Once again, Ienaga’s pace was downright torturous. Despite the blatant and significant use of essence in their battle with the shades, Ienaga insisted that they once more restrict their usage of essence to prevent leaving any more of a trail to be followed. That left Jia more or less alone with her thoughts as they sprinted through the landscape. It turned out she had a lot to think about.
She’d been a bit nervous about splitting into Jia and Eui again after discovering how her Tennin core had grown, but she didn’t feel any different. The self-sacrificing impulse to accommodate others was still there, but being aware of it meant that she could resist it. It wasn’t any stronger now than it had been as Yoshika.
That wasn’t the only cause for her concern, though. Jia was also worried about her relationship with Eui. She could remember what she’d said to her as Lee Hei—when she’d threatened never to forgive her. That had been almost entirely her, and she still felt bad about it. It was her fault they’d suffered those deviations—her ultimatum that had strained things between them.
There was also the dream—she remembered the argument as if she’d experienced it from both sides. Eui was right. Whenever they had a difference in opinion it was always Eui who backed down first, always Jia who got her way, and always Eui who had to pay the price in suffering. It wasn’t just their cores that were unbalanced—it was them, their entire relationship.
“Eui, I think we need to talk.”
Jia’s partner didn’t react at first, though the complicated surge of emotion told Jia that Eui had heard her. A short moment later, Eui’s voice echoed in her head.
“Now? I’m sweating my tail off over here. Haven’t run this hard since the academy.”
Bravado. Jia could tell that Eui was trying to deflect, but her anxiety was as clear as if it was Jia’s own. It didn’t help that Jia was anxious too—sometimes the ability to sense each other’s every emotion was more of a curse than a blessing.
“It’s not like we have anything else to occupy us. Besides, this is important.”
“Yeah...”
Jia didn’t know where to begin. She adjusted her little sister’s position on her back—the poor girl had fallen asleep after crying her eyes out—and considered her words carefully.
“I think I owe you an apology—a lot more than an apology, actually.”
“Oooh, I know just how you can make it up to me!”
Despite her teasing tone, Jia didn’t sense any amorous thought behind Eui’s response. Another deflection.
“Eui, I’m serious. I’ve been a terrible girlfriend, and I’m sorry.”
Eui didn’t actually sigh—the pace of their sprint didn’t allow for such a disruption in breathing—but she sent the emotional equivalent of one before responding.
“Jia, you’re not a bad girlfriend. Trust me, I’ve had bad girlfriends. Just the fact that you’re trying to apologize at all sets you leagues ahead of Sun Jaehwa.”
“That’s not a very high bar to set, but an apt comparison. I’ve been taking advantage of you, just like she did.”
Eui nearly tripped before stumbling back into pace and shaking her head vigorously.
“What? Okay, who’s not taking this seriously now? Jaehwa used me like a sword to help bully people she didn’t like, then tossed me away like a piece of trash when she decided I wasn’t useful anymore. You are nothing like her.”
Jia shook her head.
“But you’re always making sacrifices for me! Always holding yourself back for my sake—making compromises to accommodate my ideals when I’m too proud to bend.”
To Jia’s confusion, Eui only felt joy at that.
“Jia, that’s what I like about you. You make me better. I trust your judgment more than my own—trusting my own judgment is what got me exiled, remember? Besides, I do those things because I love you. I know you’d do the same for me.”
“But I don’t, do I? If it’s ever between you or me, I always come out on top—”
“Well, not always...”
Jia blushed—there definitely was some amorous intent behind that one.
“Eui! Please stop doing that! When have I ever compromised for your sake? By not overworking myself to death when you demanded it of me? By overcoming my fear of—of intimacy for you?”
“Well, sure, there’s those, but—”
“Ancestors, Eui, I made you leave your family back in Goryeo for fucking Yan Yue!”
A long silence stretched between them, giving Jia a moment to fight back her tears—she couldn’t afford to cry while they were running. Eui was remarkably calm, in spite of everything—her response was patient and measured.
“That’s true, and I’d be lying if I said I was happy about it, but we knew we couldn’t stay there forever. We’d have to leave eventually, it just happened a bit sooner than expected. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
“And what if they aren’t? What if one of our enemies decides to strike at us through them? Will they be safe?”
“I mean, they’d have to get all the way into the heart of Goryeo’s capital to do that.”
“We have enemies in Goryeo too, Eui. What if Sun Jaehwa still holds a grudge?”
Eui shook her head and smirked.
“Not a chance—we broke her. My parents are as safe as they can possibly get, and don’t forget that we’re not just doing this for Yue. Jung needs a better healer than me.”
“My point is that it’s not fair. Taking breaks from cultivation and having s-se—intimate moments doesn’t even compare to the things you do for me. It’s unbalanced.”
“It’s so cute that you can’t even say the word. Sex, Jia. We fuck sometimes. You need to talk to Jung more.”
Jia let Eui feel the full brunt of her exasperation in lieu of actually sighing.
“Eui...”
“Who ever said a relationship has to be balanced? Fair, unfair, give and take, who cares? What we have is more than just a partnership, Jia. There’s no winning and losing, no accounting of who owes how much suffering to whom. It’s like we said in the dream—your suffering is my suffering, my sacrifice is your sacrifice—we share everything, good and bad.”
Jia didn’t sense any obfuscation in Eui’s words. She truly was content with what they had—a feeling completely incongruous with the conflict they’d just had a few hours ago. Jia frowned. It didn’t make any sense.
“Eui, I agree with what you’re saying, even though I think I need to do more to make it up to you, but something doesn’t feel right about this.”
To Eui’s credit, she didn’t try to dismiss Jia’s concerns this time, and after a moment of quiet contemplation she even nodded.
“Now that you mention it, yeah. I’m not feeling that...hunger from after my body was rebuilt anymore. Is—am I being affected by your tennin core too?”
Jia shuddered at the thought. She’d been planning to rely on Eui to keep her grounded.
“Maybe. Lady Tennin did say that we were both turning into demons. Now that it’s been reversed, are we both turning into tennin like her?”
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“Tsk, shit. Jia, I just want you to know that what I said is still true. It’s how I feel, and how I’ve always felt. This tennin thing might be influencing the way I think, but it doesn’t change that.”
“But what you said before was true too. Your resentment over my choice to put myself in danger to protect my family was real.”
Eui hesitated, but she knew there was no point in trying to hide it.
“Well, yeah, I guess so. I’m not feeling it right now, but I can remember it pretty vividly. I don’t want to lose you, Jia. If I had to pick between you and Jung or Narae, I’d pick you every time even if you hated me for it.”
“I could never hate you, Eui.”
“That’s not what it felt like earlier. You meant it when you said you’d never forgive me.”
Jia frowned as she thought about it. She really had felt that way, but she couldn’t even imagine thinking it now, unless—
Her heart skipped a beat as everything fell into place. If Eui was being affected by her tennin core, then it stood to reason that she’d been affected the same way by Eui’s. The way she’d tried to greedily fleece her friends at Muddy’s expense, when she’d leapt into combat when Misun had startled her, or even how she’d tried to ‘help’ Ja Yun by asking for favors from her.
“Ancestors, Eui, I don’t think we can continue like this.”
Eui raised an eyebrow curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“This push and pull between our cores, trying to balance them out by reinforcing one or weakening the other. I think we’re on a path of self-destruction, and we need to stop before we get any more caught up in it.”
“Okay. How?”
“I don’t know—and I doubt we’re going to figure it out here and now, but something has to change.”
Eui gave off a wave of warm emotions.
“Well, whatever it is, we’ll figure it out together like always. I love you, Jia.”
“I love you too, Eui. Thanks for hearing me out.”
“Of course. You can make it up to be by—”
“Eui!”
Eui’s cackling caused her to lose her footing, earning her a smack from Ienaga that she insisted was entirely worth it.
They kept up the pace for days, going well past what Ienaga estimated the boundaries of Qin’s patrol zone to be. They didn’t encounter any further resistance, nor were they pursued. When Ienaga called for them to halt, the girls practically collapsed on the spot. Jia felt like she was back at the academy trying to awaken her ki again as she lay on the ground and tried to melt into a puddle of sweat.
The only one unfazed by their mad dash across the border was, of course, Master Ienaga herself, who had barely broken a sweat. Even Seong Misun was worse for wear, despite having done nothing but lie in Rika’s arms the entire time.
“I do hope that leaving this miserable country won’t be so strenuous. I think I’d rather take my chances fighting my way out than endure that a second time.”
Ienaga glanced over her shoulder at Misun as she carefully laid Lee Jung’s unconscious form down on a soft patch of grass.
“I’m not sure you’re in any position to complain, Your Highness. You were little more than a passenger, and it was your spell that forced us to take the extra precautions. You’re lucky we weren’t chased—perhaps because they’d already sent someone to investigate the ‘anomaly.’”
Misun turned away and scoffed, wandering off to find her own place to rest without further complaint. By then, Jia finally felt like there was air in her lungs instead of fire, so she took the opportunity to call out before Misun could go too far.
“Wait! About that spell—why did you even have something like that prepared?”
The princess scowled at her.
“Why should I share the secrets of my magic with you?”
“It’s just—I only saw you using Ice magic before, so...”
Misun snorted derisively.
“I am a mage, you know. I’d say I’ve forgotten more spells than you’ve ever learned, but I still remember every last one of them. I haven’t been idle since the attempted coup.”
Jia thought about the coup in question. After being defeated by the powerful Ice elemental, Misun had spent most of it impaled to the ceiling of the throne room, watching helplessly while her family was overwhelmed. Now she was developing a powerful light spell, and she’d commented on the Void essence in the world of shadows...
“It’s to fight the Void elemental isn’t it? You’re trying to come up with an attack that can defeat it.”
Seong Misun pursed her lips.
“Well congratulations, you’re not a complete idiot. You’ve figured me out—now what?”
Jia shrugged.
“Could you teach me?”
The princess doubled over in laughter.
“Ahaha! Oh, ancestors, that’s terrible—oh, you’re serious? I should laugh even harder, then.”
She did, wiping the corners of her eyes before finally composing herself.
“Oh, and I thought Takeda was audacious. She’s in good company with you, isn’t she? No, Ambassador. I will not teach you anything. Not now or ever. I resent every moment I have to spend in your presence, and don’t wish to suffer you for even a second longer. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go meditate before that madwoman forces us to run another marathon.”
Jia flopped back down onto the grass, defeated. Oh well, it had been worth a try. She thought back to Misun’s grand spell, and the way it had spread so inexorably, devouring everything in its path—perhaps the most destructive spell she’d ever seen.
It was a grim reminder of how much further she had yet to go.