Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Slice of Life

Summary: Kim Minjoo is a radio RJ. Sorta. Kind of. And everyone (from her fellow radio DJs to /Hwang Hyunjin/, the head of staff) is convinced that she's in the verge of having a love story developing through the radio sessions she hosts—which is a total, horrible lie. She needs better friends.

Word Count: 12000

Hashtag: #JinjooFiestaS2_AliensInTheAttic

Aliens in the Attic

“For our final song we will play a request from Mothman-nim, Day6’s Zombie—and with that we will end our show for tonight! Please get some rest, and let’s come up with better theories next Monday at the usual hours, good min-night!”

The song takes over and Minjoo leans back, stretching a little. She holds herself in that position for a moment until a yawn escapes her. She relaxes then, eyes averting towards the person observing from the other side of the glass. Head of staff Hwang Hyunjin flashes her a thumbs up and she gives him a relieved smile;

tonight’s shift is over.

*

Kim Minjoo is a radio DJ.

Well, sorta. Kind of.

She helps her cousin fill in an empty slot at midnight twice a week; Monday and Thursday, and in turn Kim Chaewon lets her occupy one of the music studios at the third floor of the building. Not completely by herself, though, because there’s also—

“Did you take a bath yet?” Jo Yuri asks, standing by the door and crinkling her nose. It’s 8 in the morning but there’s nowhere sunlight can filter in from, making it easy for distracted minds to confuse day and night. Minjoo has had her fair share of taking a nap in the studio and waking up an hour later completely in panic, thinking she had accidentally slept half a day away—

Minjoo rubs at her eyes and ambles towards the visitor, the second regular of the studio. “I just woke up,” she says, and Yuri makes a disgusted face. “I smell good, shut up,” she adds, reaching for the plastic bag Yuri is holding.

“At least go wash your face first,” Yuri finally says, yanking the groceries out of reach. Minjoo whines. Yuri pushes at her shoulders to make her turn around, “I’ll prepare your ramen. You stink.”

“I do not,” Minjoo retorts, but Yuri’s push on her back merely gets stronger so she relents after a few seconds.

(Kim Minjoo is a radio DJ.

Sorta. Kind of.

She helps fill in an empty slot at midnight twice a week, and in turn Chaewon lets her occupy one of the music studios at the third floor of the building—along with Yuri, who is bound by a different deal. The beginning of this arrangement is a long story, but it’s mutually beneficial for both parties and so it stays that way for five months and counting. Minjoo gets to be social at least twice a week instead of a full-fledged 24/7 studio hermit and Chaewon gets the ratings spiking up on the nights Minjoo’s slot comes in—)

“That’s an exaggeration,” Minjoo tells her, taking a slurp of her noodles.

Chaewon’s already there when Minjoo finally made it back from the bathroom, her plan to wash her face turning out to be a full bath after she discovered that the red Niagara Falls has befallen her.

Minjoo adds between her chews, “Hyewon and Hitomi bring in good ratings too.”

“Wow, not even mentioning me—” 

“Your last hosted session was two months ago,” Minjoo reminds Yuri, poking at her puffed cheek. Yuri turns towards her and attempts to bite her finger off.

“Sometimes I fear for this room’s wellbeing,” Chaewon mutters, sipping at her drink while eyeing them warily. Then she straightens up and looks at Minjoo, “They do bring in good ratings, but they aren’t in the verge of having a developing enemies-to-lovers storyline available to witness through the radio.”

Minjoo chokes. Yuri snorts and says, “Hitomi would have one if you brought your flirting into her radio slots.”

It’s Chaewon’s turn to choke on her drink. (Deserve.) Minjoo grins as Yuri ducks to avoid the crumpled tissue Chaewon throws her way. The day after her slot almost always starts like this; breakfast with Yuri, with whatever food the latter manages to get on her way to the studio—and Chaewon sometimes dropping by to make sure they haven’t burnt the studio down.

(It's not much, compared to what a younger, just-freshly-out-of-college Minjoo used to dream up two years ago—but it’s something.)

*

Okay, so there’s one thing Minjoo needs to set straight:

she’s not.

(Ha.)

But joking aside—there really is one thing Minjoo needs to set straight: Chaewon is lying. Now hear her out; Chaewon is lying because one, there’s only one persistent caller Minjoo would categorize as anything close to an enemy for the enemies-to-lovers plot to hold any weights but two, there’s nothing remotely romantic that could even happen because the theme of her radio sessions is literally about unsolved crimes and tales of world’s horror.

Chaewon is just thirsty for drama.

“You know who’s thirstier? Me. I’m here for coffee,” Hyewon faintly says, pointing at the coffeemaker behind Minjoo. “Please let me get to my coffee.”

Minjoo pouts, stepping aside. She still sticks by as the older woman goes through the motion of making a cup of espresso, “Chaewon doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“I agree, mint choco is at best so-so.”

Minjoo scrunches her face up and bends sideways to peer better at Hyewon’s face. “I’m talking about her opinion on my love life.”

“She’s not wrong though,” Hyewon calmly says, much to Minjoo’s dismay. She needs to be less trusting with people; it’s only given her heartbreak. Hyewon carries on, “You and Mothman—”

“Who? Mothman is nice and respectful, I like to play songs they requested.”

Hyewon barely blinks at the correction. “My bad then, I meant Goatman—”

“He’s literally my most agreeable listener—” Minjoo sighs, leaning back and blowing off a few strands of hair away from her face. “Do you even pay attention to my slots?”

“It’s at midnight,” Hyewon replies with an innocent smile. “That’s my gaming hours.” She pulls the cup now filled with coffee towards herself, hot and ready to go. “Besides, it’s not my fault your listeners have ridiculous names—”

“It suits the theme of my slot,” Minjoo defensively replies.

“Really? Maybe I should tell my listeners to go by food names,” Hyewon muses, walking away with a hum.

(She should’ve foreseen this result, in hindsight. Now she clearly can’t go to Hyewon to properly vent about Chaewon’s wrong view of life, but then that leaves her with Hitomi, who will end up siding with Chaewon anyway because—)

“Ah, did Ace call in last night too?”

“Yeah.”

Ace. It’s the nickname Minjoo’s enemy—listener #0567—has decided to go by, determined to not follow other listeners’ step in taking up a cryptid’s name. Her first call to Minjoo’s slot was on a Monday night, the program barely a month old, voice booming dramatically through Minjoo’s headphones with a shrill of ‘Did you just say the family could’ve been kidnapped by aliens?!?! ALIENS.’

Hitomi smiles, barely sparing her a glance as she toggles with her iPad. “Which question sparked your unresolved this time?

“Unresolved u—” Minjoo smacks her own forehead and groans. “I knew it.” She knew it! See? Hitomi will end up siding with Chaewon because Hitomi herself has no qualms in teasing Minjoo anyway, what with them being same age friends and all. Doesn’t even need to be persuaded with her obvious crush towards the older girl, really, since her need to tease Minjoo precedes it. She has no supporter in this house, bunch of trolls and teasing devils—Minjoo huffs and moves to get up. “I’m leaving.”

“Wait,” Hitomi says in almost a laugh, right hand shooting up to grab Minjoo’s wrist. “I’m just joking! Sit down.” The tug is light but Minjoo pretends to topple back into the chair.

“Chaewon is thirsty for drama,” Minjoo grunts, repeating the sentence for the umpteenth time that day, like a mantra.

“A lot of us are thirsty for drama,” Hitomi soothes. That doesn’t make Minjoo feel better. Hitomi tuts at her next, “You know you’d be the same way if it were to happen to someone else, right?”

“Well had it happened to you—” Minjoo catches herself and frowns, unsure if she would absolutely not take delight in such setting. If Hitomi were to switch places with her and it was Hitomi and Chaewon’s on-air interactions getting highlighted weekly…

“Okay, I might be just as nosy,” Minjoo concedes. There’s just no way she’s passing up on free entertainment. “But that’s only because Chaewon wouldn’t be such an Ace! She’d probably… I don’t know… call in every time to catch your attention? Or something. It’s gonna be sappy and cute, not spiteful or annoying.” She finishes with a serious nod, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Hitomi regards her with a slight raise of her eyebrows, “You find Ace annoying?”

Minjoo pauses again, eyebrows furrowing. “Well,” she slowly says (because she knows Hitomi will instantly tell her to go to Hyunjin and ask for Ace’s number to be blocked if her answer is yes,) “…it’s complicated.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“I don’t feel harassed,” Minjoo allows reluctantly. Hitomi’s lips quirk up a little and she squints, “What?”

Hitomi shrugs, the slight smile not yet fading. “I’ve watched you do your slot before.”

Ah, . Then Hitomi’s seen Minjoo’s grin whenever Hyunjin passed the signal that Ace’s calling—so much for being in acting major. “Having someone challenge our theories makes for an engaging slot.”

Hitomi’s smile widens, head dipping slowly in a humouring move. “Mm-hmmm.”

“It coaxes other listeners to interact with me too,” Minjoo tries to say, feeling more and more like she’s negating her own argument. “It’s just—okay,” she exhales, hands wringing an invisible cloth as she backtracks, “Okay. I don’t find Ace annoying. Okay? Her insistence to call me out on aliens or ghosts theories is—well, amusing. It’s something. But that’s also no base for relationships.”

Hitomi is full-out grinning now. “I see.”

Minjoo feels the corner of her left eye twitch. “Really.”

“Yes. Don’t you, too?”

“No, what am I supposed to see too?”

Hitomi lets out a light chuckle, turning to face Minjoo fully and clasping her hand upon her shoulder. “Someday you’ll realize,” Hitomi patiently says, like Minjoo is an oblivious main character paying a visit to her all-knowing hut in the middle of a quest. “Someday you’ll understand why you and your predicament look sappy and cute to us.”

Minjoo lets out a long, suffering groan.

May God forgive her friends for being delusional on top of crazy. A-women.

*

Minjoo is late.

She doesn’t live her days in the building; outside of her slot hours and the time she spends working at the music studio, she juggles her time between trying to do her best in fulfilling her study in the acting major and coming back to the rented apartment she shares with one Kriesha Chu. She would have gone home everyday if her slot isn’t at dead midnight, but while fun, the cases Minjoo discusses in her sessions sometimes leave her a tad paranoid to be walking back home alone at such hours.

But back to the reason why she’s powerwalking—near running—now. She has almost forgotten that a few departments in the building is accepting internships this year, Chaewon specifically informing them last week that the radio department itself has recruited two. The interns’ first day is today and while Chaewon has assigned the orientation to Hitomi and Yuri (who regretted ever admitting that she has the day free), Minjoo promised to be there too (she lost a round of UNO and Yuri insisted on it being her punishment).

Except she’s running late.

(Yuri’s gonna kill her.)

Minjoo gets into the elevator with a breath held in and eyes bulging with anxiety, index finger punching in the button to her floor. It’s only when the button lights up that the tension in her shoulders dissipate, eyes closing tightly as she exhales in relief.

“Chased by a devil?”

She opens her eyes, head snapping towards the light-hearted quip coming from her left. Someone, female, probably a knuckle taller but couldn’t be any older than she is, is standing with back lightly resting against the metal wall. The other’s eyes are fixated on the changing number of the elevator even as a small, amused smile twists her lips following her uttered question.

Minjoo blinks, still trying to even her breaths after the earlier rush.

“Here to start internship too?” the other asks again, giving her a glance this time. Then she takes in Minjoo’s appearance—hair resembling a field destroyed by a typhoon, the creases in her jacket hastily smoothened out by an ungraceful motion of clammy hands—and hums curiously, “…Or not. You don’t dress like it.”

Minjoo twitches. “You’re here for internship?” she asks back, finally, exaggeratedly surveying the person before her from head to toe. “Aren’t you, like, an hour late?”

The person shrugs at the same time the elevator dings, its door sliding open. “I think I’m late, yes,” said with long strides out. Minjoo follows, eyes narrowing at the almost nonchalant air the response is given in.

“You sure sound relaxed for someone who’s late.” It annoys her a little because she, the one not interning, is obviously more stressed about lateness than this intern is. 

“What’s running inside an elevator will do, speed it up?”

“Not anxious at all? Some supervisors might interrogate you on being late for your first day.”

The intern (Minjoo wonders which department she’s signed up for) looks at her for a couple of seconds. “You’re right,” she then admits, “but some yelling is nothing I can’t handle.”

Minjoo pauses in her tracks while the intern walks on with a hum under her breath, taking a turn to the left by the end of the corridor. She hopes severely in her heart that the person isn’t interning at the radio department—the modelling department shares the same floor as them, if she recalled correctly, so surely.

(The world, of course, laughs at her.)

*

Yuri laughs at her. “Of course you would have the luck of being mocked at by one of our interns,”

Minjoo grumbles, throwing a crumpled tissue at her. It misses her by large, lodging itself neatly into Hyewon’s lap instead.

“What the—who threw this?” Hyewon looks up and around, eyes settling on the both of them not long after. She takes in Yuri’s wide eyes and Minjoo’s deadpan face and snorts. “Thanks, I need the tissue.”

“What do you mean need, it’s crum—” Yuri slaps a hand over Minjoo’s mouth and forces her to look down, hissing lowly at her,

“Don’t turn my luck into misfortune, Min.”

Minjoo blinks at Yuri and, in a slow, deliberate motion, her palm. Yuri yelps, hastily reaching for another sheet of tissue to wipe her contaminated palm with, and Minjoo merely leans back with a satisfied smile. “Where are the interns?”

Yuri huffs, vigorously rubbing her palm with tissue. “Out. Hii sent them to buy coffee for everyone.” She groans then, “Must you be so unhygienic?”

“Did you get their names?” Minjoo asks, ignoring the latter’s lamenting. If she’s so disgusted by germs then Yuri shouldn’t have gone around clasping her hands over people’s mouth.

Yuri grunts, reaching for the hand-sanitizer she keeps close by. “The tall one is Jang Wonyoung. The other tall one is Ahn Yujin.”

Minjoo raises her eyebrows. “You’re not that short.”

“I never said I am, you.”

Minjoo laughs, slinging an arm over Yuri’s shoulder. “Who got an earful from Chaewon?”

“Ahn Yujin, I think. Hii made sure to make her buy Hyewon’s most complicated Starbucks order without allowing her to write it down. Poor kid stayed back for five minutes to memorize every word.”

Ahn Yujin. Minjoo shelves the information and hums, “How long is the internship?”

Yuri sighs, giving her a glare. “Do I look like the Google homepage for you?” Minjoo bats her eyelashes and Yuri cringes, pushing her head lightly aside, “Ew, don’t do that. And it’s three months. Could be longer if they perform an excellent job and Chaewon wants to enlist further help.”

“Why would Chaewon need further—” Minjoo trails off as Yuri wordlessly points at herself. “No way. Are you leaving? Actually leaving leaving?”

They have discussed this before, during the small breaks they take in the music studio or the long nights they spend awake with a few snacks and long talks of the future. Minjoo wants to do music, but her parents would only allow her to pursue it if she didn’t drop acting. Yuri wants to do music, too, but above all else she wants to sing.

“I started way too late,” Yuri’s said then. “I should’ve followed the mainstream know-how—sign up on auditions since young, get into an agency to debut in an idol group, then hope they’d let me do solo stuffs after the group sees success.”

But Yuri’s childhood was rough on her. Her parents refused to support her dream of ‘a career so uncertain’, on top of the family’s financial situation making it impossible for her to leave Busan for Seoul on a whim. So Yuri pulled her dream back in and tucked it at the deepest nook of her heart, obeying everything her family wanted up until she graduated high school and her saving was enough to get her to Seoul. That’s where she met up with Kwon Eunbi, an online friend she’d confided in for as long as two years, who then took her under her wing and taught her how to make music.

“My dream is to make enough songs I’m satisfied to have in my first album,” Yuri vowed over their store-bought kimbaps and third cups of coffee. “Only then will I raise to Eunbi’s offer. I’ll show up at her agency. I’ll shoot my shot and make them unable to refuse my worth.”

It’s been nearly one year and a half since Yuri settled in Seoul. Yuri’s family had admitted defeat after the first six months, Eunbi vouching for Yuri’s seriousness in her efforts and reassuring the latter’s parents that her living situation is well-cared for. 

Minjoo retracts her arm from Yuri’s shoulders, leaning back to look at the latter fully. Yuri has only ever worked hard—she’s been working hard ever since Minjoo first met her. Yuri looks back at her, and slowly dips her head in a nod, answering her previous question.

Yuri is leaving, leaving leaving. Which means—

“Great,” Minjoo breathes out, and Yuri’s lips quirk up a little at that. “That’s—real great, Yul. You’re almost there. They signed you up then?”

Yuri nods. “The songs are all ready. Eunbi helped out a lot,” she says, fiddles with her fingers as her gaze drops to her clasped hands. “I have an agency now, and I can run faster towards—” she swallows, stopping herself. The notion of debuting seems to cause the words to lodge in ; Minjoo feels for her.

Yuri’s gaze flicks back up at her, “But it also means moving my works to my agency’s studio. I’ll… clear out my things before the end of this month.”

Minjoo smiles, thinking back to the small studio and the memories they’ve filled it with. “God, it’s going to be so lonely without you.”

“You mean it’s going to be scary. I’ll send in a story about haunted studios tonight to enlighten you of the horrors you might face after my departure,” Yuri teases, barking out a laugh at Minjoo’s affronted face. She pushes herself up to stand and her features soften as she looks at Minjoo once again,

“But… in any case, I’ll miss being a studio hermit with you, too.”

Minjoo smiles, then makes a show of sniffing at the air. “Sure smells real sappy in here, don’t you think?”

“You started it first,” Yuri deadpans. “Don’t worry, I’ll still keep tabs on your possible romantic endeavour with our dear Ace—"

Minjoo points an accusing finger at her. “You are not invited to my slot when you become big in the future,”

“Min. Min, your slot discusses ghosts and missing people—”

“And??? It’s an untapped demographic and you can use every listener you can get, soon-to-be rookie—”

“It’d be as efficient as busking at a cemetery, what untapped demographic are you even talking about?!”

They hold their glares at each other for a few seconds before bursting into incredulous laughter together, Hitomi walking in on them with a lost expression on her face.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Yuri gasps out, laughter subsiding a tad. “What’s up? Are the interns back—”

“No, but they will soon. I’m here to give Min her script for tonight.” Hitomi takes out a file from the peach-coloured folder she brings with her, offering it to Minjoo. “I just finished discussing things with Chaewon—”

Minjoo grins as she accepts the file, while Yuri’s laughter is instantly replaced with a cough obnoxiously loud.

“Oh, shut up—it’s not like that! We were bouncing ideas concerning the interns,” Hitomi presses, reaching out to pinch their arms one by one. Minjoo resists pointing out the redness of her ears. “Jang Wonyoung is a science major and her interest is a lot more on sound waves and audio-mixing rather than broadcasting, so we’ve decided to assign Seungyoun to supervise her. Ahn Yujin is a journalist major so her focus is on broadcasting, more specifically the news portion—so Hyewon will handle her.”

Yuri tilts her head, “Can we still ask for their help?”

“Sure,” Hitomi nods. “Just notify Seungyoun and Hyewon first to make sure your request isn’t clashing with their pointers.”

Yuri hums in a pondering tune. “I’ll keep an eye out on that Yujin kid. She might be able to fill my spot in.”

Hitomi blinks, “Wait what? What do you mean fill your spot in?” Yuri leans in and whispers to her ear for a beat, Hitomi’s eyes widening considerably throughout the explanation. At the end of it, Yuri leans back and Hitomi gapes at her, taking a deep breath before nearly yelling her next sentence—

“You’re leaving leaving!?!?”

“That’s what I said,” Minjoo sings.

*

Almost a month has gone by.

The two interns have settled in far better than Minjoo’s expected, especially Ahn Yujin. Yuri has stuck by her words and asked for her help often, guiding the tall intern to handle the things Chaewon has previously entrusted Yuri with. Yujin still has a bit of tardiness in her—she’s apparently come to work late five times now, but Hyewon has also assured the rest that she’s had it all talked out every time. Jang Wonyoung, on the other hand is punctual to a fault, often coming earlier than Seungyoun and taking her time to get to know the early staffs like Hitomi and Doyeon. Not that Minjoo knows much about the two of them; she’s not around the station often except for her slots, and her slots are always at midnight—when the interns have gone back home.

Almost a month has gone by, and today is Yuri’s last trip to the music studio—she’s regularly moved her things out throughout the month, the stuffs amounting to quite the amount but then again. They have considered the music studio their second home, each having coloured the air inside the room with their own streaks.

But Yuri’s streak is about to be wiped off completely within today.

Minjoo has planned the day in her head: she’d laze off for the better part of her morning and afternoon after the hellish deadline she has just come out of, then she’d go pick up a small cake in the evening to give Yuri a small surprise, a goodbye celebration—a celebration because Yuri’s stepping forward onto bigger things. Then she’ll go to the radio station because she isn’t sure she can handle being alone in the studio so soon after Yuri left, waiting and preparing for her slot, maybe try a guess on which theory would Ace disgruntledly call in this time. She’ll beg Hitomi to stay with her for the night, bribing her with some breads she’d have picked up along with Yuri’s cake—and if she’s lucky Chaewon will tag along and she won’t have to sleep the night after her slot alone.

She’s had the day all planned out in her head, except.

Except.

Hyewon (06:21)
dearest minjoo, best radio DJ of all time,
this is sudden and im so sorry ill make it
up to u somehow but
im in a bit of a predicament… that wont
allow me to go to work so can i uhhhh
maybe trust yujin to u for today
 

Minjoo (06:36)
If this predicament is just you staying up
all night to play League of Legends and
getting drunk after losing then ISTG
 

Hyewon (06:40)
NO NO NO nothing like that i promise its
a serious situation
u know chaewon wouldnt let me skip work
if its like that
pls help? just this once? i promise ill listen
to ur Ace-related stress tmr

Minjoo (06:47)
You’re also paying for lunch and you WILL
side with me the next time Chaewon or
Hitomi try to insinuate a love-line between
me and Ace

Hyewon (06:51)
whyd u make a poor woman lie

Minjoo (06:52)
I’m going back to sleep goodbye

Hyewon (06:52)
WAIT NO ILL DO IT ILL DO IT

Minjoo (06:53)
You’ve got yourself a deal

Hyewon (06:57)
great! interns start at 8am ill send u what i
usually instruct yujin to do soon good luck
xoxo

Minjoo (06:58)
8AM?!??!?!? THAT’S JUST AN HOUR
AWAY
HYEWON!!!!!!!!!!

Minjoo exits the history of her messages with Hyewon, sighing out tiredly. She is so going to strangle Hyewon tomorrow. And maybe strangle Ahn Yujin too, while she’s at it. Because of all the days in a week the latter chooses today to be late again. Right when Minjoo has freaked out and turned her shared apartment with Kriesha upside down just to get up and rush to work. Right when Minjoo tried her best to arrive (with legs dying and breath ragged) at 8:05 only to see that the intern was. absolutely. nowhere. to be found.

(And she’s still not here, two hours after Hyewon sent in the list of things she’s originally planned to direct Yujin to do.)

How tardy can one be?

Minjoo scowls, glancing at the clock. Hyewon might have continuously vouched for the intern so far and Minjoo might be one of the soft-hearted people in the radio department, but she hasn’t been able to figure out why Hyewon has been so forgiving, and her own experience with Ahn Yujin hasn’t really been pleasant.

She opens back her chat with Hyewon and starts to type.

Minjoo (10:23)
Your intern is tardy. Can I have her phone
number so I can ask her where the Hell she
is directly?

Hyewon (10:25)
she is? ill reach out too, maybe smth
come up
number: 026xxxxx0567
sorry on her behalf, min

Minjoo saves the number with a firm tap. Sorry on her behalf, Min, Hyewon said but why would she need to be? Hyewon has gone too soft, really. Minjoo shakes her head and proceeds to compose a new message, tapping in Yujin’s number.

That’s when the last four digits of Yujin’s number catch her eyes.

0567.

Huh. The number curiously reminds her of Ace, her frenemy of a listener (because truthfully, her nights are made livelier by the latter’s livid calls to rebuke her wild theories). Minjoo lets out a scoff, shaking her head.

Maybe people associated with the number 0567 are just destined to make her life hard.

*

Her inner musing earlier might be closer to the truth.

It’s nearly 11 when Ahn Yujin strides into the station, almost three hours of tardiness and yet—

“What happened to you?” Minjoo can’t help but ask the moment Yujin stops in front of her.

The intern blinks at her, long-sleeved collared shirt hastily adjusted with quick fingers. “Ah, if it’s—” Yujin reaches up to touch the square patch of bandage plastered over her right cheek, “it’s just a minor injury. I bumped against something and it’s turning blue.”

Minjoo’s gaze drifts down to the white collar, formally buttoned up and adorned with what looks like a few droplets of—blood?

“You sure you just bumped?” Minjoo asks again, looking back up with suspicion.

Yujin nods. “I’m pretty sure.” She makes to bow, “I’m really sorry for coming this late—” then she straightens up and gives Minjoo a lopsided smile, “but I’ll compensate by staying three hours longer today? If that’s alright. Sunbaenim doesn’t have to stay after my original workhour—I’ll report back t