Bora never knew she needed her bellflower root caramelized with hand-churned sage butter or powdered with sunflower seeds. Yet as she sat on a plush chair around the table of the dining room and the food melted on her tongue, she decided dirty money could have an upside. She didn’t think the finest restaurants in Korea could match the dishes prepared by the mansion’s cooks.

Earlier that day, she had gone to the infirmary to ask Mrs. Wang for sleeping pills and come back with an invitation to dinner and comments about how she’d lost so much weight in the past month. 

She truly had. Jackson’s gruesome training coupled with the military meals served to recruits and the stress of the upcoming Trial had turned her slimmer.

Tomorrow was the last day before the second Trial. Probably her last day at Division if she failed to come back to the headquarters with Park Jinyoung in tow.

The more time passed, the more sleep she lost over it. She had spent sleepless nights in the commons of the girls dorms overturning the mission in her head, thinking of ways in and out of the Blue House using the blueprints Bambam had provided her with. 

She had scraped every last bit of information she could about her target. She had read articles and watched interviews of his the night away until her eyes became bloodshot and only two hours separated her from her next training with Jackson.

This routine had gone on for a few days until Jackson threatened to stop their training altogether if she didn’t fix her messy sleeping patterns.

That’s why she sought out sleeping pills. And ended up dining in the villa the same night.

When she walked in, dinner was already underway. She bowed to the three founding fathers before taking her seat next to Mark. Nairin beamed at her sight.

“You look like ,” Solar mouthed to her as a way of greeting when she plopped down on her seat.

Mark glanced at her sideways before asking, “Nervous?”

“Barely.”

“I hope you have an escape route this time,” he murmured.

She glanced his way. “If I were you, that’s not what I would be worrying about.”

Her words did nothing to wipe the smug grin off his face. He was confident she had no chance.

“No talking business around this table,” Mrs. Wang, who caught bits of their conversation, intervened.

Bora nodded at her thankfully.

One person was noticeably missing around the table. 

“Where is Jackson?” Mrs. Wang asked as she cluttered Bora’s plate with more food than she could humanely get in her system. 

Bora perked up at the question.

Nairin shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s been trafficking in the old veranda these days. Can you believe he discarded all my baby stuff from there and put it in my room? And he won’t even tell me what he’s up to!”

“Maybe that will make you tidy your bedroom for a change,” Mrs. Wang waved the serving spoon in the direction of her daughter. “This room has been gathering dust for years anyway. Let it have some use.”

Nairin rolled her eyes.

“Mark, I put your suit on your bed. It’s all ironed and clean, so don’t wrinkle it.”

Bora raised her napkin to to hide her smirk. Mark didn’t miss it, and looked at her with pinched lips.

“As for you, I have the perfect dress for you.”

Bora faltered as Mrs. Wang’s attention fell on her. 

She heard Mark snicker. 

Payback.

She looked at the woman quizzically. “I already have what I need, thank you.”

She had found a dress in the gigantic closets located on Cloud 7. She had gone through them and spent an entire afternoon trying on outfit after outfit. She hated it. It reminded her of the long-gone time she had been roaming department stores, picking out a dress for her senior exhibition. Except it wasn’t her eccentric classmate helping her out but an agent.

It had never struck Bora that agents might be needed inside Division itself. The Handlers were a portion of the Cliff’s workforce. It was their job to pamper the other agents going on the field. To prepare them for operations to unfold smoothly.

Bora had spent hours with her poor Handler, requesting more colors, styles, accessories. When, finally, she had settled her choice, curfew was only minutes away and she had gone straight to sleep, a pounding headache accompanying her into the night.

“You come see me after dinner, and then I’ll let you decide which one you prefer?” 

“But—” 

Before she could argue further, Mrs. Wang had turned her attention to something beyond her shoulders and her face lit up. “There you are.”

Bora glanced over her shoulder in time to see Jackson pull out the chair next to her. He looked to have just hopped out of a shower. 

“Apologies for the delay,” he bowed to the elders who’d been in deep conversation about politics.

His father waved him away.

“Hey,” she smiled at him as he slid in the chair next to her.

The knots in her stomach loosened when the wafts of his citrus soap reached her. The warmth of his body next to her was enough to alleviate some of the tension that strained her neck.

He leaned closer and whispered for her ears only, “I have a surprise for you.”

She stilled and frowned with a smile, “What?”

He winked at her and raised his glass of water to his lips.

Her heart stopped. 

She was convinced it did. 

Oh Lord, what was happening to her?

***

“Did she really wear that?”

“Once. It was the annual reception of the Blue House of 1991. The first one your dad invited her to. I think it was their first date even.”

Bora stood with Mrs. Wang in the older woman’s walk-in closet. The room was spotless. Designer bags and haute couture items filled the closet shelves. A glass case island in the middle displayed rivers of jewels and diamonds. The room looked so expensive, Bora’s mere presence felt unholy. 

Mrs. Wang had pulled out a stunning dress from her shelves of clothes.

The neckline was sewn in an elegant off-shoulder fashion. The fabric was stretchy velvet and despite the years that had passed, it still retained a certain shimmer when exposed to lights. 

The color was what struck Bora the most. It was a deep, bottle green. It reminded her of a lush forest in the springtime. The hems and collar of the dress were delicately embroidered with golden threads interwoven to represent a pattern of tiny flowers, leaves, and stars.

“It’s... wonderful.”

“Well, your mom was definitely meatier than you are now,” she frowned, “but that’s nothing we can’t fix. Come on, try it on.”

Bora went utterly still. She held out her hands in protest as Mrs. Wang reached for her.

“What do you mean?”

“You should wear that to the Blue House reception.”

Bora’s eyes slid back to the fabric in her hands. It was achingly soft. She tightened her grasp around it. 

“I can’t.”

Mrs. Wang smiled fondly like she expected that answer.

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