The Year ‘35, 4th Month, 19th Day
– Fei Cui, Jae-dyn
The Minister’s Estate
8:00 PM
On the third Sun’s Day of every month, the Minister held a meeting.
It was an auspicious yet sorely furtive affair. A government matter, of course— so all the guests spoke of business.
Today, it was about a Sohnian attorney’s new xi tax. But that did not mean any less drinking and merry-making once all the dishes had been served and the dancers had been paid.
There was something Kai noticed about these guests. Napes perfumed with jasmine and osmanthus essential oils, hands politely cupped over the corner of their lips like they were whispering to a lover, as they walked across Minister Ito’s chandelier-lit hallways, traditional staircases, and expansive drawing rooms with delicate, light footfalls akin to a waterfowl grazing across a glistening river.
There was one thing they all shared. Like a starving wolf, they tore their ways out of the destitute of an economically crumbling state and mauled the world apart with claws of greed and fangs of corruption, until they grew rich and fat.
And Kai watched them all with rapt intrigue.
He always kept away from the guests, especially when his presence was needed with the cook and driver, with the latter always so busy ferrying people through the estate’s gate.
“No matter how dry Mr. Sun’s glass is, please do not refill it,” Kai whispered tersely to one of their new hands. She was an older woman who had been hired by the Minister a few times before, during meetings like these, when there were more than twenty attendees. “He has a tendency to run his mouth. Especially when it has anything to do with the GST.”
“Yes, Caretaker,” the woman bowed to him in ascent. They were both standing by the kitchen’s threshold, with her holding a large unopened bottle of spirits. She spun on her heel to head back to the cellar.
One of the maids— a woman in her early twenties named Seo-ah, stepped over to him as Kai stalked by the wall, trying to avoid the raucous laughter of the guests. They were all sitting by the expansive dining table, glasses still stocked full.
In her harsh Isrian accent, Seo-ah bent over to reach Kai’s ear. “Minister Ito was looking for you.”
“Thank you,” Kai said to her. He had expected this. Among all the faces here at the table, there was only one who was missing— one who the Minister cared about more than anyone.
So, Kai took a deep breath; and after a beat of staring at the long length of the dining table, marched up to the center.
As he passed, he swiped at wayward empty bowls and cups, making sure to keep his hands swift and his presence nearly invisible. Instantly, the smell of leftover roasted chicken, roasted peanuts with garlic, and oily rice breached his nose.
He hadn’t eaten since noon, so his stomach let out a hungry pang. Still, Kai’s sights were set at the end of the table, where Minister Ito sat. Right before he reached the man, he passed the dishes he had collected to another new hire who he did not recognize.
The Minister was a straight-faced man. He so rarely smiled, and his back was often sat perfectly straight. Despite that, though; he kept a harsh grip on his liquor, and tipped it down his throat with an expertise that was frightening.
Kai saw how his fingers were tapping at the table, so when he bent a knee to meet the man’s sullen gaze; he reached into his breast pocket to pull out a single cigarette. “You wished to see me, sir?”
For a moment, Minister Ito did not reply. He merely took the cigarette Kai offered him and lit it on a burning candle atop their table. He drawled, “Where is my son?”
“I’m not sure, sir.”
“I told him the meeting would be tonight,” the Minister hissed. The lines on his face grew uglier when he did so. “He was supposed to play the angled harp for us.”
Kai rose. “I’ll search for him.”
Scoffing, Minister Ito primly took a single peanut from the dish in front of him, letting the salt and oil seep onto his fingers. “No need. I’m tired of waiting. Just make sure he doesn’t leave his room for the rest of the night. If he refused to present himself, then he is not receiving dinner.”
“Yes, sir.”
Currently, Kai was in the principal house, where the Minister kept the drawing room and the dining table; and entertained guests. He’d simply need to walk through the long length of the eastern wing, past the guest rooms to get to his son’s bedroom.
“Really, I don’t believe in this stupid tax.” One patron shook his head tersely as Kai stepped past, the man raising his chopsticks to his mouth as he grumbled to the man next to him— some investment broker who was the son of a politician that Kai didn’t know the name of. “I spent years trying to get my company to 100,000 kin in monthly revenue, and now I have to weaken my infrastructure by giving up 75 percent of my Land's collected xi?”
“It’s all bullshit,” the broker hissed blearily. His cheeks were flushed. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I know a killer tax adviser. He knows all the loopholes… want me to get you in contact?”
Kai turned down the eastern wing’s hallway, just as the first patron nodded excitably. The chatter of the dining room slowly dispersed from around him, as he continued to pad his way down the long length of the hallway, the golden light from the Minister’s Upperland chandeliers beaming down on him.
He walked past the guest rooms, a few maids having left the doors open as they righted the cushions and quilts. Some of the guests would be staying the night, to allow Minister Ito to quiz and interrogate them the day after, when the joy of the dinner had long faded.
Kai came to a stop at the final room at the end of the hallway. It was bigger than all the other ones, the screen painted delicately with peonies. He rapped succinctly on the wooden frame. “Master Botan?”
There was no response. Vaguely, Kai could hear a radio echoing from within the room. The volume knob turned to its absolute highest, so Kai could hear the chattering of the mystery drama that was playing through the door.
Without waiting, Kai slid the door open.
Botan was a small child of eleven. So, he could crawl under his bed and hide there for an entire night, if nobody was careful. Kai, however, was used to this. That’s why— as he pulled the door open and was faced with an empty room and the radio playing on its lonesome, he simply stepped toward the bed, and peeked under it.
“Hello, Master Botan,” Kai said with a kind smile.
Botan was laying completely flat beneath the bed frame, a book drawn open in front of him. It was about Cultivation, the text detailing Somatic Arts as Kai raked a quick glance over the page.
Botan looked up at him sheepishly. “My father’s mad, isn’t he?”
“He told me not to bring you dinner tonight,” Kai said imperiously, moving aside so Botan could crawl out from the bottom of the bed.
The child patted at his dusty hair, clutching his book to his chest as he finally straightened. “It’s alright, I’m not hungry.”
“Hm, I guess it was a waste for me to bring this,” With a crooked smile, Kai reached into his outerwear’s inner pocket to pull out a single sticky rice ball, wrapped in lotus leaf. He chuckled as Botan perked up, eyeing the thing like he was a starved dog.
“Thank you, Caretaker Kai,” Botan said a little shyly, unwrapping the rice ball.
Kai moved to sit on the bed, letting Botan sit next to him as he took the book from the child’s busy hands. “You were studying, I take it?”
“I know I was supposed to play the harp for them, but I have a test tomorrow,” Botan grumbled, chewing pensively. “It doesn’t matter either way. They’re always too drunk to notice me playing. Adults are scary when they’re loud and tipsy and laughing.”
“Yes, I can see that,” Kai nodded in assent, pointing a finger at the still-open page Botan had been reading. “I thought your quiz is on xi economics, not Somatic Arts.”
Botan flinched, caught. “Uh… I got distracted.”
“Bo,” Kai frowned at him. “We talked about this.”
“Oh, please. Business and statistics are boring,” Botan groaned with his mouth full. “I don’t want to be a Minister like my Father. I wanna be a Cultivator.”
Kai laughed, “Your father won’t be happy if he hears about that. He wants someone to take over his position in the Ministry. You’ll be making good money as a Cultivator, sure— but you’ll lose your power.”
“I’ll be powerful if I’m a Cultivator!” Botan exclaimed, almost affronted.
“I don’t mean that kind of power,” Kai said a little sadly. “Either way, all the Cultivation Sects are too picky. With the xi depression, there’s no way that you’ll make it into a Sect any time soon, even if you are the son of a Minister.”
“I don’t need a Sect. I could learn it by myself… I read that you can awaken your Cultivational abilities by setting a Bottleneck for yourself.”
“Yeah?” Kai decided to humor him. “Have you been maintaining your Core?”
Botan nodded at him excitedly, “Every night! I meditate, fast, and do my stretches. I just… don’t know how to actually forge a Bottleneck.”
“Well, if you’ve been doing all of that, it should be easy. I’m not a Cultivator, but I’ve met many— they at least taught me how to forge my own Bottleneck.” Kai clarified.
Botany stared at him with a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh, please— will you teach me? Please?”
Kai sighed, but there was no harm in playing along with a child’s wishes. He reached out to take Botan’s hands in his own, grasping so tightly his knuckles strained, “Take a deep breath.”
“Ah, Caretaker Kai... that hurts,” Botan complained softly, wringing his fingers within Kai’s grip. However, his Caretaker held on firmly, unrelenting.
“It has to. Bottlenecks are a promise of suffering. You’re telling your Core that you want it to take in xi from the atmosphere. Your Core has never done that before— so trying to intake xi before creating a Bottleneck will be excruciating,” Kai explained through a rush of breath, already slipping his eyes closed. “To begin, you must be ready to feel pain. That’s the start to every Cultivator’s journey.”
Stolen novel; please report.
“S-So it has to… hurt?” Botan trembled.
Kai leveled, “It will. Do you want to stop?”
Botan swallowed unevenly. “No. I want… to prove to my father that I can do this.”
“Whatever you say, Master.” Kai bowed his head. “On the count of three I want you to breathe, like how you usually do when you’re meditating. I’m sure there’s some xi in the atmosphere, since your father has his own personal collections.”
Nodding a little worriedly, Botan asked, “And then what?”
“Instead of exhaling, you keep your breath in. No matter how much your lungs burn, or you feel like you’re about to pass out— you keep it in. That’s your Core forging its Bottleneck.”
Botan nodded at him again, unable to even provide any words. Kai cleared his throat. “Alright. One, two, three—”
He heard the child let in a sharp intake of air through his nose, before his eyes fell closed. Kai watched him. A second passed, and then five. Ten. He felt Botan’s grip on his hands tighten as time continued to pass.
Kai could hear Botan letting out little whimpers of pain, his expression twisting. From where Kai’s thumb was resting, he could feel the child’s pulse through his wrist, pounding faster and faster.
And with it came the surging of cool earth, the taste of dirt coating his tongue, and the smell of moist mud—
He knew that Botan had begun to feel a burn begin to course and flare through his veins, running through his bloodstream alongside the rumbling, mumbling, and beating of his heart, and a sense of something entirely otherworldly.
Because then a bright light flared from Botan.
His Bottleneck had been forged.
The child before him jolted at the sensation. Mouth hanging limply as he watched the whorls of xi flowing like gilded waves from him. Started from his forehead, to the chest, below the navel, then back again. The twisting of a winding river, connected at both ends, flowing at infinitude.
“What...” Botan began, struggling just to speak, the heat all consuming, for those unfamiliar with its potency. “Wh-What happens now?”
Kai smiled at him in encouragement. “Now you’ll figure out what unique Phase you’ve been born with.”
Botan gasped shakily, “Yes— I-I... I can taste something.”
“Describe it to me,” said Kai. The child’s aura was beginning to materialize, and xi ran through them both now like the rush of a landslide, crashing through their Cores unforgivably. “It feels different for everyone. That’s how you can tell what Phase you have.”
“It’s...” Botan trailed off, rubbing his tongue against his molars, relishing the flavor his Core supplied him with. Kai waited patiently. “I-It’s like... pine?”
As if reacting to his words, the aura that spewed from Botan’s small frame tinged into something deeper. Murkier.
There was beauty in such revelations. The clicking of one’s Core into place, familiarizing itself with the aura it had been bestowed with since birth. The spiritual ties blessing one’s body, rising into the tangible world. A person feeling their Cores dip into obscurity; into the arcane, wild, and ardent.
Kai grinned languidly, “Tell me more.”
“Pine needle tea. That’s what it tastes like,” the child before him announced, squinting as he focused on the new senses befalling him. His aura steadily crept from yellow to something verdant and brisk. “And... I can smell bark. Like I’m in a carpentry shop. It’s all musty and rich and it feels like—”
“Yes?”
Botan grew quiet, considering his next reply further. The aura that flickered around him had grown into a stark green. Fresh and virid. Then, he settled on, “Wood. Just wood.”
“You’re right on the money, Bo,” Kai let out a small grunt, xi whooshing from his chest with enough force to knock his breath out his throat. “There’s five Phases your Core could be born with. Wood, Fire, Earth, Metal, and Water. Yours is the first.”
“I can’t believe it! I-I actually…” Botan smiled a little uncontrollably. He shook his head to clear his thoughts a little. “How about my Somatic Art?”
Kai put a hand to his chin in thought. “Since you’re a Wood Phase, that means that you can form physical constructs using your xi. That means your Somatic Art is… some form of dance, right?”
Botan seemed to deflate. “I’m not really good at dancing…”
Kai laughed high and freely. “Maybe you should beg your father for some lessons, then.”
Botan laughed along with him, happy and sweet in a way only a child could be. Solemnly, he said, “I suppose it would be impossible to determine my Path right now...”
Kai nodded softly, recognizing the fervid dissatisfaction within the child’s tone. “Yes, forging one’s own Path would take a very long time. That takes years of meditation and practice. Remember—”
“Xi is the foundation of the world. Phases are the foundation of the Core. Paths are the foundation of the self,” Botan recited the famous proverb in one exhale. Words memorized and charted away in the back of his head, and brought about with a synoptic simplicity any proud student would display.
“Very good,” Kai nodded in satisfaction. He glanced down at his watch. He finished with, “Paths are a symbol of one’s personality, their beliefs, interests... think of it like picking a career. It needs a lot of thought. But once you have your Path, your Bottleneck will work to temper your power.”
As their hands parted, Botan let his aura drift away.
The xi that had run through Botan’s body felt so different from the xi that Kai was familiar with.
Hot, not cold. It felt like what xi was supposed to be.
Kai frowned at himself.
“What’s yours, Caretaker Kai?” the boy asked, a slight slur to his inquiry. The task of setting one’s Core alight was a chore for most, and it would not be long until Botan would feel the effects weighing down upon him like dense jade stones. “Your Phase, I mean.”
And for a brief second, the pace of his heart quickened. Tension stringing up his limbs for the shortest of moments, before he reiterated to himself that all there was before him was a child. That there was no danger looming behind his shoulder.
It was supposed to be Earth. That was what he had been born with. But all of his Cultivational abilities are capped— after that night.
He couldn’t help but exhale, long and slow.
His was the trap of Cultivation, the reliving of torture. So long ago now, yet it burned all the same with every choking grip the spiritual ropes had on his wrists. All were interchangeable, connected— bound.
He was bound.
“I don’t know,” Kai smiled at the child, and that was that.
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The Year ‘35, 4th Month, 20th Day
– Fei Cui, Jae-dyn
Apartment Block 9, Hualien Street
6:39 AM
“I’m leaving,” Kai cupped a hand around his mouth, calling from the foyer of their cramped, four-room apartment. He fumbled with the intricate bindings of his formal robes, straightening them out as he pulled on his dress shoes.
“What?” his brother stumbled out of the small corner of their living room, allocated as the kitchen. He was still holding a cup of coffee, brows furrowed, “But it’s Sun’s Day. And you haven’t had breakfast yet.”
Kai shot a quick glance at his brother’s bedroom, the door still hanging open. Inside was his office, teeming with papers. Behind him was an expansive cork board; newspaper clippings, records, and articles pinned to the surface. Some were growing yellow with age, the pins holding them in place having rusted a little.
All the headlines were the same. They all bore the name Shen.
Kai shuddered.
“Can’t. The Minister needs me there before 9 am to help Botan with his final exams.” Kai finally said as he struggled with his tie, looping it in haphazard circles around his neck as he replied, “I need to—”
Two large hands grasped at his collar, flattening them down. It was his brother, gently grabbing the ends of Kai’s tie afterwards, folding them neatly across each other.
Kai jumped a bit, but settled down with the clenching of his fists, hoping his brother could not see. Mouth tightened into a straight line as his nails dug into his palms, so intensely he was sure they would leave indents in the skin.
His brother always doted on him during these days. And though there was a blinding, vehement comfort to be sought within such actions, Kai couldn’t help but want to jolt far away from his touch.
Still, Kai afforded a small smile, reaching out in turn to adjust his older brother’s work badge. He did so with stiff, slowed movements. A distinct, horrendous parody of ease. If anyone were watching them, they would surely be laughing.
He glanced down at the badge. It read in bold characters: Ground Enforcer Chet Lahn.
With his tie finally in place and Chet finally drawing himself away, Kai said, “I need to go.”
“Alright, then,” Chet nodded, he shifted uneasily on his legs, the one with the limp making him dip a little lower from Kai’s gaze. “I’m sorry that I disappeared in the middle of the night, a few days ago. There was Militia business I had to deal with.”
A beat passed. They each remained where they stood.
“That’s okay.” Kai’s arms suddenly itched, stirring from his sides. “That Chin Hae fellow sounded like a big deal.”
“He was,” Chet said stiffly, raising his arms before dropping them awkwardly back to his sides.
An embrace, of course. This was supposed to be natural for them. But they hadn’t seen each other in a while. When was the last time? A month… maybe two.
Two days ago, one part of Kai’s mind told him.
His brother only called for him when the anniversary was drawing near. And it wasn’t like Chet was worried that Kai would bring harm unto another.
No, Chet only feared Kai in the way a mother would shun a child who had committed a murder without meaning to.
Because that’s what Kai was, in Chet’s eyes. He was the child who had made a simple mistake. Who had surely killed men due to his own foolishness. It didn’t matter if Kai buried himself in a hole and refused contact with all people.
Because Chet would always remember him during that night. Would remember him as a monster—
Kai caught sight of Chet’s hand raising. Fingers splayed and palm heavy, as he laid it against his own side. Right above the hip, where a scar was fading, the bone having been marred forever. As if he were shielding himself, hiding away with just the faintest of efforts. Hoping to be lost against Kai’s scrutinizing eye.
But Kai had seen it, and all he could do was hold back a frown, forcing his face into steely carelessness. There was a plaintive ache that grew unwound at the corners of his joints, and he turned away, ready to depart—
Before he could, there was a finger, running over Kai’s cheekbone. Drawing a stray strand of hair away, right under his left eye.
Its pupil was a milky white. Blinded. Or at least, that’s what Kai told his brother— told everyone.
He froze, watching as Chet tucked the strands of hair behind his ear, keeping it primly in place. His brother spoke through a whisper, “You’ll tell me if anything goes wrong.”
Kai could not determine if that had been an order or a request. It was juvenile, the way he replied, “It’s not coming back, Chet. The Eye is blinded, you destroyed it yourself… you should know this.”
But his brother had every right to be worried. Because it was a lie.
The Eye lived on within him. The Beast’s Blessing was still his.
— And that was not even Kai’s greatest secret.
“I... I’m sorry. You’re right.” After a chaste smile, his brother moved to head back to the cup of coffee he had abandoned on the wobbly refectory bench they called their dining table. On the surface were sheets of records, detailing the exploits of a small gang led by a man named Tanay. “Have a good day, seagrape.”
“Don’t call me that,” Kai laughed softly, scrunching his face up the same way he would have if he was still five and Chet was fourteen.
His brother’s words carried a pang that throbbed. Was striking and awake and distinctive. Distrust, vivid in all of its colors. Even now, Chet dared to leave sentiments like that hanging between them, like the echoing of a bad omen.
“Goodbye,” Kai said, as he pulled his satchel from the rack and slung it over a shoulder.
Kai closed the door just as his brother called out a reply.
He walked through the hallway of the tenant building, pocketing his duplicate key. It didn’t take him long to reach the public bathroom at the end of the hallway, the door having been scribbled on and covered in expletives.
Kai held his nose as he entered. It was a wet bathroom, for some reason— and a showerhead hung from the wall, directly above the squatting toilet. The scent was nearly unbearable, and Kai had to hold his breath.
Slowly, he drew his outerwear’s robe apart, pulling out the roll of gauze he kept within.
He began to wrap the thin linen across his face, shielding his features away from view— leaving only his left eye visible.
Slipping off his outerwear, he replaced it instead with the black frockcoat he had folded into his satchel.
He straightened the collar again, and looked at himself in the bathroom’s cracked and stained mirror.
Kai’s reflection stared back at him. He took a deep breath, undoing the glamour over his left eye— the same way he had been taught by Duri, years and years ago.
Kai— or Kizuna as well, he mused—let out a resigned sigh.
His gaze fell upon his tie, immaculately done by his brother.
Kai wondered, passingly, what he thought his brother would say if he found out that the boy he had thought to be Shen, and then promptly named his informant a few days ago— had been his brother all along.
“What the hell am I doing,” Kai asked himself.
He ran a finger through his tie’s knot, promptly undoing it as he finally stepped out of the bathroom.