“I see. And what is the effect of taking mahali?”
“It brings on temporary blindness and deafness. Cuts you off from the world for maybe an hour, but your subconscious takes over. The users say it leads you to other worlds. Incredible journeys. And it’s highly addictive. Some have died.”
Perr sighed. “I see nothing addictive about that experience. Why do you mention this, Daughter?”
“I thought maybe you would be interested because Lang is the island’s biggest dealer in mahali.”
Their faces drained of color even as their rage exploded. They fired back at Kara with a level of disgust and denial she predicted.
“How dare you make this accusation against your Honored Brother,” Li-Ann said. “And after you come in here begging for our help with Chi-Qua Baek.”
“Is this your revenge?” Perr asked. “Bring shame upon your eldest brother? What madness has consumed you, Daughter?”
“Not madness, Honorable Father. A contact list of suppliers and clients. Smuggling schedules. Rendezvous points. I found them on Lang’s memglass then I copied them.”
“You stole your brother’s property?” Perr asked the question as if he didn’t hear most of what Kara said. “What has Lang ever done to you?”
“I’d go down the list if I thought it mattered. I didn’t intend to find out your heir was bringing shame to Syung-Low.” She reached inside a pocket and revealed a memglass. “This is a copy. I have two others. Would you like to see?”
Li-Ann rose. “How disgusting a child have you become? Whatever is on the memglass is a fraud. Did you genuinely believe we would fall for your mindless scheme?”
“What I hoped, Honorable Mother, is you would accept my plea for intervention. Had you done so, I would have destroyed the evidence.”
“Blackmail?” She pivoted to her husband. “This child is trying to blackmail her parents.”
“Not blackmail,” Kara said. “Compromise. Announce Syung-Low to be the accusers of Baek then intervene to bring Chi-Qua into our household. No one ever has to know about this, even Lang.”
“Sit,” Perr told Li-Ann. “Daughter, if this evidence does support your accusation, what will you do with it should we fail to compromise?”
“Nothing. For a time. But you’ll come to your senses. If another family had this information – especially if they were on the executive board of Hotai Counsel – they’d ruin us overnight. Others inside Nantou would fall by association. We’d be run out of The Lagos.”
They didn’t fight back this time. She saw reality sinking in. Pinchon was collapsing beneath them. Centuries of honor and privilege for Syung-Low hung by the flimsiest string.
“My brother is an idiot,” she said. “Even if I never discovered the truth, it was bound to ruin us someday. For what it’s worth, I didn’t find Dae’s name on the memglass. Lang might be working alone. But he and Dae have always been a tandem. Here.”
She placed the memglass on the corner of her father’s desk. He leaned back, as if it were poison. She turned toward the door and did not slow down for her parting remark:
“Please let me know when you’re ready to intervene.”
She closed the double doors behind her and prepared to vomit. Even if she succeeded in securing intervention, her parents were not going to stand for this shocking level of impertinence. Consequences were inevitable. Of all the emotions roiling Kara, none approached exultation. That she stood up to them at last, proved herself at least as influential in the family dynamic as her brothers, meant nothing. Kara acknowledged a ready truth: She was a Syung-Low through and through. Nothing was beneath her now.
Maybe it was always there, lying dormant inside this treacherous child of privilege. Maybe this was the true reason behind refinery: The Gentry knew themselves to be selfish, double-dealing bastards, so they deemed the occasional blood-letting an act of atonement. Pour all their shame into a few others to cleanse themselves of their collective guilt.
Dinner was, to Kara’s surprise, uneventful. Her parents seemed to have developed amnesia and carried on with the usual discussions of business, politics, and the social calendar.
Days passed.
Weeks followed in silence.
No consequences. No disdainful stares. No suspicious tones.
The winter solstice arrived, its only difference from summer being a slight declination of the sun’s west-to-east trajectory. Kara wondered what seasons were like.
She was sunbathing on the balcony outside her private suite when she heard a familiar voice inside.
“Miss Syung?”
Her pulse sharpened. It can’t be.
She threw off her sunglasses and raced inside.
Chi-Qua Motebe wore a humble yellow dress with a purple quovis flower pinned above her heart. Her hair was thin, a pixie cut. Her lipstick matched the flower. In her left hand, a suitcase.
None of these things mattered to Kara. She focused on the eyes. Dark, like the depths of the ocean, and yet empty. Despondent. Resentful. No joy whatsoever.
The eyes of a prisoner.
Kara spent months preparing, but she didn’t know where to begin. Their reunion was not as she imagined.
Chi-Qua set down the suitcase and clasped her arms over her chest.
“Hello, Miss Syung,” she said, as a servant might. “If you will show me to my room, we will discuss protocol.”
“Pro …? Wait, what? Chi-Qua. It’s me. It’s us. I can’t believe after sixteen months, we’re finally together again. I …”
“But we’re not. Are we? I am to be your personal assistant.”
“Yes. I … technically. But you’ll never be my servant. Don’t you see? This is how the Baek household will be restored. Please, Chi-Qua. Come sit with me outside. We have so much time to make up.”
“Perhaps later, Miss Syung. This day … it’s been long. I assume I’ll find appropriate clothing for household staff in my room?”
What have I done?
She took a step back and reset. Chi-Qua was right. They’d have time for chatter. Kara’s mother and father
