Chapter 67 Ownership Dispute

Jin opened the stream.

Yu-ra's avatar had a red ribbon tied around one ear. A cartoon chair occupied the corner of the screen.

“He is not my manager,” she was saying. “If he were, this stream would have an admission fee.”

The chat accelerated.

Jin typed: That's an excellent idea.

The avatar went very still.

Then Yu-ra laughed into her microphone.

“He's here.”

Theo called before Jin could escape.

“I told her you were home.”

“You told her to put a chair on the screen.”

“I contain multitudes.”

On the stream, Yu-ra was looking at something offscreen. Her voice changed, less bright now.

“No. You don't get to message his sister. Ask me things here.”

Jin stopped smiling.

She banned the account, then returned to the charity clip.

“He bought a ticket,” she said as Dae-seong appeared. “This is what happens when you support small businesses.”

Theo was quiet on the phone.

“Mira?” Jin asked.

“Fine. I've told her.”

“Thank you.”

“She's already laughing at your face in the replay.”

Jin looked back at the screen. Yu-ra had paused the video just as the baton sent him sliding away from the chair.

“That's a cruel angle,” he said.

“There isn't a kind one.”

Later, Yu-ra sent him the little chair image.

I can remove it.

He saved it.

Only if you let me charge storage.

Her answer was a voice message, mostly laughter, ending with a soft good night.

He played it twice.

At the Academy on Monday morning, Bae hit him in the chest with a padded shield.

“You're thinking about something pleasant.”

Jin staggered back, caught his balance and raised the practice baton again.

“Until recently.”

Bae held the shield at his left side.

“Come on.”

Jin came off the start he'd recorded across the mat. Four strides to the shield. His heel planted; his hips turned; the baton struck the padding.

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Bae gave half a step.

Then the lower edge of the shield drove Jin's hands up and out. The instructor tapped his exposed stomach with his own baton.

“Dead.”

“Excellent service. No waiting.”

“Your legs arrive. Your hands explain afterward.”

Jin lowered the baton.

“They're very articulate.”

“Do it slowly.”

Without the skill, Jin stepped through the same turn. Bae caught his wrist and stopped it halfway.

The force from his legs went into his shoulder instead of the baton.

“There,” the instructor said.

Jin tried again. Less reach. More turn through the grip.

His first correction was too small. He felt the force catch at the shoulder again and stopped before Bae had to point it out.

On the next turn, he kept the elbow close.

The shield thumped against Bae's chest.

“Better. Still a conversation.”

Theo, waiting beside the mat, clapped once.

“I've been saying that for years.”

After training, Jin asked whether he wanted to visit Aster that evening.

“Can't,” Theo said. “Choi moved the dress rehearsal. Six till nine.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Ask me after she sees tonight's run. I may need to flee the country.”

He adjusted the strap of his dance bag with his healed left hand.

“Bring back something worth seeing.”

“I've made an appointment with a man who rents teeth.”

Theo considered this.

Then he took out his phone and showed Jin the rehearsal recording.

“Watch the end.”

Jin watched the turn he'd seen on Friday. This time Theo's left hand stayed open instead of reaching across his body.

“Better?” Theo asked.

“I stopped looking at your arm.”

He frowned, trying to explain.

“I watched where you were going instead.”

Theo took the phone back, pleased in a way he didn't quite hide.

“That'll do.”

Jin pointed at the screen.

“Does Choi agree?”

“Choi says my face looks as if I'm waiting for someone to clap.”

“Is it?”

“Obviously. She's very rude about knowing things.”

He slipped the phone away and nudged Jin toward the changing room.

“Go wash. You're making the nice part of this conversation difficult.”

“Bring back yourself first,” Theo added. “I need an audience with poor standards.”

Jin promised to come to his next performance.

Back home, he packed his phone in the zipped bag and crossed to Aster. He put on his pin, collected his purse and paid the innkeeper two silver for Monday and Tuesday nights. Two gold, thirty-seven silver and ninety-seven copper remained.

Lark met him on the landing with the collar wrapped in cloth. His wooden sword was tucked beneath his other arm.

The quarry's white gouge still ran along the blade.

“Will it hold?” Jin asked.

“If I stop putting it under enormous feet.”

“Ambitious.”

“I'm working on myself.”

“I was going to ask to come,” Lark said.

“Please do.”

The swordsman blinked.

“That was easy.”

“You're carrying the invitation I can't read.”

They found Merrit's yard by following the smell of hot oil and the noise of several animals disagreeing about lunch.

A painted sign showed a man bowing while a monster swallowed his hat.

Jin stopped beneath it.

“Professional competition.”

Lark looked at the painted teeth.

“He's missing a hand.”

“A difficult benefits package.”

Nell opened the side door. She glanced at Jin's ordinary clothes, then at Lark's sword.

“Merrit's upstairs. He's still deciding how much you cost.”

“Three gold.”

“How much you cost him.”

She led them past a low iron door. Something breathed behind it, scratching the metal with deliberate little strokes.

Jin slowed.

Nell put herself between him and the door.

“Don't whistle.”

“Wasn't planning to.”

“People do. When they're nervous.”

From behind the iron came a perfect imitation of Nell's voice.

“Don't whistle.”

Then it started laughing.