Chapter Five
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THE elderly lady's legs wobbled as she attempted to climb stairs, the slender stick she held providing little to no assistance. She flicked her gaze upwards and sighed at the realization that she had two more floors to climb.
Bracing herself, she raised her stick and was just about to take the next step when she felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned behind and gave a wrinkly smile.
"Oh, hello, Jiya dear," she exclaimed.
I returned a smile. "Hello, Mrs. Paeng. May I assist you with anything?"
She shook her head. "Ah, there's no need for that."
"Nonsense, you're having a job climbing these infernal stairs. Here, let me carry you on my back," I said, leaning forward.
"Oh, no, I would hate to impose-"
"Mrs. Paeng."
"Alright then, if you say so," she resigned to her fate.
I smiled in triumph as I heaved the dame on my back and carried her till we reached her doorstep. She insisted on having me over as a treat but I politely refused. After all, I had already had my fill, bland as it may be.
She pressed a tangerine from her shopping into my hands. "I won't take no for an answer, young lady."
I chuckled and accepted the fruit. I skipped downstairs to my own apartment, hoping to gorge on something that might have some taste. Granted, carrying Mrs. Paeng had given me the necessary nutrients, it didn't feel like a meal. It wasn't that the elderly had any exceptional flavour; it had more to do so with the fact that they were an easier prey.
Human food it was going to be.
The greasy smell of fried chicken soon filled my house. It wasn't fresh meat in the slightest, but I couldn't be less bothered. It has more to do with sinking my teeth into something more palpable.
After my encounter with Mingyu, I tried yet another miserable attempt with another co-model. Everything went smoothly until I actually came into close contact with her and things went downhill from there, yet again.
At this rate, I was going to use up the last reserves of my magic simply by conducting mind-wipes. And knowing the reason didn't make it any less disheartening.
So, I called Jihoon for advice during his working hours.
"And to what, do I owe this unceremonious pleasure?" He answered, clearly displeased.
"I am going to assume you don't have an appointment since you answered my call. I had a few ... doubts."
"Doubts?"
"I cannot taste my prey anymore."
Filtered noise filled my line; he was sighing. He seemed to do that a lot, lately.
"That's ... not a doubt. It is a problem and my word, it took effect quite quickly. What's it been - a fortnight?"
"A week," I corrected, clenching my jaw. "I think the learning center taught us that it would take more than a month of deprivation. Why has it started so quickly in my case, then?"
"Give me a minute."
"What do you need a minute for? You're literally a - oh, he put me on hold."
I drummed my fingers on the divan I was reclining on, as I waited. Ever so slowly, my fingers travelled to my mouth and I was biting on them unconsciously.
I felt scared, more scared than I had been in my entire life. A dreadful thought struck me - what if I never found my prey? What if all of my mother's terrible premonitions came true - that I would be sapped of all my identity that defined me as a Gumiho? What would happen after that? Would I die? Or would it be something worse?
"You're practically munching on your nails, sister," came Jihoon's concerned voice.
"Oh!" I jerked awake from those horridities which, in turn, stopped me from nibbling my nails.
"Well, I have a theory of sorts. It may be a hunch since there's no official record of a Gumiho losing taste before the usual three fortnights. From what I found on Foxypedia and Mr. Jung's extensive articles on the history of the tails, most Gumihos, even the slowest ones, find their perfect prey by the end of three months.
"But the case has only been such if they met the prey in an overseas trip or that the prey went out of town for a while. And usually, there were more details to go on; like they'd remember more than just their facial features. Why, there have been cases of gumihos knowing their prey's memories."
"This is all very fascinating, Jihoon, but could you cut to the chase?"
"Getting there. I am assuming that your prey may have had an encounter with one of our kind. Perhaps he was mind wiped or he was seduced. I can't tell. It's not from simple feeding, of that I am sure. The after-effects of that must have remained, otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation. You know this already."
I nodded, forgetting that Jihoon couldn't see me. We had learnt that any kind of magic that seriously muddled with the memories or feelings of a human gave it a sort of protection to avoid it from having more intimate interaction with another Gumiho. This was less for the protection of the human and more for maintaining the secrecy of our existence.
"So, my perfect prey may have been the victim of another Gumiho. That sounds lovely."
"Jiya, it's not funny."
"I'm sorry. What can I do, apart from scouring the city for him, with information based on vague details?"
"You could talk to our parents."
"What, and make their tails drop? I'll pass."
*
"Come again?" Soojin whispered and I could see that she was fighting the urge to scream.
"I lost my taste," I repeated, emphasizing each word.
"How? It's barely been-"
"A week. I know," I said, shaking my head.
We were in the cafeteria of our agency, for lunch. Human food went inside our digestive systems without causing too much harm - apart from alcohol and meat - and came out the other end without too much difference. Well, a wee bit different.
A classic meal was set before us - a bowl of rice, another of stew, a little pork belly, some spicy coleslaw and kimchi. The side dishes were few but we didn't mind. We were the more fortunate ones on the spectrum of models: the others kept shooting envious glances. They were on rigorous diets; some surviving on only a sweet potato for lunch. I felt sorry for them.
I chewed on my lip while Soojin stuffed her face with pork belly. She claimed that meat helped her think better. After she swallowed, she licked her lips and said:
"Nothing like a nicely sizzled pork belly to set you on the right path."
"Soojin!"
"I'm sorry," she said, wiping the sauce off her mouth with a napkin. "Where were we?"
I narrowed my eyes into a cold stare.
"Ah, yes, aids to help you," Soojin responded quickly. "Have you tried using a fox bead?"
"And how would that help me? We can only use it to extract the energy properly from our prey if we are kissing it. Or, we can sell it to other creatures in exchange of something equal in value."
The fox bead (or cintamani), upon consumption, enhanced a Gumiho's powers for a short period, while bestowing wisdom on other creatures. Apart from being milestones in learning, I couldn't fathom how else fox beads could be useful in my case.
Soojin smiled, shaking her head.
"It's a rather unconventional method and it helped me track down Mina in a week. I found out that in Buddhist and Hindu lore, it is capable of granting wishes. I was willing to give it a try. So, I swallowed it while thinking hard about my wish. It took a while to work but I'm willing to bet that the fox bead helped."
Mina was the name of her perfect prey. I was tempted to ask her how exactly it helped; pursuing that bend of conversation wasn't going to do me any good and besides, it was a sour topic for Soojin (even though she brought her up in the first place).
Disbelief must've been apparent on my face as Soojin chuckled while she said: "Don't believe me? Try it out yourself and prove me wrong."
"If it takes longer than a week, what will you give me?" I asked, ever ready to bet.
"A fox bead to replace the one you used."
I blinked.
"Fine, I'll give you two," she conceded.
"No can do," I sang.
"Don't be greedy!" She exclaimed. "I'm trying to help you, bitch!"
"Give me five and no less."
"Give it a go and maybe I'll consider giving you four."
*
As soon as I reached home, I dashed to my room and dug out my collection of fox beads. They were hidden beneath my myriad of dresses and encased in a nondescript jewellery box. I counted them: they were exactly 14 in number. I reminded myself to slip Jihoon a note that I was running short of fox beads and wouldn't be able to supply him any for his experiment.
I wondered why he couldn't use his own. I made a mental note to ask him that too.
I carefully removed one and held it up in the light. It didn't shine, it gleamed. No fanfare and noisy glamour, and still the opposite of a Plain Jane. Elegant enough to call the attention of those deserving of its own.
My fox bead.
I slipped in the bead and cleared my mind of everything except my one true goal. Soojin had instructed me to do away with distractions of any sort or else it wouldn't work. Traditionally, one sucked on the bead but this time, I was instructed to break that practice. Eyes shut, I bit on it and it went crunch.
And I was catapulted to ecstasy.
It tasted like liquid diamond, like candied cherry blossoms, like solid effervescence and my mind went blissfully blank. I was floating on a sea of cream with just the right thickness while soft, angelic singing slithered in my ears; just audible enough for me to enlighten me of its presence.
What did it whisper so tenderly, that caressed my very skin?
What is your desire?
My desire? I knew what it was: I didn't want to leave. I wanted to stay in this state of rhapsody. Was this peace?
What is ... your desire ...?
The voice was growing fainter.
I wanted to scream: make it come back!
I wanted its honeyed texture to envelope me into its bosom. Why was it the only voice I wanted to listen to, the only tune I wanted to play? Like silk, it had a hint of nasality to it but instead of being as sharp as Soojin's, it soothed me; undressed my very soul with its gentleness.
What ... is ... your ... desire ...?
I gasped, recalling my reason to be there in the first place. I strained to recall what I so desperately wanted. What had brought me to here in the first place.
'I want to be the perfect Gumiho. I want my eighth tail. I want my ninth tail.'
*
When my eyes fluttered open, I was eagle-spread on the cold floor of my bedroom. I looked around me. Nothing had amiss - the box of fox beads still lay open beside me. I got up and snapped it shut, tucking it away in a hidden compartment in a cavity in the wall.
I felt clammy; beads of perspiration clung to my skin, drenching my clothes in it.
How long had I been knocked out? I glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above my bed. It was way past dinnertime. I sighed - an entire evening went to waste while participating in this shoddy exercise.
I felt so weak, weaker than I should have. This felt like the opposite of the effects of consuming a cintamani. I now knew why the recommended step was to suck, not chew. For all it took from me, there'd better be some results. Or else I was in half a mind to steal Soojin's preys for a good month and a half.
To regain my strength, I needed something stronger than animal liver or substitutes. And there was only one place that was going to give me that.
Splashing my face with water, I opted to wear a bomber jacket and a pair of worn-out jeans. I didn't care to apply any makeup and only wore lip balm.
My feet clattered as I descended the stairs. Only carrying my wallet and phone on my person, I made quick work of reaching my destination: the bar that Soojin, Chaeri and I frequented. It was only a ten-minute walk from my place.
Pied Piper had more customers than usual. Humans loved Fridays and I wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. As I ambled my way through, I noticed how dark it was. The only difference between a pub and the place would be that there were no dancers. The dimly-lit area was surrounded by small tables, some of them with grill sets for anyone who fancied a little meat. Nearly all the tables were full with people making merry - some having come straight from work while some others looked around apprehensively, giving away the fact that they were college students. Not wanting to occupy a table all by myself, I walked to the bar, which was occupied with fewer people.
I breathed in. A crowded place was the simplest way to get energy - I had to put in zero effort. Granted, you didn't get the best flavor and not every mocktail was the best combination. For example, in a bar, a common serving was a rather hideous blend of disgust and giddy optimism.
I called the bartender for a tall glass of beer. He wore a funny look as he poured the golden liquid. He seemed familiar too.
How puzzling. Forgetting faces was unlike me.
I sniffed a little and the familiar deodorant hit my nostrils.
Before I could say anything, he said: "Have you visited the bar before?"
"Yes, I have. Multiple times, in fact. The last time I was here was about two weeks ago with my friends. We got pretty drunk, remember?"
"Ah, yes," the AXE man replied, chuckling. "One of you guys kept throwing peanuts at me."
I smiled. "Apologies for that. I can be quite the child."
"Ah, don't worry about it. It was quite a laugh. However, I think your friend who was planning on getting betrothed to one of our glasses upstaged you in terms of hilarity. They were a match made in heaven."
I giggled. I tried to imagine the appalled look on Heejin, Chaeri's partner. They would have a field day with that piece of information.
"Would you believe me if I said she's actually a mother?"
His eyes widened. "No way! She looks so young!"
I smirked. Of course she looked young.
"Have you just started working here?" I asked, taking a sip of my beer.
"Yes," he responded, scratching the back of his neck. "It was my first night shift that day. It was your birthday, wasn't it?"
I nodded, draining my glass. "Indeed."
"You finished that pretty quick," he whistled. "How old are you now, if I may ask?"
"Twenty-seven," I lied easily.
"So you're a year older than me," he said.
I was going to answer that I didn't care much for such details but Mr. Axe was called by another customer who wanted to place an order.
I was feeling pretty full already but decided to stick around for some more time and maybe, another glass of beer if the bartender came along. Soon, he was back.
He started wiping glasses to pass the time.
"Shouldn't it be busier for you? How can you spare time to clean?" I asked, trying to make small talk.
"Nah, I've got a mate over there handling the other side - y'know the one for the group orders. Plus, I'm better off dealing with single orders like yours; my hands are known to have personalities of their own. They'll sometimes forget I might be carrying stuff in them."
I snickered. "The klutzy type, are you?"
He did a little bow. "Aye, aye, captain. Are you one of my kind?"
I shook my head. "Not really, but I have been told I can be messy."
"Messy and klutzy go hand in hand," he reasoned.
I asked for a refill and he complied. As I drank it, I realized something.
"Wait, we don't even know each other's names."
"Nobody asks for the bartender's name, missy. Didn't you know?"
I rolled my eyes. "Har, har, of course they don't."
He sported a dimpled grin as he said: "It's Kim Namjoon."
"Moon Jiya," I replied. We shook hands.
I could've tried my seduction tactics but I decided to pass. As it is, I had my fill and it felt nicer to go on chatting with Namjoon. Plus, nobody knew the side-effects of hooking up with the bartender of your favorite bar.
I decided that it would be an unwise move and so, we went on talking, until the occupancy of the bar dwindled to a mere ten. These mostly included couples and stags like myself.
I was just about to call it a day when Namjoon said: "My shift's going to end in a couple of minutes. Don't you think it's too late for you? And it's not like you're drinking heavily."
"Trying to shoo out customers now, are you? That's not good for business," I said, waggling my finger.
"That's not what I meant and you know it too," he sneered.
"I could wait until you're done," I offered. "Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine."
"That's very nice of you but one of my friends will be arriving shortly to pick me up."
"Alrighty then," I said, sweeping myself off the stool and picking up my jacket.
"It was nice meeting you, Jiya," he said pleasantly. "Sober you is a lot of fun."
"Honey, every me is a lot of fun," I purred.
He only laughed in response. I slung my jacket over my shoulder and stepped out of the bar, feeling positively better than before.
Behind me, Namjoon was talking to someone on the phone.
"I'll be right there, hyung. Meet you in five minutes. Ah no, I wasn't bored at all. In fact-"
I didn't catch his last words as the door slammed shut behind me.
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