To the Northern Ice Palace (8)
I stared blankly at my reflection in the palace's ancient mirror, wings folded awkwardly against my small body.
My feathers were still soft and downy, my beak a cheerful orange, and my eyes wide and curious—the face of a little penguin, no mistake. Yet I remembered everything. My old life, my friends, the world I had died in. And now... this.
My voice came out in a high, squeaky tone that made my own ears twitch. “What kind of body is this?”
Mu Jin, standing beside me in his human form, blinked slowly. The silence stretched between us, thick with confusion.
“Created body?” he echoed, frowning. “What do you mean by that?”
I tilted my head, wings fluttering. The words didn’t click. “If it’s a created body, shouldn’t it be human? Why a penguin? Of all things…”
He chuckled softly, rubbing his chin. “That’s exactly why it makes sense, Seol-ah. The Bingbaek Shin Gong wasn’t made for normal humans. It was forged for this. Look at you—perfect little ice creature. No one would ever suspect a thing.”
I shook my head, feathers ruffling. “But I feel like I’m missing half my memories. This isn’t just a body change. It’s like… someone else made me.”
The palace fell into a hush around us, the white stone walls glowing faintly in the northern sun. Mu Jin leaned against a pillar, eyes half-closed as if weighing the same impossible thought.
I felt the cold seeping into my bones, familiar now, yet still strange. No pain, no cold energy pulsing through frozen dantian—yet the power hummed beneath my skin like it had always been there.
Minutes ticked by. Then, without warning, a tiny whirlwind burst into the courtyard.
“Arin is so bored!!!!!!”
The shout echoed like thunder, bouncing off the walls. I jumped, feathers puffing up. Mu Jin did the same, both of us turning in unison.
Arin—seven-year-old Arin, with her round cheeks and wild grin—launched herself across the snow, arms flailing like she was trying to fly. Her little legs pumped, boots kicking up soft powder.
“I’m bored! Play with me!”
Mu Jin coughed once, then smirked. “Yeah… we’re not doing that today.”
He barely finished the sentence before Arin’s small hand shot out and snatched my wrist like it was made of iron.
“Seol-ah!! Let’s go!!!!!”
“Kyaaa!!! (Save me!!!!!)”
There was no time to argue. One moment I was standing there, the next my feet were off the ground, dangling helplessly as Arin dragged me along at breakneck speed. The corridor blurred past—white stone, hanging lanterns, the distant clang of a training bell. My wings flailed uselessly; I couldn’t even tuck them in properly.
“Wait—together—slow down—!”
Of course, no one heard. Behind us, Mu Jin waved cheerfully, lips moving in a silent laugh. “Have fun, kids.”
That guy…
Even as I twisted desperately to glare at him, a thought burned bright in my chest. I’ll get revenge someday. Mu Jin!
He just kept smiling, waving like I was going to a picnic. And then the doors swung open onto the vast, untouched snowfield of the North Sea Ice Palace, and I was gone.
***
Arin stopped at the edge of the endless white plain, tilting her head to study the palace grounds spread out below. Snow stretched in every direction, unbroken except for the faint tracks of past patrols. The palace itself rose behind us like a fairy tale—massive walls of carved ice and stone, towers piercing the sky, everything gleaming under the weak northern light.
“Hmm…”
I was still dangling from her grip, trying to squirm free. Arin noticed and gave my wing a gentle tug; I couldn’t slip away. Her eyes sparkled with sudden inspiration. “What should we do today, Seol-ah?”
“…Kyaa?”
“No time! Come on!”
She didn’t wait for an answer. My body jolted forward as she took off running again, dragging me behind her. My little legs kicked uselessly through the air. This is kidnapping, right? This is definitely kidnapping!
We ran for what felt like forever, but Arin knew exactly where to go. The training grounds were abandoned today—empty, vast, perfect. She skidded to a halt in the middle of a gentle slope.
“Here!”
With both hands she scooped up handfuls of the softest snow, patting them into perfect rounds. The sound of her work filled the air—swoosh, swoosh, pat, pat. Tiny snowballs grew into proper fists, then full-sized balls. She stepped back, chest puffed with pride, and beamed at me.
“Seol-ah, your turn!”
“…Gya?”
I looked down at my own wings. How was I supposed to help with that? I tried anyway, pressing my feathers against the snow and rolling it as best I could. It was clumsy, lumpy, nothing like her perfect spheres. But Arin’s eyes widened in delight.
“Wow!”
“…Kyaa?”
“She’s really trying hard!”
Her little wings flapped desperately as she rolled the snow, determined not to give up. I felt my heart squeeze—how cute, how determined. This kid is going to be dangerous someday.
She lifted me—my entire penguin body—right in front of her finished snowball and plopped me down. “I’ll help!”
With a soft thump, I sank halfway into the pile. Arin clapped her hands together, grinning from ear to ear.
“See? We’re having fun!”
“…Kyaa… kyaa…”
She nodded enthusiastically, even though I couldn’t speak. My wings were half-buried in snow. This is adorable. Too adorable. But there was a problem. A big one.
***
My brain was still spinning when Arin started packing snow again, cheeks flushed with effort. I watched her in stunned silence. She had zero trouble making perfect snowmen. Me? I could barely keep my own body from tumbling apart.
After a few frustrating attempts—squish, wobble, collapse—I finally managed one small snowball roughly the size of my head. Arin’s eyes went huge.
“Waa!”
She clapped like it was the best performance she’d ever seen. “Seol-ah did so well!”
“…Kyaa…”
I was blushing. Am I really being praised for this?
She lifted my snowball and placed it on top of her towering one. Together they formed a lopsided but passable snowman. Arin stepped back, hands on her hips, and tilted her head.
“Something’s missing…”
She looked around, spotted two perfect ice shards, and a long stick of frozen wood. In seconds she had added eyes, a carrot nose, and a stick arm. She planted the finished snowman in the snow and dusted off her hands with satisfaction.
“Done!”
She struck a pose, hands on her waist, beaming. I stood there, my own pathetic little snowman beside it, and felt a strange warmth bloom in my chest.
She looks way more human than me.
We stared at the two finished snowmen in companionable silence for a moment. Then Arin frowned, arms crossed.
“Now what…?”
She had been laughing and running just minutes ago. Now the excitement had faded into something thoughtful. “We made snowmen… we threw snow… but what next?”
Her eyes suddenly lit up again. She spun toward me with a grin that could melt ice.
“Hide and seek!”
“…Kyaa? Suddenly?!”
“I’ll be it!”
I flapped my wings frantically. Wait, that’s not how this works!
But it was too late. She had already clapped both hands over her eyes and started shouting numbers in her loudest seven-year-old voice.
“One!”
“…Kyaa…”
“Two!”
“…Gya…”
“Three!”
Is she counting already? I haven’t even hidden yet…
“Four!”
“…Kyaa…”
“Five!”
She kept going, hands still clamped over her eyes, completely serious. No peeking. No cheating. Just honest fun. I almost laughed. This kid is ridiculous.
I scanned the field. The snow was deep, the ice pillars thick, the palace towers massive. As a penguin, I could probably hide behind any of them. That big ice pillar looks good…
I started walking—slowly at first, then with a little trot—toward the nearest pillar. My tiny feet left clear tracks in the snow. Every step made the prints sharper.
…Oh.
I stopped. Looked back. The tracks were obvious. Anyone could see them.
This is why moving skills are useless here…
I spun on my heel and darted back toward the palace corridor, slipping behind the thickest pillar I could find.
“Ten!”
Arin’s voice rang out, cheerful and confident.
“Coming!”
She lowered her hands and started scanning. Her eyes landed on the tiny penguin footprints right at the corridor entrance.
“Eh?”
Her face lit up like the sun. “Seol-ah found!”
“…Kyaa?”
Already?
She took off running after the tracks, giggling. I waited, hidden, and watched. Sure enough, the prints ended abruptly at the corridor. She skidded to a halt, blinked, and tilted her head.
“Where’d he go?”
I held my breath, pressing my body flat against the cold stone.
Heh… heh…
Even seven years old and she’s good at this. The way she spots things… impressive.
Arin scratched her cheek, spinning in a slow circle, then suddenly froze. She pointed straight at the pillar.
“Found you!”
One moment I was hiding. The next, her tiny arms scooped me up and crushed me in a hug.
“…Kyaa?!”
I flailed. She laughed so hard her whole body shook. “I found you!”
“…Kyaa…”
That was too fast!
She set me back down in the snow, still grinning. “Your turn to be it!”
“…Kyaa? (Me?!)”
She didn’t give me time to answer. She simply walked me over to the middle of the field, patted my head gently, and covered my eyes with both hands.
“Like this!”
“…Kyaa…”
“Count to ten.”
“…Gya…”
I made a small distressed sound. Arin nodded solemnly. “Mhm! Got it?”
She ruffled my feathers once, then spun away.
“I’m hiding!”
Thud, thud, thud…
Her footsteps faded into the distance. I stayed perfectly still, wings down, listening to the wind. Now…
I waited. One minute. Two. Nothing. Should I open my eyes?
“…Kyaa…”
They’re looking for me.
I scanned the white expanse. The snowfield, the ice pillars, the palace itself. Arin was seven. Kids her age loved to hide close by—behind rocks, under snow, inside the palace. I started walking slowly, searching.
Then I heard it.
A soft rustle.
Right behind a thick ice pillar, a flash of pink fabric fluttered in the wind. And below it, the tip of a tiny shoe peeked out.
“…Kyaa…”
I see you.
I pretended not to notice and walked a few steps away, then doubled back slowly.
Eh?
A tiny movement. Arin peeking just a fraction of an inch.
…She thinks I didn’t see her?
I swallowed a laugh and kept walking toward the pillar.
“…Kyaa…”
I stepped behind it.
One step.
Two steps.
Three.
Then I leaned out.
There she was—eyes squeezed shut, body curled tight, hiding perfectly.
“…Eh?”
Her eyes flew open. Our gazes locked.
A heartbeat of silence.
Then Arin’s face split into the brightest smile. “I found you!”
She tackled me in a hug before I could even squeak.
“…Kyaa…”
But I was the one hiding!
“Seol-ah is so good at hiding!”
“…Gya…”
She spun once, then twice, laughing. “Let’s do it again!”
“…Kyaa…”
I let my wings droop completely. What’s the point?
“No fair!” she declared, already running. “This time I’m hiding better!”
Thud, thud, thud…
She was gone in a blur of pink and white, leaving nothing but snow in her wake.