Chapter 2

2

T he book is beautiful. Thick and heavy.

PomPom is nestled by my side in the cab as we both admire the pink and gold design of the cover.

The Fate of Akkaya is written in pink foil.

I swallow hard, excitement bubbling inside of me. Someone pinch me! Is this real?

It's almost as if the entire incident with Clarice is forgotten as I stare at the book I've been waiting over three years for.

With a deep breath, I pry it open, flipping through the pages.

Seven hundred ninety-eight pages.

My God!

I'm going to lock myself in my room and I won't resurface until I'm done with it. I just need a stash of Diet Coke and some chocolate, and I will have sustenance for the coming days.

But first, I must find a way to get to my room without running into my mother. After what happened at the convention, the last thing I need is to have someone else tear at me and my pathetic self.

I sniffle a sob. Just a bit longer and I'll get home where I can cry in peace and feel sorry for myself.

The cab drops me off a block away from my house, and heels in hand, I attempt to make a stealthy entrance through the back. I carefully pull the door open and run up the stairs. But as I'm halfway there, my parents' voices reach me and it soon becomes clear they're having an argument—again. About me—again.

I push PomPom up the stairs, signaling for her to go to my room while I plop myself down, listening with a lump in my throat.

"She's too spoiled, Victor, and it's all your fault. You need to put restrictions on her spending. She has one year of college left and she needs to do better if she's going to get into any law school, let alone a top ten one," Mom adds impatiently, and I can already picture her pacing around while gesticulating.

"Have you thought she might not want to go to law school?" Dad drawls in his relaxed and calm manner.

"What? Nonsense! Ye Rim's son got into Yale Law! She was just bragging about it this morning, and I didn't even have one good thing to say about Barbi. I'm sure if I mentioned that she passed her Econ course, she would have laughed in my face."

I frown. What's so wrong with a pass? It's not as if it goes as a bad grade on my transcript.

"An Econ course you forced her to enroll in," Dad adds.

"Because you're not strict enough with her!" Mom bursts out, and I physically cringe at her tone.

"She's fine, Mi Joo. She has hobbies and friends, and she's growing up to be a lovely young lady. You have to let her decide her future for herself."

"Have you seen her?" My mom's horrified cry echoes in the house. "She went out in a skimpy dress with all her assets hanging out in the open. Who knows what she's doing and who she's meeting."

I close my eyes as I sigh wearily.

Yes, Mom, I was sneaking out to prostitute myself to men with a pink fetish.

I glance down at my chest. Granted, the cut is a little low, but I don't really have assets that can hang out in the open. If anything, to reach Lady Jocelyn's level of voluptuousness, I may or may not have stuffed a few socks in my bra.

But Dad is wrong, too. I don't have friends—or, at least, now I realize that I don't. At school, I'm too weird and people judge me for my choice of clothing. At home, I'm not good enough and will likely never be enough. And when it comes to my hobbies…

I sigh.

Just when I thought I found somewhere to belong, turns out they don't like me either. And I can't figure out why . What is it that makes me pathetic in their eyes? I've never badmouthed anyone, nor done anything to warrant that behavior. I've always had a smile on my face, ready to help anyone.

I purse my lips.

Maybe I was too accommodating, too eager to help that it came across as pathetic.

But that's how I've always been. I like helping people and I like being… needed . Yet, turns out, I was never needed anyway, except perhaps for my money. But even that isn't good enough anymore.

Damn it!

"Mi Joo, you're exaggerating," my dad says in an exasperated voice.

Not in the mood to hear more jabs at my already battered self, I get up and quietly head to my room.

PomPom is already on her pink bed, probably tired from chewing Clarice out.

"You did well today," I murmur as I lay a kiss on her forehead.

Her eyes are closed, but she releases a soft sound of approval, which warms my heart. I may not have friends, but I have PomPom and she's the best friend in the entire world.

With PomPom asleep, I direct my attention to the beautiful book in my arms, and though I would like nothing more than to read it right away, I wouldn't want my sour mood to taint my experience of the story.

I turn to my bookshelf to put it away for now. But as I stare at my perfectly color-coded book spines, I realize it needs its own special place. I move a few books around, careful to keep the pastel aesthetic of the shelf intact.

I don't always buy pink books. Of course I care more about the contents than the cover. But I also prize my room aesthetic, so the non-pink books get a pink sleeve to fit the theme. This book, however, is perfect as it is. It's almost as if it was designed with me in mind, pink and glitter. And because of that, it deserves to be displayed in the middle of the shelf, with the cover facing forward.

Taking a step back, I nod in satisfaction at the pretty sight.

Now I can take my clothes off and go cry in the shower.

As soon as water streams down my body, the tears begin to fall. I let out all those feelings I'd kept bottled.

There's only the sound of water dripping to the ground and the echo of my sobs. There's only disappointment and hopelessness. There's only me who wishes I were a different me.

The water washes me, seeking to clean me of all these emotions, yet it's all in vain.

The stain of those words engrained in my mind is unwashable.

They're there, lying low and waiting for the moment I'm the most vulnerable to come out and whisper in my ear all the things I am not ; all the things I should be but will never be.

The sad thing is that I happen to like who I am. But I am the only one…

Can I ever find someone who will accept the whole of me, not just the pieces that are convenient? Turning off the water, the echo of my harsh breaths drowned by residual sobs is all the answer I need.

I dry my hair and put on my comfortable fuchsia pajamas. Despite feeling like crap, I can't neglect my skincare—my old self will thank me. As I finish applying moisturizer, PomPom wakes up from her nap and comes to my side, wiggling her tail and signaling she needs cuddles. She's such a needy girl, though I can't fault her when she's learned those habits from me.

The crying session helped. My eyes may be swollen, but at least I feel better.

"Should I read the first chapter? What do you say, PomPom?"

She opens her mouth, her tongue hanging out as she smiles at me.

"I'll take that as a yes. Come, I'll read it to you."

It might be odd, but I always read aloud so PomPom can listen, too. She likes stories, and she likes listening to me as I tell them.

She's such a smart girl, she immediately dashes over to our little reading nook by the window. I grab the Fate of Akkaya from my shelf and make myself comfortable on the plush pillows. PomPom lays her head in my lap as she waits for me to crack open the book and start.

My hands are trembling. Excitement builds up inside of me, and despite my godawful day, I'm ready to find out what happened next.

"Ready, PomPom?" I murmur to my cute little baby. She lets out a small yap as she nestles closer to me.

I open the book to the first page, a map of the continent of Akkaya, followed by another map of the capital city, Kiya.

In the last book, the Five Mages had entered the Kiya Tournament, the most prestigious competition for mages in the entire continent. It had been their chance to prove themselves to the citizens who were still doubting them. Unfortunately, the book had ended with them entering their first battle as a group. Ever since then, I've been a nervous wreck thinking something might happen to them. But they're the protagonists. The author wouldn't be so heartless as to kill anyone off, right?

Although…

I bite my lip as anxiety ricochets through me.

There have been instances in which beloved side characters have been killed off. The fandom had been in uproar, with two camps coming out of it: one defending the author's decision and the other blaming it. The latter camp had taken to writing fan fictions in which the characters were still alive and well. But that shows the author doesn't shy away from drastic decisions.

"They'll be fine, right, PomPom? The author wouldn't kill a main character," I scoff aloud.

PomPom doesn't reply, which only makes my pulse thrum in my veins harder.

The urge to slip the book to the end to make sure all my babies are safe and sound is overwhelming. But I can't.

A deep breath.

I can do this. I can read in order, as intended.

Clammy fingers fight to turn the page. My breathing grows quick and shallow as I read the heading and the first lines.

Chapter One

The Continent of Akkaya is on the brink of extinction. A plague has ravaged the lands, killing almost half of the population. The disease presents as a red rash followed by bleeding from all orifices that ends with the death of the infected within hours. The rate of transmission is frightening, with only one scratch necessary for the infection to be passed from person to person.

Cities have been abandoned, looted, destroyed.

There is only one sanctuary left—Kiya. The capital city has become a fortress against the disease, and the last true mages its defenders.

They are the last hope Akkaya has for a cure.

If the disease doesn't get to them first.

I stop for a moment, my eyes wide with disbelief.

Wait, what?

Where is the continuation from the Kiya Tournament? How did we get from the middle of a competition to a plague that killed half of the population? Is there a time jump?

"This isn't right, PomPom." I frown. "It doesn't say anywhere that it's a time jump."

She shakes her head, agreeing.

Before I can stop myself, I flip through the book in search of answers.

PomPom suddenly becomes alert, barking at me.

"Down, PomPom. I need to figure this out," I tell her, trying to shush her with one hand while flipping the pages with the other.

PomPom becomes increasingly more distressed, her barks intensifying.

"Shh, baby girl. It's okay. What got into you?" I murmur with a frown.

But just as I press my palm on top of a page to keep the book from closing, an odd feeling envelops me. There's a deafening sound in my ears. The ground quakes, the walls of the house trembling. My eyes widen in shock.

An earthquake? Here? Now?

Before I can find a safe spot to hide, PomPom jumps on me, pushing me back.

In a matter of seconds, I'm falling, unable to keep myself upright. But it's the oddest thing as I was reclining on the wall in my nook.

My back hits something cold, and the breath is knocked out of me.

PomPom jumps off my chest, running around in circles.

Wait, circles?

I slowly open my eyes, squinting at the blinding light impairing my vision. Confusion swathes me. Feeling my way around the surface I'm currently lying on, I realize it's some sort of dewy grass. The moisture clings to my hand and clothes, giving the impression of cold where the sun is shining brightly.

"PomPom?" I croak, rolling to my stomach to avoid the direct sunlight.

She's busy exploring the surroundings while I'm moaning in pain, more confused than ever as I stare at a field. A green empty field.

Where the hell am I?

The first thought is that I'm dreaming, but as I pinch myself and yelp in pain, I have to begrudgingly agree that it's not a dream. What if I'm dead, then? Is this some sort of afterlife? Maybe that earthquake killed me and now I'm somewhere in heaven.

But do dogs have the same heaven as humans? For some reason, I always thought there was a separate pet heaven. I'm not complaining, though. Heaven with PomPom by my side? I'd say that's a win.

Besides, if I did die, it was quite painless. Who wouldn't want to go that way?

As I ruminate over the state of my immortal soul, I slowly come to terms with the fact that I'm likely in the afterlife. It's not that hard to believe, after all. There's no other explanation for why I'm suddenly in a green field when moments ago I was in my house. And when logic fails you… Well, it's time to entertain the illogical .

Slowly getting up, I dust my clothes and note I'm still wearing my cute pajamas. Oh, well. That's another positive. Although I can think of ten other outfits I would have preferred to spend an eternity in.

PomPom comes running toward me, barking sweetly. She, at least, is enjoying this afterlife. But as I pick her up in my arms, a sliver of terror goes through me.

What if this afterlife doesn't have dog food or her favorite treats?

Do we even need food here?

A low, growly sound reverberates in the air—my confirmation that we do, indeed, need food. And my stomach would benefit from having some soon.

"Oh my God, PomPom, but this is a good thing," I exclaim after a moment's thought. "If we're dead but we can eat, then I doubt we'll gain weight. We can eat everything!"

Her ears prick at that and she looks at me curiously.

"Yes, you heard me right. You can eat all the treats in the world and I can have unlimited chocolate. How cool is that?"

PomPom emits a low sound of approval.

"Now we just have to find some food. Fingers crossed they have chocolate and dog treats. It should be organic, too. I'd be very mad if that wasn't the case. Do you think they also have dairy-free stuff?" I muse aloud. "I can do a little dairy, but too much and I will have stomach issues."

PomPom nods.

"And if they don't have nice toilets?" I pause as my eyes widen. "What if they don't have toilets at all ? Will I have to poop in a field?"

PomPom growls.

"I know you're used to pooping outside, PomPom, but I'm not," I tell her. "I've never pooped in a field. What if there are bugs and they bite my butt?"

PomPom doesn't seem too happy with my words.

"Fine, fine. I am getting ahead of myself. We should just explore this afterlife and get some food. Maybe meet other dead people. But I hope it's nice dead people, not bad dead people. If there are bad dead people, then maybe we're in hell, and I wouldn't want to be in hell. I don't think I've sinned that much to be in hell, right?"

I'm babbling at this point. Maybe I was too fast to declare this a good outcome. The more I think about it, the more questions come to mind—and I'm not sure I will like the answers.

With PomPom in my arms, I start walking. The green field stretches as far as I can see. There is not one soul in sight. We walk like that for minutes on end before I spot some houses in the distance.

"There, PomPom!" I exclaim, running toward those houses.

Good thing I was wearing socks and slippers when I died, otherwise my feet would have hated me for running barefoot across wet grass.

The village comes into view and my lips tug up into an optimistic smile. At this point, I'll take any type of food they have to offer. I'm sure PomPom will agree, too.

Yet a trail of smoke stops me in my tracks.

Now that I can get a better look, I see that some houses are damaged by fire. Some have been broken into, the windows and doors destroyed to get inside.

Worst of all, I don't see any movement.

"PomPom… Heaven shouldn't be this bleak," I whisper as dread envelops me.

I tentatively move forward, walking slowly into the village.

There's destruction right and left. The houses have been broken into and robbed. Some have already burned to the ground, and others are in the process of doing so.

But someone must have burned them. And if the fire is fresh, then someone must have been here recently.

As I continue, however, a sound comes from one of the buildings, so I stop, looking around.

"Help."

It's a voice—a human voice.

Immediately, I dash forward, looking for the source of that voice.

"Where are you?" I call out. "I don't see you."

PomPom slips from my arms, barking at me to follow her as she runs into one of the houses that's still standing. I'm right behind her when she stops in front of a door, sniffing at the ground and bumping her head against the wooden frame.

Taking her cue, I push the door open, but it doesn't budge. It's locked.

Yet right at that moment, the voice speaks again, another low cry for help.

"We need to get them out, PomPom," I murmur, wildly looking around for something to help me break the door.

I spot a chair by the side and grab it, throwing it with all my might at the door.

My strength is not the best, but a few attempts later, I manage to crack the wood. The chair breaks, too, and I keep hitting the door with pieces of wood.

Eventually, I manage to break the door enough that it slides open.

But as I see what's inside, my eyes widen in shock.

There are at least four people, all piled on top of one another. Blood is everywhere. Coming out of their mouths, their eyes, and ears—from all orifices.

A small movement grabs my attention. A woman is stuck under two men, her hand dangling as she tries to move but lacks the strength to do so. Her eyes are bloodshot, her pupils enlarged.

"My God," I mutter. "PomPom, step aside," I demand sternly. The last thing we need is for her to step into the pool of blood and stain her white coat.

She whines but does as told.

I jump over the first puddle, then the second, doing my best not to step into it either. By the time I reach the woman, she's no longer moving, her eyes dead.

"Hello?" I call out. Reaching with my hand to check her pulse, I'm not surprised to find that it's gone.

She's dead.

She…died right in front of me.

My heart is in my throat as I take a step back, staring in shock at the dead bodies in front of me. It looks like a scene out of a slasher movie, but it's quickly evident no killer has done this. The damage is internal, like a…plague.

I swallow hard.

The door had been locked. No, someone had locked the door, perhaps trying to control the infection. They left these people to die. That means they're either heartless, or they were protecting themselves and the rest of the village.

Good God!

These are people. Dead people. People who can die.

This is not an afterlife, and I am not dead.

But I can die, too.

"PomPom, we're leaving," I say, my voice wobbly.

I jump over the puddles of blood again and, picking PomPom up, I get out of the house.

Fear spears through me as my confusion mounts. Yet I don't have time to ponder on where I really am because soon, I see more and more dead bodies.

They're everywhere. On the street, by the side of the road. Some are stuck in windows, others in doorways, their body language suggesting they were mid-flight when death came upon them.

The stench of death is overwhelming. My mental state deteriorates the more I see the devastation around me.

I increase my pace, wanting to get out of this goddamn village before I catch whatever killed its inhabitants.

Thudding sounds echo in the air. I stop, tilting my head to the side and listening.

Hooves. Horses. Riders.

They're getting closer.

"Kill anyone still alive," someone declares. "Then burn everything to the ground."

I inhale sharply. Good Lord! What the hell is happening?

Looking right and left, I see a well in one of the yards. Without dwelling much on it, I dash over, looking down and assessing my chances. It's not very deep, but there is water.

Do I risk it?

The water will help us survive if there is a fire since I can submerge us until the danger passes. But PomPom will not like that.

The riders make it to the main road, the sound of hooves growing louder.

I gulp down in uncertainty.

Come on, Barbi! What would Lady Jocelyn do?

She would risk it.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I take a deep breath.

"We need to do this, PomPom," I whisper to her as I kiss her fluffy head. "Please don't be scared. And please, please don't make a sound. They can't find us."

She looks at me with confusion in her round, cute eyes.

Fear and anxiety grip me, not just for me, but for my baby, too.

It's now or never.

Holding on tightly to PomPom in my arms, I swing my legs over the rim of the well and jump in. The water splashes all around, but luckily, my feet soon touch the bottom. The water only reaches my waist, so that leaves PomPom mostly dry.

I wait with bated breath, listening for the sounds outside.

More voices. More orders of destruction.

No one is to be left alive for fear the plague might spread.

Seconds turn into minutes and into hours as the riders loot what's left to steal before torching the remaining buildings. The smoke travels down the well, and it takes everything in me not to cough. Poor PomPom struggles too, and I hold my hand over her snout to keep her from making a sound.

It seems like forever until there's no more noise around, not even the crackling of wood.

Though still slightly scared, I gather the courage to get out. First, I help PomPom jump out, after which I do my best to hold on to the slippery rocks and haul myself out of the well.

If I'd thought the village was the picture of devastation before, now I have no words to describe what I'm seeing.

Everything has been destroyed—leveled to the ground. The smell of burned flesh and wood permeates the atmosphere, almost making me gag. I'm wet, bedraggled, and smelly. My cute pajamas are destroyed. But hey, at least I'm still breathing. Yet no matter how much I'd like to wallow in self-pity, there is no time to dawdle around. I need to get out of here, and most of all, I need to figure out how the hell I can get back home.

"Shh, baby. It's fine. We're fine," I coo in PomPom's ear. "We're alive. That's all that matters."

As I make my way down the sinister road, the wind blows a small, half-burned piece of paper in my face. With a frown, I peel it off my skin and turn it over to study it.

It's a newspaper. And half a heading is still legible.

The plague has killed more than half of the population of Akkaya.