Thank you for

purchasing our zine!

No Strings Detached is a product of love for

Mystic Messenger and creativity. Custom Main
Characters (CMCs) are made out of passion,
and we are happy to have been able to express
that passion in a collaborative and ambitious
way.

The Red String of Fate is an Eastern mythology

in which a person’s true love is connected to
them by an invisible red thread that cannot be
cut.

To say that no strings are detached is to say

that you are still conntected to your love, even
if they are in a different world, even if they are
connected to someone else.

Whether or not you believe in true love or fate,

the organizers and contributors of this zine
hope you enjoy what we have to offer!

With love,
Talentlesshuman
 If Every Piece of You Disappeared
Written by BaconWaffle, Illustrated by Waffletop

~0~

There’s something about the ocean that makes one stop and stare, suddenly filled with a
calm they hadn’t realized they’d yearned for until the moment they saw it. They feel a sense
of calm when they hear the water rolling with the tides, when their noses fill with the scent of
salt.

It is that scent and those sounds that causes you to stir before anything else. An unconscious,
soft smile starts to grow across your face. It doesn’t take long for you to remember: you’re at
the beach today.

And you didn’t come alone.

“—Mi-Cha! Are you awake, yet?”

“Hyung, can you not yell? She’s right here.”

“Yeah, but she’s been sleeping for like an hour. Who takes a nap during a beach day?! A nerd,
that’s who.”

The conversation above your head makes you let out a soft giggle, not even a little bit
annoyed that your nap has been interrupted. Slowly, your eyes open, only to squint at the
sunlight. The silhouettes of two red haired boys you know very well are standing above you.
As you blink to focus, the sunlight fades out to reveal their features— and your grin grows.

“It takes one to know one,” you retort.

“That’s Master Nerd to you,” he replies with a smirk.

“As long as you admit it,” mutters the boy next to him, his gold eyes a bit dull and tired, but
his smile serene as he holds the parasol above his head to block the sun.
“Anyway, Saeran and I were going to get some ice cream—wanna come with?”

...Ice cream? Immediately, you sit up, feeling a slight buzz under your skin. The taller boy
stares at you for a moment before he burst out laughing.

“You’re hilarious, MC! C’mon, let’s go,” says the boy, his hand reaching out for you.

As you giggle, your hand lifts to grasp his palm—

...

..

Mi-Cha wakes up, the alarm from her phone blasting her from her dream.

As her heart pounds, she stares at her ceiling as she breathes in and out. When she blinks,
Mi-Cha realizes that her hand is still reaching upward to grasp a palm that isn’t there— is
no longer here. She swallows hard, her mouth trembling. Then the hand reaching out lowers
slowly to softly land the back of her palm on her head.

~1~

Mi-Cha’s Friday has gone by in a blur, so far. Before she realizes it, her shift has ended at
11am, leaving her several hours to kill before she has to head back to the academy. So, of
course, the first place she heads to is Jaehee’s coffee shop.

Being surrounded by so many smells that she can almost taste, Mi-Cha is still surprised she’s
managed to hold back her cravings for all the sweets and food food food around her. She
knows she’s almost bouncing in place in her seat, her brown eyes round as she takes in all
the newest decorations added to the cafe. Her gaze catches Jaehee at the counter, who
sends her a gracious and amused smile before addressing her current customer. Mi-Cha lifts
her hot latte to her lips, smiling around the rim. It’s amazing that Jaehee was able to start
her own business, especially one that she’s clearly passionate about. Mi-Cha finds her chest
filling with warmth; she honestly couldn’t be prouder.

Not wanting to distract Jaehee further, especially as the cafe begins to get packed, she de-
cides to settle back down in her booth and then take out her phone. Her thumb moves across
the screen, scrolling until she finds the app she’s looking for, and Mi-Cha beams. She presses
against the RFA logo and waits for the chat to load.

MC has entered the chat.

Yoosung⭐: ...MC!

Zen: Finally, you’ve returned to me! I was getting so lonely…

MC: Haha, sorry about that. I had to go to work this morning.

Zen: How much do you have left?

MC: Just a shift tonight, but it’s no big deal. A lot of it is going to be one-to-one
sessions, which I prefer more, honestly.

Zen: Let me know when you get out! I can pick you up and we can get dinner
later… ;)
Mi-Cha giggles, feeling that little buzz under her skin whenever Zen sends her a flirty mes-
sage. He’s been doing this since she joined the server, but it only seemed to get worse after
that first party she planned months ago. Not in any way that’s really serious or deep (May-
be?), but still in a way that Mi-Cha always finds herself enjoying. With a bite of her bottom
lip, she pauses to think of a reply— only to see the chat come to life!

Yoosung⭐: Oi, oi, oi! What’s the big idea, Zen?!

Zen: What? I’m just being a gentleman and offering a lovely working lady a free
meal! Is that a crime?

Yoosung⭐: Uh-huh, yeah, sure—

Ray has entered the chat.

And that sentence alone is enough to make Mi-Cha’s heart stop and then just as fast, drum
rapidly against her ribs. She stares at the name on the screen, her throat tight.

Ray: The hell’s going on now…?

Yoosung⭐: Oh, hey Ray!

Zen: And just like that, the grumpy goblin decides to come out of his cave.

Ray: My skin got goosebumps with the sensation that a dumbass conversation
was happening between two dumbasses. From the backread, I’m guessing that
was you two.

Zen: I was just having a talk with MC. Honestly, is that such a crime…?

Mi-Cha squints at the convo, especially as Ray sends another emoji indicating how annoyed
he is. What is going on...? For some reason, even before the RFA noticed her sneaking into
their app months ago, there was always this weird tension between Zen and Ray— not as
bad as the sort Zen has with Jumin, but still— and it only seems to have gotten more appar-
ent when Mi-Cha stuck around.

Still, she sits up straight and focuses all her attention on the convo.

Ray: ...Whatever, pretty boy.

Zen: 😡

Yoosung⭐: ANYWAY
Ray, where’ve you been? The guild will really need you soon, this new boss has
been kicking our asses all week—!
 Ray: Sorry, man. Vanderwood has me on this new job, and it’s pretty tedious. I
should have it finished by tonight though.

Yoosung⭐: Ooh! What kind?

Ray: Idiot, you know I can’t tell you that...

Yoosung⭐: I know, but, still…

Mi-Cha swallows hard, and decides to type into the chat.

MC: ...Is it safe, Ray?

There’s a pause, not too long, but enough to be noticeable. Mi-Cha swipes her tongue across
her teeth/lips, her free hand suddenly drumming her fingers against the table. Was that the
wrong thing to say? Did she reveal too much? Should she even care…?

All her thoughts stop when she sees him respond.

Ray: Yeah, it’s fine. It’s annoying, but nothing I can’t handle. Like I said, I can get
this done by tonight, easily.
So, don’t worry about me, MC.

She snorts at the message. Easier said than done. Asshole. Just who does he think she is?
Does he...does he not remember…?

A familiar anger makes her pulse surge, her blood roaring in her ears. Mi-Cha pauses her fin-
gers over her phone, wanting to call Ray out on his bullshit, especially in his dismissal of her,
of all people. Like she never meant anything to him, like she’s nothing more than a stranger.

Then she takes a deep breath, and then exhales slowly. No. It’s not time yet.

MC: Okay! Take care of yourself, and feel free to reach out if you want to talk.

Ray: ...Yeah, sure.

Mi-Cha’s free hand stops drumming her fingers against the table, only to clench into a fist. Is
that really all you have to say to me…?
Again, she shakes her head. This isn’t the right time, and the chat isn’t the right place for it.
Instead, Mi-Cha decides to change the topic and hopefully diffuse the tension in the cha-
troom.

MC: So, what are you all up to?

Zen: We were actually thinking about taking a day off to go somewhere.

At that, Mi-Cha beams. She quickly types out a very succinct and professional response.
 MC: Oh? 👀👀
Tell me more, tell me more, Lovely Zen.

Zen: I shall, I shall, my dear. 😉

We’re thinking either a road trip to the countryside or to the beach, still unsure.

MC: The beach?! 🤩

What a coincidence, I was thinking of the beach earlier today!

Ray: ...You were?

Again, she feels that awkwardness settle in her stomach. Should she message “Ray” the
memory she dreamt of last night? Mi-Cha finds she really wants to, more than anything.
She’s been wanting to have a serious and honest discussion with Ray for months, since she
first saw him at the party, since she realized they knew each other very well. He’s probably
the only person who can really understand everything she’s been feeling since she returned
to Seoul after so many years away.

Again, that feeling: Not time yet.

So, Mi-Cha types something else instead.

MC: Yeah. I haven’t been to one in years, so. Idk, might be nice to go…

Yoosung⭐: Same here! I could really use a break from my internship and univer-
sity. Plus, it’s been getting really hot lately!

Zen: Tell me about it, I’m basically sweating my makeup off every rehearsal. A
beach day is precisely what we need!
Okay, it’s decided. Tomorrow, we’re heading to the beach!
What say you, goblin? Wanna tag along?

Ray: The beach? With all that…sand? And sun…?

Naw, I’ll pass.

Mi-Cha frowns, her mouth pursing and her eyes narrowing. Oh, hell no—

Zen: Okay, fine.

Yoosung⭐: ZEN
C’mon, Ray, it could be really fun 🌞

Ray left the chat.

Yoosung⭐ Damn it…

Hang on, I’ll text him.

Zen: OK lol
I gotta head back to rehearsal. I’ll be by later to talk about tomorrow.
See y’all later~💖

Zen left the chat.

Yoosung left the chat.

MC left the chat.

 ~2~

Before the RFA party, there had only been one other time Ray communicated with Mi-Cha
personally– through text. At the time, because she hadn’t realized who he was, she didn’t
understand why he did it. Mi-Cha didn’t think she’d need the information he gave in the text,
as she’d been fortunate that the hacker who tricked her into coming to Rika’s apartment
hadn’t made any other moves at the time. Even when she finally met Ray face to face at the
RFA party, watched as he ignored her presence and didn’t even say goodbye when the party
was over, he never mentioned the information again. She was certain he didn’t want her to
actually use it.

Still, she couldn’t take him ignoring her any longer. While glaring at her phone, Mi-Cha
promptly grabs her cup and downs what she had left of her latte. As she swallows, her fin-
gers manage to scroll to the text Ray sent her:

RAY:
Just in case the hacker messages you again, or does anything weird, come to this
address. You’ll be safe here…

As soon as she memorized the address, Mi-Cha called for a cab and headed over there. She
made sure to tell the driver to stop at least a block away from the location— the last thing
she wants to do is get Ray in trouble with his job—and then she stepped out and practically
stomped the rest of the way there.

And that’s how she’s ended up here, blinking at what’s in front of her. A...a bunker? Mi-Cha
thinks, then tilts her head. But...why? Then she shakes her head. That’s not the issue right
now. With a frown, she pulls out her phone and dials Ray’s number. She stares at the door
again, feeling a weird weight in her stomach, knowing that this is where her old friend has
been living all this time.

While she stares at the door, the camera above it whirs to life, its visor zooming in on her
face.

On the other side of that camera, his eyes light up a moment as he curses under his breath.
“Damn it, woman,” he rasps. “What the hell are you doing here…?”

Then he realizes his phone is ringing.

He looks away from the CCTV, from her face, and sees her RFA nickname blaring on his
telephone screen. His teeth find his bottom lip to chew on, his heart pounding loud in his ears.
Oh, this is bad. Such a bad idea. If he talks to her now, again, after all this time—

“But you should talk to her,”

croons a playful voice, the voice that has haunted his mind for almost four years. “You owe
her that much, after ignoring her for so long...”

“Shut up,” he snaps, then grasps the side of his head, fingers pulling at the roots of his dyed
hair. “The hell you know anyway?!”

“I’m just trying to help, Saeran.”

“Just do what you’re good at and leave me alone!”

Silence is what answers him. Shakily, he turns to see the empty space next to him and he
stares, his heart thudding like a drum.

And then he picks up the phone.

“...Hey.”

“‘Hey’? Is that really all you have to say to me, Saeran?”

“You really shouldn’t call me that here,” he tells her, his eyes darting to the other room, where
Vanderwood likely is. Granted, he’s unlikely to get in trouble— Vanderwood is still paranoid
around him, enough to avoid him whenever possible— but still. “It isn’t safe to use that name
right now.”

“...Then can you come out and talk to me? Please. I haven’t— we haven’t talked. Not since the
party, not a real conversation anyway.”

“What is there to talk about, Mi-Cha?”

“...I don’t know.”

There’s a silence, an awkwardness that has become too familiar between them—something
that had never been present before, when they were still children and tightly connected
through the surprising friendship they found with each other. They hadn’t been exactly inno-
cent, but it had been good and safe and Saeran would honestly do anything to have those
days back. With a swallow, he turns to stare at the CCTV screen, only to nearly choke when
he sees Mi-Cha looking up at the camera with gleaming eyes, her mouth trembling.

Unconsciously, his hand lifts to lean his thumb against the screen, as if to wipe a tear that
hasn’t shed yet—then his hand flinches away, as if burned.

“...I’ll be right there in five minutes. Don’t move.”

When he hangs up, Mi-Cha glances down at her phone screen and then back up at the cam-
era, her mind wandering. Exactly five minutes later, she jumps at the sound of a metal door
opening and whips around to see someone backing out of what looks like an underground
garage while in a black Sedan with tinted windows. Once on the road, the driver turns and
drives towards where Mi-Cha is standing, slowly parking the car next to her.

The driver’s window rolls down to reveal Saeran, who somehow looks even more worn out
than the last time Mi-Cha saw him. Rather than the pink and white suit he wore months ago
at the RFA party, he now wears a black hoodie that seemed too big for him and a red shirt,
along with loose sweatpants. He’s even removed those contacts he always wears, which
make his eyes look green; seeing the familiar gold nearly makes Mi-Cha choke. He gives her
a look and then nods his head to the passenger seat.

“C’mon, let’s get this over with.”

Mi-Cha’s stomach drops right to her toes, but she still nods. Biting her lip, she walks around
to get into the passenger seat. After buckling in, she turns and ends up locking gazes with
Saeran. They share a stare for what seems like years, as if it’s the first time they’re seeing
each other since Mi-Cha and her father moved to the U.S. years ago. They hold their gazes
to each other for another moment before Saeran breaks away and switches the car back
into drive.

“Where do you want to go?” he asks.

Mi-Cha swallows her nerves, then replies, “Anywhere, I don’t have to go back to work until
7pm.”

“Okay, then. Next stop, the province of Anywhere.”

That gets her to snort, warmth curling inside her chest, but Mi-Cha takes care not to let
herself do any more than that. She just turns and leans the side of her head against the cool
window. The right side of Saeran’s mouth twitches at the sound, but he also does nothing else
except place the car back in drive.
 …

..

The drive itself isn’t too long, but the silence between them makes Mi-Cha feel like hours
pass by. If the sun wasn’t still up and high in the sky, she would probably feel like it was
already past time for her to rush back to her job. As he begins driving along a highway next
to the ocean, she finally turns to look at Saeran for the first time since she got in the car.
Her eyes take in how he’s filled out, the lean muscles hinted at in his torso and arms, and the
exhausted and haunted look in his gaze. Saeran is definitely not the shy but witty teenage
boy she left, not anymore. She wonders, when he looks at her, if he even sees a fraction of
the girl he’d known.

Just as she’s wondering about such things, Saeran finally finds a place to park. He slowly rolls
into a spot off the highway, one that overlooks the ocean. He stares ahead for a long time,
then glances to meet Mi-Cha’s eyes, and then looks ahead again.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says. “Weren’t you supposed to give me the third degree or some-
thing?”

Mi-Cha feels her throat close hearing him speak—Even your voice is different. I missed so
much—and she finds that the big speech she’d composed in her head, the one that would
rightfully call Saeran out and get him to be her friend again, has completely disappeared
from her mind. She blinks, her mouth parting so she could attempt something— only to slow-
ly shut. Her gaze lowers back onto her lap. It’s no use.

“...I don’t know what to say,” she chokes out. Her teeth nip at her bottom lip for a moment,
before she adds in a trembling voice, “All this time, I just can’t…”

A pale hand lands on her shoulder, then gently squeezes. Mi-Cha is filled with the sudden
urge to press her palm to the top of it, to tangle her fingers with his, the way they used to
do as children— but she resists. Instead, she lifts her gaze and turns to face him. Although his
expression seems passive, there’s an odd desperation in his stare, an emotion that makes his
gaze bright like molten gold.

They share a heavy stare between them in the silence, their faces unconsciously leaning
closer, engaged in a painfully familiar pull between them.

“Then let me start,” he finally says.

“Okay,” she replies, her gaze captured in Saeran’s eyes—gorgeous eyes that could only be
mirrored by one other.

“...Saeyoung is dead.”

“...I know. V told me.”

Saeran doesn’t look surprised by her answer. Mi-Cha sees his mouth twitch, seem to trem-
ble— and then the next thing she knows, arms are wrapped around her, and Saeran is turning
to bury his face into her neck. The angle is awkward, and probably all sorts of painful for him,
but Saeran doesn’t seem to care. He only squeezes his arms around her, his nose brushing
against the skin of her neck.

Being so close to him now, with the heavy news between them, Mi-Cha begins feeling her
throat close up, feeling the pressure behind her eyes give way to tears that roll down her
cheeks. Her lips tremble and purse together in her resistance to let them part so she could
sob anew. A raw sort of burning starts in her chest, rises up her throat, and spreads all
through her body. It’s the sort of agony that can’t be described in words, but if Mi-Cha had
to, she would liken it to the feeling of receiving a punch to the chest that leaves a deep cra-
ter that could never be filled again. She inhales a sharp breath, only to release it in a shaky
exhale; and then, with a strained whimper, she buries her face in Saeran’s shoulder.
“...I should have been the one to tell you,” Saeran says almost to himself, probably at least
thirty minutes later. By this point, both him and Mi-Cha are in the back of his car, with her
leaning his head on his shoulder while he tilts his head to lean on hers. Their hands rest be-
tween them on the leather seat next to each other, their fingers curled into the seat so their
knuckles can brush.

Mi-Cha nods against his shoulder, her eyes closing. Slowly her hand moves to press her
knuckles against his. “How did it happen? V wouldn’t tell me.”

“He was in the car with Rika. I—I guess he couldn’t get out in time before the...cliff. And with
how the tides were that day…we couldn’t even bury them.”

Her bent fingers lift just the slightest, in an almost stroke against his. When she takes a deep
breath, Mi-Cha smells hints of mint ice cream and perhaps even Dr. Pepper. The mix feels
incomplete, but still—Just like home.

“...Do you really think it was an accident? Like everyone says?”

“I don’t know,” Saeran sighs, leaning his head back. “I wanted to believe it at first but...the
whole thing never felt right. Still doesn’t. And I hate feeling this because...I trusted Rika. We
all did. But…”

“It feels like she kept secrets.”

“...Yeah.”

“I want to visit him, where you all placed his gravestone,” says Mi-Cha. “Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

“...Will you come with me?”

Saeran inhales sharply, then turns to stare out the window. He thinks of Saeyoung, the last
image he remembers of him as he stood beside Rika, waving and grinning proudly as Saeran
left to train at the agency. He remembers his brother’s grin, his boisterous laugh, and his
terrible jokes. He remembers it all, and the guilt settles like lead in his stomach, the guilt that
he essentially stole the life Saeyoung could have had. The guilt that often whispers to him at
night that he should be the one dead or disappeared, not Saeyoung.

And knowing that, he can’t imagine Saeyoung being happy to see him visiting his grave—
but he won’t tell Mi-Cha that yet, especially not now. Baby steps, thinks Saeran, his heart
hammering.

“I will, if you need me,” he replies softly.

She looks at him and nods. Then her eyes lower in thought before she asks her next question,
“...Will you come to the beach with us tomorrow?”

He blinks, his mouth pressed together in a straight line, and his gaze moving to avoid hers.
After a moment of thinking, he carefully asks, “Do...do you really want me there?”

“Of course, Saeran,” says Mi-Cha. She lifts her head to look up at him, her smile still warm,
still kind. “We used to love going to the beach together, the three of us— even you, with your
fancy umbrellas—”

“Hey, it’s not my fault my skin is sensitive, okay—”

“—and what better way to celebrate becoming friends again, right? I know that we’re differ-
ent now, in many ways, but I want us to be close again or at least try to be.” Mi-Cha pauses
to glance away, biting her bottom lip, before rolling her eyes to lock her gaze with his again.
“You’re the only one in the RFA who really knows me. I...I can’t lose you too.”
You never did, Saeran wants to say, the words burning in his throat, but he quickly swallows
them down. He puts on a tired, annoyed expression and rolls his eyes.

“Fine, but only because someone’s gotta make sure Zen keeps his hands to himself,” he
drawls, his eyebrow twitching the slightest bit as he remembers just how Zen gaped at Mi-
Cha when they had the RFA party three months ago, like she was the first woman he ever
saw— Yoosung too, actually. Idiots, he grouses mentally. As fond as Saeran was of the RFA
(some members more than others), he still couldn’t help but feel exhausted around them
sometimes, even in the chat (again, some members more than others).

But seeing Mi-Cha beam up at him, her eyes watering again—this time out of happiness—
and hearing her choked laughter against his chest...

Well, that made his choice all worth it.

 Fated
Written by Mrs. Han, Illustrated by Arisatorin

“New order coming in, Kaoru.”

He lifted his head from the velvet-lined suit he had pressed. “Who is this for?”
“Han Jumin.”
Kaoru blinked quickly and cast his eyes back towards the lapel in his hands. “Hm. Sounds fancy.
Where have I heard of him, Bao?”
The designer scoffed. “Han Jumin? That big CEO man on Cherry Street.”
“H-Hold on,” Kaoru stammered, his crimson eyes bulging slightly. “A CEO wants us to tailor his
suits?”
“Not just any CEO, Kao. Han Jumin. This is a huge opportunity, and we can’t squander it!”
Kaoru paused, a swell of anxiety against his chest. “What if this CEO is trying to put us out of
business?”
The designer looked towards him. “What?”
“We’re a little mom and pop shop, boss. We’re in between a sushi restaurant and dry cleaners.
Aren’t you... a little suspicious about this man’s intentions?”
A smirk glid across Bao’s face. “The intentions he has of getting his suits fixed?”
Kaoru’s brow furrowed. “No... agh, never mind.”
The designer placed his hands on Kaoru’s shoulders and gently squeezed. “Relax, Kao. Not every-
one is out to get us.”
“You wouldn’t have said that a year ago,” Kaoru mumbled. “That critic? That scandal that your
clothes were made from the hay found in horse stables?”
Bao cringed. “Oh, you just had to remind me about that...”
“What if this Han Jumin is the same critic? Or, what if a critic is using his name to put us out of
business completely? Or -”
Kaoru’s rambles stopped as soon as the phone rang.
“Finally, some peace,” the designer joked as he answered. “Bao and Kao’s Fashion Boutique, Bao
speaking.”
Kaoru fiddled with the lapel he was handling as Bao’s expression went from one of ease to alert.
“Yes, you’re a representative for Han Jumin?”
Kaoru mouthed the word Speaker, acting like a phone was in front of him and pressing an imagi-
nary button. Bao pulled the phone away from his ear and pressed the speaker button.
“This is Han Jumin’s Chief Assistant, Kang Jaehee. Unfortunately, I believe there was some mix-
up. You see, another assistant set up the appointment at the wrong location. Therefore, I would
like to cancel the appointment that was made with your shop as soon as possible.”
Bao’s lashes fluttered, and Kaoru closed his eyes while biting the inside of his lip.
“I understand,” Bao’s voice dropped. “Then, we’ll cancel -”
“Assistant Kang.”
A strong, masculine voice jerked both Bao and Kaoru to attention.
“Mr. Han -”
“On second thought, keep the appointment. My tailor just called to inform me that he’s feeling
ill.”

Kaoru’s eyes widened, and he stared at the phone with a fascination that seemed similar to a child
being granted a piece of chocolate after dinner.
“Of course, Mr. Han. Mr. Bao?”
“Yes?! Yes!” Bao replied frantically, making Kaoru suppress a laugh.
“We’d like to -”
“On second thought, make it for today,” the masculine voice boomed. “The sooner I have this suit
fixed, the better. So we’re heading there now.”
Today? Now? Kaoru mouthed.
“Do either of you have an opening today at your earliest convenience?” The kind yet authorita-
tive voice asked.
Kaoru looked around the shop and gasped. There were pieces of cloth strewn about the place
along with buttons and clasps that he had forgotten to put away.
“Yes, of course!” Bao answered enthusiastically.
“No, no!” Kaoru blurted, batting at his manager.
“... Pardon me, which is it? Yes or no?” The Chief Assistant didn’t seem very amused - or very
patient, for that matter.
“Yes,” Bao answered firmly. “How soon would you like to come?”
“Your shop seems to be about sixteen minutes out. We will be there at 1300 hours.”
“Sixteen minutes?!” Kaoru gasped.
“We will surely see you then! Drive safely!”
With a click, the call ended - and Kaoru’s nerves flew through the tiny shop’s chimney. “Do you
see how messy this shop is?! Bao, our place still smells like cheese tteobokki!”
“Will you relax?!” Bao yelled, startling Kaoru. “We’ll spruce the place up a bit, light some incense,
it’ll be fine!”
Kaoru lifted a brow. “... Incense in a fashion boutique?”
“... Fine, wise guy. Bring out the air fresheners.”
~~~
Kaoru flinched as the needle stuck to his skin again.
“Would you stop messing with that,” Bao commanded irritably.
“I can’t,” Kaoru hissed, staring at his fingers.
“You can, and you will. What’s this CEO going to think, seeing your fingers all torn up?!”
“Look -” Kaoru paused as the door to the tiny shop opened, a little bell triggering the arrival. A
woman, regal in her own right, stepped through and flattened her skirt.
“The CEO seems... more feminine than I thought,” Bao whispered.
“Will you quit,” Kaoru hissed. “It doesn’t matter what he looks like. What matters is that we fit
him properly.” Kaoru took a step forward and politely bowed his head. “Welcome, Mr. Han. It’s a
pleasure to meet you. Please let us know what you’d like done, and we will -”
“Forgive me for interrupting you,” the woman spoke, her hand raised. “But I am not Jumin Han.
He is still coming from the car and will be here shortly.”
Kaoru froze, still with embarrassment. “O-Oh, you...”

Time stood still as the door opened again.

A tall, elegant man stepped through the threshold, ducking slightly to avoid hitting his head
against the doorframe. He pushed his bangs from his face, only to have them fall over his steely
gray eyes in a matter of seconds.
He looked at Kaoru, his eyes striking, and extended his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you. My
name is Han, Jumin. Thank you for taking the time out of your day to meet with me.”
Kaoru couldn’t move, nor could he speak. The man before him held such a majestic aura, one so
powerful that he couldn’t fathom touching the man’s hand.
“It’s a pleasure,” Bao interjected, shaking Jumin’s hand in Kaoru’s place. “Sir, would you mind
telling us what you’d like done?”
Jumin brought his arms forward and fiddled with his sleeves. “The sleeves of this jacket are far
too short. As you can see, the edges meet with my forearm rather than the base of my wrist.”
Bao nudged Kaoru to take a closer look - the young man tumbled awkwardly into Jumin and
gasped. “I’m so sorry, sir!”
Jumin didn’t move, nor did he respond immediately. Kaoru dragged his gaze downward when he
noticed it. A single red string attached to Jumin’s suit. He tugged at it gently, pulling more of the
string from the suit.
“How soon do you think you can finish?” The woman asked as she glanced at her watch. “Forgive
me for being so forward, but we have a lot to attend to today.”
“I-It won’t take long at all,” Kaoru stammered, shaking his gaze from Jumin’s attire. “Mr. Han, if
you would follow me.”
Jumin obliged his footsteps mere inches behind Kaoru’s. Then, desperate to keep the awkward
environment at a minimum, Kaoru cleared his throat as he guided Jumin to a small room. “Sir,
may I ask you a question?”
“Go ahead,” Jumin nodded.
“Do you happen to have any pets at home?”
Jumin paused. “I do have a cat at home. A Persian purebred named Elizabeth the Third. She’s
magnificent, if I may say so myself. The most beautiful woman my eyes have ever seen.”
Kaoru blinked - did he just call his cat a woman? “I would love to meet her someday. I’ve always
wanted cats.”
“What’s stopping you from getting one?” Jumin asked gently, his once icy demeanor soft and
almost child-like.
“I’m so busy with this shop. Well, both Bao and I.”
“Bao.” Jumin gestured to the door. “The young man who pushed you towards me?”
“That’s him,” Kaoru grinned. “We opened this shop not too long ago, you see. And we...”
He stopped himself. Why was he telling a client all this? Where was the guard he had up just
minutes before Jumin had arrived?
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Jumin spoke as he stepped on the stand and extended his arms. “But
you wouldn’t want a cat to interfere with your business.”
Jumin’s eyes then began to wander, further flustering Kaoru. “Let me take your measurements,”
he exclaimed as he grabbed a measuring tape. “You... aren’t wrong. I wouldn’t have enough love to
give to the little thing, nor would I have enough time to spend with it.”
Jumin watched Kaoru as the timid young man measured his chest and his arms. His movements
were gentle, yet slow - calculated, yet uncertain. And for one reason or another... the young man
kept picking at something.
“It may not be my place to say this, as we’ve just met,” Jumin began as he cleared his throat.
“But I believe that all of us have love to give in one form or another. You choose to put your love
towards your work, which is admirable. It is something we have in common.”
“Is that so?” Kaoru smiled as he stood from his crouched position. “I wouldn’t know what the life
of a CEO is like, particularly.”
Jumin huffed silently. Fearing he had offended his client, Kaoru quickly went about changing the
topic. “Still, you make me envious of the idea of having a pet. I can see how fond you are of her,
what with the red strings attached to your suit.”
“... What red strings?” Jumin asked slowly, patting at his chest.
Kaoru’s eyes widened as Jumin’s hand clasped over his. In a split second, he felt an awakening - a
side of him that needed to protect this man. To watch over him, to make sure he was all right.
“Pardon me?”
Jumin’s voice broke through rapidly, and Kaoru jolted in place.
“What seems to be the matter?” Jumin asked tentatively. “You seemed to escape me for a mo-
ment.”
Kaoru stood with his mouth open, unsure of what to say or how to say it. So instead, he lifted the
red string into Jumin’s view.
But instead, Jumin squinted. Confused.

“You don’t... you don’t see it?”

Jumin raised a brow, and just as he opened his mouth to respond, a gentle knock on the door
stirred both men.
“Forgive me for intruding,” Bao’s voice came through. “But we need to speed this up a little, Kao.”
Kaoru snapped to and yanked Jumin’s jacket off of him, much to Jumin’s confusion. “I’ll be able
to get this to you in a day or so, Mr. Han. After that, you’re free to leave. Thank you very much for
coming in on such short notice.”
Kaoru’s words were so jumbled that even Jumin had to take a moment to reflect on what had just
happened. “I’d like to see it.”
“See... it?”
“The string.” Jumin extended his hand and wiggled his fingers. “Where is it.”
“Mr. Han, we need to be leaving. Your meeting is across town, and we can’t afford to be late.”
The woman’s words sounded urgent - so much so that Jumin let out a sigh and put his hand in his
pocket. “Then. When will you have the jacket finished?”
“Within the next day,” Kaoru nodded. “I’ll also go about hiding the strings to make them less
noticeable.”
Jumin wanted to ask more - Kaoru could just tell by how he stood and how he looked, his facial
expression conflicted and troubled. But he bowed his head instead, ever the gentlemen - and he
left the room as silently as he had come in.
~~~
Kaoru fiddled with his client’s jacket, noting its powerful scents of citrus and seawater. So friendly
yet intimidating in one fell swoop.
The red string poked through the sleeve of the jacket, and Kaoru stared at it silently. How had
Jumin gone so long without noticing it? It was on him, for crying out loud. The only way it could
be avoided was if the man actively pretended it wasn’t there.
Kaoru pulled gently. Much to his dismay, more of the string presented itself - there must have
been fault from the original designer. Still, why would he go about stuffing red in a charcoal black
suit? It didn’t make any sense...
“Kao, dinner is here!”
Kaoru lifted his head and pulled Jumin’s jacket close to him as he walked out of his workshop.
Bao smiled proudly at him and displayed the many styrofoam containers of food. “Ta-da! I
splurged a bit on dinner. I hope you don’t mind! The woman Mr. Han was with gave us a fairly
hefty tip!”
“That’s nice,” Kaoru muttered.
“You have to tell me how everything went.” Bao pulled a chair eagerly and opened a box stuffed
with fried rice. “How was the CEO? He didn’t give you any trouble, did he?”
“Bao, tell me I’m not going crazy and look at his jacket.”
Bao stopped himself from taking a bite. Then, with a sigh, he dropped his chopsticks and stood,
eyeing the jacket in Kaoru’s hands. “Hm. Seems like... a regular jacket to me.”
“So you don’t see it either?”
“See what?”
“The red strings are poking out of it. You don’t see it?”
Bao snorted. “Did you drink rainwater again?”
“Bao, I’m serious.”
“No. No, I don’t see any red strings.”
“That’s impossible,” Kaoru whispered. “They’re right here, clear as day. How do you not see it?”
Bao covered his face. “Maybe it’s just been a long day. You were anxious earlier. That may have
something to do with you making stuff up.”
“I’m not making it up,” Kaoru blurted desperately, clutching the red string between his fingers.
“Look at it! Why would any designer do something so -”
“You aren’t holding anything.”
Kaoru uttered a small cry. He rested his hand on the jacket and tried to stop himself from saying
anything else. How was it possible that nobody else could see something so blatantly obvious?
“You need to eat something,” Bao sighed. “Maybe you need to take a break from that jacket alto-
gether.”
“I can’t,” Kaoru uttered. “I told him to pick it up tomorrow.”
“Eat first, at least. Next thing you know, you’re going to tell me you see teeth attached to the
jacket.”
Kaoru frowned but silently took a seat, the jacket draped over his lap.
~~~
“Order for Han Jumin! How long!”
Kaoru patted the jacket down and grabbed the scissors from his workstation, pulling at the string
to cut it at the base. “Less than five minutes, Bao!”
As if it were any other loose piece of fabric, Kaoru snipped at the string. He didn’t think anything
of it - until a dizzying sensation took over his entire body. Kaoru grasped tightly to his workbench
and let out a strangled gasp, a sound he didn’t know he was capable of.
“Kaoru, I just got off the phone with - whoa, hey!”
Before he could hit the ground, Bao caught Kaoru’s limp figure. “Kaoru, what’s going on?!”
“Nothing,” Kaoru mumbled as he staggered to his feet. “I’m almost... almost done, I just need...”
Kaoru’s eyes swelled - the red string had gotten longer, trailing to the ground.
“Kaoru...”
“He can’t come today. The jacket isn’t finished.”
“What are you... Kao, do you remember who this client is?”
“I know, I know.” Kaoru rubbed his temples. “But it isn’t finished. The string, it’s more apparent
now than it was yesterday.”
“Kao... seriously, what are you talking about. There is nothing there. There is no red string.”
Kaoru viciously rubbed at his eyes. It had to be a joke now. There was absolutely no way -
The bell to the shop jingled. In stepped Han Jumin himself and his assistant, carrying with her a
folder crammed with papers.
“Hello! Kaoru has the jacket available,” Bao smiled.
Jumin strode forward and reached over and stared at Kaoru, pure intent in his eyes. “Where is it?”
“R-Right here,” Kaoru stammered. “I couldn’t get... I couldn’t get the strings out, sir.”
Jumin stared. He stared intensely at the jacket and Kaoru. Kaoru, nervous that he would melt in
place, looked at his feet... and Jumin spoke.
“Where may we speak privately.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a direct demand.
“Right through here,” Bao frowned as he opened the door to the fitting room.
“Mr. Han -” his assistant began.
“I know. It won’t take long.” Jumin stepped into the room, and Kaoru followed like a dog on a
leash.
As soon as the door closed, Kaoru bowed deeply. “I’m so sorry, sir. I fixed the sleeves, and every-
thing is in order, but -”
“You can see them?”
Kaoru straightened slowly.
“The strings,” Jumin annunciated. “Can you see them.”
“Yes,” Kaoru whispered. “Yes, I can. I tried to cut one strand before you came, just one, and I...!”
Jumin’s expression was grim. “You what.”
“I blacked out. I swear, I couldn’t see straight, and I collapsed.”
Jumin crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes.
“I swear, sir. Look. Look and see, there are -”
“I didn’t think anyone could see them.”
Jumin’s soft murmur made Kaoru perk up. “Sir?”

“I thought I was the only one plagued to see these strands. These
hellish strands that cling to me endlessly. I didn’t expect for anyone else
to notice them, but you...”
Kaoru’s mouth fell open. “You can see them. You... you can see them!”
“Of course I can see them,” Jumin huffed. “They’re attached to me like a curse.”
“Why... how?”
“I was hoping you could tell me the cause. You seem shocked yourself.”
“We...” Kaoru paused to think. “We can hide it. Yes, we can bury it in your sleeve, or... have you
thought about wearing burgundy jackets? It will -”
“I have a better idea,” Jumin interjected. “You will replace my current tailor.”
“... Excuse me?”
“My assistant and I have already gone through the details and drafted up the paperwork. Your
manager, alongside this business, will be partnered with C&R International. We usually don’t
partner with small businesses, but this is a fair exception. Once we finish going over the details,
you will be employed under C&R before noon today, and your manager will be fairly happy about
his new stocks.”
Kaoru scoffed. “Wait, you expect me to leave this place? Here and now? Just because I can see
some... strings that are attached to you?”
“What do you have to lose?” Jumin asked innocently.
“Wh... everything!”
“I can assure you, Kaoru. You have everything to gain. There is absolutely nothing to fear with this
change.”
Kaoru shivered at Jumin’s words as if an invisible breeze passed through him. “I don’t know...”
“Think about it,” Jumin smiled, handing Kaoru a crisp business card. “I’m afraid I have little time
to persuade you now, but I will be in touch.”
Kaoru offered a weak smile back - that was precisely what he was afraid of. “Sure, I’ll... I’ll think
about it.”
“Then. Excuse me,” Jumin bowed, grabbed his jacket, and exited the room.
Both he and his assistant were gone in a matter of seconds. Kaoru clasped the card close to him as
Bao approached, a yawn on his lips. “I hope they come back soon... I offered the lady a bunch of
your green tea cookies. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I do,” Kaoru muttered, tucking the card in his pocket.

Blissfully unaware that a red string dangled freely from it.

 Of Little Faith
Written by Sunny, Illustrated by 1409

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it.”

Jihyun was in desperate need of some fresh air, weaving through the waves of students that huddled
together in the stuffy living room. The air had grown hot, sticky, his patience wavering with every clap
on his back and every roar from the never-ending game of beer pong.

He had slid aside the glass door to the balcony, confident that the other guests were far too engrossed
in the festivities to notice a ghost like him fade from view. However, upon stepping out into the cool
evening air, he discovered that the balcony which he had previously assumed to be empty was, in fact,
occupied.

She must have noticed the growing rose in his cheeks and the slight crack in his voice, as she offered him
a kind – perhaps pitiful – smile, “Don’t be silly, you’re welcome to join me. I’d like the company.”

Perhaps it was the smile, or the gesturing nod, or the way she shuffled to the side as an invite for him
to take the space next to her, but he found his feet moving towards her before he could even really
acknowledge it. He leant on the railing, careful to not let his elbow brush against hers, as they silently
watched over the bustling, quaint Italian city.

Jihyun didn’t entirely understand why he had chosen a year abroad in his final year of university, nor
did he understand why his father had agreed to it in the first place. Maybe it was the promise he had
made to focus solely on his studies and was just in need of a fresh environment to do so, or maybe it was
because his father knew that he already had his son locked down, that he had no need to worry about
him straying from the path he had personally laid out for him. Because he wouldn’t, Jihyun also knew
that. He wasn’t going anywhere.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you take one swig of that beer since you got here,” she said with a playful
chuckle, the same sweet smile gracing her features, “not a big drinker?”

He swirled the amber liquid in the bottle, shrugging a little, “Just not a fan of beer really. It was thrust
into my hand when I arrived and to be honest, I felt too awkward to put it down.” Jihyun had a surge
of courage then, turning his body to face her entirely, one arm on the railing, “And what about you? I’ve
only seen you barely take a sip of your wine since it was poured for you.”

Because it was true, she had caught his attention nearly the second he arrived, and Jihyun felt an almost
youthful spark of euphoria at the fact that he had also caught hers.

“It was a thank-you-gift from a friend for hosting this party, bless her. I didn’t have the heart to tell her
that wine makes me ill.”

They stared at each other for a moment before erupting into giggles, wordlessly exchanging drinks and
settling back into their place above the city.

If he had only been watching her before, he was now actually perceiving her. She was the personification
of a free spirit, even by her looks alone. Long, wavy, brown locks fell over her shoulders, messily tossed
over one side. Her long, light skirt just brushed against the top of her raggedy boots, and she currently
wore a jumper that was entirely too large for her and was the kind you’d expect grandpas to wear. There
was jewellery anywhere jewellery could be, gemstones displayed on nearly all her fingers.

It was not just her looks, though. All evening she had been a harbour, a source of spirit. Everyone prac-
tically flocked to her every time she walked into a room. Her night so far seemed to have consisted of
tight embraces, full-bellied laughs, unstrained smiles and casual touches. Comfortable, friendly intimacy
was apparently her forte, something that was sufficiently unfamiliar to Jihyun, some may say he was
starved of it, but he was also wildly fascinated by it. This girl was an enigma to him.

She was absolutely delightful.

And now, away from the energy of the party, she appeared so calm. She was a picture of peace. Sublime,
Jihyun might say, but only to himself.

“I’m quite surprised to see you at a first-year’s party, to be honest. Aren’t you third-years too mature
and sophisticated for that?” she teased, her eyes still fixed on the city ahead but he could see the curve of
her lips and the glisten in her eye.

“I live in the flat below. My flatmate was invited but he begged me to come along to keep him company.
Although,” he said, turning to watch his friend inside who currently had his tongue down a girl’s throat,
“he seems to be doing just fine.”

“He’s having fun, I’d say he’s doing more than just fine. It’s nice to see, so many people are content with
‘just fine’. Too many, I think.”

“I’m guessing that was a dig at me,” Jihyun said amusedly.

“Not a dig, just an observation. And besides,” there was a knowing smile on her face that revealed both
everything and nothing at once, “you’re not like that I don’t think. You’ll be the one hosting parties one
day. Once you learn to let go.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

She finally moved her eyes away from the hustle and bustle below and turned her whole body to him,
giving him a once over. He felt the urge to squirm under her gaze. It wasn’t a look of scrutiny that he
was so used to, especially from his father, but one of care. It was gentle, warm. Tender.

Jihyun damn near jumped out of his skin when she moved towards him. The last thing he was expecting
her to do was ruffle his hair, moving down to unbutton the first few buttons of his shirt before untucking
it from his trousers. He looked around frantically, fretting about how this would look from an outside
perspective, what assumptions would be made. She didn’t seem at all bothered.

She stood back from him, admiring him as though he was her artwork. With a satisfied nod and a sip of
her beer, she returned to her space on the railing, as though nothing had happened. As though her heart
wasn’t pounding against her ribs like Jihyun’s was.

“And what was the point of that?”

“The start of you letting go.”

“A lovely thought, but I don’t think it works like that.”

“But it did.”

“How do you know?”

“Your shoulders have relaxed and the crease between your eyebrows has smoothed. You show more
than you tell, even when you don’t mean to.”

“Oh yeah? And what else do I show?”

“Your eyes,” she noted, “they’re yearning.”

“I think you’re giving me too much credit, I don’t think I’m capable of creating something so beautiful,
unlike you.”

“Oh ye of little faith.”

He watched her now with a newfound curiosity that felt foreign to him. What was it like to see the
world through her eyes? How was the way she looked at the city different from his? How could he live
up to her expectations of him, and why did he have such a desire to do so?
Jihyun didn’t have long to ponder over these thoughts, however, because just as soon as they were
raised, they flew away with the sliding of the door. Another girl stumbled in, eyes frantic and voice
panicked, “Jane! Sofia is throwing up in the bathroom and she’s asking for you. Would you mind…?”

“Okay dokay, I’ll be right there,” Jane replied, pulling her friend into a side hug and planting a kiss on
her cheek with a loud smack. Jihyun noticed the anxiety drain from the girl, from her face to her feet, her
jumbled jabbering replaced by light giggles that tumbled out of her mouth freely as she skipped back
inside.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Jane chuckled, taking a hair-tie off her wrist, almost as though she was prepared
for this situation. Jihyun assumed she was.

“Good luck, Jane.” Her name fell easily from his lips, felt welcome on his tongue, like he had been
saying it all his life; like a distant memory.

“I’ll see you around,” she said, pulling him into a tight embrace. In normal circumstances he would
have been startled and flustered by the gesture, and though he definitely acknowledged the heat in his
cheeks, he couldn’t help but feel that he was expecting it. It was just so her, whatever that really meant.
He felt an ineffable urge to find out.

“And I will see you around,” she teased, positively beaming at him, “you can’t get rid of me that easily,
Jihyun.”

He didn’t know how she knew his name, but he didn’t even get a chance to ask as the moment it left her
lips, she left him on the balcony, bouncing back into the flat to comfort her friend.

Jihyun’s eyes followed her as she left, and now fell on the activities that took place inside. He had only
spoken to her for no longer than twenty minutes, but in that time his whole perspective had shifted, no
doubt in part due to Jane and their encounter.

The guys shouting and cheering as they played beer pong no longer poked at his nerves, but rather
excited him and made him want to join in on their jubilations. The music was no longer a dull beat in the
background, but now had his feet tapping. The couple making out in the corner no longer repelled him,
but now made him think of the buzz of young love, the beauty of the reckless and the free.

His once immovable hold started to slack, but there was a thrill that came with the guilty grip of his
fingertips, for now they held on with the intention of one day letting go.

***

As he came out of his class Jihyun got a glimpse of her, grocery bags up to her elbows. However, that
was clearly not enough to dampen her mood, as she stumbled down the path with a smile on her face
and joy illuminating her features.

She caught his eye and in a split second she was bounding towards him, greeting those who seemed to
recognise her on her way. Clearly he wasn’t the only one charmed by her.

“Jihyun!”

“Hello, Jane. Are you going back to the flat? Let me carry some of that for you.”

But just as he went to relieve her of some of the weight, she glanced into one bag, a twinkle in her eye
and a sly curve in her lip. His heart danced.

“Let’s go for a picnic!”

“Right now?”

“Right now. I know a lovely spot, let’s go!”

And just like that, Jane grabbed his hand and all but skipped down the street. At some point he had
managed to take some of the bags from her, finally settling on 50/50 despite the fight she put up.

During their casual chatter, Jihyun asked her how much he’d owe her for the food, which was only
returned by a wave of her hand and a stubborn shake of her head.

“I’ll just provide the food next time then,” he stated.

Neither were particularly good at hiding their excitement at the concept of a ‘next time’.

**
Jihyun sat stiffly on her bed as he tried his hardest not to shuffle under her attention, the brush gliding
across the canvas in quick, free movements. Every time she glanced at him he felt his chest flutter, the
feeling unfamiliar but not unwelcome.

Something within him shifted again when she finally revealed the finished product, and he was over-
come with a desire to create, every paint stroke examined only fuelling this more. A string of compli-
ments and expressions of gratitude fell from his lips, and he looked up at her before she could shy away,
“Please may I paint you too?”

Jane’s expression fell ever so slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by Jihyun, “Wouldn’t you rather paint
something else?”

“No,” he said, eyes locked on hers, “I would like to paint you.”

With hesitant hands she handed him the resources, fiddling with her fingers once they were no longer
occupied. Jihyun had never seen her so unsure.

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” she laughed, timid and uncertain but only to the trained eye.

“Hmm,” Jihyun surveyed the room, spotting the slightly battered but obviously well-loved guitar in the
corner. “Play me something.”

And so she did, fingertips plucking at the strings with such grace that Jihyun worried he would never
do her beauty justice. But in time, the sketches became paint and the hums became song, both lost in a
sanctuary they had built with their trust and inspiration alone.

“You’re lovely,” he said.

“And you’re wonderful,” she replied.

Jane almost cried when she saw his finished piece, though she wouldn’t reveal to him why. He’ll find
out one day.

He’ll know her one day.

 **

The day Jihyun told his father he would no longer be pursuing a career in business, Jane had waited
anxiously in her room, leg bobbing and teeth gnawing at her lips. She had practically jumped out of her
seat when she heard a huge door slam from below her -- from Jihyun’s flat. No more than half an hour
after his father had arrived.

She waited a moment, then her phone lit up.

Jihyun: It’s done.

Jane didn’t bother asking if he needed someone, she knew he’d lie. Essentially throwing herself down
the stairs, she made it to Jihyun’s front door, only to stop in her tracks at the sight of a man in a crisp
navy suit leaning against the wall, pinching the bridge of his nose. She saw a glimpse of her own father
in his stone demeanour, his cold expression. Her stomach turned.

He saw her, sparing her barely a glance, then moved past her. Though it became abundantly clear that
he had given her far more than just a glance when he spat something under his breath, stopping just
next to her, eyes forward.

“Know your place.”

“Sorry,” she bit out, turning her head to look him dead in the eyes, “I don’t like to stay in the same place
for too long.”

He scoffed, “You’re all the same.” And he disappeared down the stairwell.

Jane flew to Jihyun’s door, quietly tapping her knuckles against the wood. It wasn’t long until he opened
it, a small and unconvincing smile plastered onto his face as he let her in. He shut the door behind her.

“Come on,” she cooed, opening her arms for him, “let it out.”

He finally crumpled into her then, head in the crook of his neck and shaking arms in a death grip
around her waist. He didn’t cry, but the sheer force with which he held onto her told her all she needed
to know. He was broken, but in the same way that the sun must break through the morning in order for
another day to begin.

At some point they descended to the floor, and there they stayed until sunset, her hands gently combing
through his hair.

**

Jihyun stared at his phone.

Jihyun: Haven’t you seen you recently, you okay?

Jane: oh, yeah sorry! i’ve been kinda sick so just cooped up in the flat hahahah,
i’m all good though! i’ll be around again soon, just don’t wanna make
you ill as well!! so stay away you!! ;)

It was simple enough, but Jihyun couldn’t stop the anxiety from creeping up his skin. He decided to text
one of her flatmates asking if they could just check up on her, so he knows that she’s okay, that she was
telling him the whole truth in her text, despite what his gut was telling him.

She had never been this quiet.

He got a text back a couple hours later saying that everyone else went home for the weekend, and that
she usually forgets to lock the door during the day so if he feels the need to, he can probably check up
on her. She wouldn’t mind the intrusion if it’s him, they said.

It was evening when Jihyun decided that the worry was too much and he went upstairs.

He knocked once, no answer. Twice, no answer. After three knocks, the adrenaline kicked in and he
entered the silent flat. He rushed to her room, and released a shaky breath when he spotted her through
the crack of her door, sound asleep at her desk. Still not completely convinced, though, he approached
her slowly, and his heart dropped.
Her face was coated in black smudges, from both the charcoal in her hand and the mascara that ran
down her cheeks and collected under her eyes. Underneath her was her sketchbook, one that she
never let anyone touch, let alone peek in. On one occasion she had let him move it, which shocked her
flatmates to no end, but he didn’t look inside. Now he saw a glimpse of the angry, painful, dark sketches
as they lay under her sleeping head.

Everyone thought of her as a painter, that is what they knew of her; nobody was aware of the charcoal
lines she scratched against the paper behind closed doors. He inspected them further, identifying one as
a self-portrait, and Jihyun almost felt sick from how she portrayed herself - anxious, tired, alone - and he
suddenly understood why she had become so emotional the day he painted her. She just simply didn’t
see herself with the same beauty that he did, that she was, which was evident by the harsh, ugly lines
that filled the pages of her visual diary.

Having cried herself to exhaustion, Jihyun easily lifted her and carried her to her bed without so much
as a stir. He tucked her in, bringing the blanket up to her chin and smoothing down her hair, watching
with unfettered affection as her eyes fluttered in her sleep.

Jihyun slept on her sofa that night, unwilling to leave her completely alone. They’d talk in the morning,
but for now, he let her rest.

***

Their reckless wandering had led them here, settling down on Jihyun’s bed and watching over the
city where they had built their friendship, much like the night they met. Jihyun’s chin rested on Jane’s
shoulder, his arms looped around her middle, her back against his chest. Neither one knew that the
other was lost in their thoughts, let alone that one was significantly more lost, and not the kind of lost
she so often craved.

The call she had received only a couple weeks before played on repeat through her already busy
mind like a broken record. It popped and crackled like one too, her choked sobs having been her only
response before the cold click sounded on the other end, followed by deafening silence.

She hadn’t done enough. She hadn’t reached her end of the deal, and now she had to face the con-
sequences. It had been one year and she had still not impressed her father, so Jane was to return to
England to study law, following the path her father had laid out for her in the beginning. Jane always
thought she could get away with a little bit of wandering, but this particular adventure had come to a
close and this time, she was completely powerless. Jihyun didn’t even know yet.

She was set to leave in the morning.

She gritted her teeth and brought herself back to the present, savouring every luscious moment she had
left with him. Her next adventure would come soon, she thought, but right now, as the sun painted
the sky with warm hues, she wanted to stop running for just a moment, since her greatest discovery
currently held her in place. Jane never liked staying in the same place, but now there was nowhere else
she’d rather be.

Despite the pleasant silence, there was still a heaviness that hung in the air. Words that hadn’t yet been
said, the knowledge that they both felt the way they did but were comfortable simply basking in the
warmth of their company. But now they couldn’t help wondering if friends really held each other like
this. Longed for each other like this.

Intimacy had been so alien to Jihyun that he started to question whether his overbearing desire to have
her in his arms was as innocent as he convinced himself it was. Whereas Jane was
always free with her affection, never a second thought when she held and
kissed her loved ones, void of romantic ties. But now she was painfully
aware of his hands on her, his nose pressed against her neck. There was
now hesitation in her affection, and there was urgency in his intimacy,
both alarm-ringing signs that something here was different, and the
powerful seduction of the unexplored was oh so richly felt by both
parties.

Jane suddenly jumped out of Jihyun’s grasp, crossing her legs

in front of him. He mirrored her action, his confusion quickly
dissipated by intrigue.

“I need you to promise me that, no matter what, we’ll always

find each other. That come what may, we’ll make our way
back to each other, and will have unwavering faith that we
will do so, no matter how unlikely it seems. Please, promise
me, Jihyun.”
Jihyun didn’t question her request, he rarely did. Rather he raised his pinkie, waiting for her to lock
her own with his. She wanted to laugh, it was such an incredibly sweet gesture. But instead she took it
firmly, binding them together in the vow they made, though they both imagined that binding was there
even well before the night he had found her on that balcony.

And it was right then, in the glow of dusk and the quiet of the nearly sleeping city, that their lips
brushed against each other for the first time. It was hesitant, tender, yet electrifying. It wasn’t long until
they invited more, hands roaming over unexplored territory with new eyes – eyes that no longer hid
behind the words unsaid. They welcomed their once hesitant curiosity with unbridled abandon, selling
their secrets to the night, fumbling hands putting the key in the last lock on their hearts.

Jane didn’t sleep, she simply savoured his embrace every second before dawn as he slept. Limbs
tangled, skin against skin, souls intertwined. But once the first rays of morning showed their colour, she
knew it was time to go.

Her head lay on Jihyun’s bare chest, his arm draped lazily over her, his quiet, shallow breaths tickling
her skin. Jane took the opportunity to absorb his features, committing every detail to memory in a rare
moment of grounded presence. Hot tears spilled from her eyes as she untangled herself from him and
collected herself, unable to look away from him for more than a second despite the colours swimming
together as she silently cried beside him.

She had told him so many times to let go, and he had, and that was the quiet boy’s cry. Now this was the
wild girl’s whisper, for all she wanted was to hold on with all the strength she could muster.

She found some paper and a pen, the ink leaving her last request of this adventure. She refrained from
writing the three words that had hung on her tongue since he first took her in his arms, knowing that
if she did so, she might be admitting that it was her last chance to tell him. Because it wasn’t, she had
promised.

Jane placed the note on his bedside table and leant over him, giving him a gentle kiss on his cheek so as
not to wake him. “Until next time, my love,” she whispered, and left.

Jihyun woke to an empty side of the bed, cold and void of that which he longed for. “Jane?” he called
out, eyes falling on the messily folded piece of paper beside him. His heart hammered against his ribs as
he opened it out, eyes scanning over the only two words she left him.

Have faith.
Jihyun chuckled despite the sting in his eyes and searing hot sorrow in his veins. It was only two words,
but it was enough. It had to be.

He took the spare key she had given him, knowing that her flatmates were once again not in, and went
to her balcony – where they had first unknowingly made their promise.

He lifted his pinkie to the sky. “You were trying to tell me something, weren’t you? I promise I’ll pay
more attention next time. Next time.”

As he held his pinkie up, he felt an invisible tug, like the sky had tied string around it and pulled.
Suddenly he felt something wash over him – relief? Peace? Hope? It hit him after a moment, abruptly
and strongly.
“I’ll find you, my dear, but until then -
Have faith.”
 Hope
Written by Daisy, Illustrated by mm12578

Saeran was unhappy.

Though not an uncommon feeling for the other man after all he’d been through, being in the
hospital evoked the feeling strongly. He was constantly feeling judged, being watched, and
it felt suffocating. His lack of choice was all too obvious now. If having most of the control
he had over his own body being taken away wasn’t enough, being forced to see people he
didn’t want to deal with was the final nail in his coffin.

It was overwhelming, upsetting, and made him want to disappear more than ever before.
Trying to shut out the rest of the world wasn’t an option, as it only forced its way in. Unless
he had to answer whoever stopped by, Saeran ignored their questions and small talk, and
eventually they gave up. Everyone had, except for that boy.

Rowan had been easy enough to lure to the apartment. He obviously hadn’t trusted Saeran,
and was just as uneasy around the RFA at first. However, he stayed to work as their party
coordinator simply because he “had nothing better to do”. Of course, with the tense situation
that developed, he became far from bored. “Terrified” was a better descriptor.

The guilt Saeran felt over that was overwhelming. He’d been the one to choose Rowan, to
lure him in, to try to kidnap him. He killed a man right in front of him. Had it not been for him,
the party coordinator wouldn’t have ever been dragged into this. Which made it all the more
confusing when he came to visit alongside his brother.

The ex-hacker had been so shocked at his appearance, he remained silent only because he
wasn’t sure what to say. His guest left defeated, but he returned alone the next day, and the
next. In fact, despite Saeran’s silence, Rowan kept showing up, coming by to ramble at him
about his day-to-day life and eventually to sit quietly and read. The silence was a lot more
comfortable.

He let the silence remain til the other man came to his defense from a rude nurse. After that,
he hesitantly reached out, reigniting his guest’s desire to speak to him. The ex-hacker barely
replied, and his guest enthusiastically continued on like it was normal. It started off shakily,
and he would cut short any inquiries on his wellbeing and brushed off Rowan’s attempts at
comfort on bad days, but it went well.

They had made a lot of progress since then.

The last time Rowan was here, he held his hand. The other man had sensed his upset and
reached to comfort him. Despite his first instinct to push him away, he accepted it without
argument, not returning the favor or rejecting it. It felt so warm. When was the last time he
got to feel another’s touch without being hurt or manipulated in the process? A brief image
of his brother’s arms wrapping around him flashes in his mind, and he scowls.

Saeyoung. Saeran still wasn’t alright with him, not fully, but he was trying. As much as he hat-
ed it, he was jealous of his twin. Not just for his carefree lifestyle all these years or the friends
that supported him so steadfastly, but for his relationship with Rowan. When he saw them,
they were laughing and falling over each other or comforting one another. There was always
some physical contact, and so much trust.

Rowan had confirmed that no, they weren’t together like he had assumed, but the bond they
shared was perfectly sweet. He felt starved watching them. It was then, when he deciphered
what that tension he felt when he saw them together was, that he faced his feelings for the
brunette.

He was smitten. Completely, utterly, sickeningly smitten; when he realized his feelings, he
had grown so nauseated it made his head spin. He wasn’t entirely sure he was in that deep,
but only such a dramatic word could describe the heaviness with which it weighed on him.
Someone like him wasn’t meant for feelings like this.

The next time Rowan visited, Saeran blamed his suddenly more reserved behavior on the
medicine he was being given. He wasn’t questioned, but the guilt of lying stung.

Saeran couldn’t let himself feel this. It was inevitable that he would prove himself yet again
to be a monster. He would hurt Rowan and it was eating him alive, but he’d rather let the
feeling fester inside of him than cause the man any more pain or stress. It was easier said
than done.

Nothing had filled that deep, all-encompassing void of guilt inside of him but the other man’s
visits. Hiis quips and words of comfort provided some relief. It was barely making a change,
but the air still felt lighter around him. There was no tension, no distrust, and he never felt
cornered.

He could just exist, never feeling pressured to do any more than that.

These awful feelings threw a wrench into that, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle. Just
like every other thought and feeling, he wanted to push it down in the hopes of suffocating it
until it was quiet or died. Or until it explodes and destroys everyone around you, a small voice
in the back of his mind whispers. That was just as likely, and the thought terrified him. His
hands clench in the thin sheets of the bed, trying to ground himself the best he can.

Downstairs, Rowan worries his bottom lip between his teeth, tapping his boot nervously
against the ground as he waits for his security escort. He knows his anxiety comes off as
impatience to the staff, giving him more room than everyone else as he leans against the
wall, and he lets it stay that way. With the feelings swarming in his mind, he was sure that
any invasion of his space might set him off.

After countless visits, coming to see Saeran during his recovery became a routine he enjoyed
greatly. It wasn’t always this nice; the first few times, he came with Saeyoung, but after be-
ing met with silence, he persuaded the hacker to let him come on his own. Nothing changed
at first, the room being filled with an awkward silence as Rowan attempted one-sided con-
versations. The man refused to respond, rarely even offering him a glance. It frustrated him
to no end; even after dropping his own guard, he hadn’t gotten anywhere.

Eventually he gave up on trying to communicate, simply coming to sit in the corner and read.
It had to be lonely, being stuck there, so he figured having another heartbeat in the room
that wasn’t poking or prodding him or interrogating him on his mental state might help. The
tension in the air had quickly faded into something more peaceful, and some of Saeran’s
guard visibly slipped away. That was good enough for Rowan; as long as he wasn’t actively
being shut out, it was still progress.

Surprisingly, Saeran was the one to break the silence, though not without good reason. Much
to their annoyance, a nurse interrupted their visitation, disturbing the peaceful co-existence
they had with each other. She was everything Rowan hated to see: pushy, unsympathetic,
and completely uncaring about his mental wellbeing.

It made his heart hurt, seeing the other man flinch when she slammed her clipboard down
on his bedside table. Every word out of her mouth was ridicule, and though he knew the
ex-hacker was used to such talk, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

When she left with one last comment on how scrawny he still was, Rowan didn’t hesitate to
jump up from his seat. Following behind, he proceeded to chew her out. For her complete
lack of experience, for her apathy, for taking out whatever the hell was wrong with her on
Saeran. It wasn’t long before his voice raised, but he was careful not to start screaming. The
last thing he wanted was to upset the already stressed man more.

It didn’t surprise Rowan that his friendly feelings grew into something stronger, but that
didn’t make the realization any less terrifying. For the first few days, he struggled to reel
himself back in, trying to shove his feelings to the back of his mind so he could be there for
the other man without guilt eating away at him. Being so friendly to him only felt like he was
taking advantage of the man’s barely earned trust.

It didn’t last, as he noticed Saeran growing increasingly tense at his less emotional, more
closed-off responses. With a quick explanation, claiming he’d not been feeling like himself
-- not a complete lie, as such a deep feeling had knocked him off his feet -- and that he was
sorry, he mended the situation and forced himself to swallow his guilt.

He could tell Saeran didn’t fully believe him, but the man was obviously relieved to have
things back to normal the next visit, when Rowan came in grinning. It earned him a small
smile in return, the first he’d seen from the man.

Rowan is torn from his reminiscing by a security guard clearing her throat. She nods towards
an open elevator. “Come on, tough guy. I’ll drop you off.” Though he bristles at the obviously
mocking title, he doesn’t argue, not wanting to get kicked out. Instead, he trails after her and
steps in, trying to calm the fluttering that starts up in his chest at the thought of seeing the
other man.

The ride up is tense, the brunette almost lunging forward when the doors slide open.
“Thanks,” he calls over his shoulder with a scowl. Though he always looked forward to the
visits, he hated dealing with the staff. Setting his eyes on Saeran’s door, he picks up the pace,
hurrying down the hall as fast as he can despite his slight nervousness.

Before Saeran’s thoughts can spiral anymore out of control, the all-too-familiar sound of
chains clinking together sounds down the hall, the thoughts slipping from his mind to let him
focus. It was definitely him; despite the noisiness of his entrance, the steps sounded hesitant,
stumbling over themselves. The awkwardness always manages to make his heart feel a bit
lighter, some of the dread that had been bubbling up inside of him slipping away.

As expected, the footsteps come towards his room, stopping just outside for a moment.
There’s a pause, his guest taking a moment for a deep breath, before the door is cautiously
pushed open. Rowan jumps a bit upon seeing him, obviously not expecting Saeran to be sat
up waiting for him. The surprised look on his face quickly fades into a soft smile, some of the
tension he entered with easing from his shoulders.

The man always put up a tough exterior, Saeran knew, but he trusted him enough to let
that down. Whether that was because he wanted mutual trust or because he was just plain
stupid, the ex-hacker wasn’t quite sure, but it never bothered him, and he never bought up
the subject.

The brunette shuffles his way over to him without a word, taking a seat in the chair next to
the bed. Everything about him is a contradiction: the gentle look on his face combined with
his dark and intentionally rough exterior, the way he avoided eye contact despite his obvious
distaste at being seen as a pushover, how he still wandered to his side like a clueless puppy
despite all Saeran had done, as if he wasn’t dangerous.

That frustrated him most of all. He was trying so hard to protect everyone for once after he
had planned to destroy their lives. It was like the male could see right through him, but never
saw what Saeran wanted him to.

As usual, Rowan slouches forward, giving him that stupid grin that made his stomach flutter
and twist up all at the same time. “Sorry I’m late, but I’m sure you’re used to it now. Have you
eaten yet? I kinda had to skip lunch, didn’t have time.” He trips over his words mid-sentence,
distracted by the way that his heavy jacket slips off his shoulder.

Every visit started the same, his visitor pitifully trying to disguise his fretting as small talk and
him offering up muttered responses. It was still progress from how they started, but Saeran
always felt some guilt seeing how much effort the other man put into trying to talk to him.
Wanting to change that the best he could, he tries speaking up some, clearing his throat.
‘’No. I don’t like the food.”

Contradictory to the pout he usually gives at that response, Rowan’s eyes light up. “Great!
Um. Not that you haven’t eaten because the food sucks. Just... gimme a second.” With that,
he hops up from his seat, scurrying back to the door, nearly forgetting to put up his facade
before motioning for a nurse.

Saeran can’t decipher much from his position, only picking up on the word “privacy” and the
dirty look the man shoots the nurse when she shakes her head. Only a few more words are
exchanged before his expression brightens, and he whirls back around.

To his surprise, the unusually peppy man closes the door. That had never been allowed be-
fore, both for Saeran’s safety and his visitor’s. But Rowan was always rather convincing, not
to mention stubborn, so it wasn’t too shocking that he was the one earning him that right.

The act now fully slipped away again, Rowan practically trips over his feet moving back,
rummaging through the pockets of his oversized jacket for something. Had it been anyone
else, he might’ve been paranoid or distrusting, but he knew the man in front of him wasn’t a
threat in the slightest.

Once again stunning Saeran, the man pulls out ice cream -- an entire tub of it. Mint choco-
late, he noted, feeling his heart skip a beat at the realization that he had remembered his
favorite flavor. Outside food was also previously off-limits, and guessing from the way he had
asked for privacy, it still was.

Once again, the man isn’t making sense. Not only has he gone out of his way to visit daily,
staying even on Saeran’s worst days until he’s either asked to leave or is forced out by the
staff, now he’s breaking rules and risking trouble for himself all for his sake. Why? He was a
monster and a murderer, and he’s being smuggled in gifts?

All of the kindness he was offered was foreign to him, and perhaps that was for the best. He
didn’t deserve any of it. All he deserves is to rot in this awful place, his nose constantly sting-
ing from the scent of medicine and his eyes burning under the blindingly bright fluorescent
light.

“...Saeran?” Broken out of his trance, he shakes his head, feeling a tinge of annoyance seeing
the red that reflects off the bedpost in his peripheral. His natural color hadn’t grown back
much, but it was enough to put a scowl on his face. Not once did he want to let the white
fade, wanting to have some semblance of separation from his brother, but he didn’t have a
choice. Not here, not anywhere.

Only Rowan ever offered him control, and

even he himself was limited in what he could
allow. It wasn’t fair. That, too, made him
grateful for his stubborn visitor. It was rare
for him to give up when he had his mind set
on something, and that gave Saeran a lot
more freedom than he would have without
him.

“I’m fine,” he reassures. Rowan doesn’t

look convinced, but he doesn’t pry, instead
placing the tub on the sheets between them
before digging in his pocket for a packet
of utensils, unmistakably snagged from the
hospital’s cafeteria. Placing it in his resting
hand, the man gives a paranoid glance back
towards the door before grinning widely.

“I don’t think they’re onto me, so go ahead

and eat up.” Though he hesitates a moment,
Saeran reaches out to pull the ice cream into
his lap, popping the lid and taking a scoop.
It’s slightly melted as expected; it couldn’t
have made the trip by motorcycle all the way
over here and through the wait downstairs
totally unscathed. It’s tasty nonetheless, a
huge relief from the blandness of the food he
had to eat here. Before long, he’s digging in, feeling starved despite having the three meals a
day rule enforced on him.

After a couple of minutes, he glances up at his guest, perplexed to find him entertaining
himself by winding a loose thread of the sheets around his finger. It was rare that Rowan was
this quiet for so long, and even stranger that he wasn’t busying himself the same way that
Saeran was. Sinking his spoon into the cold mint, he hums to get the other man’s attention.
Immediately his eyes are on him, deep blue piercing into him and making him melt and tense
up all at the same time.

“What are you doing?” He asks, eyes flitting between his face and the string half-wound
around his finger. The other man glances away sheepishly, though he doesn’t flinch at his
blunt tone; yet another thing they were making progress on. Rowan pauses, searching for a
good answer and sighing in defeat when he can’t find one.

“...sitting here?” He answers quietly, giving Saeran an uncertain look. “I don’t really have
anything to do. I was already running late, so when I swung by the store, I just grabbed the
ice cream and left.”

“Didn’t you say you didn’t eat lunch?” The redhead questions with a raised brow. The silence
lingering in the room tells him all he needs to know. Huffing, he shoves the tub towards him
without a second thought, surprising the both of them. It was unusual for him to share any-
thing, especially this, but he wasn’t about to pull his foot back when he was already taking a
step forward. “Go on. You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t.”

Though he wouldn’t admit it out loud -- he wasn’t sure he could even if he really wanted to
-- Saeran cared for the other man deeply. It wasn’t just the budding feelings of affection. His
worry for his wellbeing, though underlying, had lingered ever since the party coordinator
had set foot in that apartment.

If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t have stopped him from stepping on the glass from the window.
Of course he would’ve, the idiot, and back then he told himself it was because it’d be easier
to transport him if he went uninjured. Now, the truth was obvious.

Reassured by his adamance, Rowan reaches out to take the tub. While keeping a close eye
on Saeran’s face to check for any signs that he might change his mind, he fails to notice how
close their hands get, accidentally brushing their fingers together as he grabs it. The touch
is minimal, lasting under a second, but it still startles them both. The brunette gasps, nearly
dropping the ice cream as Saeran pulls back.

For a moment they’re both silent, staring at each other with flushed cheeks and unreadable
expressions. Saeran knows why he reacted that way, but… what about the other man? Was
he afraid of him? He didn’t look frightened, only embarrassed and a bit flustered. Though
there was no reason for him to be flustered, right? Maybe he was just touch-repulsed. They
had a lot in common, after all. It was obvious the party coordinator’s mind was spiraling just
as much as his, the panic in his eyes blindingly obvious.

Trying his best not to overthink and to diffuse the situation, Saeran grumbles and snatch-
es up the spoon, getting another scoop and nudging it against the boy’s lips. It smudges
against his nose, making him blink in surprise. His fingers coming up to up to wipe away the
small bit, he laughs, some of his nerves obviously soothed. Good, Saeran thinks; he can bare-
ly handle his own emotions, let alone someone else’s.

Holding the spoon out like a threat, he stares blankly at him. “Take it. I’m not feeding you. And
sit over here so you don’t drop it; that’s the last thing we need.” He curls his legs in, giving
the taller man more room.

The brunette sits on the edge of the bed and takes the spoon happily, fixing his attention
on the ice cream as he… purposefully seeks out the chocolate chips, to the point where his
spoonful is more chocolate than ice cream. Weird, but Saeran doesn’t argue.

Some part of him finds it cute, and he shakes his head, desperately trying to swat the
thought away. He had hoped that the feelings would fade, but they were blossoming into
something far more dreadful with every visit. That wasn’t Rowan’s fault; it was his own for not
keeping himself under control.

These feelings would have to die with him, he concludes, blinking rapidly to bring himself
back. When those blue eyes turn upwards to glance at him, he knows he’s been caught
getting lost in his mind. Bracing himself for the obvious question, he accepts the tub pushed
back to him, tensing when the other man speaks up just as he gets a mouthful.

“What’s buggin’ you?” Rowan asks, his brows furrowed with concern. Taking his time to let
the ice cream melt in his mouth, Saeran answers with a shrug. Remembering his earlier
attempt to be more open, he sighs, nudging around a chocolate chip as he tries to think of a
good way to put his thoughts into words without exposing his feelings.

“...Is it okay for me to feel things?”

It’s a clumsy question, and he mentally kicks himself for a multitude of reasons: for how
stupid he sounds, for burdening the other man when he’d already been through so much
because of him, for the way he’s just now noticed his hands shaking. But none of this seems
to bother Rowan, who smiles gently and nods.

“It is. I promise.” Saeran jumps when Rowan’s hand seeks out his, giving it a light, comforting
squeeze. He seems oblivious to his own actions, getting lost in thoughts of his own. “It feels…
wrong, right? Like anything that isn’t terrible isn’t for you, and that you’re meant to be miser-
able in silence. It’s lonely.”

The hand resting on his presses down slightly, and despite the conflicting feelings whirling in
his mind, Saeran moves his hand, entwining their pinkies together. He isn’t sure what feelings
the other man is hiding, but it makes some part of his heart hurt knowing that he’s suffering
too.

“I’ve felt lonely a lot,” He continues, staring out the window with a solemn expression. It’s
quiet for a while, Rowan staring at the clouds and Saeran staring at him. Finally, a soft smile
tugs at the brunette’s lips, and he turns his attention back to him. “I won’t let you be lonely
too. Not anymore. Okay?”

Saeran’s face feels warmer, but he doesn’t

let himself turn away, fixing his eyes on
one of the freckles dotting the other man’s
cheeks as he hums an acknowledgement
and squeezes his hand. Only now does Row-
an notice the way their pinkies are curled
around each other, but before he can pull
back, Saeran tightens his grip. Not enough
to trap him, but enough to get across his
message. He can’t bring himself to say it out
loud, but all he wants is for the other man
to stay.

Out of the corner of his eye, Rowan’s eyes

are swimming with something he doesn’t
know how to define. It’s sweet, warm, mak-
ing him feel melted on the inside despite
his uncertain exterior. As much as he hates
being stared at, he isn’t sure he wants the
other man to look away. The ice cream was
next to them, slowly melting in its container;
at any point Rowan could remember and
turn his attention away.

As if reading his mind, he doesn’t. Instead he

curls his knees up to his chest, gazing at him
with all the affection in the world. It makes
Saeran’s mind wander, but for once, the
thoughts are welcome. Being cared about
like this… it makes him feel like maybe he
isn’t destined to die alone and unloved as he feared.

“Thank you,” his visitor says, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll stay right here with you, as
long as you’ll have me.”

“I will,” Saeran manages. “You’ll come around regardless.”

“But do you mind?”

“...No.” The corners of his lips twitch up into a weak smile. It’s obvious he’s unused to the
expression, but he isn’t thinking about how he might look strange. Around Rowan, his heart
feels lighter.

Falling into a comfortable silence, the redhead watches the clouds through the slightly foggy
hospital window, feeling the other man’s eyes on him, admiring him. He isn’t quite sure what
it means, but allowing his feelings to linger,

Saeran lets himself hope.

 Baby, it’s cold outside
Written by Amuk, illustrated by BC

Like a normal person, Zen didn’t like the cold. Why would he? Even in Seoul, it
seeped into his bones, nipping at his fingers and ears until he was just red in ways
that make-up couldn’t fix. At least he hadn’t been born in a frigid country like
Canada or Russia. He would have died after one winter. As it was, he bundled up
with a scarf, a hat, gloves, three layers of shirts, and a jacket whenever he went
out.

For this precise reason, he wasn’t sure why he had agreed to winter camping.
Summer? No problem, there was something utterly romantic about lying on the
grass, his two girlfriends curled up in his arms as they searched for constellations.
The cicadas would chirp, owls hoot, and with a little candlelight, it would make the
perfect date.

In the winter? There was only a light dusting of snow in November, but there was
absolutely nothing charming about lying in three fat snow jackets, unable to so
much as touch, let alone snuggle. Even worse, he was certain they’d run the risk of
dying of hypothermia if they even tried.

Zen glared at the bright blue sky. At four, the sun was already starting to lower.
They couldn’t even enjoy the afternoon and evening properly in the winter. It truly
was the worst season.

“Found it!” Jaehee announced triumphantly, cutting through his thoughts.

Zen looked down, focusing on the path ahead of him. Despite his confusion over the
whole concept, there were apparently enough people interested in winter camping
in Seoul that the Nanji Hangang Citizens park actually had a space set up for it.
Not only that, they actually had a whole section filled with tents set up, for those
interested but lacking the gear.

At least they didn’t have to actually buy equipment for this. Their budget was
thin enough between the three of them. Besides, Zen was positive Jaehee and
Seri would both try this once and realize how ridiculous it was after. Now they
wouldn’t have to resell any gear.

“Ohhhh!” Impressed, Seri left his side and hurried along the path to Jaehee. Her
short brown hair peeked out of the edges of her blue hat. “I expected this, but
it’s a lot nicer than I thought.”

Begrudgingly, Zen had to agree. He hadn’t expected much, but the sight before
him surpassed his meager hopes. There was a large tan tent along the riverbank,
with a small coal barbeque set up a short distance away. Two chairs were set in
the front, a perfect set up if they were a couple and not a trio. “It’s not bad.”

“Isn’t it?” Jaehee smiled proudly, clasping her wrist as she watched Seri investigate
the tent. Her hair swayed in the chilly breeze. “I didn’t think there’d be a spot so
close to home for this.”

“I knew you’d find something.” Seri poked her head out of the tent, looking like an
adorable groundhog. Her brown nose was a dark red as the wind nipped at her. She
smiled brightly at Jaehee. “You always do.”

Zen exhaled softly. Honestly, what was he doing, thinking these dark thoughts,
feeling grumpy about something his two sweethearts had organized? Of course he
knew why he was winter camping: they wanted to. And he had never learned to say
no to them.

He hoped he never would.

Jaehee was here, Seri was here—there was nothing else he needed to feel happy
about the situation. Even if the cold seeped into his bones. Even if his nose felt
stuffy. This whole situation was going to be hell on his skincare regime, but there
was no point in doing it every day if he couldn’t afford to take a night off.

“She’s right, you did a good job,” Zen praised, wrapping an arm around Jaehee’s
shoulder and pulling her close. He pressed a light kiss on her forehead, a spot he
could still reach despite how bundled up they were.

She squeaked, surprised. Even now, months after they’d started their arrangement,
she never knew how to react to his or Seri’s displays of affection, even more so
when they were public. At least she’d stopped shying away from them. Face red,
she clutched the edge of his jacket and leaned into him. “I-It’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing.” Still lying flat on the ground, half in the tent, half out, Seri
crossed her arms and pillowed her head in the crux. She sighed blissfully. “You
know, it’s a lot warmer in here than I expected.”

“It is?” Suspicious, Zen leaned into the tent. She was right. It was oddly warm
in there. Not hot enough to remove all of their layers, but enough that he didn’t
need to wear his jacket when he slept.

Maybe they could actually cuddle tonight. Now, that was an uplifting thought.

“I guess we don’t have to go home tonight then,” he murmured, slightly disap-

pointed. It had been worth a shot.

“It’ll be perfectly fine. They have a heater attached to keep things warm.” Seri
laughed, her eyes crinkling just so as she looked up at him. He wanted to kiss her
nose. Affectionately, she teased, “Scaredy-cat.”

Zen shivered automatically. It was entirely psychological, he knew. It was impossible

to allergically react to something that wasn’t there. Yet, he could already feel the
goosebumps spread across his arm, his nose tickled in the memory, and his hands
were itchy. “Don’t say cat, please,” he begged, leaning against the tent weakly.

“Sorry, sorry.” She didn’t sound contrite at all as she patted his leg.

“We are set to go.” They both looked up to find Jaehee back in business mode, a
gloved finger pushing up her glasses as she stood like the career woman she was. As
usual, she was at her best when she was in command. “We need to get everything
ready before the sun sets.”
Zen glanced up. Already, the sky was painted a rosy pink, the sun starting its daily
descent. They didn’t have much time.

“You two, get the food prepped and ready to go. I’ll start the barbeque and set
out my kettle for the hot chocolate.” Jaehee’s cheeks were flushed, excitement
driving her in a way he rarely got to see. If she’d just leave her damned job with
Jumin, he was certain he’d see her like this every day.

Then again, ever since Seri had somewhat blackmailed the evil bastard, Jaehee
had stopped coming home exhausted, so he took his minor victories where
they came.

“I thought the staff would start the barbeque.” Zen paused before rubbing
his neck. For all of his exercise routines and motorcycle escapades, he had
never actually been much of an outdoor person. This was the first time he’d
actually handled a campsite on his own. “It doesn’t take much to start a
barbeque, right?”

“If we had gone to the other location, they would have.” Jaehee hummed happi-
ly, not minding the extra work. Of course she didn’t. She was a workaholic to her
core. “This one has a coal barbeque and I wanted to try it out.”

“Coal?” Seri asked as she crawled out of the tent reluctantly. She zipped up the
tent before any more hot air could escape.

Jaehee gestured at the barbeque beside her. Now that Zen was paying attention,
he could see that the whole thing was a lot more rectangular and flatter than he
was used to. The grill was set to the side and a pile of coals were stacked like a
mini hill in the center.

“It takes a little longer to set these up, but the taste is amazing. And…” She
dragged out the last syllable as she pulled out a bag of wood chips from her pocket.
“I wanted to try this.”

Seri plucked the bag, turning it over in her hands. Bemused, she asked, “Should we
use actual logs?”

“That’ll take even longer and is harder to control.” Zen could almost see her eyes
flash as Jaehee pulled out her notebook. He had to admit that the emojis Luciel
had made for them were entirely apt—Jaehee really resembled one of hers right
now as she flipped through to a bookmarked page. “Woodchips, however, provide
the right flavouring without adding in those issues.”

It was just like Jaehee to geek out on something like this—when she’d first started
researching coffee, it hadn’t been uncommon to find her buried in library books as
she learned the most obscure methods of brewing.

Still, the light was dim as it was. Zen gently pried the notebook out of her hands
before she could finish reading all of her notes. Closing it, he tapped her on the
head tenderly. “No reading in this light. We don’t want your eyesight getting
worse.”

“R-right.” Embarrassed, Jaehee flushed.

Zen patted the spot he bumped before setting aside her notebook in one of their
bags. “We can look at it tomorrow.”
“We shouldn’t have our phones either, tonight,” Seri chimed in, pulling out her
own and turning it off.

“Nothing to get between us, right, princess?” Zen carelessly pulled out his phone
and turned it off. He had little need for it, not with them around.

“That’s a good idea.” Jaehee stared at her phone as though it were alive, talking
to her in a language only she could hear. “But what if he calls?”

Zen couldn’t help it. His lips curled in disgust. He could live to be eighty and still
have this reaction, no matter how much Jumin had helped him or his darlings.
There was just something instinctual
about his hate. In a past life, they must
have been sworn enemies. “I’ll yell at
him.”

Seri elbowed him. With the amount of

padding between them, it was more of
a symbolic gesture than an actual pain.
“Zen.”

Part of him wished she’d never become friends with the jerk. It was bad enough
that they were all in the same group, let alone her dealing with him privately. He
couldn’t deny the curl of jealousy whenever he saw Seri getting along with the oth-
ers—he’d seen the way they’d all talked to her, the way they looked at her.

It was entirely in his imagination, but that didn’t help his feelings at all. The only
good thing was that he was already used to the group dynamics with Jaehee, or he
would be in a constant state of nerves.

Turning to Jaehee, Seri gently clasped her hands and pried the phone out. “It’ll be
fine. He won’t call until tomorrow evening.”

“But…” Jaehee clung to the phone, her fingers locking it tight like a bear trap.

“Even if he does, Luciel and Yoosung agreed to cover,” Seri added cheerfully,
though her smile was chilling.

Zen burst into laughter. He wasn’t sure what deal with the devil she made for
that to happen, but it was definitely worth it. “That’s worse than me yelling.”

He could just imagine the chaos. Hopefully Luciel would actually kidnap that damned
cat while he was at it.

“Is it?” Seri grinned mischievously as she stepped back, Jaehee’s phone in her hands
now. She dumped it unceremoniously in another bag.

“What about photos?” Jaehee asked in a last-ditch attempt to save her phone.
“We can’t take any now.”

“I got that covered.” Seri triumphantly pulled out a small digital camera, holding it
above her head like a prize. “Ta-dah!”

Zen hadn’t seen one of those in ages. Almost everyone used their phone now, and
he had nearly forgotten there were other options. “You were prepared for this.”
“I was excited.” Seri bobbed happily as she handed the phone over to Jaehee. “It’s
not every day we get to have a sleepover.”

Jaehee fiddled with the camera, her fingers running over the buttons before holding
it up and snapping a quick picture of them. Studying the shot on the screen, she
nodded approvingly. “This will do.”

“Not quite.” After taking the camera, Zen wrapped an arm around both of his
girls, pulling them close. Their shoulders bumped, hair mixing together, and he took
a selfie before they could react. “This is better.”

“Maybe I should have just given it to you.” Seri leaned up, pecking him on the
cheek. His finger pressed the shutter again automatically.

Jaehee stared at her empty hand, as though remembering the weight of the cam-
era, before sighing. “I can’t use it anyways. I need to get that fire going.”

“And we need to cook.” Seri hummed as she pulled open the cooler they’d packed
before they’d left. Inside were several containers, some with pre-cut vegetables and
marinated meat, others with the small extras they had to set up now.

“Right.” Zen raised the camera, taking a photo of Seri as she pulled off lids. He
took another of Jaehee as she lit the coals, the small flicker of a flame slowly
growing stronger as she fanned it. It had been a mistake to bring a camera, let
alone give him it. All he wanted to do now was take photos and honestly, who
could blame him? His ladies were beautiful. He wanted to spoil them. Even in the
ordinary, they were eye-catching.

Noticing that she was alone, Seri looked up as he snapped another one. Her ears
turned red as she frowned. “Zen, we need to make dinner.”

“Right.” Her reaction was adorable. Zen snapped one last photo before setting
down the camera. The lighting was getting bad anyways, the sky growing dark as
the sun all but disappeared. Around them, the small flames of distant barbeques
flickered, and lamps lit up to give them just enough light to see by.

There weren’t that many people around them. It was a nice change from their
summer camping trips, when there were as many campers as there were mosquitos.
Their voices would fill the air, making it hard to think, let alone talk.

Now, there were only quiet murmurs filling the air, a sound as soft as a gurgling
river. In the silence, Zen felt hyper aware of everything—of how Jaehee’s hair
brushed her nape, of how Seri’s leg pressed against his as they stood side by side
cutting, of how easy it was to close the gap between either of his two loves.

At one point, he might have joked about turning into a beast. Zen couldn’t say it
now. He felt more like a puppy than a wolf. It was a good thing the lights were
dim; his face felt hot and he didn’t want to know just how red he’d turned.

He forced a question, trying to distract his mind. “How did you convince Yoosung
and Luciel to help?”

“I was wondering that too,” Jaehee added as she stoked the coals. She leaned back,
grabbing a cut zucchini to test on the grill. “Nothing illegal, I hope.”

“I’m not as bad as Luciel.” Seri laughed, her knife work steady as she sliced an
eggplant. “There was a raid event on the game we’re playing, and they needed a
third. I needed a favour. It all worked out.”

Jaehee frowned, not liking where this was going. “Just make sure not to game too
much.”

“It’s a little too late for that.” Seri adjusted her hat. “But I’ll try not to next
time.”

“Did you not get enough sleep, babe?” Zen asked, concerned as he peered down at
her face. Her eyes didn’t seem puffy nor were her eye bags that dark.

“More than enough last night.” She winked, leaning over him as she stole one of
his cut cucumbers. Her hair tickled his nose. Zen tried not to stiffen. Seri was
always casual with her touches, stepping into his space like it was nothing, and he
never knew how to react.

He was not sure how he had ever considered himself a beast, sometimes. It was all
he could do to keep his composure from a simple touch.

“I think it’s hot enough. Could you taste test?” Jaehee asked, holding out the
zucchini with her chopsticks. Her ears were red as she looked up at him expectant-
ly.

It was far easier to deal with Jaehee’s shy advances. Zen kept his eyes on her as
he accepted the offering, leaning forward as he bit the vegetable. For his services,
he was rewarded with an even brighter blush.

“Let me try.” Seri stole the rest and licked her lips. “Perfect.” She leaned over,
pecking Jaehee’s cheek. “Absolutely perfect.”

Jaehee made a pleased sound as she picked up the Tupperware containing their mar-
inated beef. Seri picked another one and stood next to her. Zen snapped another
picture as the pair started to carefully arrange dinner to cook, more than content
to just watch as his ladies quietly chatted.

It would be nice if they could do this every day. Make dinner, make breakfast, be
the last person they saw at night and the first in the morning. He wasn’t sure
where this desire came from, only that curled in him. They had been dating for a
year now. It wasn’t too early to ask them to move in with him—his basement was
small, cramped, and crowded, but it would also be cozy.

Noticing his absence, Seri looked over her shoulder, her brow raised. “Zen? Come
closer, the fire’s warm.”

Obligingly, he slipped in between them. The fire flickered, warming his face, but
Zen realized he didn’t need it. At some point, he had stopped feeling the cold.
He wrapped an arm around their waists, pulling them close.

Maybe he’d ask tomorrow, when the sun was up—he wanted to see their expres-
sions.

For now, though, he was more than content to just stay like this.

Perhaps winter camping wasn’t so bad after all.


Fields of Adoration
Written by LilacNightmares, Illustrated by Lou

Saeran could say with certainty that this was never the course that he thought
his life would follow. However, that wasn’t to say that he was going to complain
about it. Quite the contrary; he was happy with where he was in his life and
there was nothing that he would do to change it.

For the first time in his life, it seemed like he was somewhere that he wanted to
be and he was not going to take that for granted. Every second, every minute,
every hour, and every day was a gift that he knew better than to get worked up
about. It was truly a gift. His existence outside of that cult was a blessing.

Sometimes no rhyme or reason could explain why something happened or why it didn’t pan
out the way someone wanted—

But in this case, it seemed like the universe had guided him away from the threat and gave
him a chance to choose for himself what it was that he wanted. He picked to leave everything
that he thought that he trusted because deep down, he knew that it was wrong and that it
wasn’t okay for him to live that way.

Accepting that things were out of your control helped Saeran feel as though he didn’t have to
blame himself for those years that he was in the seas of mint that dared to rise as the storm
of envy and revenge grew with the wind. Everyone had made decisions and choices for him until
recently, so he was relishing every moment he had of the ability to think for himself.

The sunshine on his face was amazing. The feeling of the breeze whistling in his ears grounded
him and gave him a chance to feel things that he never would have holed away in a dark room
with flickering blue lights dancing through his vision.

Here, he was able to look up at the sky as much as he wanted to and nobody would stop him,
though, this much freedom was daunting and brand new to Saeran. It was both liberating and
frightening.

There was so much to learn and see, and his list would never end of experiences to try. Every
day, he found a new reason or quest to see through to the end. So many things to do, and so
many times to try.

It could feel oppressive at times… like a strange rock that was sitting on his chest.

Yet, he welcomed it, knowing that the path of freedom would pull him along until the shackles
of control and oppression finally evaporated from his mind, freeing him to enjoy what he had
long been denied.

It had only been a week since he escaped from that place. A week after escaping the barren
halls of Magenta and telling himself that he wouldn’t look back at that place unless he had to
talk to someone to help those that were left behind as the cult crumbled. A lot had changed
in a week, more so than it ever had in the year that he’d spent trapped with that woman.

For starters, he had no real expectations other than the ones that he’d set for
himself. Nobody was telling him what to do anymore; actually, he was the one di-
recting others and giving orders now. He’d never been in a role like that, and while
it was easy to dictate tasks and minimize the brunt of what he needed to do, it
was odd to have others listen readily.

His solitary focus was on finding his twin and the rest of the RFA agreed that he
was the best fit for the job.

Speaking of the RFA, it was even stranger that he was able to talk to any
of them in a capacity that was human as opposed to spying
on them over a messenger. They weren’t quite what he had
thought they were. There was a lot more to these people
 than what he’d seen and been told by Rika.

It didn’t make much sense at first but now that he was

around them, it was a bit easier to understand them.

Zen and Yoosung Kim were reassuring people who tended to get too lost in
their heads about their compassion towards others. He often blinked and misun-
derstood whatever the two were prattling about but he could tell they were being
sincere and honest.

It was easier to interact with Chief Assistant Jaehee Kang and the CEO, Jumin
Han; the latter being level-headed and reasonable to hold a discussion with, and the
former being very forward and to the point. There was never any concern about
things not making sense with those two.

Saeran couldn’t say that he had a good idea

of how to talk to them, but it was within
his power to do so now. He could talk to
anyone he wanted. He could start to learn.
Strange, he thought. The even stranger
thought was how willingly they had accepted
him and not for a moment had any of
them doubted him.

Saeran supposed that perhaps his under-

standing of how far a human’s empathy
could reach was stunted. He did have
trouble understanding how average people
communicated. But just as quickly as he
was lost in his pondering thoughts, he was
drawn from them by the sound of a camera
shutter.

He blinked and turned his head in the

direction of the sound. It was Lila, a hand
pressed to her lips to cover that growing
smile as he caught her red-handed, she
nudged her phone out of view as fast as she could. Too little, too late.

He was so caught up in letting himself enjoy the view that was in front of him that he forgot
to consider that his sweet was right there with him, too. It had taken some time to get ev-
erything in order back at C&R but this was the first weekend they had together… freely. Being
able to do whatever he wanted as a distraction!

He wanted to make the afternoon special since he couldn’t always be attached to her hip as
he wanted. So, he’d spent quite a while the night before putting together everything that he
could think of that would make for a lovely picnic.

Some may say that Saeran went a smidge overboard on the details, but he spared nothing for
someone that he loved more than the fresh air that now filled his lungs. She’d been here
by his side every step of the way and he never wanted her to forget just how much
she meant to him. Just as he knew that she’d never let him forget what he meant
to her.

The two of them were resting atop a hill together underneath a shaded tree, a
blanket strewn over the grass, and some sweets laid out amongst the covering. It
was a good day today, with a few clouds in the sky but not quite enough to mask
the sun overhead. It was warm but not too hot. There was a gentle breeze that
could’ve lulled him to sleep if he lingered too long.

When he thought about it, this was the only thing that Ray could ever use
to keep himself motivated.

The image in his head of being together underneath the

 sun while he was able to watch her eyes light up as he fed her
something he made. The part of him that was Ray wanted
this, the part of him that was Saeran wanted it, and as he
was made from them, this meant his desire to see this was the
same.

This daydream made a reality in

front of him.

A reality he never wanted to

leave.

Saeran raised a brow, “Did you

forget to turn the sound off
on your phone? You know, that
almost always gives you away
when you do this. I want to say
that you do that because you
must want to get caught, but
I’m not sure.”

“I don’t know what you’re

talking about,” Lila feigned in-
nocence. She looked down at her
phone and continued to type.
He didn’t have to wager a guess
to know what she was doing or who she was talking to. “I didn’t hear a little camera shutter,
and you didn’t hear a little camera shutter. I don’t even know why we’re talking about it, my
prince.”

He snorted. “I don’t know about that, sweetheart. You seem invested in whatever you’re doing
over there. I want to see it.”

Saeran wasted no time crawling over to her side of the blanket as she let out a squeak and
held the pink phone as far away from his grasp as she could manage. She was barely one-hun-
dred and fifty-two centimeters; it wasn’t that hard for him to clasp his hand around hers and
catch her phone.

“Saeran, that’s not fair!”

He didn’t respond to that. He merely leaned over and

pressed his lips against her cheeks and that was enough to
get her to let go of her phone.

She whined at his dirty trick but didn’t bother to grab

her device back from him. She knew that he was playing
around and that he meant no harm. However, whatever
she’d been writing must have been interesting since she
wanted to hide it and he wasn’t going to stop until he
got to take a peek.

Looking at her screen, he wasn’t surprised to see that

she was in the RFA’s Messenger chatting with Zen and
Yoosung Kim. She was gushing about him to them without
a care in the world despite knowing that he would be able
to come and see that later if he wanted to on his phone.

It wasn’t like they had a delete feature.

Saeyoung never added one. As far as he knew glancing through the notes that
he had left behind in the bunker behind a coded firewall, there was no delete
button. It was like that because everything was strictly confi-
dential. No deleting or getting away with anything.
 It had to be that or Saeyoung thought it was funny when
Zen or Yoosung Kim made typos and frantically tried to cor-
rect it. Saeran didn’t know his brother’s reasoning but things
started to make a lot more sense the more he looked into the
programming of the app itself and all of the notes.

He hadn’t had these pieces when he started working on it back in Mint Eye
to make his app. He had to recreate the system from what Rika had on her
phone and reverse-engineer the app from a few lines of code and nothing more. It
would’ve helped to know some of these things back then.

Lila couldn’t hide anything that she said, either, due to this. Nobody could. Not
that he was invading her privacy. He’d learned his lesson the first time. But, this
was the group chat so he would eventually see what she said anyway.

Since she was pouting and trying to cover it up, he couldn’t help but be curious about what
she was saying.

Wisteria: I’m just happy that we’re out of the office today.

ZEN: I can’t imagine being stuck around that CEO-In-Line all day.
ZEN: In fact.
ZEN: I refuse to imagine it.

Yoosung⭐: Saeran deserves the break, though.

Yoosung⭐: I mean, you’ve been working all week with the task force, right?

Wisteria: Well, he has.

Wisteria: I’ve been helping by moving paperwork and doubling checking things.

ZEN: Even the smallest job is important!

ZEN: You should appreciate the work that goes into something from even
ZEN: the little guys.

Wisteria: Haha.
Wisteria: Thanks for saying so! ( O uO)
Wisteria: He’s finally relaxed, though. I’ve never seen him look this at peace.
Wisteria: See? Isn’t my prince adorable?
 Wisteria: Ah, it’s been a while since I’ve seen him smile like that.
Wisteria: He says he’s never tired…
Wisteria: But, I know he needed this break. That’s why I insisted he take the day
off.

Wisteria: I wish we could spend our days like this all the time…
Wisteria: Even after we find Saeyoung.
Wisteria: It would be nice to share this moment with him, too. But, I’m a little
selfish.

Wisteria: I want to appreciate his smile meant just for me a little longer.
Wisteria: I love him so much…
Wisteria: I think his smile is what I love the most.
Wisteria: He fought so hard to find it. He deserves it.
Wisteria: Have you ever seen somebody more admirable than Saeran?
Wisteria: I should think not.
Wisteria: The urge to ruffle his hair right now is so strong.
Wisteria: Someone stop me before he figures it out.

ZEN: Suddenly, I’m reminded that my apartment is empty.

Yoosung⭐: T-T
Yoosung⭐: Lila, it’s sweet how much you care about Saeran.
Yoosung⭐: I wish I was mature enough to have someone like that.

ZEN: Mature? Man, if I can’t find someone knowing how gorgeous I am—
ZEN: What luck do any of us have?

Wisteria: Don’t count yourself out, guys.

Wisteria: ...Besides, I offered to introduce you to some of my friends if you want-
ed.

ZEN: Oh, you mean your model friends?

Wisteria: Yeah! Honestly, guys, be a little more proactive.

Wisteria: You can’t whine and pout if you don’t try.

Yoosung⭐: Easy for you to say, Lila. You got lucky with Saeran.

Wisteria: I know. I count my blessings every day I spend with him.

Wisteria: It will find you when you least expect it.
Wisteria: Love, I mean.

Wisteria: I wasn’t looking for it and yet, it found me.

Wisteria: Saeran might say that I was the one who found him but…
Wisteria: Honestly, it feels like he found me.
Wisteria: I don’t know where I would be without him.
Wisteria: Because there’s no place I’d rather be.

Saeran paused as he let himself flip through the conversation.

He knew that she’d be talking about something but he never thought that it was
about him. She was gushing about him. He had learned through much of his intense
online research that that was something that happened in healthy relationships during
their growth. Speaking so proudly of your lover.

Though, to see her talking about him as if he were an average man? It warmed
his heart. Not even the sun could rival the warmth that she instilled into him
just by saying that she felt lucky to be within his life.

He felt lucky that she was in his and by all intents and
purposes, he felt like he was the one that should be idolizing
 her for what she’d done for him just by standing next to
him throughout all of this. He could feel himself smiling just
thinking about how she was always thinking of him, even when
she wasn’t talking to him.

Not that he wanted to be selfish enough to think that her life revolved
around him but it felt good to know that she always kept him in her heart.
When he lifted his head to look back at her, she’d taken to fiddling with her
hands and pretending that she wasn’t looking.

“My life is more blessed with you in it as well, my love,” he murmured.

Catching her by surprise, he set her phone down and scooted closer, one hand resting
against the space by her hip and the other catching her chin so she would have to
look at him in the eyes. She felt so warm underneath his hands.

She gasped as he did so, staring at him with nervous energy in her smile, body settling against
his.

He paused, “Though if that was all you wanted to tell me, you didn’t have to say it in the
chatroom. I’m right here.”

“I just like to remind everyone how special you are,” she lifted her hand and pressed it to his,
leaning into his touch as if it were a lifeline. “How important you are to me. You can’t blame
me for gushing about you when you’re… you know? I can’t help myself when I see you this
happy. I just have to tell someone.”

“I know? I don’t believe I do, why don’t you spell it out for me?” Saeran countered.

Lila made a face at him. She wasn’t amused by his comment. Though, she should have known
that he would be the first one to turn it around on her the moment that she dared to test
him. They stayed like that as she seemed to be racking her brain for answers that wouldn’t
put her into an embarrassing position.

But, she should have thought of that when she teased him. That was one of the things that
he appreciated about her the most. Sometimes it was easy to see what was going on inside of
that head of hers. She could be an open book. He knew the pages and the script very well. It
was like knowing every page like the back of his hand but discovering more every time he opened
it.

It was like finding himself home all over again.

He never once missed those details. How she could never lie to anyone without tapping her
fingers against the edge of her skirt, or how she smiled like nobody could see her when she
thought that he hadn’t caught her staring at him, or the way that her laughter stole his
heart when she let herself relax.

There would be times when Lila could dish it out and times when she bit her tongue and tried
to hide away from him. Seeing her do the former was always an interesting experience. It was
cute to see that there was more to her than that unwavering kindness he’d seen in Mint
Eye all those times.

She had some bite that she hardly showed to other people, but when he got to
see it once and a while, he chuckled. Granted, he loved seeing her be so sweet and
selfless, but there were times when he loved to see her be greedy. Seeing her lean
away from being selfless because she wanted just one more kiss or just one more
treat he made in her image.

That was beautiful because it was an honest side of her personality. Times like
this when she loved him so much that she didn’t care if he caught her gushing
about him to their friends without a second thought. She was so comfortable
with him that she was happy to speak her mind in front of him.

Knowing this girl used to struggle to find her voice and be

 a confident person reminded him that everyone could be more
than meet’s the eyes. She’d seen that within him. This is
why they were even here today, free as a bird in the sky, able
to enjoy the company of someone that they loved and trusted
more than the air in their lungs.

She took in a breath, looking back at him with those brown eyes that stole his
heart, and smiled. “I love you, you know that. I just can’t stop thinking about
that when I’m with you, Saeran. There are so many things that I think about but
I never know how to say them so it just turns into my babbling about what I like
about you for a half-hour because I can’t make up my mind on what I’m feeling.”

“I know we say it all the time, but… I love you. I love being with you. I love the
time that we spend together. Like right now, I’ve never seen you happier and that
makes me happy. I say that every time I see you and I mean it, I love you,” Lila
paused as her fingers were still woven tightly around his and she did not dare to look
away.

“I think that you’ve finally found true peace and you somehow prove me wrong every day by
being happier than you were the last. Though you were the one to promise me that you would
make me happy from now on in every season of our lives, I feel more like I should be doing
that for you. It can’t possibly be me making you this happy, right?”

She meant every word that she said, and he knew it. He knew that she loved him more than
life itself and that she was proud of him and his progress. Life was changing every day but the
fact remained that their love for each other was a constant that would never come to an end.
That was the truth.

Saeran could feel his heart warming up by the minute as she spoke. He squeezed her hand in
return, gently pulling it from her face and back to his lips. He kissed the back of her palm as
she bristled, a nervous laugh against her lips at his wordless response.

He felt tender. Sometimes, he did not need words to tell her how he felt but being able to
verbalize it aloud instead of holding it inside of his heart was the gift of his freedom. This
freedom he had been given was a gift that he didn’t want to take for granted… just as her
smile was a gift to the world that he wanted to cherish.

“I’m happy because I’m with you, yes,” he responded with a smile. “I’m happy because we’re
together under the same sky. I’m happy that I get to share this day with you. I’m happy for
our future. I hope that soon we can enjoy a day like this with Saeyoung… and then, it’ll feel
like this family is completed again. But for now, this is my happiness.”

She nodded. Lila understood just how much that meant to him. Finding his twin was what he
wanted to do. He wanted to believe in it so it would happen. His dream that Saeyoung would
be found soon and that they would be able to have this afternoon with him as a family for the
first time…

It would come soon, they just had to believe in it. They just had to be there to believe in
the notion that he would be okay and faith would be on their side. Saeran felt in his heart
that his brother was okay, and as long as Lila by his side, he knew that he would be able to
follow his heart to the truth.

Lila leaned over just enough to brush her lips against his. He could feel that giggle in
the back of her throat as she did. She made him feel weightless, no longer weighed
down by the shackles of his past, and all he wanted to do was let the wind take
him anywhere it pleased.

“As long as you’re happy, then I’m happy,” she said as their kiss broke apart.
Saeran made sure that she couldn’t easily slip away from him as his hand slipped
around her lower back. “Is this anything like what Ray wanted? This picnic?”

He rested his forehead against hers. Both Ray and Saeran had
wanted this. They wanted to be able to have time with Lila.
Ray dreamed of a picnic underneath the sky and Saeran
 wanted to be able to hold her hands underneath the stars. Now that they
were together in this moment, it felt like they both were getting everything
that they had ever wanted.

“This is everything Ray and Saeran wanted. This is more than what they wanted,
actually, so much more than they ever thought they would be able to receive, my
love. Every moment I spend with you is another moment that they… that I won’t
take for granted. I want to enjoy these little moments with you as long as I can, so
please, let me into your heart and never let me go.”

It was all that he could ever want and no matter what happened from there on out, he
knew that he could believe in their love and passion. If he ever felt unsure of himself, he would
be able to look at their bonds of love and their promise.

It would give him everything he needed to have the power to move forward to resolution and
to be able to believe again. Forever built on a promise that would be renewed every season,
and this eternity made for the two of them in bliss. Four seasons of love that would never
conclude as long as their energy existed.

“You’re my forever, my prince.”

“You’re my eternity, angel cake.”

 “Purple Lilacs”
Written by Mai, Illustrated by Lunaria

“I’m sorry, she’s not feeling well today. You can come by again tomorrow, maybe she’ll be up for some
company then?”

Mina sighs gently, the disappointment in her heart fueling the mild headache that is starting to form.

This is the fifth time she’s tried to visit Rika this week. And subsequently, the fifth time that she’s been
refused from entering. While it wasn’t common for a patient to stop wanting her visits, it happens more than
she had expected. Visiting patients was never an easy job, and some like to be in solitude. But this time, it is
different.

... She is different.

Instead of leaving, Mina takes a seat in the hallway. Rika is only feet away, staying at the end of the hall.
Seems ironic that someone so close couldn’t be reached. Mina’s eyes flutter shut as she leans her head
against the wall. Even though the two hadn’t known one another very long, it feels as though their very souls
are linked.

But throughout this limited time, Mina doesn’t know where it changed. What did she do to make Rika not
want to talk to her anymore? It isn’t as if the two could talk about it, with her new friend not accepting
visitors at the moment.

Where did it go wrong? It had taken a while for Rika to open up to her. She had worn a mask for far too long.
But the façade began to crack over time, and recently, Mina feels like she’s been talking to the real Rika.

Seeing how bright her smiles could become and the joy that illuminated in her eyes when she spoke
passionately- it caused a light in Mina that she never knew she had. But now, that side is yearning to talk to
her once again.
Mina opens her eyes as she gets up to leave. Glancing at the clock, she sees that almost an hour has gone by.
While she gathers her things, Mina mumbles to herself. “I must’ve fallen asleep...Guess I better just leave.”

As she walks through the main doors, Mina breathes in the fresh air. The hospital has been working on a
small flower garden for the patients and visitors to use for relaxation. Having open recently, she continuous-
ly goes through the pathways. But today, Mina knows that she needs a moment of peace.

Brushing aside her mental to-do list, she takes all of her energy and focuses it on each flower. Rika was so
excited about the opening of the garden. Mina can remember that day, a small smile painting her lips.

It has to have been weeks, maybe even months ago when the news first came out. Even though it was before
Mina had a close connection to Rika, Mina could never forget the way her eyes began to glow as they talked
about it. Mina had admittedly not known much about flowers, but it gave them more to talk about. She was
so excited to go for a stroll through the garden with Rika... now here she is, standing in the garden, alone.

She has known Rika for a long time and has watched the woman blossom before her very eyes. There is a
side of her that Mina has never experienced, and she has accepted that she would be patient until Rika is
comfortable enough to open up. After all, she is in the hospital for a reason. However, just when Mina felt as
if she was truly beginning to understand the blonde, Rika pulled away.

A swift movement catches Mina’s eye, but she can’t find the cause. Her interest piques as the woman starts
further into the garden to spot the source of her distraction. Every time she turns the corner, all Mina can
catch is a glimpse of a flowing gown and locks of golden sun.

The chances are slim, but enough for her to try. Through the twists and turns, Mina never stops advancing,
her hope outweighing the rest of her thoughts. And after what feels like a lifetime of following, she reaches
the end of the path. She reaches the object of her attention. She inhales deeply at seeing her once more,
though the woman has yet to look up at her. Even as she is still dressed in a medical gown, Mina feels Rika’s
healing aura surround and warm her.

Only after she fully comes to terms with the figure before her, does she quickly note that she is not alone.
A blonde man, with soft violet eyes, holds Rika’s hand. After realizing they were no longer alone, the
gentleman can’t help but look between the two, aware that he is in the middle of something he knows
nothing about.

“I-uh…I’m heading to the cafeteria to get you something to drink, okay? Just stay here and relax, Rika; I’ll be
back soon.” He glances back at Mina and opens his mouth to say something, but the words never truly come
out. Soon he gives up, awkwardly tucking his hands into his hoodie.

As he walks away, Mina steps a few steps forward, wanting nothing more than to be put at ease by looking
into her brilliant emerald eyes. But it never comes, even as the woman is close enough to touch Rika, she
refuses to lift her head.

Mina bites her lip gently, unsure of what to do. After a moment of silence, she decides that speaking couldn’t
make this interaction any worse. “The flowers are just as beautiful as you described them, don’t you think?”

Nothing…
“Rika…can we please talk? I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you, but we can work through this. I know
we can. But we have to work together.”

The rawness of silence hangs in the air so thick, Mina struggles to think. The hurt she feels by Rika’s lack of
response makes a sting so much more. After all, she believed their relationship to be strong enough to last
against any struggles they may have.

In sheer desperation, Mina grips onto Rika’s hand as tears begin to prick her eyes. “Will you please look at
me! I don’t know what to do, but I won’t just leave you alone…I can’t.”

“I won’t hurt you too.”

At last, Rika looks up, catching Mina off guard. She expects the sunlit woman to be angry, sad, or even
holding no emotion at all. But as they stare through one another, Mina can see the fear in Rika’s eyes. Her
lip quivers and Mina catches her anxious expression as she quickly turns away, taking a few steps back, the
distance between the two growing. But she does not leave.

“...What do you mean? You would never hurt me.” Mina’s brows furrow as she stares inquisitorially at Rika.
Why is this woman, whose touch was as soft and uplifting as life itself, so concerned about this?

“Because that’s what I do. I get close to someone until I push them and pull them, tie their minds into knots,
and cause pain believing it to be happiness.” Rika bites her lip roughly, almost enough to draw blood before
she turns back to Mina. “You have never seen the real me, you’ve not seen how many people’s lives have
been ruined, all in the name of paradise.”

The words spew from Rika’s mouth with overwhelming venom, but the sting isn’t targeted at anyone but
herself. Frowning softly, Mina steps closer as Rika loses the words she wishes to say.
Shaking her head, Mina’s voice is but a whisper, “I don’t understand, Rika…the real you…? Paradise?”

Rika only nods, her walls slowly collapsing around her in rough, jagged pieces. “Yes. The real Rika manipu-
lated and used those she loved, those who needed help…anyone who would seek her out. She is the woman
who hurt and abused and broke the people closest to me. That is who Rika is-who I am-a being capable of
only pain and suffering.”

Gingerly taking Rika’s hand in hers, Mina looks up with a sad smile. “That isn’t the Rika before me now.
The one standing here is compassionate and caring. She is a beacon of energy that lightens every room she
enters. And she’s a woman who would never hurt another person ever again. That is who Rika is.”

The glistening tears that once pricked Rika’s eyes now stain her cheeks with their trail. Before the blonde has
time to reply, Mina leans forward and closes the distance between them, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

“But what if I do it without knowing? I didn’t last time, I believed that I was saving them from a life of
despair. I was responsible for so much-”

“Then we’ll work together. I know that the woman in front of me could never harm me, and if that starts to
change, we can figure it out. If you don’t trust yourself, you can trust me. I want you to be healthy and happy,
and… for you to realize that you are not a monster. You are good, Rika. You are good.”

Separating slightly, Mina places a small peck onto Rika’s cheek and smiles brightly in contrast to the tear
stains on her cheeks. “Would you like to walk together, then?”

Rika smiles slightly, but her eyes open in realization. “We have to wait for my cousin to come back! I don’t
want Yoosung to return alone after he went through the effort of getting me some water.”

Her panicked response causes a giggle from the redhead, her hand sliding down to lock with Rika’s. “That’s
fine, we’ll wait here.” Taking a look around, Mina spots an unfamiliar flower and points at it with her free
hand. “Do you know anything about this flower? They are so pretty, I’d love to know more about it.”

Glancing at the dusty purple lilac in full bloom, Rika nods again, a small pink tinge painting her face.
“I’d love to.”
 In Your Eyes
Written by True, Illustrated by Pris
Spring
Natalie’s new apartment featured a modest studio floor plan, far smaller than she thought was
fair for the asking price. Desperation won, though. She needed a new beginning, somewhere
she could create the life she craved, the life she felt calling to her. Bare walls, bare floor. A clean
slate for her to make all her own. She had faith that in time, she would grow to love the city.
It was harder than she’d anticipated to establish herself. The promise of work had been a shaky
one at best, and her financial worries grew each time she withdrew money from her modest
savings account to meet monthly expenses. Her skill as a piano teacher had served her well back
home, but when she announced she’d be moving, none of her students were willing to make the
two hour drive to continue lessons. Of course she understood, but knew that her notoriety only
reached so far– a new community wouldn’t know of her, and she’d have to start from scratch.
She advertised online and on bulletin boards in the shops downtown; in the meantime, she took
a job as a waitress in a little diner that the theater crowd liked to frequent and met a charming
actor who helped her get her first big break.
She’d agreed to work a double that night, figuring it would be a slow evening. Thursdays usual-
ly were; and though there was just her, the cook, and one other waitress, she felt confident that
they could handle it. But at a quarter till midnight, eleven noisy actors burst through the doors
in a chorus of song. Some of them still wore stage makeup, a few still wore remnants of their
costumes. They reeked of alcohol, hairspray, and sweat. The cook cursed under his breath from
his perch in the kitchen, and Natalie’s fellow waitress sighed, laying the mop against the wall to
pick up her receipt pad.
Over the din of conversation and laughter, Natalie attempted to introduce herself and her
coworker. Soon, a tall, outspoken man with long silver hair quieted the tables around him. “Let
the lady speak!” he cried dramatically, his resonant voice cutting through most of the noise and
chatter. “Do you want fuel for your walk home or not?”
A few murmured words remained, but the actor beamed at Natalie and gave her a sparkling
wink accompanied by a devastating smile. Even drunk, his charisma was obvious. “Sorry about
my fellow idiots. We had a sellout crowd on opening night, which, like never happens, ever! So
we had a round of drinks–”
“Two rounds!” the woman beside him slurred, lifting two fingers in the air as she slumped
against his shoulder.
He laughed and kissed her forehead, then draped his arm across her back. “Two rounds! I stand
corrected. Anyway, most of us live around here and need to sober up a little for the walk home.
Whatcha got that’s quick and easy for us?” He looked apologetic. “I know we’re in here kinda
late.”
A peanut butter pie, half a carrot cake, and two pots of coffee later, the crowd was able to dine
without the cook ever having to fire up the grill. The actors were happy to indulge in the rest of
the day’s desserts and left generous tips for both waitresses. They chatted together about their
shows, about future events, and what kind of work they all did when they weren’t being paid to
act. Natalie mentioned her piano playing skills to Zen and how she was hoping to find enough
students to teach so she didn’t have to work the diner anymore.
Zen’s brows shot up. He set down his coffee cup and stared at Natalie. “Seriously? We need
a rehearsal pianist. Like, we’ve needed one for a while. Our last guy moved out of town and
didn’t leave notice. I mean, we make do with tracks and stuff, but there’s nothing like having
a live accompanist to practice with. Can I have your number? I’ll call our producer first thing
tomorrow morning.”
For some reason, she felt embarrassed, as if she’d pushed the idea on him somehow. “Oh, I’m
not trying to promote myself! You haven’t even heard me play!” She knew she could do it, but
had always downplayed her ability to others, never wanting to appear overconfident.
“Then stop by tomorrow! Better yet, come see the show. I’ll let you in early, and you can help
us with warmups.” More of his friends had filtered out of the restaurant, leaving just him and
the woman who had almost fallen asleep on his shoulder earlier. “Think of it as an audition. An
interview.” He flashed that dazzling smile again and Natalie blushed in spite of herself.
“Yeah, okay. I think I’ll do that. Um,” she held up a finger. “Who should I ask for?”
“Tell ‘em Zen sent you. It’s the Emerald City Theater, five blocks from here on eighty second
street.”
She smiled and held out her hand. Expecting a handshake, her eyes widened when he kissed her
knuckles instead. “Thank you, Zen.”
___
Natalie integrated well into the theater scene. Her easy going nature helped her secure a place in
the company; she’d also managed to find a few piano students, so she was able to quit the diner
altogether and focus on music, which felt a lot like success. A routine came easy, then– teaching,
visiting the same coffee shop every morning on her way to rehearsals, walking the same side-
walks, passing the same people. It felt comfortable and familiar in no time at all.
The first time she encountered Jihyun Kim was quite by accident. A crowded sidewalk, a
ringing phone at the bottom of her bag, and their inevitable collision jarred her out of a building
frustration. He hadn’t been paying much attention either– reliving a conversation he’d just had
with Jumin before leaving the house– because other pedestrians had artfully avoided her slow,
weaving path.
“Oh, excuse me! Are you alright?” Soft spoken and worried, he held out a hand to her and
apologized with his eyes first; blue-green and shining in the warm morning sun, they reminded
her of the clear, cool water on beaches she used to frequent as a child. Natalie was momentarily
lost in a fond memory with her mother and sister and found herself paralyzed, smiling at this
stranger with the beautiful eyes and troubled expression.
She shook her head to clear the daydream and laughed sheepishly while tucking a piece of hair
behind her ear. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, and I–”
“It’s okay, I wasn’t either.” It occurred to her then that her phone was ringing again, buzzing in-
sistently against one of her folders. She fished it out of her bag and held it between them. “I was
looking for this. I– I have to take this call.” She put the phone to her ear and mouthed a Sorry
to him. He waved politely before pushing his hands into his pockets and continuing on his way.
Neither of them noticed the stranger who waited a few beats before following Natalie– close
enough to track her path, far enough away to not appear suspicious.
Natalie found herself thinking of his eyes later that day while rehearsing a song about the sea
with the Emerald City Players.
Jihyun thought of her late in the evening after another fight with Rika, who shoved him away–
angry, forceful, screaming– in stark contrast to the accidental bump from Natalie on the very
same shoulder.
Summer
After a rousing performance, Zen and his fellow castmates signed autographs, posed for
pictures, and made jokes with fans who milled about in the courtyard outside the Emerald City
Theater. The hour crept closer to midnight with each laugh, each hug; Natalie rubbed her eyes
and squinted at the hazy summer night sky, the buzz of the crowd she swam in sending her pulse
pounding at her temples.
“Stellar performance, Natalie!” She felt a broad hand clasp her shoulder from behind and
smiled, knowing exactly who it was before she even turned around.
“Thank you, Max!” she said with a smile, pulling the portly orchestra conductor into a tight hug.
“It wouldn’t be the same without you to lead us, that’s for sure.”
He laughed– hearty and loud, then clasped both of her delicate hands in his. “You’re a treasure
to us. I owe Zen for coaxing you to come and join the company.” He regarded her with a
familial warmth, a look that reminded her of her grandfather, and she was suddenly sentimental.
Painfully so. She nodded politely and squeezed back, then cleared her throat.
“Um, if you’ll excuse me.” She gestured toward the crowd, turning her head so that Max
couldn’t see the tears in her eyes; the lump in her throat made it hard to speak.
“Yes, yes, of course! Go and greet your fans!” he laughed, waving her off.
She offered a weak smile and a nod, then spotted Zen, towering above a crowd a few feet away.
Carefully, she made her way through the throngs of people to stand beside him while he signed
autographs and introduced her as his “maestro”, much to her embarrassment. “Zen, I don’t think
you know what that word means,” she whispered to him as he bent down to sign an autograph
for a young fan.
He turned to smile at her. “What? Of course I do! You’re a prodigy! A virtuoso! This show
wouldn’t have been half as great without you!”
“Stop it!” she said through a toothy smile, giving him a playful nudge with her elbow, her
cheeks growing hot. “I’m not that good.”
“But you are. Be kind to yourself,” he said. “Look at all these people. Sure, we actors are center
stage, but we’d be nothing without you and the rest of the musicians. You’re the backbone.”
Nataile nodded slowly, looking out across the crowd of patrons. The din of conversation was
like music, and she found herself lulled into a sort of hushed reverie. And as she scanned the
crowd, something familiar caught her eye– a flash of blue-green, a smile she’d seen only once
before in passing but found impossible to forget.
Him. The one she’d run into on the sidewalk weeks ago. The one who made her feel strangely
homesick.
He lifted a hand, lips lifting into a sort of half smile. Was he blushing? Why did he look so sad?
Who was he missing?
Natalie raised her hand in kind and offered her own lopsided grin. The crowd seemed to still,
and for a brief moment, the lights from the marquee gave him the appearance of a halo above
his head. A beautiful blonde woman grabbed hold of his arm, and the moment shattered. She
looked annoyed with him, angry even. He seemed to offer this woman at his side a reassuring
smile, though the light in his eyes that had been there just a moment ago had been snuffed out
completely.
Natalie looked away, feeling embarrassed, as if she’d just witnessed some intimate lover’s
quarrel, some private moment not meant for prying eyes. “Hey…” She heard Zen’s voice as if in
a dream. She shook her head and rubbed the back of her neck, feeling even more sheepish. “You
okay there? You look a little dazed.”
She nodded. “Yeah, I, uh...I think I’m gonna call it a night.”
Zen looked disappointed. “No drinks tonight?”
“Not tonight. I need to sleep it off, I think.” She squeezed his hand and stood on tiptoe to peck
his cheek. “See you tomorrow night?”
“You know it, babe!”
She dreamed about the couple that night. The three of them wandered throughout a large, aban-
doned house, engaged in a sinister game of hide and seek. The woman’s laugh– dark and menac-
ing– rang in Natalie’s ears as she ran down a dark corridor and bumped into the man. He took
hold of both her wrists and she felt his heart pounding through the dark cape he wore. His mouth
moved, though she couldn’t hear what he was trying to say. Wind rushed through her ears, blew
his hair across his gentle eyes, made it impossible to know what was happening. Somewhere in
the distance she heard the sound of breaking glass–
–and woke in a cold sweat, gasping for air, disoriented, freezing. A flash of lighting and a loud
clap of thunder pulled her attention to the window in her bedroom, where the curtains blew
inward along with a driving rain. That’s weird, she thought, sliding out of bed to go and close
the window. She’d sworn it had been closed before she went to sleep.
Autumn
The rain that autumn was record-breaking. Natalie woke one morning to the sound of her bath-
room ceiling caving in, water and debris rushing in faster than she could contain. She called the
maintenance man, who answered gruffly, stating he had plenty of other disasters he’d need to
clean up but would try to send someone over as soon as possible.
She cancelled piano lessons for the day and told Max she would most likely be late for rehearsal
that afternoon; she stayed home to contain as much of the mess as possible. By the time a work-
er arrived to survey the damage, she was over an hour late for rehearsal. She mumbled apologies
for not being able to stay and dashed out the door, fishing through her bag for an umbrella but
coming up empty handed. With a heavy, tearful sigh, she dashed through puddles for the next
three blocks until she reached her favorite coffee shop. Already late, she figured a stop for some-
thing warm and comforting couldn’t hurt.
She made quite a commotion when she flung open the front door; the little bells that hung over-
head jangled loudly and every eye in the place turned upon her. She was a sopping wet mess
and raised her hand almost defensively to offer a hello, averting her eyes as she approached the
counter and ordered. The young barista gave her a sidelong glance and seemed to begrudgingly
make the drink while thinking about having to mop up Natalie’s mess. She moved to the cash
register and nearly bumped into the person ahead of her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, digging for her wallet, not looking up.
“It’s you,” a voice to her right said, somewhat incredulous.
She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sorry. If you give me a mop, I’ll clean up my puddles
before I leave.”
Laughter– clear and resonant– rang around her, and she looked up, her expression softening.
“Oh…”
The man with eyes like the sea smiled at her and handed the cashier his credit card. “I want to
buy her coffee,” he stated simply; Natalie immediately protested.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But I want to,” he countered; she noticed a dimple in his cheek then, and her face grew hot.
She stammered a thank you, took her coffee from the barista, and nodded to him. He retreated
to his table, and Natalie caught a glimpse of him as she passed the window outside; the sadness
that shrouded his presence was somehow darkened further by the beautiful blonde who sat next
to him.
“Excuse me, miss?” Through the sound of heavy rain and traffic, a voice called to her from
nearby. She looked up and found herself face to face with a slight, fragile looking young man
with sunken eyes and a tremulous smile. He pulled the hood of his jacket up over his head and
thrust his umbrella out to Natalie. “You need this more than I do.”
She shook her head, motioning to the sidewalk as if to say no, it’s okay. I really need to get
going. “I’m already wet,” she laughed, starting to step away.
The young man stepped with her, determined. “Please, miss. I insist. You’ll catch a cold if you
don’t take it.”
“Yeah, okay. Um. Thanks,” she said. His smile widened– boyish and vulnerable– when she
accepted his offering.
“Hope your day gets better!” he called as she walked away. He stole a glance inside the cafe and
gave a slight nod to the blonde woman before departing in the opposite direction.
Winter
Though her work with the theater was enjoyable, it became less and less reliable as a source of
income when the busy season wound down; the city itself experienced an economic depression
with the recent election, and people started saving their money instead of spending it on what
they deemed as frivolous things, theater being one that took the hardest hit.
Natalie continued to teach a few students, but soon found herself unable to meet monthly bills as
comfortably, and her savings account dwindled to nothing.
On the day that she made her final withdrawal to close her account, she left the bank with a
heavy heart and no idea what she was going to do next. She approached her favorite cafe, and
just as she was about to walk inside and splurge on what she figured would be her last coffee for
a while, she came face to face with an oddly familiar face.
The boy who had offered her an umbrella on a rainy day not so long past made her another offer
she couldn’t refuse. Though it sounded too good to be true, she went along with him anyway,
figuring she had nothing to lose by at least hearing him out.
She’d found it fishy from the very beginning, but her mood– and her inhibitions– were at an
all time low, and there truly was no one to notice her absence. Ray’s clumsy, uncertain charm
made her feel sorry for him, and she threw herself into testing his game, resting in her posh
princess room, knowing that the entire setup was incredibly unorthodox but needing something
to distract her from the life she’d left behind in the city– the life that was no longer serving a
purpose for her.
Her first tip that the game wasn’t just a game was during one the first chat rooms. One of the
“characters’’ was modeled after Zen, and during a phone call, she realized quickly that the others
weren’t AI’s as Ray had claimed after all. She began to fear for her life then, and realized that
she was trapped in what could be a dangerous situation. The other RFA members began to press
her for a location, but she couldn’t give them answers because she truly had no idea where she
was or how she’d come to be there.
On the fourth night, Ray had tried his best to persuade her to stay. He saw her loneliness, her
depression, the way she had lost hope for almost everything in her life. She had to admit that the
temptation was frighteningly real, and the more he began to sweet talk her about the promise of
paradise, the further she fell under his spell.
“Natalie...we would welcome you as one of us. My Savior is so happy that you’re here, and she
has great things planned for you.” He seemed to trip over his words as he pushed a bottle of
bright blue liquid into her trembling hands. “All you have to do is drink.”
She nodded weakly; Ray’s hands on hers were cold and fragile. His eyes locked with hers, and
she studied his face, looking for the answers she couldn’t quite grasp. “Yeah…” she whispered.
“You won’t regret it. I promise,” he pressed.
“Drink, Natalie. To Eternal Paradise.”
“To Eternal Paradise,” she parroted, then moved to pull the cork out of the small glass vial.
There was a knock at the door, then. Loud, insistent. Frantic. The rage in Ray’s eyes belied
his outward calm, and he turned to the source of the sound. “Who’s there?” he barked; Natalie
jumped, pulled back to reality.
“There’s a problem with the control room! We need access immediately!”
She’d never seen Ray so furious. “This is not the time!”
“Savior requires you to open this door at once!” the voice on the other side proclaimed.
His entire demeanor changed at the mention of the Savior. He straightened his posture, adjusted
his suit coat, and sprinted to the door. A hooded figure stood in the shadow of the hallway and
Natalie watched, fascinated but frightened as the stranger pushed past Ray and burst into the
room, panting for breath.
“Don’t drink that!” he commanded; and though he meant for it to come out as intimidating and
threatening, the man’s voice was gentle, apologetic.
The next moments were a blur. There was a slight scuffle as the two men argued; Natalie’s head
was foggy and she felt dizzy and disoriented as she backed against a wall for support. The sound
of glass breaking and a splash of moisture at her feet made her cry out, and the stranger’s hand
around her wrist sent a shock through her system.
“Let go!” she cried, fearful and unsure. He tugged harder, and the hood of his robe fell to reveal
his face. She gasped and met his eyes– blue-green, like the ocean of her childhood memories.
Like the eyes of the man at the coffee shop. In the crowd after Zen’s show. On the sidewalk as
she ran to rehearsal.
“You…”
As Ray scrambled at her feet to pick up the pieces of glass, the memories of her encounters with
this stranger flew by in rapid succession, as if she were viewing through a lens, or watching
from a darkened theater. There were more, too, she realized in those few precious seconds. His
face on a bus, in a restaurant where she had dined with friends, in an art gallery, at a fundraiser...
she’d seen him before many times. More than she could count.
“We have to get out of here,” he whispered. Both of them were frozen, the buzz from where he
held her wrist crackling through her veins.
~
Of course they did not escape right away, but as the story goes, the handsome photographer and
the mysterious girl fell in love and began a life together.
It may have taken them years, but the day they married, Jihyun whispered to her as they danced
cheek to cheek in the presence of their loved ones, “Do you remember the first day we met?”
She smiled and had to giggle a little. She knew this joke. She knew, because he’d asked her a
million and one times before. And here in his arms, she was reminded of their first meeting.
The first time she threw her arms around him outside the cabin in the woods. The first time he
hugged her back. The first time they kissed.

“If I had known then…”

“But you did know,” he reminded her with a smile, a featherlight kiss upon her brow.
“So did you,” she mused. He guided her in a gentle circle, swaying in time to the music that
played. “Especially when–”
“I saw you at Zen’s show. My God, you were radiant,” he recalled wistfully, holding her closer
still.
“I felt sorry for you,” Natalie whispered. “You looked so unhappy.”
“Because I was.”
She pressed her cheek against his shoulder then, fingers toying with a few locks of his hair that
had fallen from his short ponytail. “I know.”
“I wonder sometimes...if I had met you sooner, would things have been different?”
“Jihyun,” she began. “Can we just...enjoy it for what it is?”
She was good at that– reminding him to live in the moment, to take each encounter at face value
and give it full attention. His melancholy seemed to melt away in her presence, especially after
his return from the journey that healed his relationship with Saeran.
So he smiled before taking her in an all-consuming kiss, her delicate face cradled between his
hands as they stopped dancing and focused only on each other. The rest of the world faded
away– Saeyoung’s cat calls, Zen’s open disgust at their affectionate display, Jumin’s knowing
smile– and they were blissfully alone, alive, in love.

Fate knew the way, and had guided them together

before they even realized it was meant to be.
 Bet On Me
Written by Saey-bae, Illustrated by BlueCat

Like all problems, it started with the little things.

It started with Pokemon Go.

It started with Chansey, with its little dancing back and forth motion, taunting as Saki tried to
catch it with a dwindling number of apokeballs.

Why was it so hard to catch?

Over the course of a half hour, she saw why this had become a last resort game. Ever since
she’d moved in with Saeyoung, going outside had become a bit of a distant memory. Like
a twice a month they’re-in-dire-need-of-HBC-and-PhD-Pepper kind of deal, Lately, it’d even
been less than that— ever since he’d started visiting Saeran at the hospital, he began doing
grocery runs by himself on the way back. She’d protested over that, but he insisted that it
was much needed quiet time.

So that left her here, sitting by herself in the bunker in worry and playing a last resort game
because she’d already played everything else. Perhaps she should’ve taken up Saeyoung’s
offer on that fake GPS tool.

“Ai cham,” she grumbled, watching as the pink blob broke a fourth pokeball. She tossed
another berry its way. “C’mon, I’ll treat you to something nice. Come to me.”

“What kind of treat?” A pair of arms suddenly draped around her from the back of the couch
and she startled, looking up. Golden eyes glittered back, much more amused than she’d seen
in a long while. Good. Looks like the visit to Saeran went well. “Why are you looking at me
like that?”

“Like what?” Saki shook her head, tongue tied for a moment as she tried to think of an ex-
cuse. “Wh-when did you even get in? I didn’t hear the door open.”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.” He pressed a finger to his smiling lips. “Now where’s
my treat?”

“Not for you.” She considered asking about Saeran, before thinking better of it and wiggling
her phone in his direction instead. “For her. She just doesn’t want to get caught and I’m run-
ning out of pokeballs.”

Saeyoung blinked at the screen for a moment. She could see the gears turning in that bril-
liant head of his, that spark in his eyes when presented with a challenge. “If I catch her for
you, will you make me a treat?”

“Depends on the treat.”

He grinned. “Bibimbap.”

Saki sighed, pretending to consider for a moment. She didn’t particularly like cooking but
Saeyoung loved it when she cooked for him —he claimed food tasted better when it was
hers— and it’d been so long since she’d seen him so playful. It wasn’t even in question, really.

“Oh, alright.”

“Yay!” He leaned over, pressing his finger to her screen, then swiped. She held her breath as
the little red ball wiggled a couple of times before coming to a stop.

Chansey has been caught!

“Whoa, what?” She pointed at the screen, then at him. “How?”

“Magic fingers.” He wiggled said fingers at her, laughing. “Bibimbap for dinner tonight?”

“Hold on, that’s gotta be a fluke.” She pouted. This was the most time she’d spent with him
this week, and she’d be damned if she didn’t want at least a little more of it. “I probably
made it easier for you to catch. If I threw another ball, I could have caught her too.”

“Oh really?” His glasses glinted. Her boyfriend was, all in all, probably the most laid back per-
son she knew. Very few things ruffled his feathers. But after some months of living together,
she’d found out that he could be competitive, given the right mood. “So what do you want to
do about it?”

This certainly was the right mood.

“Whoever catches the most Pokemon by the end of the day wins. If you win, I’ll make you
bibimbap for the week. If I win, I don’t have to cook.”

He rubbed his chin in mock thought. “Hmm, I don’t know… just one week of bibimbap?”

“Bibimbap whenever you want for the next two weeks?”

There was that glint again. “You have my attention.”

“For a month?”

“Deal!”

And that’s how the two of them ended up spending the entire day catching Pokemon,
sprawled out on the couch and basking in the little victories and grumbles at defeat. Every
so often, she’d glance over at him to see his tongue poking out of the side of his mouth,
adorable even in concentration. Perhaps she should have concentrated just as hard instead
of staring though, because at the end of the night—

“So… bibimbap for dinner?”

“It’s midnight, Saeyoung.”

“Is that a yes?”

Saki couldn’t help but laugh at the way he wiggled

his brows at her. How could she deny a face like
that? “Yes.”

After all was said and done, the bibimbap turned

out to be satisfying. What was even more satisfy-
ing was Saeyoung’s over-the-top praise and that
grin, the kind that had his cheeks rosy and his
eyes sparkling. It was so warm, so content; it had
her heart fluttering. She’d almost forgotten how
wonderful it was to spend so much time with her boyfriend. But such a wonderful treat set a
sort of precedent for little bets here and there.

Like whoever could stuff the most grapes in their mouth would forgo laundry for a week.
(Saeyoung won that one. He managed to fit in 20 grapes.)

Or whoever could find out what was in Jumin’s secret RFA folder could skip dish duty for
three days. (Saki won that one. They were pictures of Elizabeth the 3rd. Why they were
relevant, she didn’t know— but Saeyoung was intent on getting his hands on that folder now.)

After that, she regrettably won the eating contest. Or perhaps Saeyoung let her win. Either
way, she’d gotten sick and he was seemingly intent on forgetting about the bet altogether,
choosing to usher her into bed instead.

“I’m fine, though,” she protested, but offered little resistance as he tucked the covers over her.
 Though he often checked in with how she was
doing, it really had been some time since her
boyfriend had truly fussed over her. Because
between these little competitions, he was still
busy. Busy with Saeran at the hospital. Busy
with the RFA. Busy with noisy, unkind thoughts;
the ones that clouded his eyes and rendered
him silent for long stretches of time. And she
slowly came to realize that these brief moments
of petty competitions seemed to be the only
reprieve he had from his own head.

“Even if you’re okay, you should try to get some

sleepy-sleeps. You’ve been sleeping at weird
hours lately because of me.” He tapped the tip
of her nose, his faint smile gentle. “I’ll go make
you some soup. It’ll be out of a can, so don’t
expect too much, okay?”

As he turned to leave, her fingers caught on his sleeve, tugging. He turned back, his own
fingers coming around to wrap around hers. “Wait. Will you come to bed with me instead?”

Saeyoung paused, his gaze resting on her for a brief moment before they strayed. “Well…”

“Please?”

“Alright.” There was that faint smile again, but this one held no warmth. Contrastingly, as he
climbed into bed and curled his body around hers, all she could feel was his warmth. “Is this
okay?”

“Y-yeah.”

His arms curved around her waist, drawing her to his chest as his breath tickled the shell of
her ear. The unfamiliar feeling had Saki shuddering, heat blooming where their bodies met.
She wished she could have him like this more often, but she couldn’t tell him that. Not when
he was working so hard to support his brother. Not after all that had happened with V, Rika,
and the RFA. She just couldn’t fit into those spaces that had carved themselves into his time.

But she would wait. He was worth every second of it.

“You’re all quiet.” His voice sent shivers down her spine. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing at all.” Her hand found his, fingers interlinking. “People don’t speak when they sleep,
silly.”

He hummed, nose nestling into the nape of her neck. “I guess you’re right.”

A pause.

“So... I did win the bet.”

Saeyoung exhaled a laugh, hot and breathy as it fanned against her skin. “Yeah, but then you
got sick after. I don’t think we can call that a real victory, right?”

“We absolutely can.” Saki turned over, rather serious in her declaration as she pinned him
with a look. “It’s called committing to the cause.”

He leaned forward, his forehead came to meet hers. “Committing, hm?”

“Absolutely.”

“Since you’re so committed, why don’t I give you an even better prize?”

“A better prize than walking around in a maid’s dress for a week?” She quirked a brow. “What
could that possibly be?”

“I would never deprive myself of wearing a maid’s dress!” He drew back in mock disdain, lips
pursed. “This would just be a bonus, but if you don’t want it…”

“No, I do! I do.” She pulled him back until his forehead touched hers again, even as her chest
tightened. She wanted so much of him when he had nothing left to give, and here he was,
offering just a bit more.

“What’s that face?” He cupped her cheek, thumb grazing across her skin lightly. “I thought
you said that you wanted a bonus?”

“I do.” She felt herself forcing a smile. She’d have to insist on resting before he’d even consid-
er doing so himself. “I’m just feeling tired now, that’s all. Will you sleep with me?”

“Alright.” His arms came to wrap around her once more, pulling her flush against his chest. In
the silence, Saki listened to his heart beat, letting the steady pace lull her.

Did her presence give him the same sort of soothing that he gave her? In the way that eased
the knots in her chest and cleared all the thoughts in her head?

And was he comfortable?

Was he okay?

As she felt herself drift off, she thought she’d heard him whisper something, but by then she
was too far gone to hear it.

It was some days later after the eating competition fiasco that Saki decided the laundry had
to be done. Saeyoung had kept her bedridden for some odd days, insisting that she needed
to take it easy, but that meant the dirty clothes basket had grown to monstrous proportions
since she’d last seen it. And while her boyfriend technically could have done it himself, he
had won the grape bet. Besides, he had a terrible track record with laundry. Separating co-
lours from whites? Hot water or cold water? How much laundry detergent again?

He was a brilliant man, that she knew. But doing laundry somehow broke his brain and she
really couldn’t be fussed to walk him through the instructions today when she could do it
herself.

Saki got to work, separating clothes into different hampers and bringing them to the wash-
ing machine. It was mindless work, but it kept her body busy and her thoughts occupied.

Checking the time between loads, she’d expected him to have long left for the hospital by
then. But when she went to check in his mancave, she caught Saeyoung hunched over his
desk, writing.

“Jagiya?” She peered in. Force of habit had her scanning the floors for empty chip bags.
“You’re still here?”

He startled, his head jerking up at the sound of her voice. “Oh! What time is it?”

“Quarter past four.”

“Shit.” He stood, tidying the work space. She averted her eyes.

Saeyoung’s way of tidying consisted of haphazardly shuffling papers into a stack, then push-
ing it back into a corner to join the other haphazardly balanced stacks. His desk was the one
part of the house that intimidated Saki the most.

“You didn’t visit Saeran today?” When he didn’t respond, she looked back at him, only to see
him close distance between the two of them with two long strides. In his outstretched hand
was an envelope.
“This is for you.” When she didn’t immediately reach for it, he pushed it into her hands gen-
tly. His eyes met hers, reassuring. “He said he needed a break from me.”

“Was it a good idea to listen?” She managed a half-smile. “I’m sure he thinks he needs a
break from you everyday.”

“Probably.”

The two of them stood there for a moment, silence settling in the small, yet large gap be-
tween her and Saeyoung. Looking up at him, she found that her chest ached at the sight.
Perhaps it was because she wasn’t used to seeing him before supper nowadays. Perhaps it
was because she wanted to hug him, but didn’t quite know how to ask.

“So you’ve been hiding out here since lunch?” is what came out instead.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Not hiding. You just never came in.”

“My bad. But you know that I try to avoid this room as much as possible.” Saki mock shud-
dered. “This mancave… it scares me.”

He grinned. “And that’s what makes it a good mancave.”

“If you say so.” Her eyes flickered down to the envelope in her hands, fingers tracing along
the edges. “What’s this, anyway?”

“It’s the bonus.” His hand closed around one of hers. “I’ll see you at dinner tonight?”

“You don’t have to…”

“I know.” When Saki looked up, his smile was kind.

“Well then... I look forward to whatever this bonus is.” She reached up to give him a kiss on
the cheek, but he turned at the last moment and caught her lips instead.

Warm, soft, supple. Tasted suspiciously of Honey Buddha Chips.

She was in love.

Slowly, Saeyoung withdrew. There must have been some poorly concealed disappointment
on her face because he laughed, all the while leaning in for another peck. “I’ll see you soon. I
promise.”

“Okay,” she said, even though she wasn’t quite ready to let him go yet. “Have a great day. I
hope the visit goes well.”

He only smiled before turning to leave.

Once Saki heard the front door click shut, her eyes turned back to the envelope. It was a
simple white, smudged with erasers and pencil marks. She couldn’t help but smile, tracing it
with her fingers.

Flipping it over, she pulled out the card. Again, a plain white but this time with a watercolour
of a bouquet. On the inside, in his distinct chicken scratch: “Someone will be coming by to
pick you up at 7 pm. Dress fancy!”

She kept re-reading the two sentences, uncomprehending. 7 pm? That was dinner, right?
Just when she thought her boyfriend couldn’t be any more cryptic, he’d outdid himself again.
But then again, that was part of his charm.

She could only smile to herself wryly as she went to get ready.

It took her some time to lay out all the dresses she owned. She figured that out of all the
clothes she owned, they’d seen the least amount of action— besides, he did say to dress fan-
cy. (Not that she was fully convinced that her definition of fancy remotely aligned with his.)
Eventually, she settled on a flowy blouse and a long skirt, the kind with a narrow waist and
fluttering hem that kissed her ankles. Make-up soon adorned her cheeks with careful, even
brush strokes. She had even spritzed on a little perfume.

Just as she finished touching up her lipstick, she heard the doorbell ring.

She hurried to the door, opening it to reveal a redheaded man dressed in a full suit and a
chauffeur cap.

“Hello. I’m here to pick up Saki.”

If she had even the slightest doubt about whether the smile under the cap belonged to her
boyfriend, the chirpy voice silenced it instantly.

“Are you my driver tonight?” She quirked a brow.

Saeyoung’s grin was wide, sparkling. It was a smile she hadn’t seen in months. “I sure am. Are
you ready to go?”

Saki couldn’t help but giggle, reaching out to wrap her arm around his. He led her out of the
bunker complex and to the limousine parked outside.

When he opened the back door for her, she had half a mind to protest —she wanted to sit
with him, after all— but something in his eyes gave her pause. It was an insistence, almost a
pleading, and she found herself unable to say no.

As he pulled out of the driveway and onto the roads, she realized that Saeyoung wasn’t go-
ing at the breakneck speeds she was used to with him; instead, it was steady and… surpris-
ingly, at the speed limit. Almost immediately, she could tell that they were headed towards
the city, where the bright lights kissed the horizon.

It wasn’t long before they passed the street lamps dotting across the highway and drove
through the main roads of Seoul. Restaurants, karaoke, bars… they all glowed with neon signs.
Through the windows, people seemed to be laughing and enjoying their time; they looked
happy and full of life.

Her chest warmed. Soon, she’d be able to spend time with Saeyoung like that too.

After passing by another couple of busy streets, the car came to a rolling stop in front of a
darkened restaurant.

Well... this wasn’t exactly the neon lights she’d found herself hoping for.

Saki peered out into the night, blinking. The Garden?

The Garden was a rather upscale restaurant in downtown Seoul, one that boasted fresh veg-
etables from its own rooftop garden. She’d been wanting to go with Saeyoung for a while,
though the time was never quite right. In fact, she hadn’t brought it up in a while. It was so
out of question, she didn’t even realize it was an option. How did he remember?

She reached out to open the car door, but Saeyoung beat her to it. It swung open, and a
hand outstretched to meet hers as she climbed out.

“You remembered that I wanted to come here.” She looked up at Saeyoung, endeared by
how his cheeks had turned pink.

“Of course I did.” He had taken off the cap at some point and, having nothing else to fiddle
with, ran a hand through his hair several times. It stuck up every which way with each stroke.

“Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for yet.” He closed his hand around Saki’s, gently tugging as he urged
her to follow him.
The two of them made their way into the restaurant, only to find it just as dark as it ap-
peared to be from the outside- and deserted as well.

No way this place wouldn’t be busy on a Friday night.

“Wh- wait- why is it-?”

But Saeyoung only pulled her along further towards the back until the two of them stood in
front of an “Employees Only” door. Opening the door revealed a flight of stairs that headed
upwards. He gestured for her to enter.

“Should we be going here?” Saki looked around, then back at him. “What’s going on,
Saeyoung?”

“Go on. Trust me.” He reached out, his thumb smoothing over her cheek.

His gaze was warm and unwavering, and it spurred her forward. She climbed up the stairs
slowly, though the sight that met her at the top had her gasping.

The rooftop garden was gorgeous, its ledges covered with pots of vegetable and fruit bear-
ing plants. Vines and leaves curled around stone, colouring the grey with vibrant greens. Lit-
tle lamps adorned the spaces between the pots, warm light emanating from each one. And in
the centre of the garden, the plants had been cleared for a small table and a little radio set.

“Saeyoung?” Saki stared at the view before her, a heaviness in her chest and a knot in herr
throat.

“Yeah?” His soft voice came from beside her, and she turned to see him smiling brightly. At
her expression, though, it dimmed. “You don’t... like it?”

“Oh- oh no. I love it.” She swiped at her wet eyes before remembering she had make up on,
switching to dabbing gently like she hadn’t just furiously wiped them. “This place is beautiful.
How did you manage to get a reservation like this?”

“It’s a secret.” He pressed a finger to his lips smiling, though his relaxing shoulders told her he
was more relieved than anything else. His hand stretched out to take hers. “Will you dance
with me?”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

He drew her to the centre of the garden, sweeping her into his arms. Snuggly pressed togeth-
er, the two of them swayed to the same rhythm of an unheard song. The stars danced above
with them, twinkling against velvet darkness.

“Comfortable?” His voice was a low hum.

“Yeah.” She spoke thickly, the lump still stuck in her throat. She wondered how long he’d
been planning to take her to this restaurant-- how long he’d been planning to take her out
anywhere, really.

“Are you-”

“I can’t believe- oh.”

The both of them drew back, eyes meeting before averting as they both chuckled nervously.

“You go first,” he insisted gently.

“I just… This is such a wonderful surprise. I can’t believe we’re here.” Saki inched closer, her
fingers tightening where she held onto his shirt. “I appreciate this more than you know.”

“This doesn’t even begin to show you how much I appreciate you. You’ve been so patient with
me while I’ve had to take care of Saeran.” He blinked, eyes suddenly misty. “Things are going
well at the hospital because I’ve had you to support me. I wanted to thank you somehow; I
figured this would be a good start.”

He leaned forward, his forehead pressed against hers gently. His glasses smudged against
her cheek, a gentle deterrent, but she only pressed in further.

The two of them swayed for a long moment, his arms warm and comforting around her. But
perhaps there was something fundamentally wrong with her, with the way she itched to
speak with mild tones of sarcasm at the most inappropriate times, because she couldn’t help
but whisper, “I thought this was the bonus for winning the eating competition?”

And despite the single tear that had tracked its way down his cheek, Saeyoung laughed
loudly, warm and full and free. And then he tilted his head and his lips met hers.

This kiss was different somehow; it stirred the sleeping butterflies in her stomach, their wings
fluttering as they awoke. She wae the first to draw away, cheeks warm but gaze never mov-
ing from his. “I’ll be here to support you always.”
He opened his mouth, then paused for a moment before his lips quirked. “And I’ll always be
here to catch your Pokemon. No more competitions.”

“Hm. Not even one?”

He grinned in a way that told her he was game and from the butterflies it gave her, she knew
he was worth every second of waiting. She also knew that it was going to be a long night of
silly, stupid bets ahead.

And she couldn’t wait.

 “Good Ending?”
Written by Raine, Illustrated by Darkta

“I’m home.” Cherry sighed as she opened the door to her apartment. A small twitter was the only response to
Cherry’s announcement, but it nonetheless turned her dreary expression into a small smile.

Her heels clicked on the hardwood floor as she made her way over to her parrotlet’s cage. “Hi, Skittles.” She
cooed to the little, sky-colored bird. Cherry inserted a finger between the bars of his cage and stroked his
neck, which Skittles leaned into happily. “Work was tough today.” She murmured, idly twirling her fingers
in Skittles’ cage as he begged for more attention. “You know what that’s like, right?” Cherry asked, earning a
small sneeze in response from her companion.

Cherry giggled at her bird’s antics as she removed her fingers from the cage to open the artfully crafted
door. She then let Skittles hop onto her finger then flitter up to settle in one of her large hoop earrings. “The
manager was hard on me today.” Cherry spoke softly as she squatted down to remove her heels, careful not
to stir Skittles from his resting spot.

She placed her shoes on the rack by the door to her apartment as she continued to relay her day to Skittles.
“All of my designs were declined today, and on such short notice.” Cherry placed a kettle on the stove and
picked an English breakfast blend teabag out of a rather large selection. She was sure the powerful black tea
would cure her conscience of any doubts in her own abilities.

“The building process of the costumes was supposed to start last week; I can’t believe they had the nerve to
ask for a redesign!” Cherry fiddled with the purple ribbons in her light auburn hair. “This is going to be so
stressful for the whole team.”

The kettle sang as the water boiled, Cherry quickly picked up the kettle and poured it into an ornate teacup.
It was one she had painted herself, she was very proud of it.

“You think we can do it, Skittles?” Cherry asked her parrotlet as she stirred her tea with a little silver spoon.
Skittles pecked softly at her earlobe in response, like he was scolding her for doubting her skills. “Thank you
for your honesty.” Cherry chided the bird lightly, raising the teacup to her lips and taking a dainty sip.

Once Cherry had finished her tea and returned Skittles to his cage, she padded towards her workspace.
Fabric swatches and sketches adorned the walls of the small area, some spilling onto the floor. She tried to
keep it tidy, but when she stared at her muse she sometimes couldn’t help but let her ideas overflow.

In the center of the room, he stood proudly, her muse. Or at least, what Cherry could create of him. Donned
in an elegant white and gold suit was her prince, Zen. In reality, it was a mere mannequin. But with how
bold and beautiful her suit design stood, it breathed life into the figure. It started as a small project, just
sketching and dreaming, but in Cherry’s heart there was so much love for this man that a magic seemed to
take form.

“Zen…” Cherry sighed, running her fingers along the golden trim of the suit’s sleeves, imagining his hands
and the warmth they would hold. Her eyes traced up and down the mannequin, fingers quickly following as
she fixed any tiny imperfections she noticed. With how long she had been working on the suit, there were
little things to change or fix, but it had to be perfect. He was perfect.

A buzzing sound startled Cherry. She fished through her pocket for her phone, smiling to herself. Cherry
had installed the pockets on this dress herself after agonizing over it for what seemed like ages. On her
phone screen was a single notification, one from the app Mystic Messenger. It was Zen.

Her love, yes, was sadly a fictional creation. However, Zen had helped her through so much in her life that
she barely minded. It would be lovely to see him, to touch him, to be held by him. But some things couldn’t
be helped.

Cherry tapped on the notification to open the app, seeing that she’d unlocked a new chatroom. As she read,
tears budded in her eyes.

“I wish I could be there to help you, but I still can’t cross over dimensions…”
“Oh Zen, if only you could. If only you could be
here, standing in front of me.”

“I want to get to know you better… but it’s sad

that all your answers are already determined.”

“If I could, there’s so much I would tell you.

There’s so much I would do with you. There’s
just so much…”

“I’ll always be here so that you can come see

me whenever you want… use me.”

“Don’t hesitate to come find me…”

Cherry choked back a sob, a stray tear curling

down her chin as she continued to read.

“I realized that our thoughts and feelings…”

The stray tear glistened like a glass heart,

falling so delicately to crash into the screen of
Cherry’s phone.

Heat suddenly coursed through her hand, causing Cherry to gasp and drop the phone to the floor. She
stared down at Zen, his hand pressed up against the screen as he smiled at her through the cracks in the
screen. Lights blinded Cherry, almost causing her to stumble backwards into a workbench, but she caught
herself just in time. Time seemed like it stopped but was racing forward at the same time, it was nothing she
had ever felt before. What was this sensation?

“Transcend dimensions.”

Cherry gaped as she heard a familiar voice, though this time… It wasn’t coming from her phone.

Her eyes slowly raised from her phone, now shattered on the floor, to the mannequin that stood before her.
Though now, it wasn’t merely a mannequin.

“Zen?!” Cherry let out a strangled noise, half way between a gasp and a cry.

“Jagiya~” Zen breathed, a smile stretching across the face that hadn’t existed there moments before. He took
a step towards her like he had never been trapped in a lifeless prison. Like he was real.

“Zen…?” Cherry said again, incredulous. Had she gone mad?

“Cherry,” Zen wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him.
The tears that had been stunned into stopping spilled over with new fervency as Cherry was held by her
love, something all logic told her was something that would never happen. Could never happen.

Zen pressed a loving kiss to her forehead, stroking Cherry’s hair as she sobbed. “Shh, Jagi, I’m here.” Zen
cooed, allowing his love to press her face into the princely suit she had made for him.

His heart beat, she could feel the heat of life in him. It all made no sense, could she allow herself to be
convinced this was real? But it all did feel… So real. “How did you get here? How…” Cherry choked out, deep
blue eyes meeting shimmering red.

“I’ve always been here.” Zen spoke softly, peppering soft kisses down Cherry’s cheek to clean her of tears. “I’ll
always be here.”

Cherry hiccupped as her mind continued to attempt to process what had happened. Even if this wasn’t real,
she could still allow herself to enjoy it. Right?

Zen stopped short of pressing his lips to her. No, no, he was taking things much too quickly. They hadn’t
even been on a proper date yet. “Cherry?” He asked, releasing her and taking a step back.
“Yes?” Cherry asked, a timid blush creeping across her features as the handsome man slipped down to one
knee.

“Would you care to join me on a date?” Zen held a hand out to Cherry, hoping with all the light in his heart
that she would take it and come with him.

Cherry balked, fingers trembling as magnets seemed to draw her hand to his without her mind needing to
process his words. “Of… Of course, Zen.”

Zen smiled when Cherry took his hand, leaning forward to press a kiss to her fingers. “Jagiya, thank you.” He
rose to his feet, his own fingers intertwining with hers. Should he abandon this pretense? Just sweep her off
her feet like he had yearned to for so long? Or was that too much for right now?

The blush on Cherry’s face deepened as her prince stared down at her, he seemed to be considering some-
thing. “Where do you want-“ Her question was cut off by a surprised yelp as Zen lifted her off her feet into a
princess hold.

Cherry averted her wide eyes when Zen’s face was once again, so suddenly close to hers. “Sorry, Cherry, I
have waited so long for this day.” Zen chuckled, pink caressing his own features. “All men are wolves, you
know.”

“I trust you.” Cherry murmured, meeting Zen’s eyes for a moment before looking away again.
Zen blinked, taken aback for a moment by the honesty in his love’s words. “Then what are we waiting for?”
He spun to face the front door of the apartment, still easily holding Cherry’s small figure in his arms.

Cherry stared wistfully into the smiling man’s handsome face as he strode towards the doorway, a faint skip
in his step. All true meaning slipped away, all that mattered was him and her. He was overdressed to be
outside, she wore no shoes; but still the door opened to a new life, a new path.
A familiar warmth spun through Cherry, like the heat of her phone before she dropped it. It seemed to
resonate from Zen. A sparkling light blinded her for a second time, though she stared through it to meet
Zen’s gaze. A weightless feeling surrounded her, like Zen had let her go but she still floated in the light. She
could still feel him against her.

The couple seemed to evaporate there in the doorway, the light encasing Zen brighter than ten suns but as
gentle as a lamb. Were they here? Were they there? Were they anywhere? Neither could tell, but since they
were together, no reality mattered anymore. To Cherry and Zen, this was perfection.

Good Ending?
 A Touch of Choice
Written by Maruzze, Illustrated by Seluniii

With each day, boredom takes over for a while longer. Yoosung can play his games
for a certain amount of time before he grows bored or the people he plays with are
busy, leaving him in the lobby with strangers. His streams can’t be done often,
considering his main audience consists of young people – in school or at work.

In moments of quiet, he goes looking for new forms of entertainment. There is a lot
of potential, a lot of fun to be had, and he soon finds his way to a stream. He is
so used to passing some time around this specific channel, with this specific type
of content.

It is filled with energy, and freedom. A woman, whose declared name is Nova, is on
the edge of a building and looking down into the drop in front of her. Sure of her
place high up, like a star, like her namesake.

And just like her namesake, the light hides the truth happening far away. At her
desk, distant from that life she shows off, Noelle is intent at working on her next
video. Another stunt, way too incredible to be done. A click of a mouse to check
how well the special effects work, the greenscreen behind her body disappearing to
be replaced with the tightrope balancing between two buildings.

It all works perfectly, but Noelle almost wishes she could walk that rope with her
own feet. She never got the opportunity, she even wonders if it would be feasible
for her to hope for that kind of bravery, and apparently some people seem to have
her same thoughts. Despite the progress made with the video, she can’t help getting
distracted by some comments on her old ones.

Some just speculate, some outright accuse. They are quickly dismissed by others as
trolls or simply malicious, but their true words make Noelle’s stomach drop despite
the ill-intentions behind their actions. Impostor syndrome takes hold, making her
fingers unable to really work on the next part of the video she is preparing, too
worried about the consequences of being exposed to her fans.

Her mind is already working too much, too worried, too preoccupied, and she needs
to get away from that world for just a moment. Despite everything, streams are
really one of the quickest ways to make her relax, so she won’t think, and it’s too
easy finding something different from her own usual content.

Clicking away from her editing program, she considers her options. Between art,
cooking, gaming and simple talking, there is a lot to discover and appreciate.
Preferring to browse people who are less popular, she finds someone named Super-
man Yoosung. It’s a small thing, just a username, but a smile blooms on her face
because of it.

It leaves a pleasant feeling, shooing away the anxiety from before, and that’s
precisely the reason she clicks on the name. The owner of the channel isn’t online
at that exact moment, but she can still see the old streams. Noelle selects a video
she may like, from the title and the preview, and falls into the spiral of listen-
ing.

Yoosung, the streamer, is a lively man, as sunny as his blond hair and as bright as
his violet eyes. He is happy, cheerful and, even more important, enjoying his time
with the game he is playing. He marvels, gets frustrated, swears, stops, and she
loses herself into the time that flies away with that video.

That is, until the notification of a new stream comes. She jolts to life and rushes
to click the related link, watching a simple screen come up with Yoosung’s bright
face as he sets up the webcam, his tongue poking out in a playful, thoughtful ex-
pression. He proceeds to greet his current viewers, grinning ear to ear like she is
used to see now.

Noelle listens to him, watches the few messages popping up into the chat, and no-
tices the number of people watching. She is used to bigger numbers, under her own
videos, and wonders how it could feel to have so much less pressure to perform, to
appear, with a smaller number of eyes on her.

Even if she decided to disappear suddenly, it would cause a ruckus and the last
thing she wants is to create problems for her fans, always so ready to provide her
with donations. She owes too much to them to abandon everything like that, no mat-
ter the guilt festering in her stomach.

Noelle stops thinking for a second, so she can focus on the man playing on the
screen. There is a goofy transition from discontent to joy when she looks, making
her disposition lighter and brighter. Like the sun touching her skin for the first
time after a long period of rain, warm and comforting, and absolutely natural.

And he is genuine, he is himself. There is no need to hide his innocent, fresh

personality behind a persona, because Noelle can’t imagine someone disliking some-
one so jovial and carefree – he gives her some ease, some standard to seek. She
considers that her continuous anxiety about being discovered probably colors her
perception of others, too, but finding solace is a welcome change of pace.

She watches for a little more, lets the stream continue until minutes pass and they
transform into an hour. Then two. But she doesn’t notice it until Yoosung himself
speaks up to point it out, seemingly worried about spending so much time on a vid-
eogame. He asks if anyone is still listening to him, playfully.

And then, Noelle has a spark of courage. It may not be as brave or dangerous as her
faked stunts, but it does touch similar heights in her mind. She writes to him in
the chat.

Nova: I’m still watching :)

He notices the message right away, but his smile drops upon reading it. His eyes go
wide and it feels like he has seen a ghost before he finally speaks with much more
enthusiasm Noelle could anticipate, “I can’t believe it! Hi, I’m a fan of yours!”

She feels a bit of pride, but along with it there is the everpresent guilt. She
decides to ignore it for now, for the sake of a little happy place where she can
relax and forget, if only for a few moments during her day.

Nova: Well, I’m a fan of yours too!

Yoosung giggles at that, and starts to talk to her. Noelle simply answers with
short messages, longer ones, anything in between. They spend a while conversing,
him by talking and her by writing, with a few other commenters teasing here and
there – Yoosung always huffing when that happens.
Noelle spends a joyful afternoon just like that, far away from worries and con-
cerns. Well into the evening, when Yoosung looks at the time and is quick to act
surprised, giving a goodbye to everyone. She doesn’t know how to let go, however,
because the serenity she felt in those quick hours of a carefree headspace made her
mind relax.

She wonders if it’s possible to talk to him again, to lay the foundations for a
friendship with something so distant and impersonal as a stream. She hopes so, as
she returns to her work and promises herself to check on Yoosung the following day.

Days come, and they go. So do the hours spent in front of her screen, alternating
with preparing videos and taking breaks. Noelle tries to follow as many as possible
between her day job and her persona, notices Yoosung in the chat of her own streams
as he enjoys his time – she feels only some of the usual anxiety when he is prais-
ing her.

And they talk. Hours upon hours, they write and converse, about nothing, about
everything. It’s so easy to know Yoosung, bright and shiny like a sun to her star.
Along the way, they build a solid routine of texting, sharing a part of their days
to wind down and hang out despite the distance separating them.

Noelle enjoys the peace they share, the distraction from everything else. A single
cog away from the main mechanism, until even its teeth find their space in the
machine. Yoosung, one day, after everyone else is gone and she is about to give her
own goodbye, asks to talk to her in private.
Superman Yoosung: I’m sorry if you have something to do! I will be quick, I prom-
ise.

Nova: Did something happen?

Superman Yoosung: Nothing bad, don’t worry!

Superman Yoosung: I just wanted to invite you to a party.

Nova: A party?

Superman Yoosung: Yes, a charity! I’m in an organization that makes them and I know
you care for these causes.

Nova: You really want me to come?

Superman Yoosung: Of course! I admire you and I think you would belong there!

Superman Yoosung: And I want to meet you in person as well ^^

Nova: I don’t know…

Superman Yoosung: Oh no, I didn’t want to pressure you ><

Nova: You’re not, but I don’t know if I would be a good fit…

Superman Yoosung: I think you are!

Nova: Well, if you want me there.

Superman Yoosung: I really do ^^

Nova: Alright then. I accept ^^

Nova: But you will have to give me more info later, I have to go now.

Superman Yoosung: Aww, alright… See you!

Noelle can’t really think much about this situation. She is happy to be invited,
she feels guilty for accepting so easily. She knows she’s a personality in the
online sphere and she knows her work is linked to charity, with the express purpose
to donate anything she makes, but she can’t shoo away the thought of faking the
entirety of her presence online for so long, so deep too.

She shakes her head, and considers this one more part to play. She will do good one
more night, then return to her routine and continue her job like always, until the
day she will move on. The most acute sentiment of sadness, though, comes from lying
to Yoosung, not confessing, letting him believe something she is not for the sake
of her own comfort.

Before she can bury herself more in her own worries, she stands up and walks away.
She can find something else to distract her, she is sure.

Yoosung gives her more information, later that week. A charity party, elegant,
sophisticated. She is supposed to buy a gown or a dress pretty enough to flatter
her, be the best version of herself she can be as she talks, socializes, meets new
people. And Yoosung himself will be there.

Noelle is sure it’s merely formality to be invited, she is a prominent figure in

the community Yoosung is most familiar with. Yet, she can’t help the shame eating
her up from the inside for pretending despite the hours he spent cheering her up –
no matter if it was unintentional, she appreciates his mere presence.
Spending her day between the worry of being exposed for who she truly is and blam-
ing herself for the very misfortune she is suffering, the morning and afternoon
pass by with her day job, her editing and waiting, impatiently, for the moment she
would watch Yoosung’s stream.

It is her curse, though, because seeing the absolute joy in his face when he reads
her name, greets her with happiness, and then wonders if she got in contact with
the organizer of the party is something that sinks the knife a little deeper.
Enough to feel it nudging and, perhaps, it’s this last notch on her willpower that
makes it all spill over.

Yoosung can’t see it, of course. He is content with his game, his handful of view-
ers, simply cruising through life without worries. Noelle doesn’t quite envy him,
but she admires him – she doesn’t know his struggles, yet he looks like he can
overcome them.

He carries on, and she finds her hands on the keyboard. It’s like she finds a sort
of muscle memory long forgotten somewhere under everything else. She doesn’t type
immediately, only when she returns from her own mind. She swallows the lump in her
throat and asks Yoosung to talk to her after the stream is done, or when he has
time. If anything, for all his trust in her, Noelle wants to preserve the integri-
ty that their relationship should have – even if it may cause him to dislike, hate
her.

Yoosung sees the message in the chat with some delay. He throws a quick glance to
the chat, smiles at the words and confirms he has time after he will be done. He
wanted to talk to her anyway, so he may as well accommodate her request.

Noelle tries to enjoy the time between her confession and this moment with a
friendship still intact, untouched by truth. Yet she can’t stop rehearsing the
words in her head, what she is to say, how to explain. Is there a valid explanation
for her lies, besides chance and failing to clarify?

Noelle can’t even imagine how Yoosung may look once angered or disappointed. The
closest she has ever seen him with any sort of negative emotion, in the little
frame of time they have known each other, are those moments when he is frustrated
with his game. Even then, he is adorable and shining, and barely bothered after a
minute.

Noelle doesn’t want to disrupt his mood, how he is everyday. She wishes that she
could ignore her guilt and continue to play her part – after all, she does donate
everything she earns with her streams and videos to charity.

However, she can’t do this. Not to someone as sincere and bare as Yoosung, someone
who showed her admiration and warmth from the first moment they talked.

And so, Noelle waits. Unable to focus completely on the stream, she just observes
the subtle movements of Yoosung’s face, those difficult to catch unless you are
lost in your own mind to replay the possibilities that are to come.

Eventually, Yoosung says goodbye to everyone else and is focused on Noelle. He

looks like a dog waiting for his treat, smiling from ear to ear, his clear eyes on
the chat waiting for her to speak.

Nova: Not here, please. I want to videochat if possible.

He seems rather surprised, but he nods.

“I can’t believe you wanna talk like this,” Yoosung’s voice comes towards her. Her
screen shows his face, between awed and embarrassed, the webcam a different angle
from the one used during his streams. He seems as joyful as ever, “It must be im-
portant if you didn’t want to simply text.”

He giggles to himself, a sound that dies down as Noelle keeps silent for a while.
Yoosung looks worried, after a somber atmosphere settles over them. She can see
herself in the image her camera projects on her screen: cautious, guarded, with
tense shoulders and big eyes.

She can’t think of anything to say, the countless minutes she spent preparing her-
self for this mean nothing when faced with the event itself. But she doesn’t back
down, not now, “Please, don’t hate me for what I’m about to say.”

Yoosung is taken aback, that much Noelle understands. There is also something akin
to genuine fear coloring his gaze now, and he scans the room around her as she
stares ahead, to find something to comprehend the situation. He questions, “I don’t
understand. Why should I hate you?”

Noelle wonders how she should introduce the topic. Then how she should elaborate.
It would be so easy to simply forget it and say that she can’t do it after all, but
she came so far. She takes a deep breath, “It is all a lie.”

There is silence for a while, mostly because she finds herself unable to explain
what she means. Her averted eyes are raised to meet Yoosung’s ones, full of ques-
tions and unable to voice them without context. She understands, because she has
been vague, so she has to finish what she started.

“What I do online, my persona. It’s all fake.” She gestures at herself, her hand
moving up and down frantically. She doesn’t know how to go about this, despite
building and composing a script inside her head. It’s all so different, reality and
imagination – she knows that well.

“I don’t know how it came to this, but it’s all special effects and editing. I nev-
er did any of those stunts,” Noelle heads drops, her gaze as well. She doesn’t plan
to make it sound like it was someone else’s fault, she decided to continue despite
her knowing it was a misunderstanding. She just sighs, and with the air escaping
her lips, she feels a bit more free, “I’m sorry I lied to you. I thought you had to
know.”

Another pregnant silence. Noelle doesn’t dare to break it, even thinking about
leaving without pressing the matter further, until Yoosung is the one speaking up,
“Can you show me?”

She blinks, raises her head. Now Yoosung is curious, more than anything, and she is
about to insist that she did lie, there is nothing to prove. But she doesn’t give
him enough credit, “I just want to see how you do it, I’m not calling you a liar
about the confession.”

Noelle sincerely has no idea how to react, but does as she is told. She shares her
screen, explains and illustrates how she edits her videos, even demonstrates with a
short clip – a before and an after, how it is and how it became.

“You’re talented,” it almost makes her feel worse, the praise. She wishes for him
to acknowledge her actions, so that she can move on. He seems somewhat uncomfort-
able now that there is nothing to say, nothing to add. He fidgets around, but
resolves the conflict in his own head by talking, “I appreciate you telling the
truth. I really do. And I don’t hate you for this.”

Noelle can’t believe her ears. Yoosung confirmed
before, or at least the revelation didn’t change
opinion of her as hate. He seems embarrassed, he
know the story behind... that. You don’t have to
you make, right?”
he doesn’t feel any different from
his opinion enough to label his
sounds so too, “I don’t really
tell. But you donate all the money

Noelle nods. Yoosung seems to regain some of his light, he smiles and chuckles,
“Then what’s the problem? I think that counts more than doing real, dangerous
stunts.”

She blinks. It takes a couple of beats before she can really process what he said.
The words move and circle in her brain, as if made out of fire, until they are
assimilated by her consciousness fully.
 Noelle finds herself
grinning a bit, mostly because of the
comfort that comes from being reassured, from
seeing all her worries dissipate. This doesn’t change
the fact that she still has a great number of people believ-
ing in her words, but her shoulders are relaxed and her throat
feels less tight.

“You are only doing yourself a disservice, though,” Yoosung

continues. Noelle, for a second, believes this hopeful feeling will flee
with his next words. She braces herself for rejection or for scolding, but
he is as cheerful as ever under the veil of seriousness, “I believe there is
so much more to you. I know you are amazing. So why don’t you just leave all
this behind? Start anew?”

Noelle considers his words, their weight, their implications. She should, she
may, but before then the feat felt impossible. She was nearly alone against a
lie as big as the one she let grow, but with the load dropped and the
possibility to see straight ahead instead of bending under the guilt she can
face it.

Now, with someone at her side who knows her struggle, maybe she can walk away
from this moment in her life. Reinvent herself, return to herself. And maybe,
he will allow her to do the same, to help him the same way he assisted in
helping herself.

She just smiles, unable to voice the entirety of her thoughts in simple words.
She can try, though.

“So,” she attempts, speaking for the first time in a while. She hears her
voice tremble the tiniest bit, but she can manage to bear with it, “Am I
still invited?”

Yoosung laughs heartily,

“Of course! I still want to meet you!”

She can’t agree more with the sentiment.

 Paper Moon, Make-Believe Stars
Written by Gureishi, Illustrated by VACORN

Certain moments, Eunji thought, were suspended in time—as if everything that had led up to them, and everything
that would follow, spread out in all directions around her like ripples on clear water.
If she were a different kind of person, tomorrow would be one of these moments: an inflection point in the trajecto-
ry of her life. But Eunji was who she was—and because of this, she was focused not on the day that was coming but
the day that was already here.
For her, it was never the thing itself that felt important, but the moment before the thing arrived. It was about the
fire in someone’s eyes right before they tell you to get out; the silent air in advance of a storm; the heart-shattering
stillness that always seems to precede a kiss.
She felt it then, standing in the middle of the unreasonably large kitchen for which she’d developed such an inexpli-
cable fondness: the sensation that time had stopped; that her past, present, and future were all somehow converging
into one single moment of transience.
“Huh,” she said out loud.
Her voice echoed strangely off of the industrial appliances and stone countertops; she’d frozen, she realized, in the
middle of brushing sauce onto the filleted fish spread out on the cutting board before her. Shaking her head, she
drew a knife from the rack beside her and started to slice a lemon into neat, juicy wedges.
Just then, she heard a familiar knock: two gentle taps on the wooden door frame that connected the kitchen to
the even larger living area. He had started doing this ages ago, when she’d told him she couldn’t stand the way he
was always appearing at her side without warning. He was silent without meaning to be, for the very same reason
that Eunji was alarmed when he took her by surprise: when you’ve lived your life one way, it is not so easy to make
changes. It takes time; it takes compromise.
The knocking was one such compromise. He could not, perhaps, re-train himself to make more noise as he moved
around the house—but he could let her know when he was coming. Still holding the lemon slices, she turned half-
way to peer over her shoulder at him.
Saeyoung stood in the doorway, a lopsided grin on his face, one hand positioned to knock again. There was some-
thing about him—a sort of buzzing on the very surface of his skin that told her that he, too, felt the coalescence of
time. She set the knife aside and opened her arms; he catapulted himself into them, nuzzling her shoulder—begging
to be petted.
So she obliged him, tangling a hand in his disheveled curls. He made a low humming sound that was almost a purr.
“What are you making?” he trilled, his breath warm on her neck. With a hand that was still slightly sticky from the
lemon juice, she brushed his bangs off his forehead and kissed the skin just above his eyebrow. He did taste a little
bit like lemon, now.
“Who knows?” she said, shrugging—and she felt it in her whole body when he laughed. “I’m experimenting.”
“Only you,” he murmured. He drew back to look at her, and his hands fell automatically to her waist. She inhaled
deeply, letting the familiar spicy-sweet scent of him envelop her.
“Only me what, baby?”
“Only you’d insist on doing the cooking tonight,” he said. “We could’ve gone out, or—” He leaned around her to eye
the sauce-slathered fish spread over the cutting board. “It looks delicious, though. Whatever it is.”
She laughed and pushed him gently out of the way; he whined as she turned her attention back to the fish.
“It makes me calm,” she said. He chuckled and wrapped both arms around her waist, his scarred fingers skimming
over her skin.
“What about the thought of everybody we know all in one place is making you not calm?” he teased. Eunji sighed,
arranging the sliced lemon on top of the pieces of fish. He rested his chin on her shoulder and she wiggled her
lemony fingers in his face.
“Never thought I’d see my mom back in this country,” she said, feeling a familiar rumble of anxiety, like a little beast
crouching behind her ribcage. The beast was always there—but since she’d picked her mother up from the airport
three days ago, it had felt bigger and fiercer than usual. “I’m trying to imagine her—and my dad—and all of our
friends…” She shuddered, taking a fistful of the spice blend she’d already made and dusting it over the fish. She
was over-seasoning, she thought, but the anxious creature in her chest insisted that her hands needed to be busy.
Saeyoung’s fingers tapped insistently against her hips, and she wondered if she’d picked this habit up from him: the
need to be constantly in motion, her hands active when her heart was troubled.
“I know,” he said. He held her a little tighter.
And this was one of the very first things that she had loved about him: Saeyoung never offered platitudes—he
wouldn’t say don’t worry so much or everything will turn out fine. Eunji had spent her whole life striving for a
sort of perfection—in her behavior, her work, her relationships—that was not only unattainable but also harmful.
Saeyoung never asked this of her.
He knew what it meant to rifle through endless versions of yourself till you found one that fit—to create a phantom
that you barely even recognized in order to fill the expectations the world had set for you.
Eunji twisted in his arms so she was facing him, holding her spice-soaked hands out to the side so she wouldn’t get
them both covered in seasoning. There was a special place on his chest for her head: if she turned to the side, her
cheek fit just right, and she could hear his heart. She felt it echoing—somehow as much inside her own body as it
was in his.
“What are you scared of?” he asked.
Merging, she thought. Existing in a space with people who knew different and almost irreconcilable versions of her.
Navigating the perilous waters of family (old and new and found). Giving this beloved boy the kind of day she knew
he’d dreamt about (even before he knew he was allowed to dream).
“Not scared, really,” she said—a half-truth (and the way he huffed, breath ruffling her hair, showed her that he
knew—as he always did when she told a lie). “I never fantasized about things like getting married and having a
wedding. But you did.”
Saeyoung laughed in the quiet way that still, after all this time, she was the only one who got to hear.
“If you’re worried about fulfilling all of my fantasies…” He pulled back so she could see his face and wiggled his
eyebrows at her. She rolled her eyes and kissed the tip of his nose, and then she left his side—went to the big cabinet
by the stove where the pots and pans were stacked perilously high (chaotic, always on the verge of falling apart). Just
like me, she thought.
She pulled out a big roasting pan, and Saeyoung hopped up onto the counter, somehow making space for himself
among the ingredients. Eunji almost scolded him, as she usually did when he got in the way of her cooking.
But he had a funny look in his eyes—that sort of strange sheen that told her there was something he wasn’t saying—
so she let him be.
“My parents,” she said, “haven’t seen each other in ten years and might literally kill one another tomorrow.” She
shook her hair back off her face and wiped her hands on a paper towel. It wasn’t fear of her parents’ animosity that
had put that look in his eyes, she knew—but she wasn’t going to press him to tell her what he was thinking. He
would say it when he was ready.
This was another thing she’d learned long ago: if she pushed too hard, he would hide himself away—if she was
patient with him, he would always get around to telling her what was on his mind. It was a delicate tower made of
tissue paper, their honesty: new to them both, fragile and pieced together with promises kept and broken—with
secrets whispered late at night and a patience that was born of deep, unwavering devotion.
“That would be memorable,” he said. In a moment of inspiration, Eunji grabbed the aluminum foil; Saeyoung raised
his eyebrows. “What, are you gonna make armor?”
“Armor wouldn’t be a bad idea,” she told him. “But it’s for the fish, goofball.”
She wrapped each piece of saucy, soupy fish in a little boat of foil, lining the edges with slices of lemon. He watched
her attentively—as if committing it all to memory: the way she folded the foil over the fish, the way she nibbled her
bottom lip as she arranged the food in the large roasting pan. He did this often: gazing unabashedly at her as she did
unremarkable things—like he was capturing each moment and filing it away in the recesses of his magnificent mind.
“Was that something you always wanted, then?” she asked. He hummed curiously as she put the pan in the oven
and set the timer—a tiny little robot hamster (his design, of course), which perched on the edge of the stove and
squealed when the time was up. “A wedding slash battle,” she clarified. He giggled.
“I’m not opposed to it.”
Eunji went to the sink (Saeyoung dropped a kiss to her shoulder as she passed him). It was as she was washing her
hands—steam and suds rising all around her, forming soap bubble spirals before her eyes—that she remembered.
How could she have forgotten?
“Saeyoung,” she said slowly. She felt him spring to attention beside her.
“Yes, princess?”
She watched the steam from the hot water unfurling before her: twisty-turny. A whirlpool, she thought—or a spiral
galaxy.
“Do you remember what you said to me when we’d only known each other a couple of days?”
“I said a lot of things to you back then,” he said, laughing. “Did you have something specific in mind?”
God, it felt like a lifetime ago.
She’d been more alone, back then, than she’d ever been before: she’d felt like a stray animal, sleeping curled around
herself and hissing at anyone who got too close. And how was it, she wondered now, that she’d known right away
that this strange, silly, brilliant boy was just like her? She’d heard it in his voice the very first time he’d called her: oh,
she’d thought. He’s just looking for somebody to hold his hand.
“You wanted,” she said (letting the hot water rush over her hands, loving the way it sounded—like rain, or wind, or a
heartbeat), “to get married in space. Do you remember that?”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. So she turned the water off; let her hands drip; looked at his face.
“Yeah,” he breathed. “I, uh…I was thinking about that too.”
Of course he was.
Eunji felt, as she looked at him, that she could see the ghost of the child he’d been once: painfully bright, full of fan-
tasies of the future he believed he could build for himself. And she could see the boy he’d been when she’d met him,
too: ready to run away without looking back; obsessed with finding a place where no one could reach him.
She also saw the man he was now: every bit as bright as the child he’d once been, and just as full of fantasies as the
boy who she’d fallen in love with in the first place. The Saeyoung she knew now was strong—but the small boy who’d
dreamed of flying through the stars was there, too.
She could do this for him, she realized. She couldn’t possibly control how tomorrow would unfold—but this she
could do. She could do it with her own two hands.
“It’s not too late,” she said. “Let’s get married in space, baby.”
Saeyoung peered into her face like he thought he could unravel her mind if he just stared hard enough.
“I may be a genius,” he said slowly, “but even for me, twenty-four hours isn’t enough time to figure out how to get us
onto the space station.”
Eunji went to him (still sitting on the counter) and laid a hand on his thigh; he squirmed contentedly—delighted, as
always, simply to be touched.
“Not literally,” she told him. “Trust me.”
Suddenly, she felt full of energy. She darted from the kitchen and Saeyoung padded patiently after her; she led him
down the long, dim hallway to his office, turning on the overhead light as she threw open the door.
This room was wonderful, she thought: full of him. There were odds and ends on every surface: diagrams and bro-
ken pencils and gears and wires and a half-built bird robot that screeched when she got too close. If she didn’t know
him better, it would’ve been hard to find what she was looking for—but she understood the pattern of his chaos.
“Ta-da!” From beneath a precarious stack of metal sheets, she pulled a bin of colored paper: something she’d never
once seen him use, but which she knew he’d acquired at some point for a project he’d either never started or already
finished. He waited, eyes wide, as she dug through the desk drawer; there was tape here, and string, and wire in
various shapes and sizes. “Help me!” she said at last—and he sprang into action, a wide grin spreading across his
face. He’d caught on, she thought—as she’d known he would.
“Got it, commander,” he sang, giving her a breezy salute.
And before she knew it, he was piling the strangest assortment of items into her arms: long bits of wire and scraps of
metal and tangled cords.
“Saeyoung!” She could hardly see over the pile of mismatched objects; he laughed at the sight of her and scooped
most of them back into his own arms.
“That’s enough,” he said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before your oven timer goes off.”
Eunji’s heart shivered. He never hesitated; she adored this perhaps most of all.
“Lead the way,” she said.
So he led her back to the kitchen, and they sat side by side on the floor, their strange pile of tools spread out around
them. Saeyoung took up a length of wire and began bending, twisting, shaping; Eunji looked around at the items
they’d gathered.
She couldn’t imagine how to use most of these things—but she knew what she could do. Grabbing one of Saeyoung’s
pencil nubs (always nubs—she’d never once seen him use a whole, new pencil), she started to doodle star shapes on
a piece of thick, shiny paper. She wasn’t particularly good at drawing—but she’d spent enough time staring at the
glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling above their bed that she could make a reasonable approximation.
For a while, they were quiet. Eunji cut out her paper stars; Saeyoung was using pliers now, doing something Eunji
didn’t understand with the piece of wire and an electrical cord. Eunji doodled Saturn—it was a little lopsided, but
she thought it looked alright.
“Do you wanna know,” Saeyoung said suddenly (in that quiet voice he used occasionally—the one that meant this is
just for you and me), “why I thought about all that stuff so much?”
“What stuff?” Eunji cut out her little Saturn and taped a string to the top of it. She held it up to the light: it dangled
like a mobile; if she squinted, it almost seemed to shine.
“Going to outer space,” he said. He had done something to make the wire in his hand light up—it was glowing a
warm gold, and it reminded Eunji of the way the stars looked out here: soft and almost impossibly close. “Running
away to the farthest galaxy and never coming back.”
“Yeah,” she said. She decided to make a full moon (and perhaps it would just be a white blob, but she would know
what she meant by it). She traced a circle on a piece of cardboard. “Tell me why.”
Saeyoung stood. She waited as he crossed to the living room and returned with one of his laptops. She waited as
he booted it up—waited as he typed, too fast for her to follow. From amidst the pile of items, something started to
shine.
“I thought,” he said slowly, “that I wasn’t made for this world.”
Oh, Eunji remembered this: the way his voice had sounded in the early days when he’d called her late at night. He
had spoken, with counterfeit cheer, of how undeserving he believed himself to be—and even then, she’d wanted to
rip the stars from the sky and give them all to him.
“The only time I felt safe,” he continued—calloused fingers flying over the keys (the glowing orb in the middle of the
room changed color, casting glitter across the ceiling)—“was when I closed my eyes and imagined myself in another
galaxy. Somewhere I couldn’t do anything bad, and no one would ever find me.”
Eunji could still picture how he’d looked the very first time he’d allowed her to hold him: eyes wide as the full
moon she’d just cut out of cardboard. You look like no one’s ever held you before, she’d told him, shaking her head
(tearful, heart full). He’d laughed an empty laugh that had told her more than he ever could have said in words. She’d
squeezed him tighter.
“I used to fantasize about floating on my back on the ocean,” she told him now. “In my imagination, I’d close my
eyes and drift farther and farther from shore. Then I’d open them to find there was only water on all sides: no land,
no people, just me all alone in the waves.”
“That’s a much scarier fantasy than mine,” he said. His typing paused, and she glanced up at him: the orb he’d been
programming reflected glimmering specs of light onto his face. He looked, she thought, almost otherworldly like
this—sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor, his body covered in sparkling wires.
“It’s the same,” she said. She crawled to him; he set his laptop aside and opened his arms, and she folded herself into
his lap.
“When you told me you wanted to take me to the space station, was that your way of making me part of your
fantasy?” she asked.
“You’re too smart for your own good,” he said, chuckling. No, she thought. You are.
Eunji remembered the very first time she’d realized he didn’t want to run away anymore. She’d woken in the middle
of the night and gazed at his sleeping face on the pillow beside her: his breathing had been slow, and he had been
smiling.
“Let’s hang the stars,” he whispered in her ear.
So they did. Saeyoung climbed back onto the counter to drape his glittering wire over the cabinets; Eunji passed her
paper stars up to him, and he taped the strings to the ceiling—perching precariously at the very edge of the counter-
top, cackling as she watched him with wary eyes.
“Don’t you dare hurt yourself today,” she warned. Her arms were full of cardboard planets.
“I may not be in the kind of shape I was when you met me, but I can still take care of myself,” he crowed; he was
crouching on top of the refrigerator now, hanging his glowing orb from the tallest shelf. It cast light over the entire
room; the paper stars seemed to spring to life.
“If you say so, danger boy.”
Saeyoung leapt to the ground. Eunji winced, but he landed—as always—on the balls of his feet.
“Your turn,” he said.
And then his hands were on her hips and—before she could protest—he was lifting her; she stretched a hand up to
reach the ceiling, and the cardboard moon swung from its string like a pendulum.
“Don’t drop me,” she gasped.
Saeyoung laughed. “I’ve got you, starshine.”
Eunji hung the moon in the very center of the room.
Then: a shuffling of footsteps in the hall; a heavy sigh. Eunji tried to twist in Saeyoung’s arms, but he held her too
tightly.
“What,” said a quiet voice, “are you doing?”
Saeyoung turned, setting Eunji on her feet. Just as she had suspected: Saeran was standing just outside the kitchen,
his expression unreadable as he took in the mess of glittering lights and paper stars.
“We’re making space!” Saeyoung declared. He spread his arms wide, as if to say be proud of me.
“I can see that.”
Eunji took Saeyoung’s hand and smiled an apology for his exuberance. Saeran, she thought, would surely retreat to
the other side of their massive home—shaking his head, perhaps, at the idiocy of trying to turn the kitchen into a
planetarium.
But he didn’t.
“We’re getting married right now,” Eunji said quietly. Saeran raised his eyebrows.
“I get that neither of you has any sense of time,” he muttered, “but you’re getting married tomorrow, actually.”
Eunji laughed—she couldn’t help it. She was sure that she saw a hint of a smile on his lips: he was teasing them, she
thought. That was new.
Saeyoung must have noticed it too, because he had stopped breathing.
“We’re doing it now, then again tomorrow,” Eunji said. “Wanna come to our first wedding? You’re the only one who’s
invited.”
Saeran didn’t answer her right away, but he took a few halting steps into the kitchen. Under the artificial moonlight,
the brothers looked more identical than ever, Eunji thought: tousled red hair and star-bright eyes.
Saeran leaned against the counter and crossed his arms.
“If I have to,” he said. Ah, but there it was again—a ghost of a smile on his pale face. Eunji grinned.
“Saeyoung,” she said, turning to him and lifting a hand to his cheek. “Our family’s here. Marry me now, okay?”
He looked into her eyes and she thought she saw the whole galaxy reflected back at her: effervescent and endless and
expanding.
“I’m ready,” he said—in that quiet, breathless voice
that was just for her.
“Sorry we couldn’t do it in space for real.”
“I don’t wanna go to space anymore,”
Saeyoung said. His voice was hoarse; he
squeezed her hands like they were
the only thing tethering him to
this planet (and they were—they
had been). “Not when every-
thing that matters is here.”
“On earth?” Eunji asked.
Saeyoung shook his head.
“No,” he said. “In this
kitchen.”
Eunji threw her arms
around his neck. The paper
planets danced overhead;
his heart seemed to echo
the song of the stars.
“Love you,” she whispered;
his hand was in her hair, and
he was drawing her close; she
tasted the future in the still air
just before he kissed her.
“I will love you,” he said solemnly,
“until the end of the universe.”
“And after that?”
Saeyoung beamed.
“Then I’ll just love you more.”
He kissed her. And Eunji had always loved the
moment before—had preferred dreams to reality,
The paper stars shimmered overhead.
anticipation to satisfaction. But the thing itself,
she thought now—whispered words, or the wind
in her hair, or a kiss so tender the world stopped
turning—was not nothing, after all.
Saeran made a sound and time moved
forward again; Eunji turned to look
at him and was surprised to see a
certain quietude in his eyes.
“Are you married, then?” he
asked.
Eunji looked at the bright
cardboard moon—at her
silly lopsided planets—at
Saeyoung’s eyes, which
held a fire brighter than all
the stars (real or make-be-
lieve).
“Yeah,” she said. “I think
we are.”
Saeyoung took her hand—
but he was looking at his
brother.
Merging, Eunji thought again.
Coalescing.
She had never dreamed about
marriage. She had been scared of its
permanence—terrified of the togetherness,
the tenderness, the very idea of forever. And
Saeyoung had pictured fleeing into the emptiness
of space: a fantasy of infinite solitude.
But here they were, with the family they’d fought
for. Time spread out in all directions around them.
 “Colors”
Written by Mai, Illustrated by Lunaria

Sitting in the back of his car, Jumin gazes at the activity around the grand building. The elaborate
lights and festive decorations; the people walking up the stairs with photography flashes that
accompanied him. At this sight, Jumin sighs in contemplation. Ever since Ae-ri had come into his
life, she had forced him to notice even the smallest of details. Find beauty in the little things, as she
likes to say. How much had he missed before meeting her- being alive without actually living? Jumin
doesn’t know, and he doesn’t want to find out.

Jumin shakes his head and gets out of the car, gripping a finely crafted masquerade mask. He isn’t
usually so introspective during business events, but his mind keeps traveling back to them. It seems
strange that a task as simple as picking out his clothes causes him to ponder so much about his past.

Ae-ri had wanted to surprise him with her outfit, going as far as to not even tell him the colors.
Knowing the woman, it had to be something bright and magical, but beyond that- he doesn’t know.
Which is good, adding an extra spark of interest and fun to his day.

But it left him without any influence on what he should wear. Something so small, so... unimportant.
But his choice was so instinctual, it left him stunned. Is this all he is- a businessman in a black suit?

Even as his mind continues to swirl in such thoughts, Jumin begins to make his way to the entrance,
futilely hoping that he would have peace before he enters. But when the paparazzi crowd around
Jumin, he turns back to catch a glimpse of his love by his side.

It is a subconscious act. Jumin knows that Ae-ri wouldn’t be there. She was already indoors, standing
with her father- one of the many businessmen attending this masquerade. And yet, a chill air has
replaced the warmth of her presence.

Without wasting any more time, Jumin slips on his mask, creating yet another layer between the
public and himself. Passing by the flashing lights and the sea of voices, he heads straight into the
place he knows he’ll find the other half of his soul.
As he enters the establishment, grand crystal chandeliers glimmer from above him. The rich hue
emitting from the drapery is striking against the guests. With so much color difference, it is almost
surprising just how well everything fits together.

Yet, in all of these elaborate decorations, guests dressed in their finest ensemble, and the warmth
given by the atmosphere, Jumin doesn’t notice. It only reminds him of how long he’s been away from
the person that created this much amazement in his life.

He had flown in from home earlier today, after about a month away. Given the duration of the visit,
Jumin offered to take Ae-ri. But with her dedication to the children she teaches, she turned this
event down- knowing that the two would have more necessary commitments later on.

Ae-ri has always been understanding. Even though she chose not to work within her father’s
company, his girlfriend still knows of the challenges that come with the position. It’s incredible that
with every step he takes, she is with him, encouraging him to continue- to reach the goal he wants to
succeed.

To be honest, Jumin doesn’t know where he would be and in what position without her. Before see-
ing her rich caramel eyes and infectious smile, he had almost refused the thought of love– a cynical
man with lingering attachments to a life from long ago. But she came in, bringing such wonder and
curiosity into his cold, bleak world.

Now, he’s alone, unable to recognize the faces of those around him. Jumin tries to make his way
through the crowd of people. Fabrics begin to bleed together as the colors surround him. Every face
is covered, unknown to him even if he knows the person belonging underneath.

Is this how others see him? Just the mask of the man he truly is? The thought haunts him as faces
blend together. How can he know who anyone is when everyone is wearing their own mask? In this
ballroom, in the stairs, at the entrance, and throughout the city. They all wear their masks.

How can anyone actually see someone for who they are?

And if that’s the case... How can he find Ae-ri? The woman who has never hidden away from him is
now concealed. She’s covered by her own mask now. He won’t be able to recognize her anymore, just
as she won’t be able to recognize him. They are both unknown faces, mixing in with everyone else.
Ae-ri is the only one he truly believes in, and if she can’t see him, then who can? It’s impossible, isn’t
it; simply-

Just as his thoughts start to swirl in an endless cycle of anxiety and fear, Jumin sees a soft glow of
light, catching his eye more than anything else. In an instant, the fear bubbling up inside of him
withers away as the light of his life makes her way towards him. She looks like the dawn itself,
elegant golden hues gracing her face and detailing her ivory dress.

But more than that- no, more than anything, the sight of her smile takes his breath away. Because
Jumin knows, in the deepest part of his heart, that her smile is for him. And for that, it is the most
beautiful thing in this entire gala. No decoration or ball gown can compete with the look of joy on
Ae-ri’s face.

His feet move towards her before his mind can comprehend his actions. Not that Jumin is com-
plaining, for his soul aches to be with her once again. The faces around him no longer taunt him, no
longer make him fear about his future.

As the two of them meet on the outskirts of the ballroom, Ae-ri gives a sigh of relief. Her fingers
fiddle with a thin metallic bracelet on her wrist.

“Jumi! I have missed you so much! It’s so amazing that I found you so quickly! With all of these peo-
ple, I was worried that you were going to blend right into the crowd-”

Feeling his arms close in around her, Ae-ri stops her sentence midway and returns the grasp. As they
hold one another tightly, Jumin gives a heavy sigh of relief.
“We will always find one another. Our souls are connected.”

A rosy tint forms on Ae-ri’s cheeks as he speaks, and she immediately leans in closer to his chest.
For once, she’s glad that she is wearing a mask so that her blush is concealed. But soon, she relaxes,
finding her home in his warm, loving embrace.

“Our souls are connected, and our hearts are one. But, my love, are you alright?” As she separates
herself from Jumin, Ae-ri lays her hand on Jumin’s cheek, him leaning into her.

They stare into one another’s eyes for a moment before a genuine smile graces his lips. “I’ve never
been better.” Gliding her hand from his cheek to his lips, Jumin places a soft kiss on her palm. He
never thought that he could miss someone as much as he does right now. And he definitely didn’t
expect that Ae-ri would feel the exact same way.

The sound of a violin begins to permeate through the air, surprising the couple in their moment of
intimacy. A soft melody plays as other instruments pick up their cues.

Jumin glances back towards the woman responsible for making every day feel like an adventure.
Taking her hand and extending it in front of him, Jumin subtly bows. “May I have this dance?”

With a soft giggle, Ae-ri nods, unable to get the words out of her lips. Leading her closer to the cen-
ter of the room, Jumin gingerly places his other hand on her waist. As they hold onto one another,
nothing else around them matters. Not the other couples around them, not the business executives
attending, not his internal conflicts, not her stresses. At this moment, the world has a population of
two.

While he is with her, Jumin is his true self. Ae-ri sees who he really is, for he has no reason to hide.
He is bare before her, just as she is for him. There are never any masks when they are together, even
in this masquerade.

The warm colors swirl in the background as Jumin and Ae-ri waltz, spinning and gliding on the floor.
The lights glisten in their eyes as bright as their love shines in their hearts. Jumin hopes that he can
keep this moment in his heart for the rest of his life.

They aren’t sure how long they stay in one another’s arms. Somehow it feels like an eternity and
yet no time at all. But the music fades away slowly, and soon, Ae-ri and Jumin are the only ones still
dancing, clinging to the other with nothing but sheer love and adoration.
Jumin separates from Ae-ri, although every fiber of his being pleads him not to. But he has to speak
to her, knowing that she will find reason and understanding in the concerns that have been plaguing
him all day. He starts for the corner of the room, seeking some solitude from the crowds. Ae-ri, al-
ready picking up that the man’s mind is troubled, locks her hand with his and follows him wherever
he wants to go.

Looking back at her after they have reached a quieter spot, Jumin just stares in silence. Ae-ri, still
heavily curious in their upcoming conversation, only returns his gaze. Even from the coverage of his
mask, she can see the weariness in Jumin’s eyes. Once again, she lifts her hand to his cheeks, tracing
circling with her thumb. Almost on instinct, Jumin closes his eyes, inhaling deeply.

“My love,” He starts, taking both of her hands and holding them before him, “I’m afraid I don’t know
who I am without you anymore. When you aren’t around… I am no one.”

His eyes drop from her gaze, and his grip on her hands falters as he continues. “I have lived my life
so fiercely independent, I never imagined myself needing anyone. But now I feel like I am becoming
dependent. I never want to be a burden on you, but I don’t know how to be me if you are not with
me.”

Jumin doesn’t know why he felt the need to speak these thoughts, and even more than that, they
aren’t something that should have to bog his girlfriend over.

Intruding on the moment that Ae-ri needs to process his words, Jumin shakes his head at his rash
decision. He opens his mouth to speak, but before he manages to utter a word, Ae-ri gently places a
finger over his lips, silencing him completely.

Her smile is small, but it holds so much passion that Jumin feels breathless just seeing it. “I don’t
think your problem is that you don’t know who you are without me…” Biting her lip, she tries to put
her thoughts into words. “It’s quite the opposite. Not to assume what you think, of course.”

Giving a soft sigh, Ae-ri drops her fingers and lightly grips the seam of his suit jacket. “From what
I’ve seen, I think you’re comfortable showing yourself to me. You don’t care if I see you when you
haven’t brushed your hair, or when you do something silly. Because I will love you regardless. We’ve
been together for so long that when you left, it was the first time we realized that how we act when
we are apart is… different than who we actually are.”

His brows furrow at her response, looking up at Ae-ri, but her eyes remain lowered, the mask veiling
most of her face. Jumin raises his hand to her chin, gently guiding her up so that he can see her.
“We?”

At his response, her lip quivers slightly and she buries herself in his arms once more, him catching
her almost immediately. Nodding softly into his chest, Ae-ri sniffles softly. “Yes, we. I forgot how real
we are together. When you left, trying to act the way I did before felt so wrong. But I at least had the
kids, and I can always be myself with them. It must have been so hard for you, darling. I’m sorry I
couldn’t be with you.”

“Don’t apologize, Ae. You only did what you believed was best for us and for your students. You
should never blame yourself for putting others in front of you. After all, you are always the center of
my attention.”

Ae-ri’s blush darkens at his compliment, and she chuckles to cover the fluttering of her heart. But
her eyes widen as a new idea begins to form in response to his remark.

“I got it!” As Ae-ri breaks from their embrace, her eyes dance with interest. “What if we keep that in
mind– that no matter where we are, or why, or even how far away from one another, I’ll always be
the center of your attention, and you’ll always be mine! You could forget to wear pants for a business
meeting in a completely different country than me and I’d still love you anyway.”

Laughter bubbles out of Jumin as he comprehends her outlandish example. ‘I’m glad that you would
look past that unfortunate blunder. And I must say the same to you. Though, let’s try to remember
all of our garments when we go out.”

With a small snort, Ae-ri nods in agreement. “Then, let’s try that! Whenever we are by ourselves, all
we need to do is remember that we are never truly alone. After all, you have the key to my heart.”

He looks at her quizzically until Ae-ri’s eyes widen. “Oh, I completely forgot!” She exclaims, already
running off in the other direction. He wonders if he is to follow, but it is confirmed as she turns and
waves at him to stay.

He laughs quietly, watching her rush to the other side of the room. Her thoughts and actions seem
to appear out of thin air, yet they capture attention almost immediately. Maybe her idea could work.
Instead of focusing on how far they are apart, keep in mind that they are always together, regardless.

As he continues thinking, Ae-ri reappears, almost bouncing with excitement. With a soft smile, he
turns his gaze back to her, noting how she tries to conceal something in her hand.

“Close your eyes!”

“What?” Jumin looks around at all the people around him. Is now really a good time to play games.

Ae-ri huffs, puffing her cheeks out, but a smile quickly replaces it. “I said, close your eyes!”

Surrendering to her demand, he closes his eyes and stands as still as possible. As his eyes remain
closed, he can feel her moving his jacket, although he can tell that she is trying her best to be dis-
creet.

While he doesn’t know what she’s planning, he can’t help but be curious. Her spontaneity is part of
her charm and one of the many things that he loves about her.

“Okay done!”

He opens his eyes to the beaming expression of his love, but nothing seems different other than her
unending excitement. Although, that isn’t something all too different either. Looking down, he spots
a small, golden lapel pin in the shape of a key. Jumin glides his finger around the metallic surface
with amazement.

When he looks back to Ae-ri, Her arm blocks his sight, displaying an ornate bracelet with a lock for a
pendant. Removing the pin from his chest, she inserts the key into the lock, fitting perfectly.

“At any time you feel alone, always remember- you have the key to my heart.” Her giggle makes
Jumins heart soar. He has always held such passion for her. And now, he truly has a way to show it to
the world. “That was what I meant earlier, but I completely forgot that I hadn’t given your part in it,
and then I just felt so embarrassed that I had almost spoiled it, and-”

Jumin crashes his lips into hers, interrupting her nervous rambling. But Ae-ri quickly separates
herself from him. For a moment, Jumin worries if he had misread the moment and made the wrong
move. But his worries are wiped away as she leans forward, placing the key above his heart once
more.

He stares at her with a lopsided grin as she sheepishly looks back at him. “I didn’t want to lose it. If I
had moved, it would’ve fallen out of the lock...”

“And now? Can I kiss you again?”

Instead of replying, Ae-ri leans forward, connecting them once again, before wrapping her arms
around his neck.

It’s torture and bliss to have her like this. Blissful to be so close to the woman he loves with all his
heart, but to know that it will have to end soon is torturable. But Jumin hopes to give as much love
and affection he can muster in the seconds he has left to display. Wrapping his arm around her
waist, he brings her closer to him, resulting in a small gasp from Ae-ri.

She lightly smacks him on the chest, finally separating herself from him for air. “We can’t do that
here, there are people! And my dad is here! It’s... embarrassing!”

Her flusteredness rewards another laugh from Jumin as he offers to escort her. “You’re right, how
brutish of me to do that. I shall simply have to wait to thank you for such a lovely surprise. But for
now, we should visit with your father.”

Instead of replying, Ae-ri huffs her cheeks while accepting his escort by placing her hand onto his
arm. “Oh!” she turns to look at Jumin, her previous flusteredness disappearing. “Speaking of surpris-
es, one of my students asked for my hand in marriage.”

Jumin lips curl upward. After all, he understands why someone would want this woman to be with
them forever, even as their teacher. “And what was your reply?”

“I told him to wait a few more years and if I’m free, he can ask again. Can’t crush his dreams, you
know?” She giggles lightly.

“Well, I simply must make sure that you are taken before that comes.”

His response is said quietly, and Ae-ri isn’t sure if Jumin had intended her to hear it or not. But with
the way her heart pounds, it makes little difference. For she knows, in the deepest part of her soul,
she’d say yes.

What she does not know is the box hidden miles away, carefully concealed in their home. Just wait-
ing to be revealed at the right moment.

For now, arm in arm, Ae-ri and Jumin enjoy the gala,
remembering just how nice it is to finally be home.
 The Very Best
Written by Apple, Illustrated by Koutone

The rapid clicks of buttons, the eager taps of screens.

The sound of music pouring forth from handheld machines.
A cry of triumph followed by a wail of defeat.
Yoosung had failed again; his girlfriend couldn’t be beat!

“I am the Backpack Monster Master!” she cried with glee.

“Sorry, Yoosungie, but I don’t think you’ll defeat me.”
The blond pouted and folded his arms over his chest.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered. “I’ll show you who’s best!”

With a snicker and wink, the brunette picked up her game.

“Round five?” she asked, and her boyfriend’s face flushed red with shame.
“You’re on!” he declared, hoping she couldn’t sense his doubt.
“For the sake of my team!” Yoosung proclaimed with a shout.

When was the last time Nimtendo had released a brand new Backpack Monsters game?
Yoosung Kim and Sae-eun Choi were bursting at the seams with excitement as they had
waited in line for the official release, giggling and poking and prodding and teasing and
taunting as they had edged closer and closer to the front of the line. Now, with BakkuMon
Aquamarine in his hands and BakkuMon Garnet in hers, the couple had enthusiastically
launched themselves into the virtual world to take on the challenge to become a master of
BakkuMon!

Unfortunately, Sae-eun’s father had never been particularly… understanding of video games,
in general. He had no idea of the extent of her obsession, rather only seeing her as having a
mild interest, perhaps a fascination in the business or the mechanics behind their operation.
The truth of the matter though... was that Sae-eun was ready to stay up all night to train her
team, and luckily for her, Yoosung had the exact same plan in mind.

Sleepovers make everything a little more fun, right?

Sae-eun knew her dream would need to remain a dream, however, because she was pain-
fully aware that her father had already placed a more pressing matter onto her agenda.
Tomorrow at noon on the dot, she needed to be seated and attentive at a conference in the
heart of the city, ready to discuss plans for renewable energy and to defend her proposition
for abandoning fossil fuels and to instead provide stimulus funding for companies that were
investing in electric vehicles.

Even if her father did not necessarily agree with all of her beliefs, she knew how vital it was
to his image that she would make an appearance and promote her case. Saejoong Choi had
the reputation of being a dedicated family man, after all, and Sae-eun was going to be the
next step in his legacy. She was said to be a bright, compassionate, thoughtful, eloquent, and
diplomatic young woman, who carried an air of panache wherever she went.

She probably had less grace than a newborn duckling trying to waddle out of its shell when
she was shoving Honey Buddha chips into her mouth and guzzling strawberry milk at 3 am
while blasting the Epic of Xelda soundtrack in her earbuds, but nobody needed to see that
side of her.

Nobody except for her darling boyfriend, Yoosung Kim, who was beyond excited at the pros-
pect of gaming with his girlfriend, who was, in his words, “cuter than Pickachoo.” She had
provided him with one very important caveat, however:

“Bed by 1 am, so I can prepare for my conference!”

He’d obediently agreed, she’d ruffled his hair, and they’d shook on it.

Too bad both of them seemed to forget this solemn promise as they launched into their next
battle, the clock continuing to tick and the moon continuing to travel through the sky. “Not
my fault you chose the Flame type and I chose Hydro type!” Sae-eun chirped with a chuckle
as she claimed another victory.

“It’s not my fault you’ve already evolved your starter BakkuMon!” Yoosung whined in protest.
“How many emblems do you have, anyway? I only have the first two!”

A mischievous glint danced in Sae-eun’s eyes as she hummed, “I’m on my way to get my
fourth.”

“Fourth?!” Yoosung echoed incredulously, and he folded his arms over his chest in a pout.
“Just how long did I spend on that cooking minigame?” he muttered, suddenly looking rather
flustered and frustrated about his gaming decisions.

“Too long?” Sae-eun guessed. “Hehe, I can show you a really good place to train, if you’d like.
I even saw a couple of Leaf-type BakkuMon over there, if you want to catch a buddy who
could help you beat me.” She bit her lip and then mumbled in a low hum, “I think you need all
the help you can get~”

The smirk rapidly fell from her lips as a star-shaped pillow smacked her in the face.

“One point for Yoosung!” the blond exclaimed with a cheeky grin as he watched Sae-eun rub
her nose with an exasperated groan.

“Well, you had to win at something,” she replied with a sharp bark of a laugh, but it descend-
ed into a squeal as Yoosung cast his game aside and wrapped one arm around her, using the
other to ruffle her messy chestnut curls.

“Let’s see you say that in about an hour!” he huffed, his breath warm against her blushing,
giggling face and his violet eyes twinkling brighter than even her Nimtendo’s screen. “I’m
gonna train, and then I’m gonna beat you!”

“Bet?” Her voice was playful, but that glint in her golden eyes was nothing short of a chal-
lenge, as her competitive nature began to sneak out, coming from behind her diplomatic
curtain to show its teeth. “Can you be the very best?”

“Bet!” he cried, pouting as he pulled away. “If I win our next match, then you… you… have to
clean my room!” he declared, planting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest trium-
phantly.
Sae-eun snorted and wagged her finger in front of his face. “Deal!” Once again, her tone was
lighthearted, but the shimmer in her eyes was something a little more… dangerous. “But when
I win again, and I will, you owe me your Wand of the Silver Sorceress in LOLOL.”

The shriek that escaped Yoosung’s lips was not one that a human should have been capable
of making. “H-hold up! I had to grind for days to beat that quest! Plus, it was event-limited!”

Sae-eun let out a soft “hmph” as she turned away from him and picked up her console
again. “Yeah, and you were so busy playing that you didn’t make me chicken soup like you
promised! I had the flu, Yoosung!” She cast a glance at him over her shoulder, and softly she
purred, “You’d better train hard, my little hero,” before turning away with a smirk and diving
back into her own game. “Also, I’m holding onto this,” she added, cradling the star pillow in
her lap as she raced into the next patch of tall grass. “See you in an hour, Yoosungie~”

One hour became two, and the night melted into day.
All the way ‘til morning, the pair continued to play.
Yoosung fell ‘round five, and Sae-eun shortly thereafter.
They were finally drained from their mischief and laughter.

Harmless fun was on their minds as they played through the night,
Neither waking until they heard birds sing and take flight.
“Five more minutes,” Yoosung sighed, but when he checked the clock,
He shook Sae-eun with his eyes full of panic and shock.

“Five for me too,” Sae-eun grumbled in her sleepy daze,

But she sat upright when she saw Yoosung’s pleading gaze.
“Sae-eun,” he gasped in a breathy voice, “look at the time!”
Her eyes filled with fear as she cried, “A quarter til nine!”

Yoosung had already leaped to his feet, and Sae-eun quickly followed suit, shaking herself
free of her blankets. “I’ll start cooking right now!” he exclaimed as he hopped over an aban-
doned Nimtendo controller on the ground.

“Cook?” Sae-eun echoed in disbelief. “Yoosung, don’t worry about that! I’ll just grab a sand-
wich and a coffee on my way to the confer--”

Yoosung turned his horrified expression to her, and with a pout, he immediately stormed
back up to his girlfriend. With one hand on his hip, he pressed the index finger of his other
against her lips, and he boldly declared, “No way am I letting you get fast food before some-
thing so important!” He then stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. “In fact, I
know exactly what I’m going to whip up for you, so hang tight, okay?”

Sae-eun’s eyes narrowed skeptically at him, but when she saw the determination sparkling in
his violet eyes, she knew there was no point in arguing. He only ever got that look on his face
when he was playing LOLOL; this was the face of a man who would do anything to reach his
goals.

A man who would do anything for the sake of the things and people he loved.

“You’d better wear your puppy apron,” was all that Sae-eun said in reply, with a mischievous
glimmer in her own eyes as well. “I’ll get dressed.”

Sae-eun scrambled around the bedroom as Yoosung dashed to the kitchen. Even as she was
stumbling around in search of her cerulean blouse and black pencil skirt, she could hear
the clattering of pots and pans in the other room. “Aaaah, where did I put my makeup?” she
whined as she began to dig through her overnight bag. “Yoosung!” she called out, hoping he
could hear her over whatever mess he was creating. “Rose, ruby, or bubblegum blush?”

“Bubblegum!” a voice replied. “It looks great with your-- oh no, that’s too many peas!”

What in the world was he brewing up in there?

When Sae-eun finally applied her makeup and managed to tie her hair into a tight bun
(after snapping one of her hair ties, which could not keep up with her curls), she confidently
strode out of the bedroom and into the adjacent kitchen. With her blazer slung over her arm
and the strap of her purse clenched tightly between her freshly painted nails, she actually
felt as though she could be prepared for this conference. Hopefully her concealer and blush
would be sufficient to hide the dark circles under her eyes, but…

When the world of BakkuMon needed a champion, how could she turn down that challenge?

A flurry of warm, cozy scents fluttered up to her nose, and Sae-eun’s mouth began to water
more and more as she drew closer to the kitchen table. Potatoes, tomatoes, onions, and peas!
A sprinkle of salt, a dash of ham, plus peppers and cheese!

“Sae-eun!” Yoosung chirped as he heard her footsteps approaching. “I hope you went with
bubble...gum….”

The words left his mouth and the breath left his lungs as he took in the sight of the young
woman before him. Her chestnut hair pulled back in a bun, with a couple of loose crim-
son-tinted curls framing her face. Golden eyes that glittered like coins, but richer in color and
depth. A neatly tucked blouse in a tight-fitting skirt, all wrapped up with a satin black bow at
the base of her bun.

“I left my heels in the entryway, right?” she asked, and she tried to tilt her head and get a
peek at what her boyfriend was brewing up. “Yoosung, should you stir that?”

Her words snapped the blond back to attention, and hastily he turned back to his stew to
ensure that it wasn’t burning. He couldn’t risk letting his prized creation, which he’d thrown
together for the most important person in his life, shrivel up in flames!

“Actually, I think it’s almost done,” he murmured with a satisfied smile. “It’s been sitting here
for a while now, just stewing.”

“A while?” Sae-eun echoed, and her curious eyes began to flicker around the room. Sure
enough, in the midst of her preparations, Yoosung had not only made his stew, but he had
even whipped up an omelette for himself and brewed a cup of tea for them both. She moved
to pick up her teacup and take a long, deep sip. The fruity flavor of orange mixed with the
invigorating incense of ginger delighted her tastebuds at once, and she couldn’t help but let
a fluttering sigh escape her lips as she placed the cup back down. “Oh my gosh, my lipstick!”
she gasped. “I need to apply fresh lipstick!”

Yoosung tutted softly as he lowered his pot onto the kitchen table. “Well, if you have to
freshen up your makeup anyway,” he began, “you may as well ensure you get a nice, hearty
breakfast too!”

As much as she wanted to focus on his words, her attention kept drifting back to his apron;
sure enough, just as she had requested, he’d opted for the frilly peach-colored puppy print
apron. “I don’t know if I have time to grab a bowl,” she sighed, her eyes now flicking to the
clock.

“Then don’t get a bowl!”

Sae-eun raised an eyebrow and began to turn her head back towards Yoosung. “Then how
am I supposed to--”

She didn’t get to finish her thought before a spoonful of stew made its way into her mouth.
“Mmph?!”

Yoosung chuckled, his eyes aglow, as he stared directly at her awestruck face. She wanted to
kiss that smirk right off of his lips, but first she needed to eat.

As amazing as the stew had smelled, it tasted even better. A party of flavors dancing inside
her mouth, tickling every part of her tongue and warming her up from the inside out. Savory
and sweet, luscious and light, fresh and fragrant.

After finally swallowing that mouthful of heaven, Sae-eun managed to speak again.
“Y-Yoosungie,” she gasped. “This is delicious! The very best! You really could be a chef!”

A gentle heat rose to the blond’s face, and Sae-eun had a feeling it wasn’t from the steam
rising from the stew. “I wouldn’t say that,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand behind the back of
his head sheepishly. “As long as you enjoy it… that’s enough for me.”

Now Sae-eun had a feeling she was even hotter than the stovetop.

“Take another bite before you go,” Yoosung urged now, as he stuck the spoon back into the
pot. “Normally I wouldn’t let you eat directly from the pot like this, but… since it’s just for
us….” He shook his head and beamed at her. “Open up, now!”

This time, Sae-eun parted her lips with a loud, “aaaaah” as she waited for Yoosung to feed
her another bite of his concoction. However, this time, she cupped her hand underneath his,
gently supporting it as it guided the spoon into her mouth. For a moment, they just stood like
that, his hand in hers, gazing warmly at each other, a giggle bubbling inside Sae-eun’s chest
and a grin spreading across Yoosung’s face.

The sharp tick of a clock behind them snapped both of the young adults back to their senses.
“I-I’d better get going!” Sae-eun stammered, and she pulled her hand back to awkwardly
tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “Wish me luck?”

Yoosung chuckled and planted his hands on his hips. “Don’t you know, Sae-eun? You’ve got
enough luck right here!” He lifted his hand and with a twirl, planted his finger right against
her chest. “That was my famous Lucky Stew! You’ve got all the luck and love you could ask
for, buried deep inside! Carry it with you, and you’re bound to be successful!”

Lucky Stew, huh?

Somehow, the brunette had the feeling that her breakfast wasn’t what made her feel so
lucky right now. To be blessed, graced, gifted with this kind of luck was nothing short of a
miracle. This radiance, this light, was so precious to her, and she had to ensure that she could
return the favor in kind.

“Have you had a taste yet?” she asked, stepping in closer to get a peek at the pot. “Do you
know how delicious and lucky it is?”

Yoosung shook his head. “I mean, I’ve been taking little tastes as I go along, to check for
flavor, but I haven’t had a proper bite.”

“Then let me give you a taste, Yoosung.”

He didn’t get a chance to ask what she meant by that before she planted her lips onto his,
and the muffled squeak of surprise that escaped him was swallowed up almost immediately
by the intensity of her kiss. It was a swift sweep, a fluttering flirt, a brisk brush.

But it was as deep, rich, and flavorful as the love that Yoosung had poured into his Lucky
Stew.

“Take care, now,” Sae-eun murmured with a smug look on her lips. “You’re lucky I didn’t have
any lipstick on, or your lips would be as red as your cheeks!”

As she headed out the door, Sae-eun thought with a grin,

The next time they played Bakkumon, she might let him win.
Take Me Out at the Ball Game
Written by Jafndaegur, Illustrated by Konoponopy

Tuesday, 4:00pm

The door handle shuttered while Komaru jimmied her key in the lock. Precariously balancing a brown
grocery bag, she proudly unlatched and shoved the door open. Bouncing off the wall, it swung back and she
jumped out of its path. No one came out to greet her. Not that she expected it, but as the door slammed shut
and locked behind her, a small tidbit of worry nipped at her.

“Shou!” She shouted, making her way to the kitchen. “If I were a robber you’d be dead.”

It took a moment as she pulled the carryout from the bag, the rich fragrance of roasted meat and cabbage
hitting her nose. Finally she heard shuffling from the back of the apartment. Her brother made his appear-
ance lethargically, unbothered by her abrupt visit. A heavy wool blanket draped over his head and around
his shoulders while he staggered into the kitchen.

“Koko bringing her starving brother dinner? I must be hallucinating!”

Komaru snorted and pushed one of the boxes into his hands. “Well you keep grading until you’re brain
dead. So someone’s gotta take care of your lazy butt.”

He laughed before leading to the living room and setting up the table with their meal. By the end of it,
they’d piled up food and cold drinks for them to enjoy. Shou finally emerged from his cocoon to scoot up
close to the table while Komaru relaxed back, lounging like a cat at peak sun hours.

Her brother tucked into his meal like a mannerless child—and she snorted when he almost immediately
dropped the first bite onto his lap.

“Between you and Yoosung, I don’t know who’s worse.” She passed him a napkin.

He widened his glance and a cheshire grin slipped across his face. “Yoosung?”

A small squeak burst past Komaru’s lips when she realized her brother was thinking the wrong thing. She
hurried to correct him, “Yoosung is a friend from class! And he’s an idiot, so he always forgets to eat when
he’s busy, so I bring him food...and stuff…”

“Oho,” Shou’s smug expression never changed. Instead he leaned forward, resting his chin on the palm of
his hand. “So you’ve been taking food to this new boyfriend?”

“Yes, yes!” She was grateful that her brother understood...until it clicked. “Wait, no! Shou, boy friend not
boyfriend.”

“But Koko, you’re practically glowing.” He placed his hand over his heart and nodded seriously. “On my
honor, you can trust me with this secret!”

“Oh hell,” she growled, shoveling more food into her mouth. “Lay off.”

Shou chuckled and with a sweeping glance, conceded the topic for the moment. Their dinner passed fairly
peacefully afterwards. Her brother rewrapped himself in his blanket burrito, and by the end of the meal
Komaru enjoyed the approaching food coma. It had taken a long time to reach this level of comfort with
one another, much trust and bonds rebuilt to amend the tears from their younger years. But now, she could
comfortably admit these quiet moments of company with her older brother. It was something she envied of
others when she was little, and now she was finally able to relish them.

For the most part.

Shou’s face peeked out from the hood he’d created with his blanket and he offered another sly smile. “So,
our school is having this charity event—”

Her glower landed between nonplussed and caustic.

“Don’t be like that,” he shooed her glare away nonchalantly. “Us teachers were given tickets to a baseball
game the high school team is hosting for their annual charity run. Their proceeds go to the hospital in the
main city. I thought it might be something you’d have fun attending.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“Of course! I even bought an extra ticket for you to bring a friend! I had originally worried that you’d have
trouble finding an extra body to tag along,” he laughed a borderline giggle. “But I shouldn’t have worried at
all.”

Komaru was this close to taking back all the feel-good notions from earlier and opting to punt Shou across
the room. Still...she supposed it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Yoosung hardly left the dorms, and it wouldn’t be
entirely awful appreciating a sunny day together.

~0~

Wednesday, 11:49pm

Yoosung watched the little text bubbles for the RFA messenger as they popped up within seconds of one
another. This was the most talkative he’d seen Jumin outside of conversations about his illustrious cat.

Jumin Han: I wonder, what does one wear to a baseball game?

Jumin Han: Since it’s an excursion in the great outdoors

Jumin Han: Wearing one of my suits would probably be an inadequate form of attire, not to mention
impractical.

Humming, the college student tapped his chin before returning to the phone. What were the odds?

Yoos⭐ng: Whoaaaa Jumin! We’re baseball buddies =w=

Jumin Han: Ah Yoosung, do you happen to be a spectator for the sport? I digress, I’ve yet to attend such a
game—although during some business trips to Europe, I attended some badminton and tennis games.

Jumin Han: ^=0 - 0=^But my partner has assured me baseball is unlike either sport.

“Tch, then where are you going for this game Jumin?” Yoosung wondered aloud with a scoff. “New York City
for the Yankees?”

Yoos⭐ng: Ah, I’m not sure. But it’s supposed to be hot this weekend here in town.

Yoos⭐ng: My friend invited me to a game, but that’s all I’ve got.

Jumin Han: I suppose we’ll both see the outcome of our invitations in due time.

[ZEN has entered the chatroom]

ZEN: Oi, trust fund kid. You’re makin it sound like you’re goin to a funeral. Just enjoy it! It’s practically a date
since your partner invited you.

Jumin Han: Look what the cat dragged in. Say, Zen, would you happen to know anything about baseball?

ZEN: You just had to mention a damn cat, didn’t you? Maybe I do know but now I’m not gonna tell you.

Yoos⭐ng: Why don’t you just ask your partner Jumin??? Since they invited you and all.

ZEN: Yoosung strikes an EXCELLENT question.

Jumin Han: …

Jumin Han: …

Jumin Han: …He is the coach for the team. I do not wish to embarrass him with ignorance.

ZEN: … O-O

ZEN: OvO did I hear that right? Jumin doesn’t know something and he’s embarrassed to ask?????

Jumin Han: ^=ŏ -ŏ=^ I’m asking now am I not???

Yoos⭐ng: That’s true. How long do you have to study up??

Jumin Han: The game is Friday.

Well...Now that certainly was a coincidence. Yoosung wondered if Fridays were common days for baseball
games. Both he and Komaru would be attending a game for her brother’s school on a Friday.

Yoos⭐ng: We really are baseball buddies Jumin! My game is also on Friday.

Yoos⭐ng: C’mon Zen! Spare us some of your baseball knowledge!

ZEN: Yeesh. When did it become so popular??? But finee, since Yoosung asked n i c e l -

Jumin Han: I asked nicely.

ZEN: - y

ZEN: dON’t interrupt!

ZEN: Anyways, I’ll share what I know...

Yoosung should’ve probably taken notes, Zen seemed confident in what he was talking about and some
trivia about the sport would at least make Komaru smile. But somehow he was still stuck on the whole base-
ball-games-on-Friday thing. How weird would that be if everyone bumped into one another! He wasn’t quite
sure how he’d explain his friends to each other. Not to mention, he’d been hoping for a little time together
with just him and Komaru.

~0~

Friday, 11:31am

Jumin slung the varsity jacket over the crook of his arm while Jun gathered the extra bats and gear. Any
moment now Emrys would be ready, and the three of them would head off to the school. As baseball coach,
Emrys had to be onsite an hour early to prep the field house, the dugout pits, and pay the umpires. For being
a volunteer outside of his already busy professor job, there was a lot of devotion that went into the extra
curricular gig. It was a lot of preparation for just one man and his brother, so Jumin always enjoyed it when
they asked him to help. And now it was the first game they asked him to attend alongside them.

“Catcher’s mit? Extra baseballs? Ice packs in case of another black eye?” Jun listed off.

Jumin nodded, going through the mental list he’d made as they packed. “The catcher’s glove is in the duffle
bag with the bats and I’ve already loaded the bin of extra balls in the back of the car. The ice packs are in the
cooler so they won’t melt.”

“Hoo-hoo, you impress me everytime, big bro.” Jun nodded in approval. “You’re gonna be running the team
in no time.”

“While efficiencies may increase with such a change, your brother will remain in charge,” Jumin chuckled
while handing the varsity jacket over to the boy.
Jun tied the long sleeves around his waist and wiggled his eyebrows. “I mean, Em is the coach, but nothing
says you can’t be his manager.”

He couldn’t quite oppose that idea, perhaps Emrys wouldn’t mind... It would certainly allow for more time
between them. And while Jumin did not pride himself for jumping the gun, so to speak, he did enjoy the
idea of these being little family outings between the three of them. But perhaps he was getting too far ahead
of himself.

“Are you two ready?” Emrys’ voice flitted from his bedroom, followed by the padding of his feet along the
wood floor.

Jun shouted back, “Yup!”

Jumin hoisted the duffle bag onto his shoulder. Turning around, he started to affirm to his boyfriend they’d
made all necessary preparations when suddenly his voice clogged his throat. Sure, he’d seen the Welshman’s
baseball attire a few times now. But every time Jumin always had the same reaction. His heart stuttered in
his chest as he watched Emrys swing his cleats over his shoulder with a cocky smile, his jersey neatly tucked
into jeans that hung low on his hips.

A slow swallow made its way down Jumin’s throat as he tried to compose himself.

“Something catch your eye?” Emrys’ tone almost leered, but his eyes shimmered with amusement and he
rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Guys, I’m leaving out the door. We’re gonna be late.” Jun shuffled out with an annoyed groan, sensing the
air between the two adults.

Jumin cleared his throat and followed the boy. Everytime Emrys wore his coaching uniform, Jumin discov-
ered something new about himself. “Your brother’s right, we’ll catch traffic.”

Laughter followed after him as Emrys locked the door and tossed a smug grin over his shoulder. “Later,
then.”

Walking side by side, the two interlocked fingers as they made their way outside where Jun waited for them.
Driver Kim was already out front, helping the high schooler pack supplies into the cab. Taking the duffle
bag to go load into the car, Emrys placed a light peck on Jumin’s cheek only to immediately chase it with a
raspberry against his skin. Jumin huffed. This man was going to be the death of him.

Friday, 12:55pm

Yoosung and Komaru hopped off the bus, talking excitedly. They’d made the trek across Seoul to get to
Shou’s school. The game didn’t start until one o’clock, and considering they’d missed their first bus, it was a
win to have made it even a bit early.
Komaru fished the game tickets from her pockets and led the two of them behind the main building to
where the open field and baseball diamond were. Together they made their way up to where they could
see plenty of parents and kids sitting on glistening bleachers. Between the teams warming up, the excited
chatter of a decent crowd, along with eager sales from a little concession stand—it was a far better turnout
for a meager high school game than either expected.

Swinging his arms excitedly, Yoosung continued to relay his enthusiasm for their not-date. He was eager to
meet the notorious Shou and he was equally interested about his very first baseball game. If they weren’t
about to approach very normal and perfectly rational people, Komaru would’ve punched Yoosung for acting
so cute. The warmth that swelled along the bridge of her nose and that caused her heart to skip a beat, she
blamed it all on the overbearing summer sun that reigned in the sky.

“Where’s your brother supposed to meet us?” Yoosung questioned, looking around with surprising atten-
tiveness for someone who prefered living their life as a NEET.

With a gentle bite to her lip, Yoosung is excited about meeting Shou, she checked her phone before looking
around again. “He said he’d wait by the snacks.”

“Oh good!”

He took the lead this time, keeping an eye out for her brother.

“Koko!”

It was a clear and crisp shout that carried over the outdoor din. The two teens turned to see a surprisingly
similar figure to Komaru. He greeted his sister with a tight hug and a ruffle to her hair—which she promptly
fixed. After a moment, he inspected Yoosung with a narrowed smile.

“My name is Yoosung Kim,” Yoosung chirped first despite the growing nerves that constricted his throat.
“Thanks for letting me join you and Ko today!”

There was a widening of said-smile until it almost seemed slightly sinister. “Shou Sato. I’ve heard about you.
Glad you could join us.”

Shou grunted when Komaru dug her elbow into his side. “Aha, well that’s over now! Let’s go find our seats.”

Yoosung felt his cheeks flush. “Right, we should look for good seats!”

Looking for open spots on the bleachers, Yoosung spotted a familiar head of raven hair, sitting calm-as-you-
please beneath a beach umbrella. If it weren’t for the light colored suit, he may have thought he was seeing
things. But no one would have the sanity to wear semi-formal attire to a highschool baseball game during a
peak summer afternoon.

“Hold on a sec,” he muttered, rushing from his group to the man beneath the shade.

And sure enough, there was Jumin—sunglasses covering his eyes and hands folded neatly in his lap as he
watched the warm-ups with far too much analytical intrigue.

“Jumin?”

Said man looked up, no note of surprise in his expression or voice. “Yoosung. You’d mentioned your game
was also today.”

“Why are you here and not in New York?” The college student demanded.

“New York?” There was a hint of confusion before it disappeared.

“You said your boyfriend was the coach!”

“He is.”

“Yoosung?” Komaru and Shou approached, both equally perplexed. “Is this someone you know?”

Clearly kicking himself, he tried not to whine. “Yeah, he’s a close friend.”

It took about five seconds before Komaru double-took the new person. “Holy shi—”

“Well, another pleasure,” Shou interrupted, offering a friendly wave. “What brings you to our school?”
“I came to support my partner, the coach, and his brother, a player.”

“Oh? You’re with Emrys?”

Komaru stopped them both. “Wait, wait, wait. Emrys? Like Professor Emrys?”

Yoosung felt the world rock again. How small was their city? “Emrys Carew? Teaches astronomy?”

With a sigh Jumin gestured over to the field.

Yoosung and Komaru erupted with so many questions.

In the end, once the game had started and the shock had died down, they’d joined C&R’s poster child. Shou
had taken up chatting with Jumin, the two getting along surprisingly well. Komaru and Yoosung sat behind
them, luckily able to converse on their own.

“On a level of one to wtf do you think all of this is?” Komaru hissed—the crowd had settled down for the
most part, watching with anticipation as the first kid of the third inning went to bat.

“All of this?” Yoosung echoed. “If you mean our professor dating my friend, then yeah, wtf.”

Komaru snorted before her vision snapped to the game. The player had tried to punt the ball but failed
miserably, sending the baseball reeling directly into the face of the pitcher. The crowd roared with both
laughter and outrage. A wince caused Yoosung to flinch back, and she couldn’t help but snort. That had
been unexpectedly cute. Wait, cute—

Oh, now it looked like the umpires were subbing out pitchers. But the crowd had petered out again, like
the ocean tide ebbing out to sea momentarily before it would rise up again. Little kids chimed in front
and behind them, and the adults’ chatter was no better. Even Jumin and Shou were talking relatively loud
compared to their usual talking-voices, the racket of the onlookers sucking in their conversation to add to
the rest of the cacophony.

“Y’know, I’m really glad you invited me.” Yoosung scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

“Oho, getting sappy on me Yoosungie?” Komaru teased, watching as the first pitcher hobbled off the field.
The player still at home plate grimaced and reset his stance, bat in hand ready for a real swing and not a
fake-punt this time. The sub-in also readied himself.

“I wouldn’t call it sappy,” Yoosung chirped back, his glance sliding slowly to her. “I’m glad I got to meet Shou.
You talk so much about him, and if he’s important to you, then he’s important to me.”

That caught her attention. “Yoosung—”

“Listen, Ko,” his face scrunched and his brow furrowed.

A sudden crack of metal distracted Komaru. Muddled heat rushed by her as children squealed excitedly and
enthusiastic parents of both teams shouted encouragement for their players. On the field, boys scattered
and shuffled hurriedly, their coaches yelling from the dugout pits.

“Hey, where did the…” Komaru searched around only to see a white blur blitz past the baseball diamond
fence towards the crowd.

Beside her the blond boy hesitated for a moment before steeling his eyes and reaching for her wrist. She felt
her body go rigid. She and Yoosung spoke at the exact same time.

“The ball looks like it’s headed right for us.”

“I really really like you.”

Time broke in half, momentarily. Their gazes met and Komaru found herself incapable of uttering anything
other than a strangled “ha?”. Yoosung likewise gave a dumb owlish gaze, his eyes blown wide like a deer in
the headlights or a fish out of water. Together their vision traveled to the hand on her wrist, back to one
another, and then finally to the speeding baseball that collided right smack-center of Yoosung’s nose.

Time sped up, and Yoosung yelped as his head jerked back with the impact of the hurtled projectile.

“Yoosungie! Are you okay?” Komaru instantly reached behind him, cradling his head and preventing it from
smacking into the knees of whoever sat behind them.

The jumbled and dazed answer, hardly coherent, said he was probably not okay.

Jumin and Shou both instantly turned around. Her brother’s mouth wriggled into a strangled smirk as he
tried his best to act serious. Jumin reached out and placed a consoling pat to the teen’s knee.

“Congratulations,” he gestured to the baseball now innocently resting in Yoosung’s lap. “They say when you
catch a foul baseball, you get to keep it. A souvenir of your date with Ms. Sato.”

“Oh that’s true!” Shou piped up, giving Jumin an encouraging pat on the back. “What a great prize!”

“Really?” Komaru shot them both a sharp glance before focusing back on the disoriented blond. “Are you
okay?”

“I think my nose is bleeding,” he warbled, hand going to cover his middle portion of his face.

The laugh that broke past her lips really wasn’t intentional. But his voice was so stuffed-up due to his nasal
passages being wrecked by a baseball going Mach 10. Pushing her fist against her mouth to try and stifle
the giggles, Komaru scolded Shou into getting ice from the concession stand while Jumin handed over a
handkerchief. What an afternoon.

Friday, 4:25pm

The last of the crowd and baseball players filtered to the parking lot. Jumin helped direct the assistant
coach into packing away the equipment, only stopping when Jun hopped over to him—his former pristine
uniform stained with grass and dirt.

“Did’ya see me?” Jun egged on. “If it hadn’t been for second base, I would’ve made it safely to home in that
last inning.”

“With more training, you’ll surely make it successfully.” Jumin encouraged, “afterall you were already so
close.”

The assistant coach shouted goodbye and left as Jumin gave a dismissive wave.

“You’re right!” The boy enthused, “all I gotta do is train harder! Build up my speed, stamina, attention to
where the basemen are, and...”

Jun’s words fell on deaf ears as Jumin watched Emrys approach the field, toting the water jugs he’d emptied
out behind the fence. A warmth bubbled in his chest along with a fondness. Emrys was drenched with per-
spiration and skin slightly sunburnt (and his uniform about as dirty as Jun’s due to pre-game practice).

So hard working.

Emrys dropped the water jugs against the dugout benches and sauntered up to place a light kiss against
Jumin’s lips.

Jumin instantly cringed. Salty. He placed his hand between his and the other man’s mouths. “You can nego-
tiate for more kisses once you no longer smell of sweat and turf.”

“I’m offended,” Emrys snorted, pulling away. “ If you don’t want my smelly kisses, then you don’t get my best
kisses.”

“Just one moment—” Jumin tried to amend.

Heading over to where Jun had smartly decided to gather the duffle bags, Emrys gave his brother a playful
shove before hoisting both equipment bags. “You hungry? Big bro Jumin’s paying for dinner.”

Jun fistpumped the air, making his own way to the parking lot.

After a conceding sigh, Jumin trailed after Emrys and picked up the canister of baseballs. “Maybe we can
negotiate now.”

“Nuh-uh, you lost diplomatic rights,” the other man laughed. “I deserve sweaty kisses and that’s that.”

Jumin would endure the teasing for now. Admittedly that was warranted. He huffed in amusement, content
with slipping his hand in Emrys’.

Friday, 5:01pm

Komaru and Yoosung stepped off at the bus stop right before the university exit. Not because either wanted
to walk the extra block, but the convi was there and they both wanted dinner. So Yoosung agreed to walk
back to his dorm—to set up for their usual game night and nurse the bruise brightly blooming in the middle
of his face—while Komaru picked up their food.

“Fried chicken?” She asked.

Yoosung nodded and added a congested “yeah”.

“Hey look on the bright side,” she snorted, running her fingers through her bangs, “No one’s gonna try and
mug you with that third eye growing on your nose.”

“Ahaha, I forgot how to laugh,” Yoosung sniffled, rubbing his fist against the blue-green tip of his nose. “See
you back on campus, Ko.”

She watched him turn around. His ears, even in the dim evening, were bright red. She wondered how
embarrassed he was. The beating via baseball came at an inopportune time for him. For them. Her hand
fisted in the hem of her skirt—had she been waiting for those words from him? They’d known each other for
so long now, it seemed. From accidentally making enemies out of each other to forcing him out of his shell
when his cousin passed, Komaru had seen many of her university days alongside Yoosung. And hearing his
words, among the swell of a cheering crowd, his hair dazzling in the bright sunlight, his grasp fervent on her
wrist…

“Yoosung!” She called out before she could think any further about it.

He turned around with a surprised lift of his brows. “Ko? What’s up? Did I not give you enough change for
the food? I don’t think I have any more spare won on me tho—”

“What you said, on the field. I didn’t get to answer you.” She didn’t know where to look. Her feet? His feet?
His hands? The puppy-dog violet gaze searching her with confusion? “I like you. Too. I like you too. A lot.”

“Oh.” He stared at her, his mouth wide open.

The air hung tense between them and Komaru found she couldn’t take the suspenseful dizziness drumming
in her heart. “Anyways, going for the food now! Later loser!”

As if by magic, the static popped as she started to sprint away, Yoosung shouted after her. “Wait! Komaru!
Wait a sec!”

“Why are you chasing me?” She yelled at him, her heartbeat thundering threateningly loud against her
ribcage.

“Why are you running?” Yoosung yelled back as he raced after her, an ear to ear smile breaking past his lips.
 You’re a Natural
Written by Lovely, Illustrated by Poki

“And you’re sure it’s alright for me to be back here?”

Jaehee would never describe herself as the overly anxious type. But when it came to things
like rules and expectations, she couldn’t help but worry about breaking them, especially
where he was involved.

“If I say it’s fine, then it’s fine. You don’t need to keep asking me.” Although his words were
gruff, there was no real malice to them. In fact, his tone sounded breezy and casual, as
though trying to blow her concerns away. Her heart softened.

In so many ways, he was her exact opposite. Edgy, yet soft. Sharp, yet still always so calm. No
one would know he was such a gentle guy just by looking at him, but that only made Jaehee
all the more glad she hadn’t let her first impression get in the way.

Moments like this, when he’d invite her to the shop on her days off, or after work, were what
made her corporate shell of a life just a little more bearable.

“Anyway, didn’t you insist you were going to make me an amazing latte next time you came
by?” he asked.

“You know I meant at home,” Jaehee replied.

“The supplies are all here, why not try now?”

She sighed. He really knew how to push her boundaries, but if he really insisted it was fine
for her to use the shop’s supplies, then she couldn’t say no. Not when he’d directly chal-
lenged her.
“What art would you like in the foam?” Jaehee asked as she began to prepare the
coffee. It surprised her with how much ease it came with. She’d always enjoyed bak-
ing and cooking and preparing fancy drinks, but until he had shown her how to make
it, she would have never known she had such a talent for brewing coffee.

“How about a cat?” he asked.

“You’re getting a leaf,” she quipped right back.

He let out a small laugh and leaned back against the counter, arms crossed against
his chest and watching her with that warm smile that never failed to make her heart
putter.

“You look like such a natural doing this,” he said.

“Thank my teacher,” she replied with an easy smile right back at him.

Just as she was grabbing the milk, they were both startled by the sound of a phone
ringing. They both looked across the room to Jaehee’s bag.

“I have to take that,” Jaehee said.

“No. You’re not answering him on your day off,” he replied and shook his head.

“I have to. It’s my job.” She tried to argue, but he pushed himself off the counter and
wrapped his arms around her from behind to keep her from moving to get it.

“You don’t have to keep working for him, you know. You could work here.”

“Doing what?” The thought of it just sounded completely ludicrous to her.

“What you’re doing now,” he replied. “Look.”

She looked down to see that she’d already added her latte art on top. It must have
just been instinctive.

But instead of seeing the leaf she had planned, instead there was a heart.

“You’re a natural,” he whispered in her ear.

The sound of her phone stopped ringing and with the new silence came a sense of
ease and relief. It was fine to ignore him for just one night, right?

Jaehee leaned back against him and smiled.

 Promising Under the Influence
Written by Witchtomez, Illustrated by Killamon

The buzzing by his face was marginally stronger than the dull buzzing within his head;
Yoosung blearily opened one crusty eyelid, wincing at the bright text notification.

<Hey, you up yet? If you’re serious about toning up, I’ll be at the gym in thirty minutes.>

Squinting disbelievingly, Yoosung typed as his brain reluctantly defogged; stomach gurgling
irritably as the aftertaste of alcohol soured his tongue.

<Zen, it’s too early for jokes. What on earth would I be doing at a gym??>

Settling down, he closed his eyes and snuggled into the cushions, dozing until his phone
vibrated again. Slightly grumpy, Yoosung snatched it with intent to tell off Zen—

<Going back on your word already? Not a good look for Yoosung ‘husband-in-training’ Kim
lol>

Pushing himself off the throw pillow, he ran a hand through his messy bed-head, thorough-
ly baffled with the humor his photogenic friend had decided upon this obnoxiously bright
morning.

‘Husband-in-training?’ I’m not even a boyfriend-in-training yet, is he still drunk?

About halfway through replying, Yoosung remembered he didn’t own a couch.

His sour stomach was shortly replaced by nervous adrenaline. Rubbing the flaky saltiness
around his eyes, Yoosung realized there’d been tears at some point last night and groaned;
while Zen was relatively used to the sight, the third member of their party was new to this
invitation and he hadn’t wanted her to see him that way—another worry to consider once he
discerned his location.

Scanning the room, his chest tightened. It was significantly bigger than his college dorm;
the kitchen alone dwarfed his main living space! A subtle floral fragrance had him sniffing
air as he spotted a diffuser perched upon a wall shelf. Letting his gaze drift slowly due to the
residual hangover, there was something Yoosung noticed:

Aside from being clean and comfortable, there was hardly any personal décor…like the
apartment was barely lived in. Until he spied a small shelf draped in red, Yoosung worried
he’d boarded in some fancy hotel room. A bowl of fruit sat aside a small pot in the center,
holding the remains of burned incense.

He hesitated; Yoosung wasn’t particularly religious and while unfamiliar with the setup, he
was certain the humble little shelf was an altar, judging by the frame that sat behind the
container. However, it was too far for details of the encased photo…

Swallowing carefully, he trained his eyes to the location, attempting to subdue the lingering
dizziness. Yoosung extended his feet slowly behind him until his toes felt the soft rug, easing
himself up. When the world didn’t sway so turbulently, he made to move around the couch—
promptly tripping over a lined wastebasket.

Curious clattering sounded elsewhere in the apartment; the vibrations against his left ear,
along with the side of his face planted firmly against the hardwood tile implied as much. A
second later, Yoosung felt his throat constrict, heart jumping into his esophagus.
The owner of the apartment slid into the room, abandoning a house slipper in her haste;
Yoosung wanted to seep into the floor.

Seongchae Moon, a woman of nearly intimidating composure balanced by equal amounts of

laidback wit…and then him: Yoosung, a disaster sprawled before her.
“Oh, Yoosung—‘

Shame colored his face; he kept his eyes low, unable to meet her.

‘—I’m sorry; I didn’t think you’d be up so early!”

Confused, he was quickly hoisted back to the couch while his host combed back her vibrant
curtain of hair with the other hand. Pressed back against the cushions, Yoosung’s brain cells
fired rapidly, throwing out several fairly decent questions. Unfortunately, the only one that
escaped his lips was a squeaky “A-ah?”

“I set a trash bin near in case you got sick, but I didn’t figure you might get up; you crashed
hard last night.”

Though she mercifully overlooked his awkward gaping, Yoosung held his face, moaning quiet-
ly.

She has to see me like this too?! I’m hopeless—

Cool fingers slid into his hairline, breaking off the tirade of self-derision with a quiet hitch of
breath. A few seconds passed with Yoosung feeling delicately entranced by her analytical,
yet gentle scrutiny.

“…Still feeling rough?” she prodded lightly. Desperate to respond like a human, Yoosung
cleared his throat and nodded.

“Y-yeah, a little…I woke up in this big place I’ve never seen, so…,” he trailed off as she chortled
softly, unseating a bit of the silk from her shoulders. The miniscule movement sent a nervous
trickling down Yoosung’s spine, having only ever encountered her in professional or semi-pro-
fessional attire until then. The initial discovery of vivid, dark blue hair stuffed under the more
work appropriate wig had been shocking; something about the way the mussed tresses
spilled over her shoulders to adorn the shimmery, unusual sleepwear that seemed practical
yet foreign elicited a different kind of astonishment that sobered him quickly.

Yoosung struggled to find a safe direction to look, not wanting to be disrespectful but also
unable to withstand her penetrating gaze—though, his curiosity won out, following the cut of
her top toward the halter tie by the neck; a hint of some pale, raised line amid the honeyed,
bronze skin near her collarbone, promptly obscured when Seongchae readjusted her robe.

“Mm…you might be feverish, you look a bit flushed. Wait here, ok?”

Lacking the courage to correct her assumption, Yoosung exhaled in relief as she moved
toward the kitchen. Snatching his phone, he furiously tapped the screen.

<Zen! Why didn’t you take me back home last night??>

He hit send and shoved the device back under his thigh. Savory, aromatic spices permeated
the air, cautiously stirring his hunger. The blonde turned to find Seongchae filling a tray set
next to a pressure cooker on the kitchen island.

Returning, she settled next to him on the couch as he inquisitively inspected the tray; the
source of the hearty scent was steaming from a soup mug nestled between a glass of water,
a tiny dish with two Tiranol pills and a cooling gel patch. Taking the water, Yoosung downed
the pills with gradual sips while Seongchae squeezed a wedge of lime into the mug and
opened the foil packet to extract the patch.

“It might smell complicated but it should be easy for your stomach if you drink slowly,” she
advised, trading for his now empty glass. Yoosung inhaled, noting the added citrus to the
flavor profile; it quieted the residual nausea, permitting his appetite an opinion. A light taste
perked him up swiftly, allowing Yoosung to notice Seongchae subtly biting the inside of her
lip.

Once the first mouthful settled graciously in his stomach, he gave a satisfied sigh, lightly
echoed by his present company.
Is she…nervous? Does that really happen for her?

Yoosung mused silently, cradling the smooth ceramic in his clammy palms. Looking up, he
smiled shyly. “This tastes expensive, is it really ok for me to have some?”

A lopsided grin tugged at her mouth as she scoffed, waving off his concerns. “Please, have all
you want. It’s cheap enough to make.”

Before he could get excited, his phone vibrated against his leg; Yoosung mouthed an apology
and unlocked the screen.

<Sorry, just finished my set. How could I take you home when you couldn’t stay awake?
Seongchae was the safer option since she drove to meet us!>

<Another reason you should be at the gym, Mr. Overachiever Kim! A husband should be able
to carry his bride, but maybe you can start as a boyfriend that can lift his lady’s heavy gro-
ceries some day. I hope you didn’t make her carry you to your dorm!>

Thoroughly red, Yoosung instinctively shielded the text. Zen made a fair point, yet why was
he here instead of near campus? Furrowing his brows, he rubbed at his thigh before freezing
in absolute horror.

WHERE ARE MY PANTS???

Swallowing slowly, his purple irises slid to the edge of his peripheral vision; Yoosung strug-
gled to contain the goosebumps that erupted all over. If she noticed, Seongchae showed
nothing, comfortably reclining against the sofa.

A million scenarios pelted his poor brain, each more humiliating than the last; Yoosung could
only take refuge in his crush’s nonchalance and willed himself to emulate her calm.

“…I’m really sorry if I made a mess on top of being a bother, Seongchae. I—I’ll make it up to
you somehow—!“

“What are you talking about?” she interjected, eyebrow raised in concern at his stammering
apology.

Gripping the hem of his boxers, Yoosung forced his face up, albeit completely flushed. “My
pants…did I s-spill beer or...?” He couldn’t bring himself to verbalize any other possibilities.

Finally recognizing the issue, Seongchae lightly knocked her knuckles against her forehead
and chuckled, “No worries, Yoosung, you didn’t make a mess—you proudly announced as
much when you left the bathroom!” Seongchae bit down another laugh at his short-lived
relief, confusion creasing his forehead.

“I did wha—but then where…what happened last night?”

Taking pity at his cracking voice, Seongchae sat up to relay the events, gathering her cobalt
mane over a shoulder. “We drove to your campus, but you couldn’t say which building was
yours, much less the door code to get inside. Since it was already late, it was just easier to
bring you back here.”

Blinking, Yoosung found himself nodding at her explanation until he made the mistake of
glancing down at his bare legs.

Seongchae quietly mused over the blonde’s completely transparent thoughts before continu-
ing, “As for your pants? Abandoned once you left the bathroom; you came out, announced
you’d brushed your teeth and you’d be ready for chores early in the morning. Then you said
my couch looked like a marshmallow and belly flopped onto it…”

Yoosung’s head sank into his neck, hiding so that only the tips of his burning ears were
visible amongst his bright fluff. Steepling his hands so that his palms would act as blinders,
the waffling university student grumbled, “Never again…I’m cringing from the bottom of my
heart—!”
Sputtering laughter cut him off, surprising Yoosung almost as much as the cold fever patch
she pressed against his head until he was sitting up and positioned to face her directly.

“I thought Zen was the dramatic one. It’s not that bad,’ she reassured, reclining languidly, ‘I
feel like I know you a bit better now, so the night wasn’t a total loss.”

Subconsciously, Yoosung bit his lip, uncertain how to interpret that. Seongchae didn’t seem
to be mocking him; the remark about knowing him better caused a strange flutter inside,
something between hope and anxiety. Chancing a quick peek of her expression, Yoosung
caught her eyes twinkling mirthfully over an authentic smile, absent of derision.

The flutter quickly became a powerful throb that stole his breath for a beat. He could do this.

“That might be fine for you, but it’s one sided, isn’t it?,’ Yoosung posed the question, muster-
ing a playful pout, ‘The only thing I learned since waking is that you can make amazing soup
and um...maybe you don’t decorate much? Or you just moved here?”

A brief pause ensued where Seongchae blinked owlishly, looking around and seeing his point;
her cheeks bloomed pink as she partially covered her mouth.

“I uh...I actually moved in over a year ago,’ she admitted sheepishly, pressing her lips togeth-
er at Yoosung’s surprised stare, ‘I guess I forgot to furnish since I was too busy back then.
You’re really my first guest now that I remember.”

It was quiet as they both tried not to overthink the fact; climbing to his feet, Yoosung turned
away to round the couch in time to conceal how warm his skin was—and taking special care
to ensure his front remained covered.

“It looks nice anyway, even if a little empty! I did see this though,’ he explained, gesturing at
the altar. Approaching until close enough to see the contents, Yoosung looked to Seongchae
only to find her neutral expression, posture somewhat guarded as she joined him.

Oh…Should I not talk about it…? She’s not telling me off though…

Pausing, he breathed and perused the surface, considering his words carefully before
speaking, ‘…I only know how an altar at a temple looks like. It used to make me uneasy as a
little kid because I was afraid of ghosts. When I was older, I thought the ceremonies were too
complicated. My grandparents were really traditional, so I always felt bad for my mom and
older sister for having to prepare all the dishes for what I thought was just a flat rock—“

“…You mean the ancestral tablet?”

Yoosung turned; relieved to see her shielded look replaced by one of humorous incredulity as
she gawked at him.

He nodded, chuckling guiltily, “Yes, I made that mistake exactly once before my mother
nearly pinched my ears off—but I was really young, I didn’t know why there weren’t pictures
of ancestors instead!”

Seongchae covered her smile, poorly stifling a laugh, “I thought I lived dangerously, but
you’re making me reconsider.” Yoosung rolled his eyes, biting down a grin. He might be em-
barrassing himself further, but at least he wasn’t inebriated this time.

Her reaction was worth it.

“I was in trouble then, but I wouldn’t have been afraid of altars if they had pictures like this,”
he insisted, shyly rubbing his arm.

Eventually, their eyes settled on the portrait seated against the wall.
The woman beamed behind the glass, silky hair streaming over her shoulder, resting a cheek
on her clasped hands. A vivid jade bangle contrasted with the golden tan skin beneath it;
looking back at her face, Yoosung realized something familiar about the large, twinkling dark
eyes even before Seongchae quietly confirmed it:
“She’s my mother.”

His heart dropped; the lady in the photo didn’t look much older than the wistful daughter
standing before her.

“I’m sorry—is it even ok for me to be here?” Yoosung began, suddenly unsure until Seongchae
shook her head.

“It was…a long time ago. You could say hello if you wish,” she assured, shaking off the melan-
choly. Yoosung shuffled closer, wringing his shirt as he locked eyes with the portrait.

“Nice to meet—wait, not like this!”

Yoosung launched himself back over the couch, stretching his shirt over his knees; Seongc-
hae’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.

“I can’t meet your mom half clothed!” Yoosung whispered urgently, going crimson. Leaning
her head back, she gradually sank until she was squatting on the floor, shoulders shaking
once her face was hidden behind her folded arms.

“Yoosung…you’re killing me…” she wheezed, giggles racking her frame. In one fluid motion,
she stood and whipped off her robe, sailing it across the room to land on the blonde’s head.
Yoosung yelped as the fabric whispered over his skin; upon removing it, he could just make
out the flash of amethyst silk ties over bare skin as she slipped behind a door. A moment
later, Seongchae re-emerged with khakis folded over her forearm, wiping stray tears of
laughter.

“My pants!” he exclaimed in relief, snatching them from the air when she tossed them.
Arms crossed, Seongchae smirked and shifted her posture. “I went ahead and washed them;
bars aren’t known for cleanliness anyway.”

“Another reason to quit drinking…’ Yoosung sighed, reaching for the remaining soup, ‘I don’t
know how to thank you enough, Seongchae; I’m really sorry you had to baby me.”
Seeing the bitter frown disappearing behind the rim of the cup, Seongchae seated herself
before he became too sullen. “Don’t worry, I’ll think of something—besides, you had a lot to
get off your chest.”

The last gulp trickled down his throat along with a reluctant sense of admission; even for
diplomacy, Yoosung felt it was a drastic understatement. He set the empty mug down, softly
scoffing at himself.

Then he felt a poke in his cheek.

Refusing to move her finger, Yoosung ended up bumping his nose when he turned. Seeing
the unvoiced question, Seongchae winked before answering patiently, “You looked like you
were about to beat yourself up after I’ve been trying to pull you together.”

His face grew hot, though the tingling in his skin felt more to do with her than his sense of
embarrassment this time. Yoosung swallowed, realizing the truth; wallowing in self-pity was a
poor repayment for her generosity. Resolutely, he took a deep breath and straightened.

“You’re not wrong…I’ve just realized that I lived my life only pleasing others; when I was
younger, I studied well to keep my parents happy. In high school, I was trying to live up to
Rika-noona’s expectations. Now I’m in university and I just...don’t know what will make me
feel satisfied and I…I’m—“

“—‘Afraid?’“ She softly concluded for him. Yoosung winced, though determined to keep his
mood from darkening further. Peeking her way, he saw Seongchae close her eyes contem-
platively; Surely Zen would lecture him for complaining to his crush like this, but there was no
overstating the relief Yoosung felt as she considered his situation without a hint of reproach.

“I sometimes think my problems aren’t that important, but feeling like that along with…every-
thing else that’s happened, I want to explode! It’s like I don’t have the words to explain my
thoughts well.”
Seongchae blinked, watching Yoosung quietly while she mulled over her thoughts. After a
beat, she chuckled. “That’s certainly a strong incentive for a drink, especially considering
what ‘everything else’ consists of—you’re wrong though; your problems are important. Even
if they seem ordinary, it doesn’t make them any less troublesome. Who would want a career
they hate just to satisfy someone else?”

Briefly, a strange heat developed behind Yoosung’s eyes but a tiny smile tugged at his mouth.
“…Thank you for saying that.” He sniffed until the scent of salt abated, “Hehe, it’s strange. I
know I’m not old but I feel like I’m running out of time.”

“Why? You dying?”

Yoosung balked, hands flailing, “No! Definitely not, I—sometimes I eat too much junk food,
but usually I’m really healthy—!” He fizzled when Seongchae’s throaty chortle interrupted;
narrowing his eyes, he swore there was mischief in hers.

“Well, good, you made some promises I intend to cash in when you’re ready.”

He stiffened. “P-promises?”

Her smile grew downright predatory; Feeling cornered, his nerves rooted him to the spot.

“Oh? You remember being upset, but not the goal you set for yourself outside of careers
and financials? You were exceedingly confident about it once you started cheering up,” she
teased, watching Yoosung squirm before the color drained from his face.

“I said…I wanted to be—“

“—‘a good husband’,” she quoted, barely restraining herself, ‘In fact, you were going to be a
husband that enjoys splitting chores and cooking with his wife. You swore you’d even defeat
all the homemakers during meat sales!”

She’d expected Yoosung to join in the laugh, yet he sat paralyzed; eyes wide and unblinking,
barely breathing.

“I promised…you?” He finally spoke, silently praying the cold sweat all over his body wouldn’t
visibly seep through his clothes.

Seongchae’s grin receded as she pressed her lips together, looking away. An almost imper-
ceptible blush gave her skin a peachy glow that could reasonably be blamed on the morning
sun outside the window. She broke the silence before her face could betray her, “…You said
you would prove yourself. Not necessarily to me, but I did care for you…and you keep saying
you want to repay me; I’m not one to turn down help on grocery day, so…”

Possessing an absolutely useless poker face, Yoosung shakily smiled, thinly veiling his relief.

Oh thank goodness…if I had proposed…God! I wouldn’t forgive myself if I wasn’t sober when—
Ahhh! Zen, how could you tease me about this?!

“Hah—well, you’re right: I owe you. Um…I should go home and shower first I think,” he acqui-
esced, fidgeting awkwardly.

She laid a hand over his, eyes rolling lightheartedly. “Yoosung…it’s somewhat late for this, no?
You’ve spent more time in my home undressed than not; we are sitting here in sleep clothes.
You can shower here, it’s fine.”

Steam nearly poured from his ears. Yoosung groaned, almost covering his face with the robe
until he realized what he held, dropping it with a gasp. Seongchae fell back into the cushions,
cackling as he fought his blush with a pout.

“I can’t help it! I’ve never slept over at a girl’s house, I just woke up here! I’ve broken so many
rules, I’m unsure what to do anymore…” he protested until her laughter ebbed to a tranquil
smile.
“Honestly, Yoosung! Not even a full day has passed and you’ve shown so much of yourself—
and as nice as they are, I’m not talking about your legs so put them down.”

Hesitantly, Yoosung uncovered his shins and returned them to the floor. Seongchae repressed
a snicker to continue, “All I’m saying is you haven’t shown anything shameful; whether you’re
a sad, weepy drunk or adorably passionate drunk, you were honest. If you can find the cour-
age to be direct with a university counselor, you’ll find your way eventually—then you’ll be
closer to becoming that dreamy husband you aspire to be.”

Crimson gradually faded to healthy pink as Yoosung sat with this observation. He’d dismissed
the suggestion of counseling before, but hearing it casually from someone he admired—who
had suffered heartbreaking loss very early and made it through to the other side…

“…You really think a counselor can help me...?” he murmured. Tucking flyaway strands behind
her ear, Seongchae nodded.

“It’s just my opinion, but regarding counselors, that’s their job—maybe you’ll have to search
around until you find one you click with, but that’s true for anything: doctors, dentists, even
schools. Just don’t give up on yourself, husbands aren’t allowed.”

He snorted, smiling in spite of himself, “Please, I can’t even defend myself. I don’t even know
what kind of drunk you become!”

“And you never will! I don’t drink,” she quipped cheekily. Surprised, Yoosung sat up.

“Oh…is it something you dislike?” he asked, concerned that he and Zen had unwittingly invit-
ed her to something she hated.

Faltering, her smile slipped; face tilted away pensively. Her right hand reached up, rub-
bing the underside of her jaw before settling over her collarbone, fingers tracing something
unseen beneath the fabric. Catching herself, Seongchae glanced back at Yoosung, a smirk
finding its way back to her mouth.

“Let’s just say I’m not sure I’ll be as cute as you when inebriated,” she mused, leaning forward
to press the patch on his forehead. She climbed to her feet, stretching while Yoosung looked
anywhere but at her exposed back; remembering the tray she’d brought, he sprang up
toward the kitchen.

Smiling appreciatively and handing back his trousers, she led him through the apartment to
the main bathroom. Yoosung checked his phone for the time just as Seongchae returned with
towels and an appropriate charger.

“Oh, thank you! I’ll be quick—the best deals start in about two hours!” he promised, plugging
in his phone once she shut the door.

While preparing for the day, both their phones chimed with notifications. Seeing a message
from Zen with an attachment, Seongchae unlocked her screen.

<Morning, Seongchae! I had to get Seven to help send the video I took, but…you’re not going
to make fun of Yoosung with it, right? I won’t feel right if he gets hurt…>

She played the clip at low volume, pleasant warmth settling in her chest. After downloading,
she responded.

<Of course not, this is for me only! I appreciate it, thanks. >

A moment later, another text sounded. Seongchae skimmed Zen’s message, huffing.

“Worry about your own love life, will you? Timing is everything,” she muttered, shoving the
phone into her pocket.

…
Yoosung, conversely, received a message from Seven:

<Yoosungie…I’m so sad I didn’t witness this! You’re growing up too fast!! Sevennie isn’t ready!>

There was a video attached… he was in the thumbnail. Yoosung hesitated, knowing nothing
good would result—but he held his breath and pressed play.

“Zen…that’s nu—not funny! She’s…she’s like a superhero! Tough, myshterioussh and cool! Wha
would she wan’ with me, hah? What can I offer someone like her? An omelette? I…*sniff* still
mess up smiley faces…what if I can’t even make a ketchup heart, hyung? Hyuungg!”

“Oi, Yoosung, shh! She’s coming—!”

“Yoosung, tell me: how are you with cockroaches?”

“Ahh...terrible!”

“Good, we can team up. How do you feel about…?”

Yoosung set his phone down, muffling his screams in the towel. Mortified within thirty sec-
onds of the three minute clip, he was already unsure of leaving the bathroom; much less
surviving a shopping trip.

And yet…

Whatever transpired last night didn’t negate anything from that morning. After dealing with
his messier aspects…she did still say she hadn’t seen anything bad. In fact, she said he was…
cute. Today was a chance to learn more about her and maybe show his competent side.
He stared at the mirror, hoping to find resolve. He only found his reflection; clean, clothed
and nervous.

Yoosung decided that would at least be enough to greet Seongchae’s mother properly
before they set out.
 Thank you!
Special thank you to Cheritz for
supporting this project!

Mystic Messenger and its characters have

left a great impression on our hearts, and
this zine would not exist without them.

And thank you to all of our contributors!

Their work made this zine a reality, so
please take the time to support them and
take a peek at their parting mysterious
messages...
 Artists

$1,409.00 Briku
page: 25-31, 85 page: 40
ig: i.4o.q twt: tetrabriku
ig: illst.rey
twt: illst_rey
“Thank you for purchasing this
“May love find you in every form, zine!”
may your heart be ready to feel its
warmth. Thank you!”

Arisatorin Chel
page: 16-23 page: 15, 33-39
twt: arisatorin twt: mm12578
ig: arisatorin tblr: mm12578
ig: mm__12578

“Thank you for the purchase. Best
wishes to you <3”
“Thank you so much for your
support! I’m really honored to be a part
of this project, I hope you enjoyed the
zine as much as I did! I’m sending you
lots of love! ♡”

BC Gammam0n
page: 41-47, 149 + merch page: 86
pin: Shittyluck twt: gammam0n
MB: Wecollab ig: gammam0n
tblr: bcthecryingexpert
ig: bad22luck “Thank you for all you lovely
support!! Don’t forget to eat
“My greatest gratitude to you all!” properly >:)”

Bluecat Heyasa
page: 75-83 + merch page: 73 + merch
twt: BCfish707 twt: heyasa_17
ig: god_sevenseven ig: heyasa_17

“The hosts, planners and creators of

the magazine have worked hard. I “It’s an interesting zine with inter-
think it is not easy to make this one. esting concept. I hope you love the
also thank the fans who are willing final piece~”
to buy this zine!”
 Hibiki Moka Laurel
page: 32 page: 24
tblr: hibiki-moka twt: palgals_
ig: hibiki_moka ig: palgals

“I had a lot of fun on this project,
thank you very much for buying this
zine and for giving me the opportu-
nity to work alongside very talented
people!⭐”
“It was amazing to be able to work
with everyone!! Thank you so much
for purchasing! :o”

Killamon Lou Deziel

page: 110, 140-148 page: 52-58, 117 + merch
carrd: keii.carrd.co twt: lou_artworks
tblr: lou-artworks
ig: lou_artworks

“♡” “Thank you for taking interest in this

zine and for allowing us to share our
love of Mystic Messenger together!
Everyone worked very hard so I hope
you enjoyed :)”

Konoponopy Lunaria
page: 127-135 page: 60-62, 111-116
twt: konoponopy1 twt: lunari_al
ig: konoponopy DA: lunarials
ig: lunarials
“I would like to thank this zine for
the wonderful opportunity to brain “Hi! I hope you enjoy this zine full of
rot over Yoosung Kim. 10/10. Thank beautiful pieces done by passionate
you for supporting this zine!” artists and writers of the fandom! I’m
honored to be a part of the team with
everyone <3”

Kotorimi Marta
page: 88 page: 90-92
twt: koto_rimi twt: _darkta_
ig: koto_rimi tblr: darkta
ig: _darkta_
“It is an honour to be a part of this
beautiful project! As an avid Mystic “I have two hands, one for Zen and
Messenger fan since its release, I’m de-
one for Rus”
lighted to contribute to the fandom with
my own work for the very first time. <3”

Koutone Maryellen
page: 120-125 + merch page: 74 + merch
ig: koutone9 twt: eztli89
twt: koutone9 ig: kmtapia_art
tblr: koutone
“Thank you :D”
“forever grateful to Zen for ending
depression (=^••^=)”
 Mei Riszette
page: 63 page: 118
twt: meikk_0 twt: riszette
ig: meikk_0 ig: riszette

“dilfs (vanderwood) are forever” “Thank you!”

Mello_rin Ritelli_draws
page: 4 page: 50
twt: mello_rin_ twt: RitelliD
ig: mello_rin_ tblr: ritelli-draws
ig: ritelli_draws

“Thank you for the support <3” “Thank you for looking at this Fan-
zine, I hope you had as much of a
blast as we did making it! <3”

Moa Rusgard
page: 84 page: 136
twt: mmurkoff ig: _rusgard
tblr: rusgard

“thank you for the support! go kiss “Jumin Han and Marta here are the
some fictional characters! ” rightful owners of the entirety of
my heart”

Nevercrymoon Pris
page: 102 page: 64-71 + Cover
twt: nevercrymoon twt: prismatic_a_
ig: prismatic_a
“Thank you for supporting this zine.
I’m hopeful that all of our warm “Thank you for purchasing and
feelings towards Mystic Messenger supporting this project! I hope you
are conveyed and able to bring enjoy the zine as much we loved to
you smiles!” work on it! ♡“

Poki Seetenou
page: 137-139 page: 3
twt: poki_art tblr: sensetenou
tblr: poki-art ig: sketchtenou
ig: poki._.art
“Thank you so much for getting
“Thank you for supporting us! long the zine!!”
live mysme \o/”
 Stormyzapata Ysther
page: 72 page: 93
twt: stormy_zapata twt: _ysther
ig: stormyzapata tblr: hystherics

“To everyone who supported this zine,
THANK YOU SO MUCH! It means a lot to
me to know that there are still people
who supports the mystic messenger
community. Much love! -stormy”
“This was made with lots of love!
If you are reading this you are
wonderful ♡”

Vacorn
page: 59, 103-109
twt: VACORN__
ig: v.acorn

“The team has been nothing but

passionate about MysMe as well as this
project, and I hope everyone’s love for
MysMe had been successfully passed
onto you through this zine! Thank you so
much for your support! <3”

Waffletop
page: 5-14
twt: waffletop_
ig: waffletopkai

“It’s been wonderful seeing all these

beautiful mc’s around the world. ♡”

YUI
page: 48-49, 126
twt: FuyuinaH
ig: yui2705_

“lets do our best tgh!!!”

Yuuzan
page: 150
twt: kurosenami
tblr: 6oxkm5b8
ig: 6oxkm5b8

“You have great taste haha! Thank

you for supporting the zine, also I’m
really grateful for the opportunity to
draw MysMe <3 ”
 Writers

Amuk Diego
page: 41-46 artist: BC page: 94-100 artist: Seluniii
AO3: amuk AO3: maruzze
twt: amukWrites twt: maruzzeTM
tblr: kumeko
ig: amukfics “Thank you for purchasing this zine
and I hope you like this project!”
“Finally, I understand why MC never
contacted anyone or tried to leave
that room for 11 days. MC was
preparing for covid”

Apple Gureishi
page: 119-124 artist: Koutone page: 103-108 artist: Vacorn
AO3: doridoripawaa AO3: gureisu
twt: doridoripawaa tblr: gureishi
tblr: doridoripawaa “I’m so grateful to all the mods for putting to-
gether this incredibly complex and beautiful
project. We’re drawn to the Mystic Messenger
“Thank you for purchasing this zine! characters because we see bits and pieces
I hope we can fill you all with love of ourselves in them, and creating our own
like the sun!” characters who are meant to love them feels
like a gift (to them, or us, to each other). I
hope you enjoy our art and our words!”

BaconWaffle Jafndaegur
page: 5-14 artist: Waffletop page: 127-134 artist: Konoponopy
AO3: BaconWaffle16 AO3: Jafndaegur
twt: BaconWaffle16 twt: jafndaegur
tblr: baconwaffle2016 tblr: jafndaegur

“Thank you so much for your sup- “Thank you so much for your love
port, we’re all so grateful. Hope you and support! Everyone worked very
enjoy the zine!” hard to bring a great zine to life~”

Daisy LilacNightmares
page: 33-39 artist: Chel page: 51-58 artist: Lou Deziel
AO3: saeransboy AO3: lilacnightmares
twt: 707sboy tblr: marshmallowprotection
tblr: saeransboy ig: lilacnightmares97
ig: saeransboy
“Thank you so much for supporting this
“Thank you for purchasing! I hope Zine. Supporting each other, our cre-
ations, our passions, and the stories that
you enjoy, and remember to never
we love to tell and share with the world
give up hope.” is the kindest thing a person can do. ”
 Mai
page: 60-62, 111-116 artist: Lunaria
AO3: Sky_Light57
tblr: takara-kaneko
“I blame Mystic Messenger and my
fellow content creators for my high
expectations in relationships... So,
thank you for purchasing and I hope
you enjoyed! ”
-True
page: 64-71 artist: Pris
AO3: keeperofthefour
tblr: truth-be-told-im-lying
ig: truth_be_told_im_lying
“Thank you for supporting this in-
credibly talented team of creators!
We are forever grateful for your love
and enthusiasm. ”

Mrs. Han Witch

page: 16-22 artist: Arisatorin page: 140-147 artist: Killamon
tblr: mrs-han AO3: Witchtomez
twt: Witchtomez
“May our zine make you smile!” tblr: witchtomez
ig: witchs_crafts
“Wow, 5 years and we still haven’t escaped
Mysme, huh? Then again, it really did train
us for the lockdowns of last year, didn’t it?
Haha, thanks Cheritz and thank you all for
contributing to the success of this zine!”

Raine
page: 89-91 artist: Marta
AO3: casualpastelgay
twt: casualpastelgay
tblr: casualpastelgay
ig: casualpastelgay

“Thank you so much for your sup-

port of our creators, mods, Mystic
Messenger, custom MCs, and our
chosen charity!”

Saey-bae
page: 76-83 artist: Bluecat
AO3: JourneysBeginning
tblr: saey-bae

“Thank you for purchasing this zine! This

fandom is so incredibly supportive and
wonderful, and I hope we’ve given even
a fraction of that love back. This one’s to
all the real life MCs ♡”

Sunny
page: 25-31 artist: $1409
AO3: sunnyclarke
tblr: saeyoungs-sunflower

“I really hope you’ve enjoyed this

zine and seeing everyone’s won-
derful work, and thank you so much
for purchasing <3 Have a wonderful
day! x”
NSD Mod Team

Talentlesshuman Seluniii
Main moderator + merch Co-Moderator + page: 87, 94-101
twt: talentlesshuman twt: seluniiii
tblr: talentlessartblog ig: seluniii
ig: talentlesshuman
“kisses to everyone who’s helped
“I suffer from overflowing love for this zine come true! ♡”
Saeyoung Choi and OCs ♡”

Lovely Shawna
Writing Moderator + page: 137-138 Guest Programmer
AO3: Escargotoire tblr: zentherainbowunicorn
GitHub: shawna-p
“Mindcraft.”
“Huge thank you to everyone
who helped bring this zine to life,
including you for supporting it!
Don’t forget to eat, and take care
of yourself~”

Thank you!