Chapter Text
The frigid cold that permeated the night they murdered Mr. Choi never left Mingi’s veins. He still remembers the taste of blood on his tongue, remnants of a barbaric ritual etched between his teeth. The smell of snow already lingered in the air, a promise to bury their horrendous deed from the world.
To this day, the memory didn’t induce nausea or dread. Quite the opposite. Liberation overwhelmed everything, even the fear of being caught. Despite the previous madness, Yunho’s spontaneous plan had worked out for the most part. Back then they didn’t know the body would be the least of their worries. Broken loyalties cause much more harm than a humble corpse. At times, Mingi wondered whether inevitable fate had led them to murder a man. Was the blood on his hands part of a divine plan or simply a stain of his own decisions?
_____
When Mingi returned to campus on the seventh of August, nothing foretold the ensuing madness of the upcoming months. No low-flying flock of birds crossed his sight. Neither a vulture coming from the left nor a sudden thunderstorm. Clear blue skies and chirping birds all around.
Nothing foreshadowed the impending tragedy about to set place in the small town of Fox Hill, near the Oregon coast. Nothing ever changed or happened here. For the past nineteen years, Mingi has lived on the outskirts of the city. In a more prestigious neighborhood secluded from the townsfolk, with the nearest neighbors about ten miles away.
Most tried to escape the town after high school, sick of the same old faces and longing to make it in a bigger, better place. Ready to embrace the cold cloak of anonymity and turn their back on a town where confidentiality was a foreign concept, where your neighbor knew every minute detail of your secrets.
After graduation, Mingi had leafed through hundreds of pamphlets. Colorful pages with praises for colleges all over the country. Their accomplishments, wide selection of studies, and generous scholarships, which he didn’t need, were enticing, yet none motivated him to uproot himself. Cities like Chicago, New York, and even Portland swam with crowds of people, all clustered into neck-breaking skyscrapers. A prestigious college might have titivated Mingi’s resume, but in the end, the quaint charm of his hometown had enchanted him to stay. He preferred evergreen woods, snow-clad mountains, and the constant downpour to a bigger city with better opportunities. The nostalgic comfort of home dwelled here, and Mingi wasn’t ready to leave yet, perhaps never. Plus, San had decided to attend college in Fox Hill. Mingi stayed where San resided, whether or not he desired Mingi’s presence. At least Mingi’s stepmother was delighted that he stayed close for a few more years.
“I’m glad you’re staying, Mingi. I worry about you in the big city!” she had said in a fretting tone. So he turned his back on the world and enrolled at Fox Hill University. Against his father’s advice, Mingi focused his studies on Greek, following his passion instead of studying something practical. He doubted he would change his decision even if he knew about the ramifications. Mingi would still choose the path of blood.
_____
Another dry summer lingered in Fox Hill as the humidity, which haunted the environment for most of the year, took a vacation. Thanks to a fresh breeze from the coast, the temperatures had dropped in the past few days. Still, the sun glowed in the azure sky and encouraged outdoor activities. Therefore, Mingi lounged underneath the big leaf maple tree in front of his dormitory to enjoy a pleasant afternoon with a well-used, dog-eared copy of Ovid’s Heroides in his lap. Scribbled pencil notes decorated the pages, but he ignored past interpretations to concentrate on Ariadne’s words. Her outburst and rage were a stark contrast to the expected tempered and demure demeanor of women. Multiple annotations and tea stains littered the page, signs of multiple rereads.
A soft cooling wind ruffled the pages and one of the sizeable leaves from the maple tree landed on the book. Its emerald lamina hid the harsh words of the heroine as if to shield Mingi. No signs of autumn marked the leaf, plucked from home in its pride. His fingers traced the protruding veins on its back where nutrients and water still flowed for a few more minutes. He utilized it as a bookmark, parts of it peeking out from the paperback due to its enormous size.
His attention returned to the silent campus. Most students arrived at the last minute, enjoying time away from responsibilities, assignments, and deadlines. Some freshmen wandered around the grounds to locate their dormitories or familiarize themselves with their new surroundings. A few carried moving boxes, filled to the brim with the remnants of their high school selves and fairy lights. Two semesters ago, Mingi had been just like them. Dreamy-eyed, a naïve hunger for university life and cartons overflowing with redoubtable memories from high school. The first year had extinguished most of his adolescent hopes and preconceived fantasies about academic studies. For months, his life had only consisted of seminars, lectures, study sessions, and caffeine. Occasionally, he had allowed himself to cry during a quick bathroom break before he returned to the books. The first years walking by would go through the same process. Even if Mingi warned them about the pitfalls, they wouldn’t listen. They wanted to show their friends, family, and foes from home they could make it on their own.
Mingi leaned back against the maple tree, its rough mud-brown bark digging into his back. As his thoughts drifted, more people passed by his spot. A girl with bright pink hair skated down the path, and a group of men cracked open some beers on their way toward a party. Mingi recognized a long-haired boy from a previous lecture enter the old red brick dormitory. His home for the semester. It was one of the smaller living quarters on campus, yet it radiated a grant flair. White pillars supported the canopy over the entrance, which provided great shelter from autumn rainstorms. The windows had recently been replaced, the shining bright frames a contrast to the old weather-worn brick. Two quaking aspen trees framed the building, their round green leaves swinging in the breeze. Most university buildings were constructed in this style. Some were simpler, while others were adorned with enormous glass doors, intricate frescos, and several grand Corinthian pillars.
Here, surrounded by old buildings, worn books, and nature, Mingi felt at ease. Back at home, he had been incongruous, like an antique dresser in a modern, monochrome home. Only tolerated, as it was a family heirloom. On campus, his shoulders relaxed and head-splitting headaches were a thing of the past.
_____
The old walnut door of the dormitory groaned when Mingi pushed it open. Dust and remnants of summer heat thickened the air inside. His worn-out chucks squeaked on the hardwood floor as he passed by the white metal post boxes to the left of the entrance. Soon they would overflow with assignments, letters from worried grandparents, and the occasional love letter. This year, Mingi was assigned a room on the second floor. An improvement over the fifth floor from the past semesters. Due to the age of the buildings, most weren’t equipped with elevators. Beautiful cherry wood stairs led to the upper floors, a steep climb after a long day of classes.
Some students lingered in the hallways, the echo of their voices bouncing off the pale walls. Snippets of their conversations floated by. Reports about the summer holidays, and discussions about upcoming semester parties. Mingi greeted some familiar faces, unable to recall their names after a few weeks.
“Hey Mingi, how was your break?” A girl with a high ponytail and squared glasses asked. Perhaps her name was Alice. She looked like one.
“Fine, yours?”
She narrated about her holidays, almost without inhaling air. The fake smile on Mingi’s lips began to hurt at the edges, but he continued bobbing his head. Luckily, another girl down the hall called the ponytail girl over, and Mingi grasped the opportunity to duck into his room. Right away, the forced grimace of happiness slipped from his face. The smell of old wood and fresh wall paint enveloped his senses. He closed his eyes for a moment and let the door carry his weight.
Like every dorm room, the walls were plain white, perfect for customization. Two single beds, small bedside tables, and a single dresser occupied the room. The big window, built in the center of the room, was barely reachable thanks to the hefty bureau in front.
Mingi had brought a small bookshelf from home this semester. He tended to stack his books precariously all over the room, and his roommate crashed into them more than once. The beige color of the shelf stood out like a sore thumb, but at least Mingi’s books had a safe space. As in previous years, his best friend from kindergarten, San, turned out to be his roommate. Last minute, he’d stayed back home for a few more hours, hence why his side of the room was still vacant. He wanted to spend alone time with his girlfriend, who, coincidentally, was Mingi’s twin sister Mina. Not only had they shared a womb, but now we also shared San.
They had always been an inseparable trio. A framed picture of them sat on Mingi’s bedside table. A reminder of simpler times. They took it during their junior year of high school. Back when San and Mina used to be just friends. Mina stood in the middle with her usual bright grin on display. Mingi was on her left side with his eyes downcast and a shy smile on his lips while San occupied Mina’s right side. His eyes focused on the camera, and one arm wrapped around Mina’s waist. Mina’s arms were wrapped around their shoulders, huddling them together to fit into the frame. They used to be a balanced unit. Now, they were a duo while Mingi had turned into the unwanted third wheel.
For a while, Mingi tried to be happy for them, even supporting their relationship. However, over time, resentment reared its ugly head and became his new companion. He could barely tolerate being around the happy couple without wanting to peel his skin off.
He shook his head and turned his attention to the timetable for the upcoming semester. Classes started in two days, and Mingi had most of them planned out already. This semester, his schedule wasn’t as packed. The previous terms had taught him not to overload himself with classes. Yet, he couldn’t stop thinking about applying to one particular class.
As if a foreign power possessed him, Mingi reached for his laptop to look at the class again. The title Euripides’ Bacchae (Lecture Course) enticed him, as it was one of his favorite tragedies. Only the professor’s name scared him away from applying. Professor Harrington was a legend on campus, known for handpicking students. Usually, she allowed the same three students to attend her classes until they graduated. Then she sought new favorites. The other faculty members tolerated her unconventional teaching methods and preferential treatment. Professor Harrington’s name wasn’t only known throughout Fox Hill University, but beyond as well. Her published works had a spot on almost all supplemental reading lists for classical philology. It was an honor to work and even more to be taught by her.
Mingi had tried to get into her classes before. She expected a highly graded term paper as an application. One couldn’t just waltz into her classes as the time and place weren’t public knowledge, and her students guarded this secret.
Mingi stared at the screen for some time and contemplated whether he should try to apply one more time. Low mumbling from outside and the wind rustling the leaves served as his background noise. After a few minutes, Mingi sighed, picked out his last term paper, and sent it to Professor Harrington’s official mail address. Some students had found her private mail account, but he wasn’t that desperate to violate her privacy. Once Mingi sent the mail, he noticed he’d gnawed on his nails. He groaned, closed the laptop, and fled to the library.
_____
Mingi exited the dorm. More people had accumulated outside. he passed by a group that had some bears, and their laughter vibrated through the late evening summer air. The walk to the library took about five minutes. Through a thicket of trees, the weathered grey stone building appeared. Corinthian columns decorated the entrance. Mingi hopped up the grand staircase and pushed through the heavy wooden doors. The song of chirping birds faded into the background as the grounding white noise of the library and the comforting smell of old books enveloped him. His shoulders relaxed as he made his way deeper into the building. Only a few students had escaped into the climate halls of the library. Leather-bound tomes lined the bookshelves, which went on for miles. Mingi turned the corner and found himself in the philosophy section. From there, he made his way to the antiquity department. He sat down in a tattered armchair, pulled out his book, and continued reading Ariadne’s monologue until the Latin tired him out.
Once it did, he browsed the library catalog before grabbing dinner at the cafeteria. Just two pieces of pizza and a can of Coke. When he returned to his room, a pile of clothing greeted him. They scattered the previously empty side of the dorm. For once, San had not let his chaos spread to Mingi’s side of the room. Still, his fingers itched to clean up San’s mess. Mingi tried his best to ignore it and lay down for a moment. A gradient of red and purple faded into a dark blue night in the sky.
A vibration from his trousers distracted Mingi from his interpretation of the evening sky. San sent a message to inform him he was at some frat party with his sister. Seconds later, another text arrived with Mingi’s sister’s location.
“Please come,” said the next text with a pouty smiley.
For months, it was always Mina who invited him to places. At first, he joined every adventure, but when he noticed San’s annoyance at his presence, Mingi declined the invitations. Plus, Mingi was always the third wheel, anyway. He dodged hanging out with them as a couple and tried to spend time with them individually.
Meeting up with his twin was easy. Mina knew him like the back of her hand. She kept his secrets safe. She was Mingi’s confidant and half of his soul. After all, they had shared a womb for nine months, a room for fifteen, and a mind for nineteen years. Finding alone time with San was more complicated. Because of their different majors, they spent a lot of time apart from each other.
Only their dorm room served as a common ground, which San rarely used. Perhaps this had caused a rift between them, causing an invisible change in our dynamic, or Mingi finally caught a glimpse of San’s true personality. San was dismissive towards him, rolling his eyes when Mingi talked about his passions. He only asked about Mina, and what she said about him. San turned even colder when Mingi told him that Mina and he rarely discussed their relationship. Every time Mingi reached out, the distance between them widened. San’s behavior, combined with the stress and pressure at university, had taken a toll on Mingi’s mental health. During nights when his side of the room was empty, Mingi cried into his pillow before he returned to his books.
A lump formed in his throat. He decided to no longer dwell on San, as he had spent the past two years like this. Pushing the problem away and locking it behind a door kept him going. He ignored Mina’s invitation for now and switched to his messages with San’s mother, Ariadne. Over time, she had become like a second mother to him. He didn’t consider the woman who gave birth to him as his mother.
It was safe to confide in Ariadne. She knew about his depressive burnout episode during his first year at university. Mingi explained the distance between San and him to her. Sometimes, Ariadne was a better best friend than her son. Her name created his fascination with Greek antiquity. When he was five years old, she had told him the story about Princess Ariadne who left her homeland with her lover, Theseus. Only for him to abandon her on a lonely island. She always ended the story with the God Dionysos finding the princess and making her his wife. Later, Mingi learned about the alternate endings where Ariadne died. Once he heard the story, he couldn’t get enough of Greek mythology which led to Ariadne gifting him several books about the topic. Ever since then, it has been his passion and long-lasting obsession.
His last messages with Ariadne revolved around his return to university. They had talked about some intriguing courses, and she repeatedly warned him against taking too many. This semester, he settled on one lecture and seminar. Mingi typed a message to inform Ariadne about his application to Professor Harrington’s class. As he waited for her answer, he wondered whether he should accept his sister’s invitation. He wasn’t fond of parties. Crowds of sweaty people dancing to heavy bass techno music didn’t sound like his idea of fun. Maybe it would distract him from his melancholic thoughts, even for just a few hours.
Mingi’s phone vibrated again, but it was another message from Mina. She sent another pouting smiley. A deep sigh resonated through his rib cage before he replied.
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
When he sent out the message, he received Ariadne’s answer
“Fingers crossed! You’ll get into it! Keep me updated, and have some fun sometimes.”
Mingi didn’t mention the party in his subsequent message, as it would only raise questions. She knew he never attended a social event unless he was forced, or it revolved around Greek antiquity. Still, right now, the party was more desirable than the empty dorm room. San’s smell lingered in every crevice and wrapped like a noose around his neck. Mingi rose from the bed and went out without changing his outfit from the dorm toward the party.
_____
The sound of the celebration could be heard from a mile away. Strong techno beats vibrated through the air, combined with the raucous laughter of young adults. People sat on the green front lawn, rolled around, or made out. Alcohol, sweat, and vomit fused into a fragrance one might describe as juvenile wildness. The white double doors of the fraternity house stood wide open, inviting anyone who dared to enter. Mingi’s stomach churned uncomfortably. He wondered whether Theseus had experienced the same dread when he had entered the Labyrinth of the Minotaur. However, unlike the hero, Mingi didn’t possess a string to help him back out. He would have to trust his memory and senses to take him back home.
Inside, the cloud of mixed smells fully enveloped him, and the stench of cigarettes joined the mix. Outside, the nicotine had escaped into the night air, while here it stuck to everything like an invisible gray glove. Mingi squeezed through crowds of people who tried to talk over the loud music. Colorful flashing LED lights replaced the usual lighting. Purple, blue, red, and green changed into one another in a hypnotic rhythm. He spotted a group of men in cheap togas and plastic wreaths. He doubted they studied ancient culture or history as their costumes were awful and historically incorrect.
The sea of people transported him to the kitchen, where the noise was bearable. Half-empty alcohol bottles littered the once-clean marble countertop. Spots of red solo cups made the scene look like a stereotypical frat house from a movie. He poured himself a cup of cheap whiskey mixed with coke as he wouldn’t endure the night being sober. The purist inside of him cringed at the combination of strong alcohol with the fabricated soda, but the five-dollar whiskey would kill his taste buds just by itself. Mingi wrinkled his nose at how his cup stuck to the countertop because of several spilled liquids.
As he surveyed the party, he wondered whether his sister was looking for him or if she had snuck into a bedroom with San. His body turned rigid when an arm suddenly wrapped around his shoulders. Mingi relaxed when the familiar laughter of his twin greeted his ears. She knocked their heads together, an old habit of theirs. He grinned and pulled her into a hug. In this strange, crowded place, she was a familiar and comforting anchor.
“Didn’t I tell you he would come?” Mina yelled at someone behind her.
Mingi peeked over her shoulder, where San stood with his arms crossed. Each time Mingi looked at San, he was dazzled by his beauty. Dark hair parted to reveal his forehead. Sharp cat-like eyes highlighted the haughty expression on her face. San’s beauty was a frigid knife one would cut themselves on if they dared touch him. Behind the cool demeanor hid a strong-willed young man. A brutal grace laced his every move. A dark suit covered his muscular body. He was dressed like a movie star, a stark contrast to their dirty surroundings. San belonged on red carpets; he should attend fancy galas and dinners, not frat parties. His narrowed eyes and pursed lips reflected his dislike for their environment. Despite his ever-cold mask, Mingi knew each twitch, curl, and clench of his muscles. His piercing brown eyes told him to leave.
Mingi averted his gaze to focus on his sister’s welcoming smile. Like him, she had a dimple denting her right cheek, and her eyes had the color of molten chocolate. Her familiar scent of cinnamon and vanilla reminded him of winters when they skated on the lake near their house or autumns when they jumped into piles of colorful leaves and drank hot chocolate in front of a fireplace.
While Mingi lived in a different century, with his nose always stuck in a book, his sister had become somewhat of a jock. She was an outstanding football player, but also a secret lover of geology, much to their father’s dismay. He claimed Mina’s hobby was a waste of time, so Mingi’s sister stopped talking about it at the dining table. However, when they were alone, she spewed facts about minerals and geodes like a fresh waterfall. Her eyes glittered with delight when she shared her knowledge, and it broke Mingi’s heart. Their father didn’t approve of either of their passions, but while Mingi delved deeper into his, Mina had taken the path that would gain her their father’s approval. Sometimes Mingi wondered whether she regretted her decision when her muscles ached after a long practice.
“What you got there?”
Mina inspected his cup, sniffing at it before taking a sip without asking. They shared everything, so permission wasn’t needed.
“Whiskey and coke. That’s my brother!”
Her grin was infectious. Mingi’s body relaxed in her embrace. San swirled the liquid in his cup around, his eyes flicking through the room with boredom. He was most likely drinking cherry vodka. The only bearable liquid at frat parties, according to him. Mina reported about their uneventful drive back and lugging San’s clothes into the dorm.
“Like, how many clothes does someone need? But then again he plays characters in theatre. Well, whatever. Sorry for the mess. We just wanted to dump them and go to the party. I’ll help San clean up.”
While Mingi’s sister talked without pause, San had tuned them out, and Mingi tried not to stare at him.
_______
An hour into his stay at the party, Mingi searched for an unoccupied and mostly clean bathroom. As it was still early in the night, he got lucky and relieved himself in one of the private bathrooms upstairs. When he returned to the kitchen, neither Mina nor San was anywhere to be seen. It was bound to happen. At some point, they always ditched him for some private time. His cup stood abandoned on the kitchen counter. He threw it in the trash, not trusting anyone at the party. Though, a part of him wanted to see what would happen if he actually got drugged. He shook the intrusive thought away and searched the adjacent living room for familiar faces in the flashing lights, but it was futile. Neither San’s dark hair nor his sister’s dimpled smile showed up. The little buzz of alcohol in Mingi’s system had faded out as well. Without it, the music deafened his ears, the rooms shrank, and he wanted to crawl out of his skin.
Mingi didn’t force himself to stay any longer when he wouldn’t be missed, anyway. More people lounged on the lawn, some asleep, others entangled with a partner. The stench of vomit still persisted in the air. Once, he distanced himself from the house, his lungs filled with fresh night air. They burned as if he had been underwater for too long. As Mingi walked back to his dorm, the stars twinkled above him, enticing him to stay in place and just admire them. However, he preferred stargazing from the comfort of his bed and not out in the open where anyone could grab him.
Warm golden light flooded from the dorm building. Private parties and moving students caused most of the illumination. When his door fell close behind him, the world stopped for a minute. All noises disappeared, and it was only Mingi in the small space. The peace didn’t last. The familiar hand of jealousy leashed out and dug its claws into his chest. While he fought his inner demons, Mina and San enjoyed themselves. It used to be different. There used to be love in San’s eyes. He used to be warm and welcoming. Now, Mingi was just a burden to him, just some dirt underneath his shoe.
Despite his brief stay, the party had drained Mingi’s mental and physical capabilities. A heavy weight settled on his limbs. He dragged himself toward the bed without changing into more comfortable clothes. San’s distant gaze haunted his mind, consuming his thoughts and choking him with unshed tears. Out of habit, Mingi grabbed a book from his bedside table. He wanted to lose himself in Ariadne’s pain and anxiety; in her curses and cries while Theseus’ ship vanished behind the horizon. Abandoned on the island with no way back home.