Tiffany's POV

I put my pen down. Finished. My final exam is over. I feel the Cheshire cat grin spread over my face. It's probably the first time all week that I've smiled. It's Friday, and we shall be celebrating tonight, really celebrating. I might even get drunk! I've never been drunk before. I glance across the sports hall at Yoona, and she's still scribbling furiously, five minutes to the end. This is it, the end of my academic career. I shall never have to sit in rows of anxious, isolated students again. Inside I'm doing graceful cartwheels around my head, knowing full well that's the only place I can do graceful cartwheels. Yoona stops writing and puts her pen down. She glances across at me, and I catch her Cheshire cat smile too.

We head back to our apartment together in her Mercedes, refusing to discuss our final paper. Yoona is more concerned about what she's going to wear to the bar this evening. I am busily fishing around in my purse for my keys.

"Fany unnie, there's a package for you." Yoona is standing on the steps up to the front door holding a brown paper parcel. Odd. I haven't ordered anything from Amazon recently.

Yoona gives me the parcel and takes my keys to open the front door. It's addressed to Miss Tiffany Hwang. There's no sender's address or name. Perhaps it's from my mom or Ray.

"It's probably from my folks."

"Open it!" Yoona is excited as she heads into the kitchen for our 'Exams are finished hurrah Champagne'.

I open the parcel, and inside I find a half leather box containing three seemingly identical old cloth-covered books in mint condition and a plain white card. Written on one side, in black ink in neat cursive handwriting, is:

Why didn’t you tell me there was danger? Why didn’t you warn me? Ladies know what to guard against, because they read novels that tell them of these tricks…

I recognize the quote from Tess. I am stunned by the irony as I've just spent three hours writing about the novels of Thomas Hardy in my final examination. Perhaps there is no irony... perhaps it's deliberate. I inspect the books closely, three volumes of Tess of the D'Urbervilles. I open the front cover. Written in an old typeface on the front plate is:

'London: Jack R. Osgood, McIlvaine and Co., 1891.'

Holy - they are first editions. They must be worth a fortune, and I know immediately who's sent them. Yoona is at my shoulder gazing at the books. She picks up the card.

"First Editions," I whisper.

"No." Yoona's eyes are wide with disbelief. "Jessica?"

I nod.

"Can't think of anyone else."

"What does this card mean?"

"I have no idea. I think it's a warning - honestly she keeps warning me off. I have no idea why. It's not like I'm beating her door down." I frown.

"I know you don't want to talk about her, Fany unnie, but she's seriously into you. Warnings or no."

I have not let myself dwell on Jessica Jung for the past week. Okay... so her hazel eyes are still haunting my dreams, and I know it will take an eternity to expunge the feel of her arms around me and her wonderful fragrance from my brain. Why has she sent me this?

She told me that I wasn't for her.

"I've found one Tess first edition for sale in New York at $14,000. But yours looks in much better condition. They must have cost more." Yoona is consulting her good friend Google.

"This quote - Tess says it to her mother after Alec D'Urberville has had his wicked way with her."

"I know," muses Yoona. "What is she trying to say?"

"I don't know, and I don't care. I can't accept these from her. I'll send them back with an equally baffling quote from some obscure part of the book."

"The bit where Angel Clare says f**k off?" Yoona asks with a completely straight face.

"Yes, that bit." I giggle. I love Yoona, she's so loyal and supportive. I repack the books and leave them on the dining table. Yoona hands me a glass of champagne.

"To the end of exams and our new life in Seoul," she grins.

"To the end of exams, our new life in Seoul, and excellent results." We clink glasses and drink.

The bar is loud and hectic, full of soon to be graduates out to get trashed. Taeyeon joins us. She won't graduate for another year, but she's in the mood to party and gets us into the spirit of our newfound freedom by buying a pitcher of margaritas for us all. As I down my fifth, I know this is not a good idea on top of the champagne.

"So what now Fany?" Taeyeon shouts at me over the noise.

"Yoona and I are moving to Seoul. Yoona's parents have bought a condo there for her."

"Dios mio, how the other half live. But you'll be back for my show."

"Of course, Daedae, I wouldn't miss it for the world." I smile, and she puts her arm around my waist and pulls me close.

"It means a lot to me that you'll be there Fany," she whispers in my ear. "Another margarita?"

"Kim Taeyeon - are you trying to get me drunk? Because I think it's working." I giggle. "I think I'd better have a beer. I'll go get us a pitcher."

"More drink, Fany unnie!" Yoona bellows.

Yoona has the constitution of an ox. She's got her arm draped over Sooyoung, one of our fellow English students and her usual photographer on her student newspaper. She's given up taking photos of the drunkenness that surrounds her. She only has eyes for Yoona. She's all tiny camisole, tight jeans, and high heels, hair piled high with tendrils hanging down softly around her face, her usual stunning self. Me, I'm more of a Converse and t-shirt kind of girl, but I'm wearing my most flattering jeans. I move out of Taeyeon's hold and get up from our table. Whoa. Head spin. I have to grab the back of the chair. Tequila based cocktails are not a good idea.

I make my way to the bar and decide that I should visit the powder room while I am on my feet. Good thinking, Fany. I stagger off through the crowd. Of course, there's a line, but at least it's quiet and cool in the corridor. I reach for my cell phone to relieve the boredom of waiting in line. Hmm... Who did I last call? Was it Daedae? Before that a number I don't recognize. Oh yes. Jessica, I think this is her number. I giggle. I have no idea what the time is, maybe I'll wake her. Perhaps she can tell me why she sent me those books and the cryptic message. If she wants me to stay away, she should leave me alone. I suppress a drunken grin and hit the automatic re-dial. She answers on the second ring.

"Tiffany?" She's surprised to hear from me. Well, frankly, I'm surprised to ring her.

Then my befuddled brain registers... how does she know it's me?

"Why did you send me the books?" I slur at her.

"Tiffany, are you okay? You sound strange." Her voice is filled with concern.

"I'm not the strange one, you are," I accuse. There - that told her, my courage fuelled by alcohol.

"Tiffany, have you been drinking?"

"What's it to you?"

"I'm - curious. Where are you?"

"In a bar."

"Which bar?" Jessica sounds exasperated.

"A bar in Incheon."

"How are you getting home?"

"I'll find a way." This conversation is not going how I expected.

"Which bar are you in?"

"Why did you send me the books, Jessica?"

"Tiffany, where are you, tell me now." Her tone is so, so dictatorial, her usual control freak. I imagine her as an old time movie director wearing jodhpurs, holding an old fashioned megaphone and a riding crop. The image makes me laugh out loud.

"You're so... domineering," I giggle.

"Fany, so help me, where the f**k are you?"

Jessica Jung is swearing at me. I giggle again. "I'm in Incheon... s'a long way from Seoul."

"Where in Incheon?"

"Goodnight, Jessica."

"Fany!"

I hang up. Ha! Though she didn't tell me about the books. I frown. Mission not accomplished. I am really quite drunk - my head swims uncomfortably as I shuffle with the line. Well, the object of the exercise was to get drunk. I have succeeded. This is what it's like - probably not an experience to be repeated. The line has moved, and it's now my turn. I stare blankly at the poster on the back of the toilet door that extols the virtues of safe . Holy crap, did I just call Jessica Jung? . My phone rings and it makes me jump. I yelp in surprise.

"Hi," I bleat timidly in to the phone. I hadn't reckoned on this.

"I'm coming to get you," she says and hangs up. Only Jessica Jung could sound so calm and so threatening at the same time.

Holy crap. I pull my jeans up. My heart is thumping. Coming to get me? Oh no. I'm going to be sick... no... I'm fine. Hang on. She's just messing with my head. I didn't tell her where I was. She can't find me here. Besides, it will take her hours to get here from Seoul, and we'll be long gone by then. I wash my hands and check my face in the mirror.

I look flushed and slightly unfocused. Hmm... tequila.