Chapter 7: Jumping off the Deep End

“What kind of plans are they anyway?”

Jongdae asked, teeth sinking into a cooked leg of meat. He didn’t care enough to wonder the animal of its origin. He’d hadn’t eaten meat, or anything substantially filling, long enough to let the issue bother him. Plus Fay was eating a piece, too. Fay wouldn’t dare eat something that would harm her in the long run.

“The ones you made with Minseok.”

At least not when she had so much to live for.

Ignoring his effort to clarify himself, Fay swallowed down, knee bumping against his where they sat in front of the soot-littered fireplace of her "not boyfriend"'s home. “When you get on the elevator tomorrow, stand towards the back. As far away from the door as you can get. Not the front. Not the corners. The back. Understand?”

Jongdae heard the sound of the shower turning on in the bathroom; Minseok was beginning to wash up. He posed a different one, “Should I ask why?”

“You should hope you never need to know the answer.” Fay silenced him with that — and he had the sinking feeling she didn’t like his questions all too much.

“Fair enough.” Jongdae shrugged. “If it’s bad, it’s bad. The back it is.”

“Keep your head low and your hood lower. No matter what anyone says to you, don’t answer,” she advised, eyes staring on at the flickering flame that spit hot flames their way. Each one died out, was snuffed out, before it could reach their bare feet.

Jongdae chewed down on his salty beef, as he’d decided he’d call it — even if it wasn’t. Even if he didn’t know. Even if he didn’t know a lot of things. Even if all he knew is that the last thing he found interesting was the fire sputtering out before him.

“I’ve never much liked talking to strangers anyway.”

“I mean it, Jongdae.” She turned, locking eyes with his easily. As though he were waiting for it. Intrigued by it: the flames swirling in her brown eyes. “No matter how polite or charming or trustworthy they seem, don’t.”

“I understand, Fay,” he called her name back, deciding her hardened eyes were her charm. Ever since this morning, he’d been trying to figure out how Minseok, who was so similarly different from him, had been taken by her so completely. So utterly.

“Everything you want to take with you, keep it on your person. No matter how many layers of clothes you end up with. No carry-ons whatsoever.”

“I didn’t exactly fall into my situation with enough to need a bag.”

Though the one thing he wanted to bring with him was too heavy to carry, and so weightless it’d surely slip through his fingers.

“And speak with your eyes.” She reached out, fingers glistening with the fatty juices of the meal their share. “You know how to do that, don’t you? How to make others stay away from you with your stare alone?” Pressing down onto the corner of his left eye, hot like the flames in her eyes. “If not, start practicing now.”

“Is it working?” he asked after a moment.

“Try harder," she answered, not missing a beat.

Jongdae laughed besides himself, eyes cringing as his cheekbones flew high. Still, he noticed it. He noticed that she wasn’t smiling in the least.

It was a large affair: the process of boarding the elevator.

There were no lines. No ticket masters. No way of knowing who was supposed to be there and who wasn’t until, as Fay had told him the night before, they got to the top. No order whatsoever as the crowd stampeded through the large entrance. Carts were filled with goods. Large bags were strapped around shoulders. People of all sizes and backgrounds surrounded him.

Many spoke of Clockwork City.

Others of places like “Holly Alley,” “Tally’s Ho,” and “Cusp’s End.” Others even still of names too convoluted for him to pronounce. All drowning in the same shade of gray, they stood firmly with their feet planted in the ground. They were all in their element.

They patiently waited as the elevator worker’s announced the door was closing. Silence engulfed the large, rectangular chamber as the copper-casted doors closed firmly. Bars rattled as it begun its ascension.

Jongdae let out an audible sigh.

He was on the brink of being home. Of ending this entire nightmare-like dream. The handful of places he saw, the couple of people he’d met, this distinct, almost pungent gray, staining everything in sight, would all be a memory of the distant past when he woke up tomorrow morning in his own bed.

His aunt calling his name. Lady Jessica taking her morning walk. Enjoying a pleasant breakfast before heading out down the street, where trees and grass sprouted like wildfire.

“It was nice while it lasted,” he remembers mumbling to himself.

In the end, it was a nice experience to be had. It would have been just that, nothing more, nothing less, had he not locked eyes with that child. That child some ways away from him.

A boy. Stripped . A hoard of men around him ruffling through small bags and child-sized rags. He was by himself, that little boy. And no one swooped in to save him.

No one even tried to.

No one was there to tell him to stand in the back. To keep his gaze low. To not pack anything. To not say a word no matter what. That boy was looking at him. Eyes pleading. Begging. Crying.

Jongdae was pushing through the crowd not even a second later, bravely striding to the front of the elevator. Pulling the boy away from the men, his back met the metal floor as he wrestled for the young child’s belongings. He was yelling things he couldn’t remember. He was fighting like he’d lost his mind somewhere between that familiar bench settled between low-rising sand dunes and Clockwork City — completely, and utterly.

People started screaming around him. Screams that turned into cheers. Into roars. Then nothing. It all stopped.

The voices. The pressure at the back of his neck. The elevator.

And he distinctly remembers the words that echoed above him, transmitted via the speaker he’d heard give the announcement that the doors were closing. In a familiar dialect, low-rising intonations ordered out:

“Jongdae Kim, charged with treason against the Society and all the citizens of the blessed Haven above, cease and desist at once.”

The front door was already closed.

At this point, at what he believed to be his lowest point, overcome with fear for his immediate future and confusion regarding his unclear past, the last thing Jongdae expected was for the back door to open instead.