“Oh,” says Seokga, attempting to appear nonchalant and not at all jubilant that Kisa trusts him to some small extent. “Well…” He thinks back. Most of Okhwang’s recent laws are a direct result of him. There is, for example, that law forbidding certain gods from duping other gods into extremely elaborate pyramid schemes. Then there’s that one prohibiting “pranks of a malicious nature, specifically theatrical re-enactments of coups, no matter how ‘innocent’ the intent.” The latest decree explicitly forbids Seokga from shape-shifting into his brother and forcing the pantheon to arrange surprise parties for a certain trickster god. Unfortunate.

Some deities just don’t know how to have fun.

Kisa is watching him suspiciously.

—he is—most certainly—hiding—something—

Seokga purses his lips and puts on a good show of thinking very hard. Those recent laws were controversial to him, but all the other deities had seemed unanimous in their opinion that they were necessary. “Not really,” he says. “Many of the new laws pertain to very small things.”

—he likely means—they pertain—to him—

He tries to look grievously offended at her train of thought, but Hwanin burps a moment later and Seokga sets down the bottle. As Kisa tilts her head, apparently lost in thought, Seokga lifts his brother so that the two are eye level. “What am I going to do with you?” he murmurs. “Really, brother. This is embarrassing. For you,” he adds as Hwanin smiles a gummy smile and blinks innocently back at him. He rolls his eyes.

“I’ve never solved a mystery before,” Kisa mumbles, almost to herself. “I’m not sure I’ll be any good at this.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, looking anxious. Seokga softens. He is beginning to get the sense that Kisa is harder on herself than she is on others.

“You’re right. It’s late,” he says, setting Hwanin down to wipe his drool away with his sleeve (a great and terrible sacrifice).

“Right. Yes. Come to the sick bay in the morning,” Kisa tells him as she rises and slings her bag back over her shoulder. The jars clatter within. “We can continue on then.” She hesitates, and when she speaks again, her voice wavers slightly.

—feel like—owe him—some explanation—

“I’ve been on this ship since 2018. I was so tired when I died, and I’m tired now…All I want, really, is to rest. Just for a little bit.”

His gaze pulls up to her, to her eyes glazed slightly with tears, to the haggard lines of her face. Throat suddenly dry and tight, Seokga swallows hard. The taste of coffee in his mouth suddenly turns to sour ash and a heavy mourning pulls at something deep within him. He’ll have to let her go. And he will. Gods, he will. For her. For Hani, for the woman she became. For Kisa.