“Dr. Yoo,” Kun-woo sniffles, and she sees that there’s a trickle of blue blood spilling from somewhere underneath his messy mop of hair. “I’m bleeding again. Can you help me, please?”

That’s the problem with Restorations, Kisa thinks grimly as she ushers Kun-woo to a patient room and seats him on the cot before hurriedly pulling on her latex gloves and gently beginning her work. Depending on the level of emotional trauma that patient experiences, the healing Restorations might come undone if the gwisin is distressed enough. And Kun-woo, who died in a horrific seven-car pileup, is often distressed. For the eight weeks—and eight cruises—he’s stayed on the SRC Flatliner, Kisa has had to Restore him six times.

A familiar sadness tightens her throat. Although Kun-woo is well past the age of being one of her small, newborn patients in the Magical Maternity Unit, an old guilt churns in Kisa’s stomach. If only the powers that Samsin Halmoni granted her had extended to human mothers, human babies. If only she had been able to save more, help more…

Like her own mother. But even the interventions of Samsin Halmoni’s shamans on her father’s side hadn’t been enough to save her.

Kisa’s hands tremble, and with a pinch of her lips, she forces her mind to go blank, fixating intently on the minute work of weaving flesh back together. Repairing the stitches takes almost an hour, and when she finally sends a groggy Kun-woo off to buy a bowl of miyeok-guk from one of the ship’s restaurants (doctor’s orders), she’s exhausted and angry at herself. Kun-woo hadn’t been waiting long, he’d said, but if Soo-min hadn’t gotten to her, who knows how the little boy would have fared. All of his stitches might have unraveled, leaving him a bloody mess, and dragging him back down into despair. She curses herself for having gotten too distracted with Seokga.

She’s never had to balance friendship and work before—she never had anybody more than an acquaintance to juggle with her hospital responsibilities. Kisa vows to become better at it. As she exits the bathroom, hands scrubbed and smelling of lemon soap, the sight of Hajun and Somi greets her. They’re leaning against the counter, waiting for her.

“Hey.” Hajun’s eyes flick to her furrowed brow. He’s still drinking his boba. “Is everything okay?”

“Kun-woo,” she explains, in a tired way of explanation.

Pity crosses the idol’s face. “The last Restoration came undone again?”

“It had just started to.” Kisa rubs her face wearily. “He’s doing well, though. A bit woozy from the sedative, but he’ll bounce back within the hour. I sent him to get some soup. Did you find where Chaeyeon and Korain were around the time of the murder?”

“About that,” says Somi, and then pauses. “Where’s the baby?” she asks, frowning.