#rmjeyun

WHO ARE THEY?

PERSONALITY

(+)  Meticulous, diligent, consistent, gentle (–)  Critical, evasive, nihilistic, controlling

BACKGROUND

[…]

Words I grew up with. Learned to expect for every revelation.

It happened the first time in primary school, as I suppose many first times do. I returned home from school with a note lauding me for perfect attendance and citizenship. “The boy is an angel,” I heard Mother giggle. Likely on the speaker phone with Grandmother. To be honest, it wasn’t difficult to achieve. I rarely came down sick, was quiet, and didn’t have the creative know-how or impetus to conspire mischief with my fellow classmates and cause a scene. The other voice crackled over the line something coy or maybe in retrospect it was just Grandmother’s finest brand of sarcasm, “must get it from you,” and then I heard Mother laugh for real.

Some years later, I tried my hand in sports. I didn’t have as much a knack for it as I did for my studies, unfortunately. My limbs were gangly and my hands much too buttery to keep the ball on my person, but my height automatically guaranteed me a spot on our small provincial team. Several students from homeroom made it to our first game. I remember my knees knocking furiously against one another and sweating buckets before I’d so much as wiggled a pinky toe in sneakers that were likely a size too big. The whistle blew and a rally of girlish cheers rang out. From the corner of my eye I could see Father perched delicately at the edge of his seat in the second row. His own gaze was oily, eyes wet with pride. I managed to score a few field goals that day, but our team finished in resounding defeat.

During the ride home, Father turned to face me with his face lit despite darkening skies. “You’re the very spitting image of your mother, you know,” he told me. Mother continued to drive in silence but she had on a wry smile that seemed to affirm his words. “And don’t worry, she was awful back then, too.”

You see, my parents met at university in the late 80s. Mother was on the basketball team and the radio club and dabbled in various social circles without ever committing to anyone or anything. My father was an unapologetic, flaming liberal. At a Great Worker Struggle protest on campus, a fight broke out between my father’s friend and some other hotheaded zealots. My father valiantly attempted to shield his friend from a downpour of fists. My mother, a passerby, threw a rock into the crowd to dissolve the fight. She ended up bringing my bull of a father to his knees with what would later be diagnosed as a mild concussion. Some months later, he would be back on his knees to return the rock and ask for her hand.

Everyone in our extended family enjoys recalling this story any chance they can, and particularly enjoy directing the story to me. They joke and say that my clumsiness stems from my mother, another hereditary blessing in disguise. That one day, it too will bring me good fortune in my romantic endeavors as it had for her. I am not so sure of this. I have never had any luck in this department. Maybe it is because I do not often think about it except when someone inevitably comes right out at the dinner table to ask if I have found myself a nice girl yet behind a nice mouthful of food.

Speaking of, my parents have run a humble mung bean pancake eatery in Wonju for as long as I can remember. Having helped out at the shop in my youth I can tell you that it is quite a lot of work but my parents are always happy to do it. For a while, the stall had been a neighborhood staple. But as the population of Wonju swelled, so too did the competition. By the time I received my acceptance letter to attend preparatory school in Seoul, new food stands were popping up like spores. Hearing about how long the queues for these stalls were as our shop’s own clientele steadily depleted, I expected to return home to grave faces and wordless meals—the sort of thing you might see on television with working class families like ours. But no such thing ever occurred. Our financial accounts remained somehow eerily stable. I very soon discovered why.

It was late in November. I was back home for Chuseok and had just finished the penultimate episode of You’re Beautiful. I happened upon Mother in the kitchen and was about to spoil the highlights but she ordered me to can it and watch. “Rewatch the episode?” I asked. Mother shook her head and smoothed her left hand over a crisp green bill of ten-thousand won, then told me to come closer. I scooted over with my eyes glued and my mouth puckered as if my life depended on it. From the flat of her empty right palm five bills blossomed, unfurling like a bud, each bill a petal.

Mother smiled at me and placed two of the bills into my hands. Allowance had never been quite so meaningful and meaningless. She told me that I would get the hang of this in due time. Because this, too,

[It runs in the family.]

—

Additional context (the cut and dry):

Jeyun’s power is genetic, a dominant trait from his mother’s side of the family. It is eventually realized by all offspring of the original carrier.

Jeyun’s mother has done well to keep the power secret from all apart from her side of the family, her husband—a human—and son; outsiders credit the family’s ability to keep themselves afloat to rumors that Jeyun’s mother originally comes from wealth.

Jeyun came into his powers at the age of fifteen. His first duplicated object was the last third of a red bean ice cream bar, because he decided then and there he deserved another third.

After finishing preparatory school in Seoul (2012), Jeyun took a year off. He then matriculated to Gumi International University for the Powered (GIUP) on full scholarship and after completing his second year, conscripted into the ROK Army as a translator (2015–2017). He has returned to GIUP and is currently a fourth year undergraduate student soon to graduate with a degree in Political Science.

WHAT CAN THEY DO?

DEFINITION

Object duplication: the power to perfectly duplicate any non-sentient object. Touching an object with his left hand will allow Jeyun to conjure an exact replica in his right hand. Touching the object with both hands allows him to track the movements and positions of copied objects regardless of how far they may be from him and the original object. 

WEAKNESSES

Jeyun cannot replicate living things except as inanimate objects. Copies he makes of people or animals materialize as dummy-corpses.

Replicas he creates vanish after a certain period of time corresponding to the size (and not complexity) of the object. For example, replicated diamond rings and paper clips may last up to a month in the world, while a monster truck may last only an hour.

Jeyun cannot replicate buildings, landscapes, etc., as these giant “containers” would require the simultaneous replication other fairly sizable elements. Attempting to replicate them would exhaust all of Jeyun’s stamina and then some.

Application of his power shouldn’t be abused as it physically weakens and desensitizes him. The larger the object and/or quantity, the more significant the toll on his body. The effects of weakening and desensitization last as long as the replicas themselves—Jeyun must either wait for the replicas to disappear or will them away himself in order to regain his strength and sensual sensitivity. In particularly bad cases where he has spread himself too thin, Jeyun might be reduced to a blind, deaf, limping noodle of a man.

Jeyun can only track the movements and positions of so many replicas—currency in active circulation tends to be the biggest headache of all.

Jeyun cannot alter or manipulate copies. If the tire on his hypothetical unicycle deflates, the best he can do is conjure up another flat tire and resign himself to a botched circus routine. If he is out at sea and his left swimming fin falls off his foot and sinks to the bottom of the ocean, he must make do with two right-footed fins and paddle ungracefully back to shore.

Freezing weather, arid conditions, and accessories like gloves and mittens all hinder Jeyun’s ability to replicate objects.

DID YOU KNOW?