moon, tell me if i could. send up my heart to you?

january 21, 2003. yun soe's 100 day celebration.

traditionally, at the 100 days mark of a baby’s birth, a party is thrown. soe's dad wasn’t entirely sure who half of those visiting were. some faces were familiar at the wedding, it explained somethings but not quite all of it.

for instance, why was everyone so radiantly beautiful? they introduced themselves as businessmen and women, tech workers, artists, but any of them could have walked off a runway. after the wedding, they had collected a large sum of money. it helped them buy a home and start their family.

but usually the 100 day’s birthday party for a baby was close family only… and who were all these people?

jinah makes her way to the baby, this was perhaps her fifth party of the day and it was barely 2pm. she sets her glass of champagne down, and carefully grips the sides of the baby’s pram. her perfume is laced with the alcohol coursing through her system. she’s drunk, functional, but definitely drunk.

“aigoo… our descendents make such beautiful babies.” the baby cooes at the touch of the warm hand to her cheek, “but our bloodline tapers off, i wonder if this means we’ll eventually die out. not you, though soe-yah.” she brings her thumb over her forehead, tracing a gentle pattern, curving along soft peach skin, and causing the tiny baby hairs to stand on end. is it electricity in the air? no, it’s old magic. the magic of the lands, and the witch blood that courses through the baby would inevitably show into adulthood.

“soe-yah, may every word that slips from your lips be more beautiful than the last. may every step you take be forever guarded, may no injury or illness befall you, and may your life be long and bountiful….”

as she trails off, she thinks to herself: gosh these are hard to do. why are so many babies born this year. and i can’t even be creative, i’ve run out of ideas! i’ve been repeating the same things…this is boring. i should change it up a little.

“and may in love, all scales be tipped in your favor and may no man ever wrong you lest they be struck by—”

“jinah!”

“oops, sorry, i don’t mean dead but if the gods will it. and maybe maimed a little, men really suck. maybe you’ll be lucky and a lesbian—”

“JINAH.”

“okay, if not! dating men is fine. just ugh, they really suck and it’s better if they get hit by a car if their heart’s not pure— or all of them—”

“jinah! are you done yet?” her arm is tugged on and her thumb lifts from the baby’s forehead. the blessing placed, soe would have a long, healthy life ahead of herself.

“whaaat, this is like the tenth one today, are we done?”

“go greet her parents, give them the gift, and then we can leave to the next.”

“fineeee…” jinah yanks the fat envelope full of crisp 500,000 won bills and looks for her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-(how many greats? she’s forgotten now)-grand cousin who married some human man.