Chapter 215: 279. Meili

Li Meili wasn’t entirely certain how to feel about her existence. As far as first impressions go, immediately feeling the sting of disappointment from one of the people most precious to her wasn’t great. The fact that she had nothing better to do but stew on it while her friends, family, and self—and Seong Misun—scrutinized her didn’t help much.

She didn’t blame Master Ienaga—there were some obvious parallels to her own contentious ascension that were probably uncomfortable. But it wasn’t the same! Nobody innocent was harmed, aside from possibly Li Meili herself, but she’d agreed to that risk in advance.

That was an odd thought in itself—her memories only went back a few minutes, to the moment of her creation—but she had knowledge that existed independently of her memories. She knew that she’d agreed to shoulder the risks of her own creation, even though she had technically never done anything of the sort.

The difference between memory and knowledge was particularly jarring, the more she considered it. She knew her friends and family—their names and faces, their personalities, their relationships—and even felt the same connections to them, but though she knew her history, she didn’t have the memories to go with it.

“Are you alright? How are you feeling?”

Meili blinked and glanced up at Eunae with a start. She hadn’t realized that she’d been spacing out. At some point, Seong Misun had decided she was satisfied with her analyses and dispelled her formation circles, allowing the rest to crowd around Li Meili excitedly.

“Uh, fine I guess? A little bit crowded. I’m still getting my bearings.”

Most of the people around her took a step back, but Rika leaned in even closer.

“I know what Yoshika’s navel-gazing looks like. What’s going on in that head of yours? Any thoughts of turning on your creators? Maybe usurping their power for yourself?”

Meili snorted in amusement.

“No, though if I did I think I’d be smart enough not to say that right in front of everybody.”

There was a round of good natured chuckles, and Li Meili took advantage of the lull to take a look at her creator—herself, really. Yoshika hadn’t spoken a word since Meili’s creation, just staring in silence, obviously lost in her own thoughts.

As she glanced between Jia and Eui’s bodies, it occurred to Meili that she didn’t really know where to look when they stood on opposite sides of the circle like that. It was kind of annoying to experience it from the other side—something to remember for later. Or for them to remember? Li Meili frowned.

“I don’t know where to look when you’re standing far apart like that. Also maybe say something? This is getting awkward.”

Yoshika smiled—a sheepish grin on Jia’s face, and a sardonic smirk on Eui’s—and circled around until both were standing together. As usual, she defaulted to speaking in Jia’s voice.

“Sorry—we were just thinking. Trying to make sense of the way you feel in our domain.”

Meili suppressed a grimace—did she really look like that? She’d seen herself through her own eyes enough times, but somehow it was different from an outside perspective. A little unsettling.

“I wouldn’t know. I keep trying to feel my domain, but it’s not there. It’s strange being back to regular mana sense, even though it’s technically all I’ve ever known.”

Yoshika nodded with both heads in perfect sync and Meili tried not to shudder—she’d really underestimated how unsettling her behavior could be when she was linked together like that. Yoshika must have noticed, because she furrowed her brows before responding.

“We see. Are we making you uncomfortable? You don’t have to feel obligated to do what we say or answer our questions.”

Meili giggled. It was kind of cute how concerned Yoshika was.

“Honestly? A little bit, yes. It’s bizarre looking at yourself from an outside perspective. But you can stop fretting about having accidentally created a new person. I’m pretty sure I’m still just you.”

“Are you sure?”

Yoshika didn’t seem convinced, and Meili knew enough about herself to guess that there wouldn’t be much that could convince her, short of experiencing it first hand like Meili did.

“Ninety percent? Right now I just want to get on with the mission so I can go back to being you again. Being stuck back in the first stage kinda sucks.”

Yoshika’s eyes widened in surprise, and the atmosphere among the rest of the group grew strangely tense. Meili frowned—what had she said? She hated that she couldn’t sense emotions as easily anymore. Yoshika looked downcast as she spoke.

“Is it really that bad? That you’d rather stop existing than continue to suffer?”

Li Meili blinked.

“What? Oh—oh! No, no—I don’t mean like that. I didn’t really think of it as ceasing to exist so much as just...returning to my original state? I’ve got all these reflexes and habits that don’t quite match up to my current form, and it’s awkward. Just a constant mild discomfort that I have to tolerate for the sake of my task, like when we had to hold our tails around our waist for disguises. Also—can I just point out how weird it feels to not have a tail?”

Rika chuckled.

“I can’t imagine how torturous that must be.”

Meili stuck her tongue out.

“That’s not the same and you know it.”

Yoshika sighed.

“Alright, I guess that’s all we wanted to know—unless you have any questions of your own?”

Li Meili shook her head.

“Nope, I’m ready to go any time.”

The group exchanged a set of meaningful glances that Li Meili couldn’t quite follow. It felt like a ton of unspoken conversation was happening around her that she couldn’t understand—like her mind was a bit more sluggish than she was used to.

Ja Yun, who’d been mostly silent so far, raised her hand to speak.

“Can I ask something? What do we call you?”

“Li Meili.”

Yoshika and Meili both answered at the same time—it was something they’d thought out ahead of time. It would be much easier for Meili to work undercover if she actually identified by her alias. After another round of meaningful looks and unspoken conversation, Rika shrugged.

“Well, I guess that clears up any doubt about whether she’s still you.”

 

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Jia sat at the top of a hill and watched as Li Meili made her way down the road, completely indistinguishable from a regular traveler. She didn’t know what to make of her new avatar. It was clear that Li Meili thought of herself as an extension of Yoshika, but it was hard to feel the same way from the other side. In the end, she just had to trust that she’d made the right decisions.

It also felt bizarre to send someone else to handle something for her—even if that someone else was technically herself. Jia had gotten used to solving every problem she encountered directly and personally, and while she didn’t hesitate to turn to her friends for help, she never left them to handle things alone.

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“I’ve never seen someone look so forlorn after such a grand success.”

Jia turned to see Jung approaching to sit in the grass next to her. Her big sister smiled and reached out to brush a stray lock of hair away from Jia’s eyes.

“It’s getting quite long again, isn’t it? What’s wrong, sweetheart? I won’t pretend to understand, but it seemed to me that you and Eui did a rather impressive bit of magic today.”

Jia sighed.

“We did, yes. Princess Seong is over the moon about all the data she got—I think it’s the closest to a good mood I’ve ever seen her in. And it was an important milestone in some of our more long-term projects. Even if we never use the technique again, just knowing it is a huge step forward when we’ve been stuck in a bit of a rut for a long time.”

“Hmm, that all sounds like good news to me—so what’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. I can’t place my finger on it. I think we upset Master Ienaga, both by undermining her orders and—well, it’s hard to explain.”

Jung cocked her head curiously.

“Try?”

“It’s not really my place. I think this new technique brought up a lot of bad memories for her, and she’s worried that it will take us down a bad path.”

“I see. Well, it’s not as though she’s an unreasonable woman. If you think that you’ve upset Yumi, then apologize and talk about it.”

Jia raised an eyebrow at her sister.

“Yumi?”

Jung scoffed.

“Oh, don’t give me that. You try spending days in someone’s arms and then standing on ceremony. She’s a sweet woman once you get through that stoic facade of hers.”

Jia nodded.

“She really is. Back in the academy, she was the only teacher that actually seemed to care. Magus Hwang and Elder Qin saw our potential, and they taught us sincerely in their own ways, but Master Ienaga was different. She paid attention, she listened, and she actually treated us like human beings.”

“That’s not a very high bar to set.”

“Maybe not, but Master Ienaga was there for us when it felt like no other adult was. She saved our lives when the descent happened, you know.”

Jung giggled.

“So you’ve told me, at least a dozen times.”

Jia blushed. She hadn’t realized she’d gushed about her favorite mentor so often.

“Sorry...”

“Don’t be! I love to hear your stories—even if some of them are a little worrisome.”

Jia leaned against her sister’s side and stared back out at the road. Meili was barely more than a speck on the horizon, now.

“What do you think about her?”

Jung squinted out at the road in vain—Li Meili was too far away for her to see—then shrugged.

“I assume you mean that copy of yourself you made with your big spell? There’s not much to think about—she’s you.”

“I wish it were that simple. There’s parts of me in her, and parts of Eui, but she’s not like Yoshika—she isn’t the totality of both of us.”

“More like a daughter, then? You know, for a same sex couple you’ve managed an impressive number of progeny.”

Jia buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“I hadn’t even thought of it like that! No, I don’t think she’s like a daughter, either. More like...I don’t know—a twin?”

“She doesn’t seem to agree. From where I was sitting, Li Meili was quite adamant about the fact that she was you.”

“Doesn’t that make it even worse? We’ve already got a major disagreement minutes into her existence? How much further is she going to diverge a few days or even weeks from now? We don’t even know how long it’s going to take for her to come back—if she does at all! And then—”

Jung interrupted Jia by pulling her into a hug and hushing her.

“Shh, honey, no. You’re getting yourself worked up over nothing. You always did have a knack for overcomplicating things. Stop and think for a moment—really think. Put yourself in her position, and properly imagine what it would be like to be her. How would you feel? What would you do?”

Jia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to meditate on the idea.

“I guess I wouldn’t appreciate having my feelings invalidated like that...and it would feel bad to be mistrusted by someone who’s literally me. I made a promise to myself to see things through, and I wouldn’t break that promise. I won’t break that promise.”

Jung smiled.

“It sounds like you’ve found your answer, then haven’t you?”

“Yeah—I think so. Thanks big sis.”

“Aww, you’re very welcome, Jia. What else are mothers for?”

Jia opened her mouth to correct Jung, then closed it again. She really was like a mother, and it felt silly to deny it even if they were far too close together in age.

As the pair of them rested against each other, watching the clouds blow past, Jia reflected back on what Seong Misun had said about cherishing the time she had with Jung. She still didn’t want to accept the possibility that Jung would die—ever. But at the same time, she knew that she wouldn’t be doing her sister any favors by running herself ragged trying to find a way to save her from mortality itself.

It was even one of the first conversations she’d had with Jung after their reunion—though at the time Jia had privately sworn to find a way to keep Jung alive anyway. There was no guarantee that Jung could ever become immortal—or even that she’d even want to. Jia had to accept that.

But, though she still had some misgivings about her new avatar, she had to admit that it presented a clear opportunity. For once, Jia didn’t have to choose between trying to protect her family and spending quality time with them, and she intended to take full advantage of it.