My Boyfriend Is Not Human

Jisoo Park had a very simple plan for surviving university. Do not fall in love. Do not join clubs. And never, ever take a class taught by Professor Kim Jong-hoon, the man who thought attendance was a personality trait. She had failed step three. "Miss Park!" Professor Kim's voice echoed in the lecture hall that smelled like old paper and regret. He was holding up her midterm paper. It had a big red 42% on it. "Goguryeo was not, and I quote, 'a kingdom that was kind of there but like, fought a lot.'" The entire Ancient History 101 class turned to look at her. In the back row, Min-ho - captain of the basketball team, owner of the best smile on campus - gave her a sympathetic wince. Jisoo wanted the floor to swallow her. "You need 10 hours of volunteer work in the museum archive," Professor Kim said. "Or you repeat this class next year with the freshmen." And that was how Jisoo Park found herself at 11:07 PM on a Tuesday, alone in the basement of Seoul National University's History Museum, holding a mop and questioning all her life choices. The basement archive was creepy. The lights flickered. The air conditioners hummed too loud. And in the middle of the room, under a single spotlight, was the statue. It was taller than her. Black jade, polished so smooth it looked wet. A general kneeling, his arms bound behind his back with jade chains, his head bowed so low you couldn't see his face. His hanbok was carved with such detail you could see the folds. His hair was long, tied up. The little plaque in front of it said: GUARDIAN RYU - GENERAL OF THE NORTH, 48 BC. Cursed by the King for betrayal and love. Said to contain a trapped Dokkaebi. DO NOT TOUCH. DO NOT BLEED NEAR. PROPERTY OF NATIONAL HERITAGE. SERIOUSLY. Jisoo snorted. "Dramatic much?" She was supposed to mop around it. But her phone was buzzing - her mom calling from Busan. She stepped backward, her cheap sneakers squeaked on the wet floor - Her ankle twisted. She fell, hard, her hand slamming against the sharp corner of the statue's pedestal. "Ah! Aish!" Blood. Bright red against the black jade. Three drops fell from her palm right onto the feet of the statue. Sizzling. Jisoo stared. The blood didn't just sit there. It was absorbed. Like the jade was drinking it. Then the lights went out. All of them. The AC stopped. The emergency exit sign died. Pitch black, except for the statue. It was cracking. A thin line of gold light spread from where her blood had landed, up the legs, up the chest, up the neck. Kra-kra-kra-koom! The jade chains shattered. The statue lifted its head. Jisoo couldn't breathe. Under the broken jade helmet, there was a face. Not stone. Skin, pale and perfect. A sharp jaw, lips slightly parted, and eyes - eyes that were opening slowly, glowing gold like molten honey. He looked right at her. "Late," he said. His voice was hoarse, like he hadn't used it in a thousand years. Deep. Accented with old Korean that even Jisoo's bad history grade could recognize as ancient. "You are late, my priestess." Jisoo did the only logical thing a 21-year-old girl in a haunted basement would do. She screamed at the top of her lungs, threw her mop at his face, and fainted backwards into a pile of 2,000-year-old scrolls. --- She woke up to someone eating her pudding. "My pudding," she croaked. The man - no, the _thing_ from the statue - was sitting on the infirmary chair next to her hospital bed. He was still in that black hanbok, his long hair now loose around his shoulders. He looked even more handsome up close, which was unfair because he was supposed to be a cursed artifact. He held her strawberry pudding cup, the one she had saved from lunch, and was staring at it like it was a bomb. "This... this is trembling. Is it alive?" he asked seriously. "Give it back!" He handed it to her, offended. "I was guarding it for you. You fainted. Very dramatically. Like in a drama." Jisoo sat up. Her hand was bandaged. The infirmary was empty except for them. Outside the window, it was still dark. "Okay," she whispered, "Okay, this is a dream. I inhaled dust. I have museum fever." "I am Ryu," he said, ignoring her. He leaned forward. Too close. She could see his eyes were not normal - the gold ring around his pupils moved. "Guardian of the North. Bound by King Daemusin. You freed me with royal blood. Your blood." "My blood is O+. My mom said it's common!" "Not your blood type. Your line. You are the last daughter of the Star Priestess. I would know your soul anywhere. Even after 847 years, 3 months, and 14 days." He reached out to touch her cheek. His hand was freezing cold. Jisoo slapped it away. "Do not touch me! I'm calling the police! Or a monk! Or my mom!" Right then, the infirmary door slammed open. Professor Kim rushed in, sweating, with a security guard. "Miss Park! Are you okay? We heard a scream! And the Goguryeo statue - it's gone! It shattered!" He stopped. He stared at Ryu. Ryu, without missing a beat, stood up and bowed - a perfect, elegant, deep Joseon bow that no 20-year-old should know. "I am Ryu Han," Ryu said in perfect modern Korean now, his accent suddenly gone. "Exchange student. From Jeju Island. I... came to help Miss Park when she fell. The statue... it was already broken when we arrived." Professor Kim blinked. "Exchange student?" "Yes," Ryu smiled. It was a devastating, K-drama-lead smile. "I was just transferred to your department. Ancient History 101. I love... old things." The security guard whispered, "Professor, should I check the cameras?" "No need, no need!" Professor Kim waved him off, already charmed. "Ah, good, good! A new student! You will help Miss Park finish her volunteer hours tomorrow!" The guard left. Professor Kim left. Jisoo was left alone again with the thing that was not human. The smile dropped from Ryu's face. He turned back to her, gold eyes glowing again in the dim light. "See? I can lie now. I learned from watching that glowing rectangle in your pocket. You humans lie very well." He sat back down, picked up her pudding again, and added, "Also, you are now cursed. Look at your hand." Jisoo unwrapped the bandage. Underneath, on her palm where she had cut herself, was not a wound anymore. It was a small, glowing blue mark, shaped like a crescent moon. It pulsed, in time with his breathing. "Welcome back, my priestess," Ryu whispered. "We have 90 days to find my soul before we both die." Jisoo looked at the mark, at the impossibly handsome not-human boy eating her pudding, and thought: I'm going to fail Ancient History AND die.