Chapter 1

Midnight Reveries

Irene smiles at her through the rear-view mirror and Seulgi smiles back. Around them Seoul flashes past. All neon signs and streetlights.

It’s an ungodly hour, it really is. The only people still littering the streets are drunkards and partying teenagers. Seulgi’s almost ashamed to be one of them. Well, she isn’t. Not yet, but Irene smiled a smile full of promises at her just now, and Seulgi knows what it means. Soon, there’ll be all kinds of bottles and ziplock bags. Soon, she’ll be too drunk to remember to feel ashamed. Soon. But now there’s still the guilt and embarrassment, and she’s drowning in it.

She sinks a bit lower in her seat. It’s always like this. The quiet drive, Irene’s smile in the rear-view mirror and the overthinking. Always the overthinking. How easy it’d be for everything to come crashing down. One dispatch agent in a car next to them, with an extremely sharp lens. One wrong turn, a car crash, and then so many police reports and newspaper articles. Kang Seulgi, on a nighttime escapade with Irene Bae, the one and only. A picture of her and Irene. A picture of the car, all in pieces. And then it’s bye contract and bye career. Goodbye to all she’s ever dreamt of.

The car stops, finally, and Irene nods at her. Seulgi nods back, but it’s still laced with uncertainty and they both know it. The car door opens and it’s more neon and more of Irene’s promising smile. It’s a club somewhere on the outskirts of Seoul. A place only known to people like them, people who want to be a nobody for one night. Irene hasn’t taken her to this club, and once again the overthinking starts. How does she know all these places? Who was the one who showed Irene all this? They are questions she’d rather not know the answer to, if she’s honest.

There’s music already, Seulgi can feel the bass pulsing underneath her feet. It’s almost like the building is alive, a big monster about to swallow her whole.

Irene smiles at the bouncers and winks, and they take a step to the side and let them pass. This is routine too. Everywhere Irene goes, every club she takes her too it’s that same cheeky smile and the wink. Like she’s done this many evenings before, and Seulgi knows she has.

‘C’mon,’ Irene then says to her, ‘this night is ours.’ Her eyes lidded and that smile still on her lips. It makes Seulgi long for things she knows she shouldn’t. Things she knows can’t ever happen. Things she’ll replace with alcohol and dancing instead.

The place is much like any of the other clubs Irene has taken her to. She comes in and at first the only thing she sees is the smoke, the only thing she hears the music. Then there’s the bar and the neon signs above it. All the pricy champagne and vodka and whiskey. The waiters in their black-and-white suits with the little bow.

Of course, there’s a dance floor too. It’s near midnight, and already impossible to see the actual floor through all the people dancing on it. All the people move to the same rhythm. It reminds Seulgi of the sea. Only does this sea move to a tempo a lot faster than any other sea.

She lets Irene lead her to the bar and order two gin and tonics for them. The price is ridiculous. For the price of one glass you could probably get five bottles at your local Emart. But that’s the only way they can ensure the status of their clients. Or at least that’s what Irene told her, the first time she took her to a place like this.

Irene’s whispering something to the bartender while he makes their drinks, and Seulgi turns around and watches the place for a moment. It’s a Thursday night and the club is packed to the brim. Some people Seulgi recognises from the tv or some other event, but most of them she doesn’t. That’s the whole point of it anyway. To not be recognised. Nobody knows you in a place like this. Or at least they pretend they don’t. It’s half the reason nights like this are so addictive. The drinks play a part too. And Irene, of course. In the end it’s always Irene.

‘You okay? You look a little tense.’

Seulgi shrugs and takes a big sip of her gin and tonic. ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Just a bit stressed for tomorrow. Big show and all that.’ It’s only half a lie. She is stressed, but not so for tomorrow. She could dance the routine in her sleep, and half of the singing is backtracked anyways.

‘Here,’ Irene says. ‘to take the edge of.’

In the palm of her hand lie two little pills, both a bright pink. They could be two little candies, they sure look like it. There’s a smiley engraved in one, a little heart in the other. They’re not candy, though. This is no place for candy. Seulgi knows just what they are.

‘I call them happy pills,’ Irene says. She winks at Seulgi like it is some big secret only shared between the two of them. ‘One to take the edge of.’ She takes the left one and pops it in , before swallowing with the gin and tonic. Seulgi follows the movement of with her eyes and Irene smirks at her.

‘What is it?’ she asks.

Irene shrugs. ‘not sure, but I got them from a reliable source, so don’t worry.’

She takes the pill in between her index and thumb and watches it for a moment. The pink smiley face smiles at her just like it’s supposed to. Maybe that’s the purpose of it, inviting you for a taste. She lays it on her tongue and takes her glass and swallows both the pill and the drink. It really doesn’t taste like anything. All she tastes is the lime from her gin and tonic.

‘Let’s dance,’ Irene yells. She takes Seulgi’s hands and pulls her along. There’s a song playing and it sounds vaguely familiar, but she wouldn’t know where from. It’s probably mixed anyways. All the songs playing in clubs like these sound a bit familiar, mostly because they all sound about the same.

As long as you can dance to it, Irene once said.

And dance, they do. Seulgi closes her eyes. There’s the music, loud and all-consuming. There’s Irene, right beside her. She’s saying something, but it’s lost in the music. Her body is close to Seulgi’s, her hips moving along to the same beat, her breath tickles her ear. Her perfume all around. Seulgi feels alive like she never has before. She opens her eyes again. Irene is smiling at her, hair out of place and her mascara drooping already, but still she’s more beautiful than anyone else in the room.

Suddenly she feels the need to run her fingers along the skin of Irene’s neck, to thread them through her hair and pull her close, even closer than they already are. But she can’t, and every new song it’s getting harder to remind herself that.

It’s two songs later that the pill and the gin and tonic start kicking in. Everything’s hazy around her. The lights, the music, Irene laughing out loud to her left. It’s like she’s sleeping and this is all