Yumi and the Nightmare Painter(67)

He groaned, but went ahead and got to it, working hard on his stacks beneath the light of that strange sun. Why didn’t it burn out? What truly kept feeding it?

After a solid few hours, the attendants brought him lunch. He again didn’t let Chaeyung and Hwanji feed him directly, but—feeling magnanimous—he allowed them to sit and offer him utensils and napkins. Liyun’s glare as she watched him could have boiled stone.

“I still worry she’ll declare us unfit,” Yumi whispered as the attendants left with their table. “She could send us to her superiors, for…special attention. It’s what’s done with yoki-hijo who grow too old, or otherwise infirm.”

“What happens to her if she does that?” he asked.

“Well, she’ll have to wait in line with the other unemployed wardens,” Yumi said, “until she’s given a turn with another yoki-hijo.”

“Whom she’ll have to train from childhood,” he said. “Yeah, she’s not going to take that step lightly, Yumi. I’d bet we could spend months, maybe years, practicing here before she gave up. She won’t want to completely upend her life.”

“She wouldn’t want to,” Yumi agreed, “but you need to understand: Liyun will do what needs to be done. She is strict with herself, not just me.”

He wanted to dispute that, but… Yumi was probably right. Liyun seemed the type who drank her own poison. If only to build up her tolerance.

“I’m sorry today was hard for you,” Painter said. “Maybe I should have talked to you about my plans. I figured you were fine shaking things up in my world, so I should have the same opportunity, shouldn’t I?”

“Maybe,” she said, rapping a stone to make him keep stacking. “But…it’s different. You’re wearing my body, Painter. What you do is seen as what I do. It’s not the same way in your world.”

He considered that, acknowledging that what he did affected her in unique ways. But he was increasingly certain he’d made the correct choice. If only for his own sanity.

He tried hard to do as she asked during training though, as a kind of…apology. He managed a stack of twelve that day—and not a strictly straight-up one either. It had quirks and some character. Still miles from Yumi’s designs, but he felt proud nonetheless.

Liyun had left by that time to see to something, so the attendants walked him home. His body ached in that good way you feel after doing something difficult. Like walking a long distance. Or thinking of a really great pun.

Painter thought this ache might be what Tojin always talked about after lifting weights. Too bad Tojin wasn’t here, actually. He’d have loved lifting these rocks; it didn’t take long listening to him talk incessantly about reps and muscles to realize what an enormous nerd he was.

At his wagon, Painter nodded to his attendants. Chaeyung handed him his nightgown, laundered for the day. “You will…want to dress yourself, won’t you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Leave your clothing outside, Chosen,” she said, “so we can care for it.” She bowed and walked off.

Hwanji, however, lingered. Painter hesitated in his doorway. He’d hardly spoken to the attendants, and to his embarrassment, he realized he barely knew them one from another—and any differentiation he could make was due to their looks. Hwanji was the shorter, more rounded of the two.

Yumi peeked around him, looking curious.

“Hwanji?” Painter asked. “Do you need something?”

To this, the young woman bowed herself formally to the ground—placing a small clog for her knee, using a cloth to rest her hand on the stone. The work these people had to do to not burn themselves was, as you might have noticed, legendary.

“Honored One,” she said. “If Liyun asks, or…well, implies…will you make it clear that this new behavior of yours was not my fault?”

“Of course I will,” Painter said. “But Hwanji, why would she even think that?”

“Oh!” Hwanji said. “Chosen, before entering your service, I was an attendant of the yoki-hijo Dwookim. She was…very vocal in the reform movement.”

Painter glanced at Yumi, who shook her head and shrugged.

“The reform movement?” Painter asked.

Hwanji glanced up sharply. “I thought…you’d heard… The way you’ve been acting…” Her eyes went wide and she scrambled to her feet, turning as if to flee.

Painter seized her by the hand, stumbling and nearly falling onto the overly hot stones. “Hwanji,” he said. “I’ve been so confused lately. Please. I won’t tell Liyun, but I need to know.”

The attendant looked back, reluctant. Painter dropped her hand, to let her go if she wanted. Instead she spoke in a small voice. “I thought you must have heard that…some of the other yoki-hijo…”

“Eat for themselves?” Painter guessed. “Dress themselves.”

“Decide for themselves,” Hwanji said, with a nod. “Live their lives, until they decide to retire? It is true.”

“No,” Yumi said, stepping down to the ground without clogs—but she didn’t notice, so the heat didn’t bother her. Being a spirit is like that. “No, she’s…she’s…”

“Lying?” Painter said.