Sometimes I sleep in an empty mall, sometimes I crash at my friends' house by lying to them I want to have a sleepover and other times, I just take a nap wherever is suitable.

I have four hours before my shift starts a 24/7 convenience store so I really do need to get my beauty sleep before then. I drop down next to a quiet building and lie down.

I take out my alarm clock and set it to half past eleven. I let myself drift to sleep before flashbacks of my confession appear in my head. Mr. Yunho listened well but he was stumped to say anything then. I told him he didn't have to do anything for me and left him alone. I cry myself to sleep because hearing myself tell him about my adversity makes me feel sorry to myself all over again. I might have grown immune to my poverty, but that does not lessen the pain.

----

"You're late," Jimin mutters, standing to pack his stuff. 

I'm actually on time. Jimin just likes leaving early. I take his place on the counter and watch his back turn the corner of the street. 

And I'm alone again. 

I take some money out to buy my breakfast, lunch and dinner which are all pre-packed in a little cup of ramen. 

While waiting for my boiling ramen to cool, I flip through my diary. Tomorrow would be the first of the month, so I will get my salary for this month by midnight.

I can actually start renting a place with the savings I gathered over six months. Finding a place to rent will now be added to a list of my current problems then.

I sigh, taking out my notes from this morning. It has taken me some time to get over my self-pity mode and start studying again, but it was way too late to improve my grades. I ended up failing, as evident by my visit to Mr. Yunho's cubicle. I'm better now though and chances are, I could get back to my previous state or, at least, as an average student and pass school.

A guy enters the store to grab a cup of ramen. He looks beaten up. While his ramen cooks, he buys an ointment and a box of bandages. He patches himself up while eating his ramen.

I have seen thugs going around this area but I always avoid them. There's a reason why I dress like a boy during my shift. I watch him unbuckle his belt and pull down his pants.

"Excuse me!" I say, startled. 

He looks up in surprise. 

"I'm going to call the police if you don't pull your pants back up," I threaten, my hand hovering on the phone. "Pull it up!"

"Relax, I'm just patching this bruise beneath my ," he clarifies. 

"Oh." Fair enough, he doesn't seem to mean anything by it. His boxers are in full view though. 

"Why don't you do it somewhere hidden?" I suggest, perturbed about his distracting red boxers. It matches with his bleeding thighs well.

He chuckles and explains, "Imagine me pulling down my pants in hidden corner. I think you would not even wait to ask before calling the police."

He wipes away the blood by smearing it all over his thigh. He looks like he is out of his wits.

I grab a plastic cup from behind the counter and fill it with cold water from the tap at the back.

"Here," I point to the cup. 

"Oh thanks," he grabs the cup and looks at it uncertainly. He is about to pour it directly on his thigh when I stop him.

I grab out a box of tissue from my bag and dip the tip of a tissue into the cup.

I squat right in front of his thigh. The whole scene is pretty awkward yet I still go along with it.

"Mind if I do it for you?" I ask. 

He takes his time before answering, doubtfully, "Why not..."

I start taking charge of his clean up. I patch that area, his face, arms and whatever that appears even slightly bruised.

I feel good about myself. Finally, I can take care of someone else other than me. At last, my life problems can be forgotten even if just momentarily and I dissolve in someone else's troubles. Watching him in a worse condition than me makes me feel better, as sadistic as it sounds. His misery makes me smile.

"Ow," he groans as I accidentally jab his shoulder too hard. "I think you need to take a look at my back too."

"I have a hard-on," he abruptly declares in his pitiful state. "I think I need to tell you that before it freaks you out."

"It's been kind of obvious since the last half an hour," I reply back breezily. Those boxers don't hide it well. 

I know what he is thinking. That this might be uncomfortable for me. It's true - I should be uncomfortable. I should be scared out of my soul to move a muscle. Despite that, I continue helping him. Seeing him bruised and battered, I feel like I have control. I feel secure. He doesn't seem to want to initiate anything inappropriate either. I have been touching him and not otherwise.

"It happens, right?" I try to clarify. "Men gets touched and that thing reacts. As long as you don't act on it, I don't think it bothers me." He was upfront with me too about it.

"I thought you were a guy," he states monotonously. "Until you spoke."

"I wish I was a guy," I say sadly. There were many more things I can do to help myself if I was a guy. Many more jobs I can take without worrying about my safety. I'm pretty sure men become victims as often as women do, but I feel like men can feel more secure with their strength backing them up. I'm a woman and not only that, I'm frankly weak. I've tried to do heavylifting and it causes me to tumble right over.

"You're a homo?" he asks, tilting his head curiously. "Never met a homo girl before."

"That's not what I meant," I retort, amused that he came to that conclusion. 

I take a look at my patient as I finish with him. "You look beautiful," I tease, holding back my laughter. Bandages all over his face. 

"I know," he agrees and flips his imaginary hair. We laugh at our exchange.

Slowly, I head back behind the counter and adopt my previous stance that I used before I interacted with him.

"Throw the rubbish outside," I instruct nonchalantly. 

He saunters back and forth in front of the entrance of the store after disposing his rubbish. He opens the door slightly.

I just eye him with suspicion.

"Umm. Can I get your number?" he asks with wide eyes. 

I have the best excuse not to give him my number and it isn't even a lie! "I don't have a phone," I reply a little too happily.

"Ow. My pride."

I laugh so hard it is almost embarrassing. "Don't worry," I add kindly. "I really don't have a phone. I don't have a house. I don't have a family. I don't have anything!" I ramble on. I gulp at my own sudden reveal. His expression scrunches up, as if he is judging me. Judge me all you want, mister! Honestly. Nothing matters when you haven't got anything to lose anymore.

He closes the door and watches me from outside. I wave to him, indicating that he can leave now. His stare is probably more unsettling than his stiff rod. "Get away now," I motion. He smiles and takes his leave.

----

I'm in the principal's office today with an official who has yet to introduce himself. 

"Sit down, Mr. Hyuk," the principal says. "This is Jang Youngmi."

Mr. Hyuk extends his hand out. 

"You're less pretty than your sister," he comments dryly. 

He knows Jang Hanna? That fact takes me aback more than his comment.

"I'm her boss," he states, making himself comfortable. 

"YG is her boss."

"Well, I'm the boss of the trainess," he clarifies. "And we have a problem with Jang Hanna right now."

Is she in trouble? What happened to her? My face tries to convey this emotion to him.

"She is in distress. She says her sister has not been contacting her in the last three weeks."

Oh.

"She's been crying non-stop."

Wow, she sounds like she's going through some awful stuff.

"So we went looking for you and here we are. We'll pick you up after school then."

This conversation is so dull.

"You're from YG, you say?" the principal interjects excitedly. "Well, you can take her out of school now. She will be excused."

Mr. Hyuk smiles in an insincere manner. "If you think getting on our good side is going to help us bring celebrities to this school..." I dart my eyes at the principal. "Well, you're right. Looking forward to our growing relationship."

----

I have been comforting my sobbing sister for the last hour in Mr. Hyuk's office. He is completely ignoring us since our tearful reunion - only Hanna was crying - and just completing his paperwork as Hanna sobs into my lap.

"I thought you died!" she wails like a broken record. "I thought horrible things."

"I didn't want to bother you, that's all," I repeated, also similar to a broken record.

"I couldn't call you-"

"I sold my phone-"

"I couldn't find you-"

"I'm an urban nomad-"

"So I reached out to the company-"

She didn't reach out to the company. To clarify, she just cried continuously for days while training that they decided to either cancel her contract in case she is mentally disturbed. That was all blocked however since she was from Kpop Star and it would be a very public affair if they had to do that. Instead, they decided to ask her what was wrong. How was that not their first option?

She told them everything that she tried to hide all these months and the company very slyly offered her a metaphorical hand with all her troubles. She praises the company for its kindness but all I can see is their declining stocks if rumours of our life surfaces.

'The hobo tale of Jang Hanna's sister' plastered across newspapers.

'YG family trouble' I imagine on websites.

Now that they've intervened, then people can't accuse them of never helping. What's better is if this never gets found out by the public. This was emphasised by Mr. Hyuk repeatedly.

"So you haven't told anyone?" Mr. Hyuk asks.

"Just my homeroom teacher...and my best friend," I reply, wondering if I should even be honest with him. "But she's in bedrest. Cancer."

"That's awful," he says coldly. "Misfortune just surrounds you. I need to speak with your homeroom teacher soon then. It's best if this is wrapped up tightly and sealed in a bottle that is then left to drift at sea where nobody will ever find out." I would have done that to my life from the beginning if I could.

"That's poetic of you!" I compliment sarcastically. I feel hostile towards him. I don't know why, but his kindness is so artificial and he doesn't even hide it! "Are you sure you're not actually a lyricist?"

Seems like I accidentally touched a nerve. He shifts in his seat and says matter-of-factly, "I applied to be a producer, but YG said they needed a person managing trainees instead. They suggested that, with my skills, it was a better position for me."

Burn! Maybe his demeanor stemmed from the cruelty of this world. Whose wasn't though? I reflect on myself at that moment.

"So...you're witty. Do you have any other skills?" he inquires. 

"What?"

"Youngmi, they might take you in as a trainee," Hanna explains with a pleading tone. "You're good at singing, right?" 

"You're better," I quickly reply. Trainee? YG? YG would take me as a trainee? "Why would you take me as a trainee?"

"We can give you allowance and a place to stay. But you need to audition, of course," Mr. Hyuk answers, observing me from the opposite side of the desk.

"I don't want to audtion. I don't want to become a trainee!" I turn to Hanna. "I don't want to be a celebrity."

"Don't kid yourself, everybody wants to be a celebrity," Hanna argues. Um, not me! 

"Why are you doing this?" I direct this question to Mr. Hyuk. "What do you even benefit by accepting me?"

"I didn't say you would be accepted. With your plain looks, it would be hard. Most of the trainees are pretty, you know." He really couldn't state that in a nicer way?? At least for once, he sounds concern - about my ugliness. Good for him. He is honest with YG's superficiality. 

I stand up, irked by his response, but also with Hanna's. She is deluded if she thinks everybody wants to be a celebrity. No, they don't! Hanna has not been out to the real world for quite awhile now. While I go around living as an urban nomad, she always had YG with her, protecting her from the real state of misery that I have to go through. She doesn't know where I sleep at night. I never tell her either. Our relationship is good, but we just don't disclose things to each other anymore. Things changed dramatically that night. That blissful life we had was gone in a heartbeat. 

"Don't be hurt from it," Mr. Hyuk breaks me from my thoughts. "It's true. You're not pretty."

I feel like smacking his head onto the desk. Does he think I am only bothered by that? My life revolves around bigger things than beauty. 

"I don't care - I'm not auditioning," I plainly state. "I'm going to be a doctor," I declare out of the blue. Well, that's not true. I never actually decided to be a doctor, but I thought about it. I want to find a career where I can put science to beneficial uses. Doctor is just the stereotypical job I can think of right now.

"With these grades?" Mr. Hyuk mocks as he shoves my report card filled with red ink all over to my face. He must have gotten a copy from the principal. Do we not have students' rights? Should I not be consulted before my private file is acquired by other people?

"Look, I don't have to prove to you anything," I say, defensive. 

"We can only help you but only if you can work for the company. We're not a charity." The way he said that ticks me off so badly.

"Do you think I need your charity? I don't remember seeking you people for help. Screw you!" I yell, my blood boiling. "I'm fine! Hanna, I'm fine!"

I walk to towards the door when Hanna asks me a set of questions rapidly , "Where do you sleep at night? How do you eat? Youngmi, where do you take showers? Youngmi, I'm sorry! I can't believe I have been so selfish. I just realized all this when you were missing. I don't know anything about how you have been living and I feel like a terrible sister."

"I wasn't missing," I point out. "I just sold my phone and didn't visit you for three weeks."

"I'm sorry, Youngmi!" she bawls, falling weakly onto the floor. I watch her pathetic sobbing.

What am I supposed to feel? Am I supposed to empathize with her? Empathize with the fact that she now feels sorry for me? I have waited for months. For a hero - or heroine - to come sweep up my problems for me. For someone to see me sleeping beside a rubbish bin and offer me the comfort of their home. For Hanna to tell me to stay whenever I visit her to take a new set of clothes and pass her the old unwashed ones. While I create a fire to cook my meat on, I want someone to drop their packed lunch beside me. The cruel world showed no mercy. The police basically asked us to leave the premises and go to our closest relatives, who lived hours away. They didn't even offer a ride. 

"Just leave me alone," I state, sighing. "I'm fine." Lies, lies, lies.

"Where do you sleep at night?" Mr. Hyuk asks, a flicker of something in his eyes. Compassion? It feels unreal.

Yet I stay still. That flicker of something holds me back. To me, it looked like a flicker of hope. I don't even know why. YG is basically extending their metaphorical arm to help me out and I'm blatantly rejecting it, yet that flicker, like a toe pinky being extended out in comparison, is the one that something I consider accepting. Hanna's dramatic bawling doesn't win me, but that slight glint of hope does. Strange.