now. Even across timelines, I shared this moment with her.
I gripped the edges of the scrying pool, staring at Hana’s picture. I wouldn’t let everything she had lost amount to nothing at all.
Hana hadn’t been able to stop this war, but maybe I still could.
“Well, would you look at that,” a voice said from the doorway. “Right on time.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ijumped to my feet. Yejun moved in front of me as Hong Gildong entered the office, the door slamming shut behind him.
“Mina,” Hong Gildong said, his fangs glinting as he smiled. “Welcome back from the dead.”
I clutched Yejun’s arm. “How did you know we were here?” I said.
Hong Gildong laughed, but it sounded less like a human laugh than something he’d studied and rehearsed, thorn-sharp as it echoed across the room. “Very little surprises me when I can see the entire timeline.”
I shook my head. “I’m not on the timeline right now.”
“Butheis,” Hong Gildong said, waving at Yejun, who flinched. “This wasn’t just a test for Mina, but for you as well, Yejun. And in case it wasn’t obvious, you both failed.”
Yejun pressed me back against the desk as if to shield me, but Hong Gildong didn’t move toward us. He only strolled toward the bookshelves and examined the spines, as if we were making casual conversation over tea.
“It’s unfortunate,” he went on. “You both would have been such valuable assets to our team, and we don’t exactly have many descendants to spare these days. Yejun, your scenario planning is truly impressive. And Mina…”
He trailed off, appraising me with his golden eyes. “After Hana, I long suspected that you would possess similar abilities.”
“Abilities?” I echoed. I thought back to Yejun’s mission report.
Yang Mina is flagged for extra review due to suspected genetic predisposition for enhanced powers—see file 1475B, “Yang Hana.”
Hong Gildong wiped some dust off the edge of the shelf with his finger, frowning at it as if that was truly the greatest inconvenience at the moment. “Yang Hana was an exceptionally powerful descendant. She retained many dragon abilities despite how diluted her bloodline was. You understand now why we couldn’t simply wipe her mind—stripping her of her memories wouldn’t remove her claws. We suspected there was a genetic component to it. But, despite all of Yejun’s hand-waving in his report in an effort to convince me otherwise, it is painfully clear to me that you cannot compare to her.”
I glared back at Hong Gildong, my skin burning. Not at the idea that I was less than Hana—that had never mattered to me—but the idea that he had known her better than I ever would.
Before I could respond, the ground began to tremble.
I fell to the right, catching myself on a bookcase. The whole room vibrated, potted plants overturning and books sliding off the shelves. At first, I thought Hong Gildong was using some sort of dragon power to rend the earth in half. But he stumbled against the desk and caught himself with one hand in his scrying pool, like he hadn’t expected it either.
At the top edge of the bookcases by the window, color began to slough off the walls like dead skin, a wave of whiteness oozing across the room.
A paradox.
Yejun grabbed my wrist and pulled me away from the whiteness that was now dripping down the bookshelves, the rainbow of spines all fading to muted gray.
