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“This is just to prepare you,” he said. “It should take effect immediately. Don’t worry— it will cause no harm.”
Her brain scrambled to hoard the little pieces of information. New words. What did he just shoot her up with?
“This is your father’s fault,” Mangjeol said, looking into her eyes. “I warned Sook-Jae what would happen if he took the Kazakura for fools.”
Angel never even met her daddy. He was in prison. Sook-Jae? Kazakura? None of it made sense. She wanted to go home. She wanted to sleep.
“I’m going to count down to ten, ” the man said calmly. “How you behave from this moment will determine your future.”
He pulled something from his pocket— not the syringe. A green stone that flashed and gleamed, even in the dirty hotel light. Angel’s eyes fastened on it, and at the same time her fear and pain began to slip away like mud and dirt washed away by a cool rain.
“Do you see this stone?” The man said.
“Yes…”
“This is Japanese Jade. A very rare mineral.”
So?
“It represents peace. Tranquility.”
“Okay…”
“Look at it. Look at how the imperfections shine in the light. It is the imperfections that create beauty. There cannot be light without darkness. Even darkness can be beautiful.”
The fuck is he talking about?
“You like this stone, don’t you?”
She nodded.
“Very good. You are feeling very relaxed. There is no pain.”
No pain…His eyes are nice. Why did I think he was scary? Why do I feel so tired? What will he say next?
“Keep your eyes on the stone,” he ordered.
“Okay…” Easy. It was pretty. She stared at it, feeling warm and safe and happy. The man stroked hair back from her face.
“I would have kept you for myself,” he said. “But nature prevents it. Instead, you are going to do me a favor. Repay a debt.”
“A debt,” She mumbled.
“That’s right.Now you will listen closely to me,” he said. “I am going to count down from ten.”
His voice echoed inside her head. Though his lips were not moving, she heard his words as clearly as if he’d spoken them out loud.
No pain…
“Okay,” she whispered, staring at the stone.
“One,” he said. “Two…”
When Ross landedin Los Angeles, he ran down the clock on his layover staring at the dusty yellow tarmac. His book lay neglected in his lap; he stared into the distance the way Manny had stared into Tokyo that night at Zumaki’s. Beyond the dusty glass Ross caught a glimpse of the L.A sprawl before it vanished in the ozone-stinking haze. Of course he recalled this was Angel’s city. She probably had family here still. Did they miss her? Did they worry? She would never see them again.
The whole thing left him with a bad taste. Fuck Manny, he repeated to himself. Fuck Manny for even suggesting… Damn it, he couldn’t get the girl off his mind. Angel with the sweet face. Angel…Pretty name.
Still…
