Page 15 of Yumi and the Nightmare Painter

Wait.

That hadworked?

Wow. What next?

Well, if someone thought he was cool, then he shouldn’t undermine or contradict that. It felt like a good rule to live by. Even if this was his first real chance to experiment with it.

“Where am I?” he said.

“You are in my wagon,” the girl said. “The wagon of a yoki-hijo. I am Yumi, and this is my chamber.”

“And…where is your furniture?”

“I need no furniture,” she said, “as my sole purpose is to serve and to contemplate your greatness.”

That…felt like it went too far. He shuffled uncomfortably, then considered that maybe he could see where he was by checking out that window. He’d been deliberately avoiding that too-powerful red-orangelight. This entire experience was impossible, but that light…it wasincomprehensible. How could anything so bright exist?

With trepidation, Painter approached the window, though part of him was certain the light would burn him. It seemed so much more…well, justmorethan the twin hion lines. It was like the very essence of flame. He put his toe into it, cringing—but nothing happened.

He stepped fully into it and felt like he’d slipped into a warm bath. How strange. Blinking against the brightness, he raised his hand to shade his eyes and looked out. I wouldn’t call that amistake, not really. But like a ten-year-old asking for the explanation of where babies came from, he didnotknow what he was getting himself into.

Painter gazed up into a sky that was not dark. Instead it was a washed-out blue extending into infinity, dominated by an enormous ball of light. Like a huge light bulb in the sky except not soft and white, but angry and red-orange.

As if that weren’t enough,plantsdotted the sky. Big bunches of them, tended by great black crows that fanned them toward each other if they strayed. Flying objects buzzed around, organizing the crows and chasing away undomesticated birds.

The land went on forever, brown stone occasionally sprinkled with hovering flowers. It was a lot to take in. More than he could manage. He didn’t even notice, for example, that Yumi’s wagon was floating in the air.

What hedidnotice overwhelmed his remaining skepticism like a group of thirsty customers shoving open the door to the bar right before opening. This was real. But it wasn’t any place he knew about, or any place he’d read about. It wasn’t like his home at all. It was like…another planet?

“The star,” he said, pointing at a gleam on the horizon.

“The daystar, spirit?” Yumi asked from behind.

“The news report said thatpeoplelive on the star! That it’s another world, like ours. I remember…a nightmare coming down from the sky, engulfing me…”

It had taken him to this place, perhaps? Then was that his home, up in the sky, visible from this position?

“Powerful spirit,” Yumi said from where she knelt. “I don’t understand what you’re saying, but please. Could I know what you’ve done to me? And…how long you intend it to continue? That I might know your will, and properly worship it.”

Yeah…acting cool was one thing. Making a young woman think he was some powerful divinity was another. “Look,” he said. “I’m, uh, not—”

He was interrupted as a knock came at the door. Yumi raised her head in a panic, then glanced at Painter. “Please, spirit,” she said, “restore me.Please.”

The door opened and two women entered. One was short and squat, in her twenties, the other in her thirties and more willowy. They were dressed in similarly strange, too-wide dresses, their hair up in buns. Painter felt a bit of Yumi’s same panic. She might assume he was some kind of important spirit, but surely these older people would respond differently. What was the punishment in this land for being caught invading a young woman’s bedchamber?

The only thing he could think to do was fold his arms again in a confident posture. He thought it was impressive. It might have been—if you were a four-year-old wanting tips on how to pout.

The two women, however, walked straight through Yumi as if they couldn’t see her. They carried a small table, for sitting on the floor while eating, and a bowl of rice. They approached Painter and knelt, bowing.

He eyed Yumi, who stood up, her long hair snarled from sleep. She cocked her head, then walked forward and waved her hand in front of the women. “Chaeyung?” Yumi asked. “Hwanji? Can you hear me?”

The two gave no response. They remained kneeling, though one looked up at Painter. “Chosen?” she asked. “Are…are you well?”

Yumi gasped, her eyes widening. “Spirit…you’ve taken myshape?”

Had he?

Wait, no. He wasn’t a spirit.

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