Shailene has tried everything to get the monk to speak, to no avail. She's triple-checked her translation device setting. She's interrogated him repeatedly with the same questions, hoping to annoy him into answering. She's even offered the most excruciating details of her sex life, including that time with the pomegranate and ensuing hospital trip, hoping that he'd at least beg her to shut up. Barring an electric chair, waterboarding, or actual physical contact, she's tried everything in her arsenal.
Only Fiona would be attracted to such a stick in the mud. Well, she has to admit that this silver-haired young man is rather captivating. Kind of like those "K-pop idols" that she grew up listening to. Shailene thinks about grazing her hand against his arm or bumping their elbows together. Most men would spill their deepest secrets with a look, a touch, a warmth. Fiona's face briefly flashes before her eyes, and Shailene shakes her head.
"Why are we giving you the time of day, anyways?" Shailene hums to herself as she digs through their storage room, looking through all the patched-up and barely-repaired Sheltersuits of Left Behind's past. "It's not like Left Behind's swimming in resources anyways. It's kinda miraculous that you managed to stay alive without a suit on for so long."
To no one's surprise, he says nothing. Just stares at the floor like some emo kid.
Shailene groans in frustration when she reaches the bottom of yet another useless box of old Sheltersuits. "So what, you have fancy powers. So does half the population in Sacramento after everyone started getting enhancement surgeries." She pauses, a thought suddenly dawning on her. "Wait, you look like an Azure Dragon type. Who's to say you aren't from Sacramento?"
The words seem to take no effect on the stranger, but it does nothing to stop Shailene from drawing her butterfly knife. She spins the knife almost out of habit.
That seems to get his attention.
"Are you from Sacramento?"
He drags his eyes up to meet Shailene's and she's almost taken aback by the strange emotion in them. She'd expected fear, but this is... something else. A penetrating stare devoid of emotion. An image of a stoic young girl, who quietly absorbed the life of her impertinent older sister flashes through Shailene's mind. She has to shake her head slightly to snap back to reality.
"What's Sacramento?"
Shailene laughs as she presses her dagger into his neck now, his cool breath tickling her forehead. "Playing the amnesia card, are we? Don't pretend to be some looney. Who sent you here? The Azure Dragon gang? The military?"
"I do not understand," he says, but she sees the breath in his chest pick up a bit.
"I'm sure you don't," Shailene says warmly, as she digs deeper, almost drawing blood. She has to tippy-toe to whisper in his ear. "People always underestimate me. But do you know what I can do with this knife? Unimaginable things. I can make you wish you were dead but it won't be that easy," she says, her lips almost touching the side of his face. "No, you'll have to work for it." She scratches the base of his neck with the tip of his dagger and he yelps, almost imperceptibly.
She traces the dagger down his collarbone, marking a path to his belly. "Now, where should I begin–"
Before she knows it, a blinding white light erupts in her vision, then she is knocked back by what feels like an invisible blanket, slamming her against the wall. Crushing pain ignites every nerve as her tailbone slams against a rack of weaponry, knocking the entire shelf. But it's not just her tailbone – her stomach aches, her brain screams, and her eyes are blinded by memories she hasn't allowed herself to think of in a long time. Smells of parchment and rain. Evie.
The pain is gone as soon as it arrives, and Shailene tries not to seem disoriented as she gathers her bearings. She tries to even out her pants as she straightens herself up, and looks up in awe at the stranger, who tucks wisps of paper back into his robes and looks absolutely untouched.
"I want you to bring me back to Fiona," he says quietly, staring at the ground again.
"Absolutely," Shailene says. She tries to ignore the hint of awe in her voice. Fine, maybe he's more interesting than she'd expected. But Shailene would never admit it, verbally or otherwise. Not in front of Fiona, anyways.
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Fiona doesn't ask any questions when Shailene brings the stranger to her without Sheltersuit, looking slightly bruised and completely dazed. Shailene excuses herself to speak to Ragnar with an uncharacteristically hushed excitement.
And so that's how she finds herself ambling through the sterile tunnels that Fiona hates but always finds herself in, for one reason or another. "Shailene and Ragnar live here because they're... technically extremely-wanted fugitives I guess. As are most other people in our organization. I say 'our' but I'm not super involved."
He doesn't say anything and Fiona feels incredibly awkward, standing there in her overalls and giving a tour to someone who is essentially a silent statue. For some reason, this makes her ramble even more. "There are only around thirty people who live on the base, but I think there's a much bigger secret network of people living around Boulder and the whole country, really, even in the capital, Sacramento. But I don't really know because, like I said, I'm not super involved."
They turn down the hallway to the bedrooms. "I think you'll be staying here. Er, not that you have to stay here. Do you live here? You don't look like you're from Boulder. I mean, you look like photos my dad used to show me of really old people in what used to be Korea. Not that you look old. God, we just assumed that you don't have a place to stay. Will you stay here?"
He doesn't answer for a second. When he does, his voice is gravelly. "Will you be staying here?"
"I don't come around here much, really," Fiona admits. "Would you prefer to stay at my place?" She blushes. "Not in like, a weird way. But whatever makes you comfortable."
"Unmarried men and women are allowed to live together here?" The combination of the innocence of his question and his intense gaze only makes her want to crawl in a hole and die all the more. Where is this guy from? For all the different gangs and syndicates that sprung up after everything fell apart, she's never heard of any hermetic mystical monk cults training underground in secret.
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But then, the world is ending and nothing really surprises her anymore. It could be worse.
"I mean, if they're dating, yes," Fiona stammers. "And if they're not dating, too. Um. So it doesn't really matter I guess, if you're dating or not dating or married–"
For the first time ever, Fiona is thankful to see Shailene skipping down the hall. Although her effervescence is strange, Fiona can't help but breathe a sigh in relief.
"You monk, you are most definitely not staying with this fuddy duddy." She grabs his arm, looking more excited than she has in a very long time. "You'll stay here, where we can train together and maybe even start deploying you for missions by the end of the month. Or you can share the technology with us and maybe even train others to use it. We have so many missions on the slate so you are just the miracle we were looking for! Wait – would you be able to teach me to do what you did?"
He looks completely overwhelmed by her sudden burst of enthusiasm and Fiona feels a rush of anger because Shailene's acting exactly the way that she had expected. "He's a human being, Shailene."
Shailene raises an eyebrow at Fiona like she's stupid. "Monks are human beings, too, Fiona."
Fiona rolls her eyes. "That's not what I meant. He's a human being, as in a real person. Not some weapon for you to use for your agenda."
Shailene scoffs. "The two aren't mutually exclusive. We're all weapons in one way or another."
"But that's your problem!" Fiona can feel her voice getting a little too loud, but Shailene just always has this way of riling her up. "You only see people as weapons. You're so predictable, Shailene."
Shailene looks at Fiona like she amuses her, but there's a cold fury beneath every word. "No, you're predictable, Fiona. You call it my agenda. You always say you're not a real part of Left Behind. But here you are because you always come back. You're in it just as much as me so don't pretend you're any better. I mean, what did you think Ragnar or I would do with him?"
Fiona gapes at Shailene. A girl she's known her entire life, a girl who's seen the story of every scar, every milestone, every piece of Fiona. And vice versa. Only to turn out to be a cruel stranger who can turn every memory against her.
"You don't know anything about me."
Shailene laughs, icy and enticing all at once. "You do realize we're not in high school, right?"
"Fuck. You."
It's lame but Fiona flushes as she says it and her voice squeaks, unused to such vulgarity. But all she can hear is the roaring in her ears, the humiliation behind Shailene's words.
She knows she's being no better than Shailene when she grabs the monk's sleeve and pulls him towards the exit of the base. Still, she guides him towards the exit. Still, she pulls him into the elevator with absolutely no plan ahead of them.
"Real mature, Fi-Fi," Shailene drawls as she watches them rush down the hallway. "Some things never change, huh?"
The old nickname ignites a deep aggravation Fiona didn't know she was capable of. She almost turns back for one last quip but stops herself — Shailene doesn't deserve that satisfaction. She can only slump over in relief when the elevator doors finally close.
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Before they exit the base, Fiona finds an empty storage unit with boxes with thick dust on top. In one of the boxes, she manages to locate a functioning suit without much damage on the base Elastatic body suit module. She strips other protection modules and holds up the Elastatic suit to the ceiling light to check the graphene fiber before deeming it safe. She hands him the suit, and he stares at it blankly. She sighs. "We're gonna leave. You should change into this before we step out."
"What is this?"
Fiona is dumbfounded for a second. "Did you really grow up without having to wear a Sheltersuit? Wait, was it actually an underground Korean cult haven?"
He doesn't respond. Fiona points at her own Sheltersuit. "Because of the toxicity in the atmosphere, you have to put this on to protect yourself. It's especially bad outside today." His gaze follows her finger to her chest area, which is covered by her own tight Elastatic module. He blushes, and looks away. Even though she's now gotten used to wearing this tight body suit outside for the past decade, his sudden shyness makes her feel naked. She remembers when she first saw people wearing these outside, and thinking she'd rather stay indoors for the rest of her life than having to wear these ridiculous pornographic suits in broad daylight. He's probably looking at her with the same sense of impropriety that she felt then.
Feeling her cheek reddening, she clears her throat, and blabbers. "You know what? You either wear this, or you die, okay? Let me help you change. I'll take your clothes off now... but I'll look away! Is that okay?" She looks at him nervously. After a few seconds, he nods silently. The monk is silent and almost obedient as Fiona helps him change into his Sheltersuit. Even though she's trying not to, she can't help but notice that his body is lean and muscular. It is very clear like he's received rigorous training from wherever this underground monk monastery is.
"This is the longest dream I've ever had," The monk finally says, as they ascend back to ground level. He is pliable, either really obedient or really apathetic when she turns him around to clasp the rest of Sheltersuit modules onto him. "And so vivid, too."
Fiona turns to him, still shocked every time he opens his mouth. "What are you talking about?"
"This dream," the man says blearily, rubbing his eyes. "Perhaps this is my butterfly dream."
"Your butterfly dream?"
"Was I Chuang Tzu dreaming I was a butterfly or am I now really a butterfly dreaming that I am Chuang Tzu?"
Fiona stares at him like he's sprouted two heads. "I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm following. Who is Chuang Tzu?" She squints, trying to recall vague memories from her primary schooling in Korea. A lifetime ago. She comes up short.
"Apologies- Chuang Tzu was a scholar, who talked about a dream that felt so alive that it was difficult to distinguish between reality and dream- a butterfly dream." He continues with a heavy sigh. "Although, I would much prefer to dream as a butterfly over myself thrust in this strange world with so many violent and angry people."
He finally locks eyes with Fiona. The sadness ever-present within his eyes are almost palpable. "I suppose I'll wake up soon enough." He says the statement with neither excitement nor dread.
The silence sets in as Fiona turns over his words in her mind. They're strange enough, but nothing he's really said or done so far has made much sense. And his apathy and silence throughout all, as though disassociated from this reality...
"What's your name? Like your real name."
"Seol Abin."
At first, she hears "Seraphine" which prompts her to check the translation device. But then she remembers from her father that that the Korean letter ㄹ is pronounced somewhere between the letter L and R — Seol Abin. She nods, considering the way the words fall out of his mouth in perfect Korean. Non-American. Someone who's not from here... and now? "Abin, what's today's date?"
He looks at her as though this is a trick question. As though it's a ridiculous question, and maybe it is. For a second, he looks like he isn't going to answer. But she continues staring at him expectantly and he finally says, "It's December 2nd, Year 11 of King Seonjo's reign."
Fiona gawks at him. "King Seonjo?"
Now he gawks at her. "Yes. What about him?"
The name sounds vaguely familiar to her. A faraway character in her father's bedtime stories about Japan's invasion of Korea back in 16th century, a vague recognition that tickles at her consciousness. She quickly summons the hologram monitor in front of her, and types the name in her Sheltersuit database, skimming over the details of a Korean king who ruled in the late 16th century. Abin waits expectantly, his unfamiliar clothing and heavy robes that no one would ever wear, scattered about his feet.
"Abin," Fiona says softly. "We're living in 2040."
He squints at her like she's speaking gibberish. "2040 what?"
She sighs. "It's Year 462 of King Seonjo's reign, if he were still alive, and he isn't. It says here in this encyclopedia that he died 432 years ago."
Abin's eyes draw blank. Fiona massages her forehead for a bit. "Abin, I am going to assume that you are not lying. You don't seem like the type. I think you have time traveled to the future, from your point of view. From my perspective, you've time traveled from the past."
The muscles around his eyes quiver, and his deep purple irises seem to burn with a frenzy. Fiona herself cannot fully comprehend this situation either, but instead of freaking out, she gently taps the wall next to him. "You're not in a dream. This is a real wall."
Without realizing, she draws his limp hand, and puts it between both her hands. His hand is quivering. She holds onto it tightly.
"Abin, I'm real." His quivering stops.