Chapter Ten:

“Tracking chip?” I was the first one to voice out.

“Yes.” The doctor replied calmly. “It’s an identifying integrated circuit device containing a unique ID number, which can be 9 to 13 characters long, hence why it’s also called an RFID transponder.”

Yesung and I just silently stared at the tiny chips in the tray, not saying a word.

“Since its RFID, or radio frequency identification, transponder, the unique number on the chip will link to information contained in an external database,” the doctor continued, apparently oblivious to our solemn mood.

“Furthermore,” he added, “since I can’t be sure of the model, it is to my knowledge that this chip might also contain a GPS. It’s quite remarkable really, since that’s something that foreign global companies like UPS and Amazon are slowly adapting in order to better track products sent to customers.”

“How did you find it?” Yesung finally spoke.

“The chip? It showed up on the MRI as something suspicious to check out. Microchip implants don’t work as well with MRI’s, depending on the strength of the chip. Luckily our computer was able to indicate the foreign object, which I deducted to likely be something of glass or metal form. Glad I was able to find it.” The doctor then chuckled before adding, “I almost thought that there was something wrong with the MRI machine. I almost cried because we just got it new too.”

Yesung and I didn’t say anything and just sighed. I mean what could we say in this situation.

“Anyways,” the doctor’s voice became more serious, “Mind telling me exactly why such a chip, which is very rare to be found in a human, is in the both of your wrists?”

“Uhh…” I said, quickly standing up, “That’s not something we could answer.”

“Umm…yeah,” Yesung added, also quickly standing up, “Remember we said no questions. This is why.”

“Anyways, we have to go,” I snatched the tray and quickly placed the chips in a small Ziploc bag that the nurse had prepared right next to the tray, before setting the surgical tray back on the doctor’s desk.

“Yeah, and remember no telling mom or dad about this,” Yesung quickly added as we speedily made our way out of the room.

“Looks like he doesn’t know anything either, judging by his confusion and questions,” I gasped out, after we had made it out of the building.

“Yeah,” Yesung stuffed the bag into his pocket, trying to catch his breath as well. “I think like he said we should check it out.”

“How I asked?” It seems that this mystery only grew deeper and deeper.

“Someone I know works in IT, maybe he can help us out.”

“Yeah, but can we trust him?” I voiced out my concern.

“I don’t know. But seeing the scale of this so-called prank, we’re going to start having to be discreet about things.”

“Yeah,” I just nodded my head. Suddenly a thought came to me, “The doctor mentioned something about a GPS in the chip. Do you think that the person behind this prank could be following us, like wherever we go?”

“Yeah,” Yesung nodded his head, “that thought also crossed my mind. Which is why we have to be more careful from now on. They could be tracking our every step. You know, I am not even sure if it’s one person behind this whole prank. It seems too grand scale.”

“Yeah, I am also starting to think that our parents are not behind this. I mean they may be ruthless but they are not that vicious. Plus, your friends are kind of stupid to be putting a tracking chip in us. No offense,” I looked at him.

“I don’t think it’s anybody that we know either. I mean we may all have the money, but the expertise? Unless a professional was hired, I highly doubt it.”

“So what do we do know?” I asked him.

“Let’s go home first. We can think about the rest on our way or at home.” He started heading towards our car.

“Okay,” I said following him to the car.

When we were seated in the car, another thought crossed my mind, “Hey, who’s car is this anyway?”

“Probably mine,” Yesung shrugged, while slowly backing out of the driveway. He put his hand on the back of my seat, as he slightly twisted his body, looking through the back window. From this angle, I could see his jaw line being well defined, as well as his collar bone. Hmm, he actually looks handsome. I quickly snapped out of my thoughts. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about weird things.

“That’s what I thought initially, but what if it’s also under my name.”

“Okay,” Yesung looked at me weirdly, “What difference does that make?”

“I am just saying. Like with the house, we have to make sure that we know where everything is coming from.” Then in a small voice, I added, “It could be bugged.”

Yesung turned to me and stared at me hard, apparently getting lost in thought.

“Hey, hey!” I snapped my fingers at him, “Eyes on the road! I mean I know I am pretty and all, but stop staring.”

To that, Yesung scoffed turning his attention back to the road, “Your thinking too much. Plus, you know that you say the word ‘all’ way too much. It’s annoying.”

“Whatever,” I rolled my eyes, because I knew I didn’t. The rest of our way home, we continued to argue over small things.

However, unbeknownst to us, we were being followed by a black tinted van.

****************************************************************

When we finally reached home, I grabbed two diet soda cans and gave one to Yesung while I took the other one as we sat on the couch to mull over things.

“Okay, so here are the facts straight out,” I said as I listed them on a blank sheet of paper.

“First off here’s what we know:

1. We woke up in disarray at our childhood summer home.

2. That home is now ours, courtesy of your father.

3. We lost our memories of the past three months, yet you’re still an idiot…”

“Hey!” Yesung interrupted.

“4,” I continued ignoring him, “Turns out within those three months we got married.

5.) Thank god we didn’t have during that period of time, or imma have to enter therapy.

6.) Surprisingly, or not so, none of the people close to us know what’s going on.

7.) The night before this all started we spent the night at a hotel and in one particular room, which was apparently our hotspot according to the amount of visitation we made there. And I also worked there. Did I mention that you are still an idiot?

8.) We got a checkup, so still pending on that, but we are apparently bugged within our skin.

9.) Mostly likely someone smart is spying on us.

There. That’s so far what I have; anything else that you would like to add,” I asked.

Yesung just shook his head.

“Okay,” I said, “Moving on. So here is what we don’t know:

1. What the hell is going on?

2. Why you are still an idiot?

3. Why did we lose our memories? And how?

4. Why did we spend so much at the hotel and in the same room? Also why the hell would I work there?

5. If we spent the night at the hotel, then how did we end up at this house?

6. Why do we remember tidbits of our memory but not the rest of them?

7. Why were there bugs in us?

8. Why are you still an idiot?

9. Who is spying on us and why? For what reason?

10. How are we going to get a divorce, without upsetting our friends and families?

11. What does our perpetrator really want from us, and why us?

12. And of course the big question: Who is behind this all?”

I looked at Yesung to see if he had anything to add, but he just frowned at me.

“Okay, I can see you insulting me in the middle of your little speech, but you can cross those out, because I am not an idiot.”

“Alright, alright,” I grumbled back, “If you say so, because that’s still a mystery.”

But Yesung just ignored me. Instead he just surmised in his Sherlock mode, “Anyways, since we know the where: which is no doubt the Shilla hotel, if we can find out the who, what, why, and how of this whole situation, we will be able to narrow down the problems and get a better understanding of the situation.”

“No , Sherlock,” I sighed, and leaned against the couch. Yesung narrowed his eyes at me before insulting me,

“Like you could do any better.”  Before, I could insult his intellect any further, he waved away the conversation and moved on to the next, “You know what we have to do here, since we are going to be forced to be living here with each other?”

“What?” I asked, confused as to where he was taking this.

“Create our own house rules to abide by, so we can live with each other peacefully.”

“Okay, sounds good. I guess.” I nodded my head at his idea.

“And,” Yesung lifted up his pointing finger, “While solving this puzzle, we are going to work out this partnership, WGM style.”

To that, my mind went blank. “What?”

“Our marriage. Since we are going to be acting anyway, let’s do it WGM style.”

“…..”

“Come on, it will be fun and make this whole thing bearable.”

“…….”

“We can call it CSI: WGM edition. Or shorter, Crime Scene: WGM”

“Are you talking about that we got married show?”

“Yes! I’ve always wanted to be on that show, but to be paired with a beautiful actress like Han Ga In or Jun Ji Hyun.”

I gave him the look, “You know they are both married, right? And gosh, you are such a sissy. I can’t believe you watch that show, let alone want to be on it. What is wrong with you and why did I have to be stuck with you?” I boinked him on the head.

“Why not? We are like in the same situation as that fictional show, and we have to act in front of our friends, so how about it? Except instead of ‘we got married’, we can call it ‘we woke up married’. What do you think?

“T__T.”

“Maybe, I should patent this idea. Or maybe not. Who knows, maybe we can get our own reality show? I mean, we may not be famous, but at least our families are rich. Right?”

“T____T.”

“Well, I think it’s a great idea. At the very least, it will help us bond together. That way when we tell the truth to our parents, they won’t be that upset. We can have a whole get together, and you can show off your cooking skills, as a wife, and I can pretend to actually like it, as a husband, and everyone will clap at us ‘oohing’ and 'awwing’. I like that one. It will be like our little prank to them, but they won’t know it and we will. What do you think of that scenario? You do know how to cook right?” Yesung asked, looking me up and down.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe I can cook some balls. I mean, you could really use those,” I said sarcastically.

“Great! I love meatballs! I am sure our family will love them too!” I face palmed myself. Clearly, he didn’t get the sarcasm.

“Oh, and can you also add spaghetti to them. Like the western style.” He added further.

“Yes,” I added with fake sweetness. Maybe a little too sweetly and much needed sarcasm, “Is there anything else that you like, that I can make for you, with my oh so professional, excellent cooking skills?”

“Ooh, I like galbi, bulgogi, kimchi jjigae, dolsot bibimbap, gogigui, haejangguk, and some clam or seafood stew…oh you know what? Let me make a list for you, I think that will be easier. What do you think? Oh, you know what else tastes good,” he droned on, “Nakji bokkeum. I love octopus’ tentacles in vegetables and paste. Ooh, also seolleongtang with green onions and noodles, and mandu….”

“X___X."

I ignored him, and the TV, drowning out his voice.