The Moon, Bright as Memory

Eunha's Officetel. 1:50 a.m.

"……."

It was nearly two in the morning. Eunha sat on the edge of the bed and had not moved for dozens of minutes, staring at a single point like a statue carved from stone.

The red envelope lay alone on the table across from her.

What if he knows about Jagalchi Market? Jehwi had fretted, guilty as a thief whose own foot had gone numb. At first Eunha had suspected the same. But if he meant to summon her over that, he would have done it long ago, and then some. Why only now?

The moment she returned to the officetel, she tore the envelope open and looked inside. It was neither a summons nor a letter.

Nothing more than an ordinary invitation. It did not say who was hosting, or what the party was for. Only a request that she come in a mask, and the place, and the time.

Then why had Yijun—why had Maestro—sent an invitation like this, out of nowhere?

A question, is it? Hunter Yura.

When they met again after so long, he had looked at her and pretended not to know her. It was not only his manner that had changed. His face, his eyes, even the way he spoke—none of it was the Yijun she remembered.

Why had that boy changed so much? Why pretend he didn't know her? Had he truly forgotten? What had happened to him in all the years between? It would have been a lie to say she never wondered. But she had asked him nothing. She knew too much time had passed for even those questions to mean anything.

And yet the sudden invitation made her wonder all over again.

How had he known the address? No. More than that.

……What is he after?

Cha Eunha and Baek Yijun might have shared a thread between them. Between the Princess of Dark Flare and Maestro, there should have been no point of contact at all.

She sat lost in thought for a long while. At last her hand slid slowly toward the invitation.

"……."

She gazed at it, eyes full of hesitation, then slowly lifted her head and looked out the window.

The moon was bright.

Just as it had been on that day in her memory.

A shabby tent had been pitched, more or less, near the gate. Tomorrow, without a doubt, the next deployment order would come down. Most of the hunters had eaten and gone to sleep. Eunha could not. She crouched beneath a tree near the tent and endured the cold for hours, until her fingertips turned red.

"Eunha."

Someone approached, careful. She slowly lifted the head she had buried against her knees. Yijun stood there with a flashlight, looking at her with worried eyes.

"……Why aren't you sleeping? If you don't get your strength back now, it'll hurt you in tomorrow's fight."

"You're not sleeping either."

"I…… Right. I know. You're the squad leader."

And I'm your closest friend. As he always did, Yijun sat down beside her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Click. Click.

He fidgeted with the blameless flashlight, then carefully opened his mouth.

"……You okay?"

"……."

As she had expected, no answer came. Yijun closed his mouth, his face gone overcast, dark as a sky full of storm clouds. Of course she wasn't okay. She had watched a comrade she had lived and struggled beside for more than a year die right in front of her. Even Eunha, who hardly ever showed what she felt, could not be fine after that.

Comrades dying was nothing new. In those days, a gate that produced no dead was the stranger thing. But witnessing a death right in front of you was rare—rarer still when it was someone who, only yesterday, had been laughing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and talking.

"Eunha. It isn't your fault."

He offered the obvious comfort and glanced at her.

"……."

She gave him nothing. She only stared blankly ahead, her face sunk ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deep. She was not crying. She was not wearing a grieving look. Only a blank expression. Even so, Yijun was certain she was grieving. Otherwise she would not have slipped out of the tent in the dead of winter and crouched for hours like someone whose soul had left her.

What should he say? He turned it over for a long time. He knew that nothing he offered could be a comfort to her.

"—My mom, too."

All at once, in a low, heavy voice, Eunha began.

"My mom died in a gate accident, too."

"……."

"That morning she grilled mackerel for me, and I wouldn't eat it. I said it smelled fishy. I only eat white-fleshed fish. She told me it was breakfast, so I ought to eat at least a little, and she picked the bones out and set the flesh on a spoon. I said I had no appetite, never touched it, and went off to school."

"I was such a child."

She laughed softly, almost at herself. Beside her, Yijun listened without a word.

"And…… the last time I saw her, she was crushed under a heap of pianos. I never saw her face. All that was left whole was her left arm. It's still vivid. Years have gone by, and it's like it happened yesterday."

"……But you know what?"

She went on, quietly.

"It was strange. Complaining about the side dishes that morning. Snapping at her the night before, when she told me to sleep early, and saying I'd handle it myself…… Those are the only things I can remember."

"……."

"I guess that's what memory is. Not the good parts. Only the things I failed to do for her. The things I'm sorry for. The words I regret."

Her voice trembled, thin as a thread. She curled her hand into a loose fist.

"I think today will be the same."

The comrade who had died in front of her today. If she had known, she would have gone ahead in his place. If she had known, she would not have scolded him that morning for sleeping in. If she had known……

"Sorry."

The apology was short.

"Pathetic, right? Like you said, I know it isn't my fault."

Yijun lifted his head and glanced at her. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Eyes fixed straight ahead, she added, as if it hardly mattered,

"And I know that as long as we do this work, it won't be strange, whoever dies, or when."

"……."

"I didn't want to let anyone see me like this. Keep it a secret from the others. If the squad leader is in this state, morale will die."

"Eunha."

Yijun, who had only been listening, suddenly stirred his lips.

"I don't think you're pathetic."

"……."

"If anything, I've wanted to be like you. All along."

She slowly turned her gaze toward him. He tipped his head to the sky and spoke low.

"The Director said it, didn't he? That out of all of us, you have the vessel most fit to be a hunter. I agree. You're strong, Eunha. It seems like nothing could ever shake you, because you only look ahead and run."

"Do you still think that?"

She asked it all at once. A faint smile touched Yijun's mouth as he watched the sky.

"……No."

Still fixed on the sky, he went on, slow.

"Now, well…… honestly, I think you might not be the kind of person suited to being a hunter."

"……."

"If we keep doing this, we won't be able to stay far from death. There will be more days like today, when you watch a comrade die in front of you. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And every time, I think you'll shake, and grieve, and regret. Just like today. Won't you?"

"I can't say you're wrong."

At her plain answer, Yijun let out a small laugh. Then he slowly drew his gaze down from the sky to her.

The moment their eyes met, the moon slipped free of the clouds and poured its light over both their faces.

"What I mean is, stay exactly as you are now. It isn't pathetic at all. If anything……"

……If anything? Eunha blinked.

"Uh, anyway."

He coughed, awkward, and shot to his feet.

"I like the way you are right now. Ah—no. When I say like, I mean……"

He was talking himself into a fluster all on his own, and it was so ridiculous that a soft laugh escaped her before she knew it.

"What are you trying to say?"

"……I just."

He hesitated, then went utterly still and looked at her.

"I don't want you carrying a heavy burden just because you're a hunter. Or just because you're the squad leader. When you're sad, be as sad as you need to be, and—and l-laugh, like you just did."

"I hope you'll stay that way. From now on. Always."

He added it like a whisper. The winter wind, threaded now with bright moonlight, did not feel as cold as before. Maybe that was only her imagination.

"……."

Just as her lips quietly parted, a vermilion lantern flared to life in a nearby tent.

"What are you two whispering about over there?"

"Baek Yijun, you bastard—again?!"

"Dead Son Myeongjin's going to come running with his eyes wide open!"

The comrades they had thought were asleep popped their heads out one after another and glared this way.

"N-no! It's not—it's not like that!"

Yijun shouted, his face red as a beet. Watching him, a faint smile touched Eunha's lips.

"I—I just saw Eunha out here alone, so……!"

"Yijun."

He had been striding back toward the tent. She caught him lightly.

"Thank you."

"……Ah."

Held by the collar, Yijun froze stiff where he stood.

Whee—

Whistles rained down around them. As if he had never frozen at all, he whipped his head around and bolted for the tent in a noisy clatter.

The uproar began to wake the others, one by one. What had been dim around them warmed, dyed in vermilion light. Just before she returned to the tent, Eunha looked up. Stars were scattered across the pitch-black sky like salt.

When she thought about it, it was the same sky as yesterday.

Tomorrow would be the same, she thought.