BA3 - Chapter 10

I leaned forward and looked all the way up to the top of the buildings around us. They were twenty or more stories taller than the tallest skyscraper in Busa-nan, but the walls were made almost entirely of glass, or sprawling gardens. Trains ran at the fifth level and somewhere around the fortieth, too.

My palms grew sweaty at the thought of riding that top-level train. I wasn’t afraid of heights—natural heights at least. Without knowing how those trains stayed in the air, I just couldn’t trust them.

Below, prismatic light projected over the streets lined with well-manicured flowerbeds and short shade trees. Little cafés peppered the street-level, creating a jovial atmosphere of relaxation on the ground despite the looming danger directly overhead. There mustn’t have been an incident in a long time for the citizens to be so calm about thousands of tons of metal that could come crashing out of the sky.

Robotic whirring and stomping feet drew my attention to the right. Four Enjiho units marched in slow formation, then stopped in front of us. They were two and a half meters tall, sheer black with a golden TK_Dokun Corp logo across the chest. The weapons along their waist were much more intimidating in person, and I felt the collective apprehension of the students around me.

“Welcome to Kokyu!” the lead bot said in an older, feminine voice. The Enjiho all bowed, and compulsion drove me to bow back. The other students felt it too and dipped their heads. There was a human on the other end of that bot, so it made sense to show courtesy. More than anything, I wanted to take one of the Enjiho apart, discover how it worked, and how so many citizens could project their ma munje like I could—remote connection, Mae called it.

“Please follow us to transportation,” the Enjiho turned away and crossed the street to the building with the train stop.

The citizens on the street smiled and nodded as we passed, carefully avoiding bumping us. I’d grown accustomed to the dodge and weave I had to perform on the streets of Busa-nan, so it was strange to watch others taking such care in notice me, or anyone else around them.

The inside of the neighboring building was worlds apart from the harbor intake buildings. They’d been closed off, clean, but very sterile. This was wide open spaces, glass, color, art, plants, laughter. It was warm, but not too hot, and the scents in the air were fresh and herby. The first floor of the building was three stories tall, and most of the center was a sitting area for the many different cafes that lined the inside.

We took the glass elevator up in three groups, then boarded the train all together. When we boarded, the train rocked gently, like a boat bobbing on a calm lake. The Enjiho made slightly larger waves, but they assured us it was very safe.

“How do the trains work?” I asked the tall Enjiho who’d addressed us before.

The old woman behind the machina laughed and I noticed the speakers next to the cameras on each shoulder. “You will learn all about this in school. These trains are among the newest advances TK_Dokun Corp has released. There have been no incidents in three years, so there’s nothing to fear.”

I shook my head. “I’m not afraid, just interested. I want to see this kind of technology come to Busa-nan.”

“Of course you do. We do, too. TK_Mr. Yamamotto knows we can only help others after we’ve helped ourselves, and so he works hard every day to ensure Kokyu is becoming the nation it was destined to be.”

Her words set of warnings in my mind, but I kept my expression blank. “That makes sense.”

“Hold on for departure,” the Enjiho said and grabbed one of the many hand grips above.

The doors closed and whisked us off to the next stop. The train was much gentler than those back home, with no jostling or bumping from the track segments. How in Mun-Jayu did they do this?

‘Check it out,’ I requested of Mae, and released a small bit of ma munje from my toes.

I turned my attention to the glass windows facing the harbor. The tall metal wall blocking the sea had somehow turned transparent from this end. I rubbed my eyes and focused again. The humans manning the barrier could be seen walking through corridors that shimmered opalescent transparency. The ocean beyond sparkled brilliantly in the afternoon sun.

The other Bastions gasped and moved toward the far wind, watching in awe and murmuring to one another.

“How?” I couldn’t stop from asking aloud.

The Enjiho next to me chuckled, then said loudly, “All in good time, my curious minds. We will be at your exchange school—Anbura—in a matter of minutes.”

I remembered from our summer investigation that Anbura—roughly translating to moon shadow—was the closest school to Dokun’s headquarters. We would be close enough to run all our ops… if we had that frame. I’d have to get it back somehow, or make a new one.

All thought evaporated as the train turned a corner, revealing the rest of the city. Three monstrous towers of ivory and gold ripped through the sky and into the clouds at the center the intricate web of city streets. The buildings were enclosed by large, lush gardens and forests at least the size of Namnak.

The three towers varied in height by several stories, and the tallest was branded at the top by the mark of Kokyu—a sword pointed down, wrapped with five colorful ribbons on the hilt. It was missing a few key elements, but it closely matched the markings on the boxes I’d seen in the Wong’s smuggling operation. The tallest tower buzzed with activity as trains ferried passengers about. My palms grew sweatier at the sight of it.

I’d read about the kingdom towers over the summer, but like everything else, it was different seeing them in person. That was where all branches of the Kokyu government met to do their work, even the King, though he didn’t live there. The King’s estate was in the park at the foot of the buildings, which was both supremely protected and conveniently located.

We stopped at the last building in the harbor area and the remaining passengers disembarked, leaving only Bastion students and the Enjiho on board. The train shuddered as it pulled away—but not all of it. Only our section of the train left the building, leaving two cars behind.

The street was getting farther and farther away as we lifted into the sky and drifted away from the building.

“Please hold on tight,” the Enjiho said again and I tightened my grip on the metal bar next to me.

‘I don’t like this,’ I whispered to Mae as my heart thudded.

My eyes darted to Woong-ji, who looked calm. How could she be calm? What if Dokun was abducting us right now?

“That’s not how he operates, you know that.” Mae reminded me and I breathed slowly through my nose. “He’ll move from the shadows, not out in the open. If something goes wrong on this train, he’d ruin his reputation.”

My fear was irrational, but my heart wouldn’t listen. The train reached its pre-designated height and slowed to a stop. Then, loud whirring ramped up all around us.

‘Is that some kind of engine?’ I asked, hoping for an update on that ma munje I let Mae use.

“Not like anything I’ve seen,” she said with wonder. “The train is interfacing with the nanites in the air surrounding it and projecting a polarized field twenty meters in front of it. I sure hope we get a better look at this later.”

‘Right there with you,’ I thought, trying to morph my fear into excitement.

The Enjiho counted down together, “Departure in three, two, one.”

The whirring reached a peak and the train jolted forward. Everyone stumbled—except the bots—and the students smiled and laughed. I chuckled along with them, masking my fear of abduction, or assassination.

The acceleration force on my limbs slowed when we reached the top speed. We flew past the skyscrapers so fast they blurred in a rainbow of colored light and vibrant plants. Another train flew in the opposite direction above us, sending a low rumble through our cart.

We spent the next five minutes pressed against the glass as we flew around the protected zone of the King’s palace—a very modest home compared to what we had in Busa-nan. For obvious reason, there were protective barriers around the gold towers_TK(name them). Anyone needing to get in would have to do it on the ground.

Yuri knocked on the Enjiho next to me. “Excuse me, but why don’t you guys use these over the ocean?”

The old woman’s voice chuckled through the speaker. “So curious! We love having engaged exchange students. You will learn more at Anbura. We’re nearly there.”

Yuri’s shoulder slumped and she mumbled something I couldn’t hear over the whine of the train. I turned my attention back to the window as we reached a clear dividing line in the kingdom.

Colorful pagodas made of wood and stone peppered the landscape, and the hyper advanced technology was sparse. It looked much more like Busa-nan here with the shorter buildings and train activity localized on the streets.

A tall, black and silver pagoda came into view: Anbura. Not far to the east was Dokun’s TK_Tech Corp, which stood apart from everything else. Wafts of black smoke rose from two thick exhaust ports on top of the concrete building. It was square, utilitarian, and massive. A second, much more visually pleasing building made of prismatic glass and metal sat not far off. That was where Dokun conducted his business.

The train slowed gradually and we dipped under the tree line, obscuring the landscape from view. Mae had helped me measure the distance to that glass building and fed me the answer; fifteen kilometers away. It would be my farthest remote distance—if we could get something running in time.

That frame had taken me most of the summer to construct and making another one like it with fewer resources and less privacy would be near impossible. We had to get the original frame back from customs somehow.

We arrived at a train landing site designated specifically for a little cart like this. The landing zone was well blocked off, with tall walls blocking the city streets from view. We disembarked to a platoon of Enjiho greeting us with shallow bows.

“Welcome to Sonma, a district of Kokyu!” The front Enjiho said. There was a painted red band on its chest, and two gold stars inside the band. Perhaps a ranking designation?

“Seems apt. I’ll catalogue this,” Mae whispered, and I felt her pushing the data through my mind. We were going to have to work on a solution to our limited capacity for storing information, especially since my brain was prone to dropping data packets when writing, so said Mae.

“You could always get another device installed in your chest,” she whispered sarcastically.

I refrained from raising a brow in surprise. ‘That’s not a bad idea, actually. But what if we made one from my ma munje?’

“Well, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be staying here…” she broke off.

‘I didn’t want this for either of us, but it seems we should plan for more long-term living situation.’

“I’m sorry, Jiyong,” she whispered remorsefully.

‘There’s nothing to be sorry for. You’ve made my life better in so many ways.’

“But made it worse in other very important ways.”

I looked to Hana. Her bright eyes were filled with excitement, and her whole face glowed happiness. It could’ve been fake, but I’d seen her lies and her truths enough times to know the difference.

‘There will be time for us later. We have more important things to focus on right now.’

The Enjiho lead us from the platform and into the transportation building. It was teaming with people who were undergoing a similar inspection as those who’d come in at the harbor. One woman argued with an Enjiho about a bag of apples not being permitted, so it seemed commonplace then, to have this confiscated. The frame might still be safe.

There was a blocked express lane for those departing the orderly transportation center, and we found ourselves back on the streets quickly. The whole trip had been perhaps fifteen minutes, and I marveled at their technology.

The Enjiho escorted us down the busy street that was packed to bursting with activity. Loaded carts boasted the best bowl of ramen on the go, while others shouted about their coldest ice cream. Motorbikes were commonplace; almost half of the people on the street were riding one, but no one drove much faster than running speed. Most everyone else walked, and fewer still were grouped together in large, carriage-like machina that traveled a few paces faster than walking.

Within a few minutes, we were away from the main thoroughfare and winding our way up through less crowded back streets. We reached the turn-off for our new home away from home, and I was surprised to see the road was not paved, but gravel and dirt. It curved like a hiking trail through tall trees up to the top of the hill where the massive black and silver pagoda sat.

A woman in a black robe trimmed in silver appeared on the path from behind a tree. She walked with unspeakable grace, as if she were floating on the air. Her thick black hair was twisted and pinned on top of her head by two silver pins with dangling moon charms.

Her face adopted a very slight smile as she came to stop at the iron wrought gate. She flourished her hands and drew a sharp, straight line through the gate. Ma munje zipped out from the tip of her finger and lit up the gate with gold. A second later, the gate parted, and the older woman joined us on the other side.

“Dearest Bastion students,” she addressed us in our native tongue. Her voice was gentle, but powerful with its presence.

“I am Grandmaster Ishikawa, Ena. We were so saddened to hear of the news last year. That our own citizens could commit such crimes against you was horrifying. We are proud of your strength and perseverance, and your willingness to forgive. We welcome you to Anbura with open hearts and minds. Please, learn as much as you can.”

The older woman, Ena, bowed. I hadn’t been able to determine how old she was, perhaps somewhere between late forty and early sixty. Her hair bore no strands of silver like Woong-ji’s, but her eyes and the skin around her lips showed a life of many smiles.

“Thank you for receiving us,” I said on cue with the other Bastion students. There’s been so many formalities we’d had to learn, like the unified responses, and table courtesy.

“Please, welcome in,” she gestured for us to follow her in. Woong-ji and Sung-ki lead the two columns of students up through the winding path, and the four Enjiho left us at the gate, watching motionlessly. The machina which had once had personality and humanity had become cold, sentry drones.

The trees parted when we arrived at the crest of the hill and stood before the massive school. It’s true size had been distorted from the base of the hill, but now I saw it for what it truly was: a fifteen level monstrosity of a pagoda. The base of it was at least sixty meters across and it was half that in height.

To the far right was a training yard for handheld weapons, and next to that, an archery range. Students of all ages in black and silver outfits not unlike our doboks engaged with the weapons. The younger, less experienced students who looked to be fresh from Primary age listened and nodded as the older students talked them through the motions and weapons.

Everyone was a student, and almost everyone was a teacher. There were clearly designated instructors marching the yards helping where needed, but they largely listened, providing guidance. I imagined being required to teach the younger students and being at a loss for words at questions like, “What’s that on your chest?”

I knew the etiquette was different here, but I wondered how much that mattered when no instructors were watching. I knew all too well that just because something was a rule, didn’t mean the students would follow it. My gaze drifted to Shin-soo as he surveyed the activity yard.

There was a large garden on the left side of the pagoda being worked by many students. I’d done my time in the gardens at Bastion, too. Before Sung-ki had helped unlock my li flow, the garden manager hadn’t allowed me to tend to growing schedules. I’d killed too many turnips.

Students ran too and from the pagoda with baskets of fresh produce. Grandmaster Ena led us in closer. “We will be having dinner soon. You’ll get an official tour from your rooming unit after that.”

The door to the pagoda was open wide, and the first floor was visible from the stairs. The center of the first floor had a thick, glass spire running through it. A student drifted down on a fluttering air current and step out through one a short archway she seemed to create with a flick of en munje.

The floors were dark, polished wood that shone with a clean brilliance. The walls were decorated with silver filigreed wallpaper between the paper doors. When the light hit the designs just right, the seemed to give off an opalescent glow.

“Please leave your belongings at the entrance and we will have them brought to your rooms.” Ena gestured to a pair of bin that were all clearly marked with our names.

We removed our shoes and bags, then stuffed them away. Ena led us down the extravagantly wide hall to the center of the room where the spire sat. Another student drifted down, flicking blue en at the wall of the tube. Wind rushed past as the narrow opening slid aside, allowing the boy passage.

Ena did not stop at the vertical tunnel but kept walking past it to another room. Herbal scents of freshly picked tea leaves, savory smells of hot meats, and sweet notes of some dessert drifted on the air. We turned and walked through a wide, open door to a noisy kitchen.

Steam whistled out of massive kettles and stove fires flared. Students washed, chopped, fried, boiled, and seared their way through the fresh ingredients flowing in from the side door to the garden. Again, there was an integration of younger and older students. The younger ones performed less dangerous and simpler tasks, like washing and pealing vegetables, plucking chicken feathers, or running retrieval errands for the older students.

Ena turned to us with a smile, and gestured to the activities around us. “Munje is in everything. Our power comes from what we put in our body. This is one of the most powerful lessons we have to offer. You will cook, you will clean floors, you will manage the garden, repair weapons, furniture, and clothes. You will learn of the munje in all things, how to connect with it and command it.

“Bastion Academy has taught you the tools of war. Anbura will teach you the tools for life.”

“Shall we eat?” She asked, grinning. Without waiting for a response, she led us through the kitchen to the other end. Another wide door lead into a dining hall not unlike the one at Bastion.

Students were running too and from loaded carts full of utensils, bowls, heavy trays of food, and delicious assortments of fresh fruit. A short boy with long hair turned to grab the last item on the cart when his eyes met mine.

A flicker of rage bloomed in my chest as I focused on him. That despicable face of false innocence and abject treachery.

Ko-nah, you sangomnyon. You’re dead.