Dozens of camera crews wait outside the gates of Apgujeong Military Academy. A floating camera droid swivels in my direction as I approach. The red light of its lens hones in on my face and begins to emit a clicking sound as it takes a photo every millisecond. My face will grace the Internet in about .33 seconds. If soldiers aren’t already on their way to arrest me, they will be soon.
I shoulder through the crowd, pushing droids away with the back of my hand whenever they get too close. The school must have activated its sound barrier, because once I step through the gates — my student ID granting me access — the noise of the outside disappears. I haven’t been back in school for over a week, and it’s jarring to see the sea of uniformed students spread out before me in the courtyard, eerily silent. They all face the front of the school, their backs to me. I realize, stepping farther into the crowd, they’re waiting for something.
As students recognize me, many of them move aside. Briefly I wonder if it’s because they know I’m technically a fugitive. I break through the final line of students and come to a halt.
There’s a large space at the bottom of the stairs at the academy’s main entrance, the crowd forming a half-moon around the area.
I grab a boy to the right of me. “Why is everyone standing out here?”
“You don’t know?” he asks, genuinely baffled.
“No, I — ” I look past him up the stairs to the main entrance of the academy. Two NSK soldiers drag a limp, battered body down the stairs, holding it up by the arms. The prisoner’s face is covered with bleeding lacerations as well as purple and green bruises. Lank hair sticks to his forehead, wet with his own blood. His hands are shackled in front of him with blue-metal braces.
At first I don’t recognize him, my mind not registering what my eyes see, but then the soldiers reach the bottom steps, and the prisoner turns his face to the side, shooting a heated glare at his captors. He spits blood, and it hits the skirt of a girl standing too close. She lets out a loud yelp, and the crowd moves back to give them space.
“Ai — shhh,” I curse, trying to press forward. I’m stopped by a hand on my shoulder. I turn to see Minwoo and Bora.
Minwoo drops his hand. “Don’t,” he warns. “You’ll get yourself in trouble.”
I’m already in trouble, but neither of them seems to know that. News of the demonstration must not have been broadcast to the general public.
“Jaewon-ah,” Bora asks, always perceptive, “did something happen?”
I shake my head and look back at Alex.
“There’s nothing you can do,” Minwoo says. “You’ll only make it worse. They say Alex disobeyed a direct order from his father — ”
“What do you mean?”
Minwoo hesitates before answering. “I don’t know. His father arrived at the school with soldiers and they searched the place. They found Alex with a girl. Apparently his father had warned him not to meet with her. I don’t know why. Maybe she’s an heiress or — ”
A high voice, full of anguish, screams from behind the guards. “Alex!”
I watch as Ama sprints from the school building.
Hearing Ama’s voice, Alex tenses, his eyes darting back and forth in panic. He braces his feet and jams his shoulder into the right guard, throwing him to the ground. The left guard grabs him around the waist, pinning his arms. Alex struggles, trying to shake the guard off, but his shackled wrists make it difficult.
I curse under my breath and rush forward. I pull the left guard off Alex, punching him in the neck before throwing him into the crowd of students. He doesn’t reappear, and I’m guessing I either knocked him out, or Minwoo finished the job.
I turn to see Ama rush over to Alex, placing her hands over his shackled fists. I’m relieved to see that she hasn’t suffered as Alex has — her face, arms, and legs are clear of cuts and bruises. Something’s off, though, when I look closer at her. Even though she isn’t showing signs of a physical fight, her hair is a tangled nest, as if she’s just woken up from a fitful sleep, and her yellow dress — the one she purchased at the mall that day — is inside out.
“Why are they doing this? Why did they hurt you? I’ll — I’ll hurt them!” She looks wildly at the crowd and then up at the double doors of the school building.
The Director has appeared at the entrance, flanked by six NSK guards. Alex’s father’s shadowed eyes watch the couple.
Alex doesn’t even spare his father a glance. Slowly he lowers his fists, forcing Ama to drop her hands.
“Alex . . . ,” she whispers, confused.
“Ama.” His voice is muffled by the bruising on his mouth. I can only make out what he’s saying because of how close I stand. “We — I broke protocol.”
“What do you mean? No, you didn’t.” She takes a step toward him, reaching out, but he takes half a step back. “You’ve taken care of me,” she says, her voice faltering. “You’ve protected me. You’re — you’re everything to me.”
He shakes his head.
“You loved me.”
At these last words, Alex looks away, as if in pain, as if these last words hurt him more than the bruises and broken bones.
I can see the warring expressions playing across his features — confusion, frustration, and anger. I can tell the exact moment when his resolve takes over. He straightens his back, a shadow briefly falling across his face, and I know he’s shut his emotions down under an unyielding shield.
He’s made a decision, and he won’t stray from it.
I get ready to take Ama away from him.
“I have . . . loved you,” he says. “It wasn’t right of me. I took advantage of you. It shouldn’t have happened. I won’t ask you for your forgiveness because I don’t deserve it. Just know I regret everything.”
“What are you saying?” she whispers. She doesn’t believe him. I can see her eyes reading his, her mind seeking his. Whatever she sees in the dark depths of his thoughts causes her to break away from him in shock. She stumbles backward into my arms. She’s so much smaller than me, smaller than Tera. I can feel her tears through my shirt as she turns, bunching her fists into my coat.
Alex meets my eyes over her head, his expression remote, giving away nothing of his thoughts. “Take her away.”
I nod, ignorant of the specifics of the situation, but knowing that anywhere is a better place for Ama than here. She looks shell-shocked, unable to process what’s happening. I think of safe places I could take her, but it’s a useless endeavor. NSK soldiers are already approaching us.
I raise my hands in surrender. No use fighting when we’ve already lost.
Four guards break away from the group to lead us over to the school’s main building. I pass the Director, keeping my eyes down. I swallow a curse when I see the blood on his knuckles from the beating Alex took inside the building.
We’ve made it up the stairs and through the sliding doors of the school before we hear the first bone-splitting punch, metal against flesh. Ama stumbles into me with a cry, as if she herself has taken the hit.
And maybe she has, if she’s reading his mind.
Accompanied by our guards, we leave the main lobby of the academy and enter an elevator. I wonder how public the events of the demonstration are, or if news of Oh Kangto’s impending attack on the Tower have taken over any and all feeds. Minwoo and Bora didn’t seem to have known about the demonstration. The guards, although sticking close by, haven’t arrested me.
At the roof of the school, we wait for a military transport carrier to arrive. I board it behind Ama, taking the seat by the window to block her from the view below. As we fly over the school’s courtyard toward the Tower, the public punishment continues. Even through the noise-barred windows, it’s as if I can hear the thick, wet thud of every punch. If Alex stopped picking his wretched body off the ground, I wonder if his father would end this. He takes each hit on his knees with a bitter solemnity. With every punch, his head pitches to the side, only for him to doggedly bring it back to its original position, his eyes meeting his father’s as the Director’s fist comes down again and again. It’s a public punishment to show the city that disobeying the Director cannot go unpunished, not even for the Director’s own flesh and blood.
“Is it finished?” Ama asks softly. She’s looking down at her hands, curled in her lap. She means the public punishment.
I hesitate before answering. It’s impossible to lie to a girl who can read my thoughts.
“It’s finished,” I say.
She nods, accepting the lie.
I could ask her how she got out of the Tower and met up with Alex — the last I’d seen him, he’d been leaving the hospital after we visited Sela — but it feels wrong to question Ama, especially when tears begin streaming down her face.
Is she crying because of what the Director has done, is doing, to Alex, or is she crying because of what Alex has done to her? The extent of his punishment suggests he probably slept with her, which was somehow made known to the Director. Why Alex and Ama were on school property, I have no idea. I’m guessing whoever discovered them identified Alex and informed the Director. To someone like the Director, Ama wouldn’t be a girl but a weapon. An object created for him to command.
Maybe he’d forbidden Alex to meet with her. Whatever the case may be, it made him angry, and I don’t think the Director even needs anger to justify beating Alex.
Ama stares down at her lap. Her curled hands unfold, revealing the open bud of a yellow rose at the center of her left palm. It’s wilted, broken by the weight of her hand crushing it.
She brushes a petal with her thumb. “Roses shouldn’t smell like smoke,” she says.
I’m reminded of Alex’s words back in the Tower. I don’t see the use of flowers. And yet I recognize the rose she holds.
“Roses are your favorite flower,” I say softly. “Yellow is your favorite color.”
She nods, her lips trembling. She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks. “When nothing is mine, why is it that I have to keep this feeling inside me? Why is this the only thing I’m left with?”
Her words are thoughts spoken aloud, and they’re not for me. Even so, I wish I were someone who could offer her comfort, lessen some of the pain she must be feeling. Because even if we’re not an intimate part of each other’s lives, we share someone who always will be.
Ama’s breath catches. “You’re right,” she says, raising her eyes to meet mine. “I have something more. I have someone more.”
I don’t have to read minds to know we’re both thinking of the same person.
Tera.
Ama nods.
I remember my promise to Tera that I’d come back for her. I look at Ama and hold her gaze. I’m going to help Tera escape the Tower. We’re going to flee the city together.
Ama lets out a small gasp. She brings her fist to her mouth, coughing to cover her surprise. Her gaze darts to the guards sitting directly across from us. She reaches out and takes my wrist, and for a second I think she’s trying to seek comfort from me or give comfort to me, but then she squeezes, gently, and a series of images flash through my mind.
An aerial view of the Tower. The Skybridge. The inside of the hangar. And lastly, the image of Tera handcuffed in the room where the Extension had been held, glaring defiantly up at her captors.
Ama’s voice is a light my mind. When you find her, tell her I love her, that I will always love her.
I’m dropped abruptly out of the visions and blink back a throbbing headache. The transport ship docks at the Tower. Ama still holds my wrist. As the doors open, she squeezes, putting pressure against my skin. They’re always watching you. Be careful. She lets go.
I walk out and stand on the docking platform, where guards are waiting for me. They must know who I am and what I’ve done, because they roughly take me by the arm. Behind me, the transport doors shut before Ama can alight. The ship then glides away from the platform in a westward direction. There’s nothing more I can do for her now. Where they’re taking her, I have no idea.
But I do know this: even though she’s breaking, she’s not broken.