Two [M.K.M]

Yeonhee nestles against her boyfriend’s side as his right arm wraps around her shoulder and they wordlessly examine the not-so-innocent scientific calculator lying face-up on the glass coffee table from the creamy loveseat. 

“You said when you turned it on, the screen showed ‘Die Kim Yeonhee’?” Yunseong asks, gently enough to assure her that he believes her and what she saw...to an extent. Since he can’t confirm it as it was dropped and the screen shattered and dead. 

Yeonhee nods, “With three exclamation marks at the end,” when Yunseong didn’t comment on that, she proceeds, “Do you think it’s serious? Maybe it’s just another nasty prank?” 

The man receiving the questions shakes his head with a heavy sigh. “Even if it’s another prank, you still have to be careful. Whoever did this know you live here.” 

She knew Yunseong would say that but unless they wire her home with surveillance cameras and alarms, she’s not exactly sure what steps she should take to be safe. Since none of the other threats ever followed through. 

See, as the daughter of GoldMusic’s CEO Kim Jinho, she’s no stranger to death threats. They’re especially more common and harsh around the time GoldMusic holds auditions. Everyone knows only a handful of every one-hundred gets in. Her father’s expectations and standards are extremely high, unrealistic, and unfair. A number of people have claimed he ruined their lives. And even to those who’ve made it, some end up quitting within the year. 

Sometimes, she wonders how Yunseong survives her father’s strict and abrasive character. 

“How’s work? Have you choreographed anything lately?” 

Yunseong nods after a long, soft hum, “Your father wants something new and big so we’re thinking about bringing back human pyramids. It’s a group of ten so something should work.”

“Ten?” Yeonhee raises her brows. As the CEO’s daughter, it’s impossible for her not to keep tabs on her father’s artists, “Ah, Golden Children!” Yeonhee pulls away and claps her hands ecstatically once it hit her, “Joochan’s group!” 

Yunseong bobs his head with a quirky smile then reaches over to pinch Yeonhee’s cheek. “You always say the youngest’s name when you talk about groups. I believe Lee Daeyeol is their leader,” 

She smiles, guiltily. It’s not her fault she finds the youngest of every group more memorable. 

“So this,” Yunseong points to the direction of the table with his chin, “what are you going to do about it?” 

As quickly as her smile came earlier, it faded just as fast. “Should I consult in my father’s assistant again? See if we should treat this seriously or—” 

When Yunseong suddenly grabs hold of her hands, it stops her from talking immediately. “Yeonhee, I don’t want to see you brushing off any more death threats. Why don’t you call your sister? Either get her home or report these threats to your father so he can do something about them. Since you won’t go to the police about it in fear of the media.” 

Yeonhee said nothing for a moment. 

Her sister’s been living off the grid for a number of years now and her father could care less if she dies today. Reporting to the police about it will definitely make her own father kill her. Mainly because she’s no heir and he so badly wanted a son, who would share his mindset, to run his business. Among the three, her sister is obviously the better answer. Except…

“What if I get my sister to return and the threat turns out to be just another superficial threat? Wouldn’t she hate me for it?” 

Yunseong cups her hands in his, warmly. “No one will hate you for wanting to be safe. You need your sister. She puts you at ease.” 

She chews her bottom lip for a split second longer then decides to listen to him, “You’re right. I’ll contact her today.” 

In front of the elevated garden bed, Kim Minju does her best to water every part of it with the hose in her hand. However, because the water stream was so weak even when it’s been turned up all the way, it takes her longer than she’d like to waste time on. 

Once the leaves are sprinkled with water droplets and the light brown dirt turned muddy, she cups some water with her hand and washes her face with it. Its coolness refreshes her under the warm sun. Then she drops the hose and looks towards the small traditional Korean home she’s been hiding in for the last four years. 

“If you’re done watering the garden, there’s laundry in the back to be wash and dry on the clothesline,” says a husky but feminine voice from one of the open windows. 

Minju sighs, combing her hair back with her wet hand, “Hey, Choi Yena, we agreed you’ll do the laundry today if I water the plants.” Minju reminds the other calmly. 

The other shouts something unintelligible then quickly ducks back inside the house. Minju grins to herself then stride towards the building, only to be stymied by Yena coming out to greet her at the front door. 

“Just do as you’re told, alright?” Yena says in a rather cold tone, unlike the beaming good weather, “Remember that you’re our guest and because of my grandmother’s kindness you were able to mooch off of us for this long.”

When the homeowner’s granddaughter tries to poke Minju on the shoulder, she habitually dodges it with a turn of her upper body. Her reflex made Yena gasp but what she did next had the young lady scoffing. 

“I’ll be out then. I trust you’ll do a decent job of washing your own and your grandmother’s clothes.” Minju claps Yena on the arm slightly but with enough force to make the other cry in pain, then she spins on her heels and leaves the property as quickly as she can without looking back. Even when Yena is calling her all the names in the book. 

Since the rain and wind ruin Yena’s hair and the bumpy hills hurt her legs, Minju has been the one to obtain the mail and newspaper every morning at the postal service center. 

When the worker hands her two envelopes and today’s newspaper, Minju didn’t think to go through it because except for her sister, no one truly knows she lives with Choi Yena and Yena’s maternal grandmother. Therefore, she shouldn’t receive any mail. Across from the center is an American, family-run, diner. 

Minju waits patiently for her order at one of the booths, ignoring the pile of mail on the table closest to the wall. Reaching into the left pocket of her jacket, she draws out a pager and picks the old Hello Kitty sticker on it. 

Not surprisingly the restaurant was packed for lunch so under all the murmuring and crying babies, Minju didn’t hear the heels approaching her. 

“Lady,” the voice is low, irritating, and rushed. 

Glancing up, Minju sees a heavy top tall woman in uniform and apron with curly dirty blonde hair fixed up in a messy bun. Her lipstick is as bright as a red apple and it seems like she had gone to bed and woke with the same eyeshadow on. “Here is your cheeseburger, fries, and vanilla milkshake,” the woman says in English before lowering the tray onto the table. “Try not to make a mess, lady,” she adds roughly before leaving. 

Minju clicks her tongue. 

She’s just lost her appetite. “Guess I’ll just have it to go for Yena.” 

Looking over her shoulder, she locks gazes with a different waitress and raises a hand. 

“Milda, can you see what she needs.” says the waitress behind the counter. 

Upon hearing her co-worker, the same woman rolls her eyes and retracts her trail lazily. “Did you want something, lady?” 

“I changed my mind. Bag this for me. I’ll have it to go,” Minju states in English. 

The woman stares at her for a few seconds then exhales through her nose, “I’ll get you a bag.” 

When the worker returns with a brown paper bag, Minju pushes the tray towards her. “Bag it for me please Ms. uh Milda,” Minju says taking a glimpse at her name tag. 

“Lady, you have hands,” 

As the woman becomes grouchy with her, it tempts Minju to make her job harder for her. “So do you. Bag them for me.” 

“Or what?” she spits, more than asks. 

“Does your boss know you stand around and text even when the place is buzzing?” 

Immediately, the woman corrects her standing posture and visibly gulps. “Wh-what are you talking about? Te-text?” 

Minju smirks, “I’m your Sunbae, Milda. I know Kevin and Patrica take their business and customers very seriously. You shouldn’t be on your phone unless it’s dead in here. And earlier, I saw you rolling your eyes and getting short with an older customer because she couldn’t pronounce the food on the menu. Discrimination isn’t okay, especially if you choose to live and breathe in South Korea.” Minju gives the woman a few seconds to register everything she’s just said, “Before you throw another fit, bag up my food. They’re getting cold.” 

When Minju arrives at the front gate of Yena’s home, she doesn’t expect the older gal to charge her. 

“Hey, Kim Minju! What took you so long—!” Yena in her stomach when Minju quickly presents her a paper brown bag and a vanilla milkshake in front of her face. “What is this?” Yena blinks, innocently, “For me? You bought me lunch?” 

“Yeah, today’s mail is in the bag. You might want to take them out before the cups of ketchup soak them up.”

“You!” Yena squats down instantly and sets the drink on the cement. Then she rustles through the bag to retrieve the said items. “Argh, seriously Kim Minju!” 

The one standing chuckles then asks quietly, “Is your grandma inside?” 

“No, she went to the flee market. She said something about you needing new socks.” Yena grunts as she stands to wipe the mail of ketchup with thin white napkins. “Don’t tell me, you’re using my grandma as a maid again. She’s not a slave who runs errands for you. Also, it’s your job to take care of her, not the other way around. O-oh gah! Why did you have to put our mail in the bag with unsealed ketchup?!” 

Using her index and thumb, Yena pinches the wet envelopes. To Minju’s amusement, Yena looks rather disturbed and disgusted with them. 

“Ughh, Minjuu, take them!” Yena whines bouncing up and down. 

Minju sighs and grabs them from her, then as the other bends down quickly to grab the drink, Minju notices the name print on the golden envelope. 

To M.K.M

Upon seeing the initials, a light bulb went off in her head. The only person who’s ever address anything out to her under the code name M.K.M is none other than her half-sister. Without delay, she rips one end of the letter off and pulls the letter out quickly. 

She browses through the letter, hurryingly and without a word, yet also doesn’t miss a word. 

Once she’s done, Yena leans in to look over the paper with her. 

“What’s this? Did someone find out you’re hiding out here?!” Yena raises her voice, shock, and terrify on Minju’s behalf. 

Lowering the piece of paper and envelope onto her side, Minju inhales heavily and shakes her head. 

“It’s Yeonhee. She’s—in danger.”