​Early Joseon dynasty

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Night belonged to thieves, killers, and foxes. Gwishin, being all three, glided through the darkness with almost silent footsteps, leaping from rooftop to rooftop like her ghostly namesake.

She had to be cautious. Police officers patrolled the streets of Sokju during curfew, and the city’s new magistrate, Hong Shik, had recently increased the security around his office even further. Thieves and mercenaries were more common around here than rats, but they weren’t what Hong truly feared. The guards he’d hired were well-trained, some even reputedly former assassins. Such skilled men didn’t come at a low price, nor were they necessary for the average criminal.

But Gwishin was no average criminal.

Some part of Chin Sun wondered if she should stay in tonight, lie low for a while. She’d almost been caught the last time she’d gone out, and with reports of Wokou pirates from the East lurking around the outlying villages, tensions in Sokju were higher than ever. If she waited a few weeks, Hong would relax a bit, and she would be free to roam the night again without fear.

Yet the promised reward was too tempting to ignore. If the intelligence she’d gathered was accurate, an illicit deal was going to take place in Hong’s office this very evening. A rumor was circulating that the pirates had infiltrated Sokju—and Hong was in league with them.

If that slug proved himself a traitor tonight . . .

The world shifted, colors merging even as her surroundings became more precise. The price one must pay for the eyes of a fox.

Contrary to her neighbors’ superstitions, Chin Sun could tap into her gumiho abilities at will and didn’t need to first transform into the nine-tailed monster parents warned their children of. She only dared discard her human facade in the safety of the forest, where mist and shadow were her closest friends. So far, none of the townsfolk seemed to suspect their masked guardian was more than human, and she intended to keep it that way.

Humans believed gumiho were wholly evil, consumed by lust and malice. Chin Sun didn’t know how other gumiho lived, having never met any magical beings besides herself, but she suspected the stories about them were more fiction than fact. She certainly didn’t lurk around cemeteries or eat human livers, nor was she hundreds of years old. As far as she could tell, her body aged just like a human’s, and her diet was much the same.

She was keen on mice and berries while in nine-tailed fox form, but opportunities to shift had become rarer as she’d grown older and taken on more responsibilities.

Chin Sun paused when the police bureau came into view. Great stone walls surrounded the outer courtyard, which connected to a covered terrace directly above the entrance. A large wooden plaque hung below the platform’s eaves, identifying the compound as Sokju’s police headquarters. Four square flags jutted out from the terrace like spears, banners fluttering in the light breeze.

She counted the guards at the entrance, noting their stiff postures. Two at ground level and three on the upper level. Assassins or not, they were definitely more intimidating than the ones she’d slipped past last month. She drew back from the roof’s curved edge when one glanced toward her.

Her heart pounded. Had he seen her?

When no cries of alarm followed, she sneaked to the back of the building and dropped to the ground. Five guards should be easy enough to disarm, but she needed to witness Hong’s treachery before she gave away her position.

The light emanating from the magistrate’s office was a good sign, but she couldn’t hear anything from this far away. She had to get closer.

 

She reached for the bow slung across her back, then changed her mind. She tossed a stray rock down the alley behind her, the sound quiet enough that only the closest guard noticed. He whistled to the man nearest him, then marched toward the alley alone.
Chin Sun tucked herself into the recess of a doorway, waiting until he’d passed by to strike. With a sharp blow to the back of his head, he was out cold, as useless as a dead fish.

She huffed. She’d thought he’d be more interesting than tha–

Chin Sun whipped around, meeting the second guard’s hwando with her own. His narrow eyes assessed her, but her black mask and robes were indistinguishable from the garb of Sokju’s criminal underbelly. He would find no markers, no clues to her true identity. She had too much at stake for carelessness.

She pushed forward, her strength more than enough to match her assailant’s. He grunted under the strain but didn’t fold.

 

A third guard appeared in the alley, swiping his sword at her.

Chin Sun jumped back, glancing between her opponents. She needed to incapacitate them quickly; otherwise, they’d sound the alarm and the meeting she’d been waiting weeks for would be over.

They must have had the same thought she did, for they turned and darted back toward the compound. Too slow. Chin Sun swept forward, bringing her blade down upon one’s head, then the other’s.

The guards collapsed to the ground, and Chin Sun dragged their bodies into the alley with the first, safely out of sight. She vaulted over the left compound wall and pressed her back against the interior wall. Footsteps rumbled nearby in a steady rhythm. More guards on patrol.

 

She waited until they’d crossed the outer courtyard to the entrance, then scurried through the inner courtyard to the main pavilion where the magistrate conducted his business dealings.

Voices whispered within, one of them unmistakably Hong’s. The foreign language they spoke was answer enough to Chin Sun’s question of the man’s loyalty. Unlike most women in Joseon, she’d had the privilege to study multiple languages from an early age, and the hushed conversation was too monotone to belong to the Ming. The whispers tickling Chin Sun’s ears were Japanese.

 

So, he was in league with pirates. . . . Reports of attacks on the coast had been frequent lately, but Hong had always sworn he would protect the citizens of Sokju, no matter the cost.

Another lie. Chin Sun scolded herself for the way her heart deflated. She shouldn’t be surprised Hong was just as corrupt as the officials who’d come before him. She would deal with him the same way she’d dealt with the rest.

 

And then what? Where did it end? Hong Shik was Sokju’s fifth magistrate in the past four years. Every time she found enough proof to put one behind bars, a worse one sprang up in his place.

She just needed to convince Kim Min Joon to stop skulking about in corners and take the position. He would–

 

She broke off. She could hardly expect her old friend to step out of the shadows when she was doing the very same thing. Kim Min Joon may have been the son of a prominent yangban and a great candidate for magistrate, but he didn’t want to be in the spotlight any more than she did. He preferred being out on the streets among the people he was serving, not stuck behind a desk doing paperwork, even if it did afford more prestige than his current job as a police inspector.

 

“There he is,” called a voice from above.

 

Chin Sun ducked as an arrow whistled through the air, missing her by a hairsbreadth before it plunged into the ground. More followed in quick succession, raining down like fire from the heavens. 

 

What? Where were– She swung around, honing in on four men perched on the pavilion roof behind her.

 

Before they could nock their arrows a second time, Chin Sun darted behind the magistrate’s office, adrenaline pouring through her veins.

 

“After him!”

 

She took a deep breath as feet rattled against rooftop tiles and a series of dull thuds hit her ears. One, two, three, four.

 

Chin Sun unsheathed her blade, but when she stepped out of hiding, ten faces sneered back at her, arrows at the ready. Where had they come from? She’d never fought so many at once before. 

 

“Surrender, and your death will be quick,” shouted the leader.

 

Gwishin withdrew, fleeing south toward the market. More arrows flew by, but she didn’t stop. She had to keep going while she still could.

 

She cried out as pain erupted in her upper arm. One of the arrows was lodged in her flesh, creating a thin trickle of blood. She stumbled to a stop, then sped back up again as the guards drew nearer. 

 

Just a little farther. Then she could get home and remove it. She crouched behind a stall full of brassware, heart racing as the guards ran past.

 

Murmurs filled her ears, followed by a few shouts and more pounding feet. Too many to just be the magistrate’s guards. The night patrolmen must be searching for her now, too.

 

Chin Sun’s home lay in the center of Sokju, as was customary for yangban and jungin families. Yangban were the highest class in Joseon society and, apart from the royal family, the most powerful. Jungin, on the other hand, were considered middle class and, while privileged, didn’t enjoy the same benefits as their highborn neighbors.

 

Since Sokju’s government offices were also in the heart of the city, Chin Sun knew better than to return straight home after a night out as Gwishin. Instead, she normally disappeared into the forest at the city’s outskirts before circling back home.

 

But tonight, she wasn’t sure that was an option. The pain in her arm was making her dizzy, and she couldn’t afford to pass out. She had to get home, and fast.

 

Chin Sun hurried back the way she’d come, then cut through some side streets until she reached a familiar stone wall surrounding a group of raised pavilions with lanterns hanging from their eaves. Home.

 

Would everyone still be asleep?

 

She threw herself over the wall and slunk through the courtyard until she reached her quarters, chest heaving. She went to her secret stash of medical supplies behind the folding screen at the back of her room, then shoved a piece of cloth in her mouth. She yanked at the arrow again, the cloth muffling her pained moan.

 

The shaft came free, but blood streamed onto her clothes. Chin Sun took off her black robe and white underjacket, exposing the wound. She grabbed a handful of dried orchid root powder and pressed it into her injury to stop the bleeding, then began wrapping the area. Now that her adrenaline was wearing off, the burning in her arm was growing more intense.

 

Sharp knocks at the gate interrupted her, followed by a cacophony of voices and footsteps. Uncle’s voice rose above the din, but she couldn’t make out his words.

 

Had they found her? Chin Sun’s fear was slick, pulsating, seeping through her pores and filling her nostrils. She ripped the gauze with her teeth and tied it off before stuffing all her incriminating evidence behind the painted screen. She put a fresh sokjeogori underjacket over her shoulders, wincing when the fabric touched her arm.

 

When the voices outside died away, Chin Sun sighed in relief and crawled onto her sleeping mat. She’d made it, barely. How much longer could she keep this up? At the rate she was going, they were going to find her out soon.

 

She’d deal with that when it got here. For now, she needed to sleep so she could recover. Her healing rate was faster than a human’s, but her body could only take so much.

 

“Chin Sun-ah, are you awake?” called a nasally voice.

 

Chin Sun jerked into an upright position. A silhouette hesitated outside the hanji doors, one she recognized like the thrumming of her own heart. “Cousin, what is it?”

 

A young woman burst into the room, clothed only in her silk undergarments. She threw herself to the floor and whispered, “Unni, one of the servants said Gwishin was spotted just outside the house. Father is taking care of it.”

 

“Oh, he is? Good. You need not worry, then. Uncle will keep us safe,” Chin Sun replied, more breathless than she would have liked.

 

Her younger cousin was easily excited, and something as unusual as a sighting of the infamous vigilante would probably keep her awake for several hours.

 

Sang Mi frowned, then glanced at the door. “I wonder why Gwishin would come here. . . .” She shook her head. “It’s late. I apologize for waking you. I just wanted to let you know.”

 

The chagrin in Sang Mi’s eyes was genuine, but Chin Sun knew her cousin would do the same thing again within a few days. Sang Mi lacked restraint, even at sixteen, but Chin Sun loved her too dearly to fault her for it.

 

“I’m glad you told me.” She lifted her mouth into a grin despite the flames shooting through her arm.

 

Sang Mi smiled back. “Of course. I wanted to make sure you were all right, too. You are all right, aren’t you?”

 

Chin Sun nodded. “Yeh, but I am very tired. It was a long day. Might we discuss this more in the morning?”

 

“Oh, yeh. I’m sorry.” Sang Mi bowed, cracked open the paper doors, and scampered out.

 

Chin Sun stared at the door long after her cousin was gone, stomach still tight. Another night, another crisis averted.

 

But what happened when she wasn’t fast enough to get away?

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