“Finley,” she repeated, her voice trembling. A laugh escaped her lips, mixed with another choking sound that sounded suspiciously like gagging. “Dieter is the Prince of Roatia. My parents…wanted me…to marry him?”

With a whirl of black and red robes, Abrial doubled over. She seemed to be retching.

Finley sighed, leaning over, patting Abrial’s arched back.

“You should not eat so many dumplings at once,” she chided calmly. “You are bound to get sick like this.”

Abrial heaved, shaking her head with difficulty.

“It’s not — hic! — that,” she moaned, hiccuping nauseously. “Maybe — a little. But…can you imagine — hic! — having to marry — hic! — that idiot? I’d — hic! — die of disgust! I’d rather die on the — hic! — the spot!!”

Finley frowned, patting Abrial’s back gently.

“It would indeed not be favorable for you to marry him.”

Abrial stood leaned over with her hands pressing on her knees for another moment, catching her breath. Breathing heavily, she stood. Her muscles all felt weak, like she was made up of noodles.

“What do you mean, not favorable?” she moaned, leaning on Finley. “It’d be hell! Being in love is bad enough—married and trapping myself like that by itself would be hell! But imagine being trapped with him? DOUBLE hell! I’d rather live in the house for eighteen more years! I’d rather never run again in my whole entire life!”

They began to move forward, Finley holding Abrial sturdily by the shoulder and waist. For someone with such thin arms, Finley had astounding arm strength. Her face had a strange expression, with her eyebrows turning out slightly. It gave her a mild impression of dissatisfaction.

“Being in love does not mean you are trapped,” she said quietly, her pale lips barely moving. “Not if it is with someone you enjoy spending time with. And…it would be unfavorable for you to marry him, because there may be someone more favorable and suited to you.” The last part she muttered almost under her breath, so quietly Abrial had to strain to hear it.

Abrial glanced at Finley’s face, frowning.

“Why’re you talking so quietly? ‘More favorable’? What the heck’s that supposed to mean?”

Finley turned her face away quickly, her expression wiped clean.

“It is not important. Abrial, you should never eat so much so quickly again. Not only will it make you sick, you could choke as well.”

Abrial scowled. Some of her strength seemed to have returned, but she remained leaning slightly on Finley. It was an oddly comfortable position — why should she change it?

They weaved between the small white tents, bickering about the speed at which one should consume a bowl of dumplings, a shadow-clad figure held up by a thin figure clothed in white.

----------------------------------------

Another dream came to Abrial that night. About that boy, Shao Cheng.

Before her consciousness entirely slipped away into that familiar, omniscient dreamlike state, she thought irritatedly to herself:

Shit. It’s gonna be one of those freaking dreams again, I can feel it. Why is it always him? Who the heck is Shao Cheng, anyway?! What does he have to do with me? Why is my brain like this?!?!?

In the tent, the tattoo low on her collarbone began to glow hotly. A dim, warm red light filled Finley’s tent, like the pulsating shadow of fire.

“Donkey’s ass!”

“Spiritually dumb trash!”

“Dirt! That’s what you are, dirt!”

It was a similar scene to last time. That young boy, Shao Cheng, looked a little older this time — big enough to be seven or eight, though his body lay curled on the ground again, so it was hard to tell. His hands were thrown up over his face to protect it from the hail of levitating rocks that were battering his body once again.

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A group of children had surrounded him once again, laughing and throwing insults and even small rotting vegetables at his trembling form. Was he trembling with pain, or rage? Or both? It was hard to tell.

“You’re all fucking idiots!” Shao Cheng roared from beneath his shielding hands.

So…it was rage. Rage and pain, together.

“Idiots! I’ll kill you!” he continued, grasping a fallen stone and hurling it at the children. They parted with a gasp as it shuttled past, landing somewhere far away. Some glared at Shao Cheng harder, and the stones clobbering him increased their speed and force.

Shao Cheng groaned in pain, going silent. He was entirely focused on trying and failing miserably to protect his body from the vicious blows. His patchy burlap robes were torn, and both blood and grime streaked his cheeks.

“You always say you’re gonna kill us lately!” one of the surrounding children hollered. “Spiritually dumb people really are evil! You’re so jealous you want to murder people who can do magic! Murderer!”

“Yeah!” agreed another. “Mama and Baba say you curse our town by just living here, but you want to kill us on top of that! You really are a monster! Just move far away already!”

“Yeah, my Baba says we won’t have problems if you just move away!”

Shao Cheng opened his mouth to retort, but as he did, a particularly pointed rock struck the soft, grimy skin of his cheek, slicing open a crimson gash there. He gritted his teeth at the stinging pain, covering it with one small, pale palm and not making any noise despite the pain.

Two soft footfalls sounded in front of him. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, jet black eyebrows pressing down in a frown of anticipation. Someone must be about to kick him. He tightened his stomach in preparation.

But…nothing happened.

After a moment, he blinked his eyes open.

The rain of stones had…stopped? But—that wasn’t right.

Standing in front of Shao Cheng’s pitiful form was another small boy, maybe six or seven years old. Abrial recognized him right away, surprisingly: it was that small boy, A-Jun, just a little older than in the last dream. He had large, shining brown eyes and wavy brown hair that was tied neatly up in a bun, probably by his strict mother. Unlike Shao Cheng’s patched, torn and bloodied burlap clothes, A-Jun’s clothes were well-made, from softer, dark blue fabric. There were shiny wooden buttons on his shirt and a polished wooden pin in his hair. His clothes didn’t make him look super rich, but he definitely wasn’t poor either.

He stood with a serious look in his large brown eyes, arms thrown wide to the sides and feet spread wide — like he was trying to protect Shao Cheng.

“Leave him alone!” he said, his voice comically high-pitched. He was just a kid, after all—younger than all of the bullies.

One of the bullies laughed.

“Li Jun! What are you doing? You know that’s Shao Cheng, right? Gajeong’s only spiritually dumb kid? If you step any closer, he’ll probably infect you with the disease!”

“Yeah, get away from him, Li Jun! You might catch the disease of spiritual dumbness!”

“Or worse, get cursed!”

Li Jun didn’t move.

“Leave him alone!” he repeated, his small voice serious. A strange, determined glint glittered in his warm brown eyes.

“Are you defending him? Seriously?”

“What’s gotten into you, Li Jun? All the grown-ups say you’re the best-behaved kid in town, but how can you be nice to Shao Cheng? You’ve just been putting on a goody-two-shoes show this whole time, huh?”

“Move it, Li Jun!”

Li Jun shook his head, the wooden pin in his brown hair gleaming.

“I won’t move! You move!”

The children seemed to relent at last, reluctantly.

“Don’t touch him, he’s Town Chief Li’s kid. We’ll get in trouble. Let’s just leave!”

“You watch out, Shao Cheng! We’re leaving you alone for now because Li Jun’s here, but if you don’t move far away soon you’ll be in big trouble!”

With that, the group of children dispersed.

Left standing on the dirt road was Li Jun, his short arms still spread wide and his expression still serious, as though he was continuing to defend concentratedly against some evil. Behind him, Shao Cheng was already pushing painfully to his feet, holding his pale bleeding cheek. His hand was stained crimson with blood all over.

Li Jun dropped his short arms and whirled around at last, smiling.

He blinked at Shao Cheng with big, adorable eyes.

Shao Cheng glared back with cold eyes of stone.

“What’re you looking at?” he hissed, baring bloody, pointed teeth.

Li Jun blinked, large brown eyes shining. He pointed to his own cheek, looking concerned in a very cute way that only little kids can pull off.

“Your cheek!” he remarked. “Shao-ge-ge! It’s bleeding.”

“Yeah!” Shao Cheng barked. “I’m aware! And don’t call me that!”

Li Jun blinked, for a moment, looking confused and a little hurt at Shao Cheng’s lashing out like a feral cat. But he quickly recovered. His eyes lit up like lanterns, and he smiled cutely up at Shao Cheng. “Lao-Shao, Come with me!” he said, reaching out to grasp Shao Cheng’s hand. “We have bandages at my house!”

For a second, Shao Cheng’s eyes were foggy with confusion and he allowed himself to be led along by this bright-eyed kid who was strangely interested in him. But then it seemed he suddenly came to, and his eyes sharpened.

“What the fuck?” Shao Cheng ripped his hand out of Li Jun’s soft grasp, wiping it fiercely on his burlap pants as though he had touched something poisonous. “Get away from me! I don’t need your stupid bandages! Don’t touch me again!”

With that, he turned and sprinted furiously away, disappearing down the dirt road and out of sight. A faint hazy trail of dust rose in his wake, the footprints of his bare bloody feet pressed into the dirt.

Li Jun blinked. He stared in the direction that Shao Cheng had fled for some time, pondering and frowning, unable to understand why Lao-Shao would run away from bandages.

Then he, too, turned and left very slowly for home.