Yeomra: Rich of you to ask me that after illusion-ing me to think that my insides were in a blender. I hate you a little. Next time I see you, expect a slap in the face. Maybe a fist.

Seokga: This is Kisa, actually.

Yeomra: That explains the better spelling. Yes. Fine. In thanks for his help, Hajun can stay on as a guest with Somi as long as he wants. The ship will be repaired soon.

Yeomra: Any favors to call in for yourself?

Seokga: Only one…But I think I’ll ask Seokga.

Yeomra: Any thoughts about that position in the Torture Department?

Yeomra: …hello??

“What’s your favor?” Seokga asks, utterly uninterested in the rest of the text exchange. Kisa hesitates, suddenly looking shy. He chooses to ignore that behind her, Somi and Hajun are devouring each other like starving animals. Seokga looks only at Kisa, at her blue-blushing cheeks and hopeful, wine-brown eyes.

“Well…you’re heavenly emperor now…or you will be, at least until Hwanung comes back…”

Seokga shrugs, rubbing Hwanin’s back as he shifts in his sleep. “Interim heavenly emperor for the interim heavenly emperor for the interim heavenly emperor…” Hwanung will return soon, and Hwanin is only emperor until their mother, Mago, awakens.

“Still,” Kisa says with a little smile, “I want to ask you for this.”

“So ask,” he breathes, certain he’s about to die from the anticipation. “Ask while I can give you anything in the world.”

She does.

Eyes bright, Kisa leans forward to whisper her wish in his ear.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Kisa

“I didn’t know goodbyes could hurt so much,” Hajun whispers as he stands with Kisa on the newly repaired tenth deck of the SRC Flatliner, his eyes filled with tears. Kisa tries to smile at her friend, but her face crumples as his does.

“Me, neither,” she whispers, pulling him into a tight hug. His soft black T-shirt, so different from his usual stiff scrubs, wrinkles under her embrace. “You’ll have fun, won’t you? Don’t let yourself miss me too much.” She feels him nod.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “For everything.”

“You deserve it all, Hajun,” Kisa replies, holding him tight, breathing in his cinnamon cologne. “For as long as you want it.” She allows herself to hold on to him for a few moments longer before she slowly, gently, steps away.

“Kisa,” Somi says, and the dam of emotions in Kisa breaks again as the gumiho steps forward, dark eyes unusually glassy. Somi’s short hair flutters in a morning wind. “I guess this is goodbye—for real, this time.” Her red-lined lips tremble and her knuckles shine around the handle of a suitcase. “I’m glad we could do it over. I’m happy, so happy, that we can part as friends.”