“What was that about?” Jungkook asks.

“Remember earlier? No Name– she spoke Cantonese, didn’t she?” I ask.

Namjoon nods. “I think so.”

“And at the restaurant, Minho hyung spoke Cantonese there, right?” I ask, heart beating faster.

Namjoon nods again with an odd look in his eyes. “Yes, with ahjumma.”

My stare becomes intense. “Introduce me to his sister.”

He scratches his head and smiles weakly. “I’ll try.”

Qilin’s POV:

We drop Youngmi off at the door to her building, where she insists on walking up herself. She sends us off wreathed in effusive gratitude, but not before dropping her KakaoTalk ID and making Rat agree to contact her.

“Yikes. She doesn’t even know your name,” I point out.

Rat sighs, glancing back as we walk to our rides.

“Stranger danger,” I tease, but stop when I see his expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I shouldn’t contact her, right?” He asks me forlornly.

“Hey, don’t be like that,” I say, but I shake my head. “No, I guess not.”

“It’s okay for you and your boyfriends,” he agrees. “But not for an ordinary civilian without that kind of protection.”

“Boyfriends?” I protest. “Can you not?”

“Friends who are boys are boyfriends,” he counters.

I stick my tongue out at him and hop on my bike. “Race you home!”

The next day arrives all too soon. I switch on the TV while the three of us have breakfast and Rat tells Rabbit about what happened. It’s a news segment on last night’s events, how three members of an idol group stopped a ual assault and turned in the perpetrator, waiting on an official statement from the company, et cetera. Right on cue, my phone buzzes.

From: Namjoon

Hyung, our schedules are cleared today for interviews and press conferences. See you tomorrow?

To: Namjoon

Araso. Tell me later what’s going on?

From: Namjoon

Neh, hyung.

Jackson’s POV:

We have a rare day off today, and I’m looking for something to do. With Rapmon’s sudden VIP status, meeting him is out of the question, but I have someone else in mind.

I dial a number for the first time with bated breath. It rings for what seems like forever.

“Yeobosayo?”

“Minho-ssi, it’s me, Jackson.”

Qilin’s POV:

Jackson calls me while I’m studying, aka watching music videos and variety shows.

I forgot I gave him my number when we had lunch that time with WINNER, and now it’s come to bite me when I least expected it. It’s too soon after my encounter with Hoseok oppa, but I pick up anyway.

“Are you free today? I heard BTS isn’t practicing so...” 

 “Why? What did you have in mind?”

“Well, lunch, and I just wanted to hang out.”

“Are you hitting on me?” I ask lightly.

“What? No! I mean, not that I don’t think you’re great, but-”

“Just kidding.”

We agree to meet up at the same cafe I’d met him first, as Shin Minhee.

From: Bobby

Chingu-ya, I’m free today! Hang out?

I wince. Talk about bad timing.

To: Bobby

Afternoon? Busy until after lunch.

From: Bobby

(y)

After an hour or so of watching videos, I dress casually, arm lightly, and leave, grabbing my bike keys. “See you guys,” I call out.

Suspiciously enough, instead of insisting on accompanying me, Rat waves a dismissal. Shrugging, I head out.

It doesn’t take me long to get to the cafe. From outside, I can see what looks like Jackson with a black cap on, facing away from the window. His huddled silhouette looks uncomfortable, even sad. Concerned, I walk inside and sit down across from him.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, annyeonghaseyo,” he greets me, getting up slightly and bowing. 

I bow too but flap my hand at him. “No need for that.” 

“I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience to come out,” he says, looking nervous.

“Not at all.” Surreptitiously, I study him. I don’t know how much he’s changed, but his bluff is failing him here.

“Take a look at the menu.”

We order and sit in silence for a little bit before he speaks up, finally looking prepared to ask whatever it is he wants to ask.

He seems to decide to skirt around the issue at the last moment, though, coming up with a question that throws me for a moment.

“Have you been to Hong Kong, Minho-ssi?”

I blink at him for a moment, unsure how to respond. He takes that as a bad sign and starts rushing to explain himself.

“Sorry, it’s just that Rapmon told me you spoke Cantonese, and I just really wanted to talk to you-”

“There are people who speak Cantonese in the industry,” I point out. “You know them.”

He winces. “I don’t know, it’s not the same,” he tries. “They’re not really from, from Hong Kong, you know, and we’re always on these shows-”

“I’m Korean, though,” I remind him.

“But Rapmon said you asked for char siu,” he says, cringing at his own faulty reasoning, and sighs, forlorn. “I guess I’m just kind of desperate.”

Oh, Jackson.

“So you’ve never been to Hong Kong?” he asks sadly. “How do you know Cantonese?”

“I never said that,” I reply, then take a moment to decide what my story should be.  “We lived in Hong Kong until recently. Grew up there, you might say.”

He brightens. “Really? How long?”

The change in his attitude surprises me enough that I answer without thinking. “About ten years.”

His face contorts into a strange expression.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

“No, nothing. I’m just going to use the restroom,” he excuses himself.

“Sure.”

Taehyung calls me while Jackson’s away.

“Hyung! Suga, Jin, Jimin and I, we’re free right now, but Suga is sleeping and Jin is going to visit home, and Jimin is going to go do individual dance practice, do you want to grab lunch?”

“You want to see me that bad?” I tease.

“Eo, I do!” he affirms cheerfully.

I laugh out loud. “Ah, kyeopta. Sure, come have lunch.” I give him the address and hang up.

Jackson comes back.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I invited Taehyung,” I inform him. “He’ll be here in a little bit.”

“Of course I don’t mind.” He sits back down, staring at the table. Silence again, but he looks up from time to time as if he can’t help it.

“Just ask me,” I tell him, unable to stand it anymore. I might be looking for trouble, but I can’t bear to see Jackson stricken like this.

“Did you ever meet someone named Sarah Yang?” he asks, finally. “I bet you get the whole ‘Oh, I know someone from Hong Kong too’ thing a lot, but I can’t help asking. It’s just that she was a dear friend of mine, before we lost touch.”

There’s no way he could possibly know, but I feel bad all the same as I lie to him.

“No, can’t say I have.”

“Oh.” He stares back at the table.

“Hyung!” Taehyung’s voice calls out from the door. I turn around and grin at him.

“Annyeong, Tae.”

He bows at Jackson. “Annyeonghaseyo, Jackson hyung.”

“Annyeonghaseyo,” Jackson greets him.

“You’re not familiar with each other?” I ask, surprised. “But aren’t you and Rapmon close, Jackson?”

“Ah, yes, but we don’t have much time to hang out with all of the different members,” he explains awkwardly.

Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind. He orders and then turns to me with an excited expression.

“Hyung! Want to hear about why hyung-deul are doing press conferences today?” He bounces up and down on his seat, eager to tell the story. Oh boy.

“Sure,” I say, with false enthusiasm. There’s no graceful way I can refuse. “Do you know about it, Jackson?”

He nods. “But only a little bit.”

We give the exuberant one our full attention.

“So Namjoon hyung and Hobie hyung and Kookie went to Cakeshop last night, and there was a really cool freestyler called No Name,” he begins.

“Wait, no name?” Jackson cuts in. “Was it an idol? Is there a video?”

“There are lots,” Tae replies, pulling out his phone. “Let me see... Here! This is the one I watched.”

It’s a video filmed starting slightly before I step out with Siri, and ending with my bow to the crowd. Jackson watches the video, and I watch Jackson. It worries me that he looks shocked, then contemplative.

“Why do you look like that?” I ask. “Is he a bad dancer?”

“No, it’s just that I would bet money that No Name is actually a famous dancer active in Hong Kong, called Flux. It also happens that Flux hasn’t competed there recently.” He scrolls down to the comments, where people are saying the same thing. Shoot.

“Anyway,” Taehyung emphasizes, bringing us back to the story. “So there was a woman who was really really drunk, and there was a man trying to take her out of the club somewhere, and then No Name, or Flux, or whatever, ran after them. And then the guys saw that No Name knocked the other guy out, except they said he looked a lot like you, hyung.” He gazes at me wonderingly. “Were you at Cakeshop last night, hyung?”

I blink at him.

“No? Hm, weird. Anyway, so the lady knocked herself out by accident and then No Name yelled at them, except it was in a female voice, but then they got really confused because she yelled at them to stop the bad guy in two different voices, and now Hoseok hyung is acting really weird, and they’re all famous.”

Jackson and I look at each other as Tae runs out of breath, then back at Tae as he contributes one last sentence.

“And also No Name and the new guy talked in Cantonese.”

Jackson watches a bit of the video, then looks at me again. His eyes are a bit too piercing for my liking.

“They call him Flux because nobody can tell who or what he, or she, is. His eye color, his ethnicity, his gender.”

“His eye color?” Tae questions, and I suspect what’s about to come. I make eyes at him, trying to get him to shut off that train of thought, but instead it derails. “Minho hyung’s eyes also change color,” he volunteers innocently.

To be fair, I never actually told him not to talk about it, I tell myself, shutting my eyes briefly in silent despair. 

“It’s too much of a coincidence, isn’t it? Your family shows up here, Flux appears a little later. Rapmon says Flux looks like you,” Jackson reasons. Tae looks a little confused.

I hesitate. At this point, I only have two choices. Attempt to deny it completely and lose his trust entirely, or try to lead him astray while telling the truth. The first isn’t an option, so really there’s only one right answer.

“You and Minhee also look extremely alike,” Jackson continues. “If you’re not Flux, then I’m willing to bet that Minhee is.”

I inhale sharply. This isn’t the conclusion I was expecting.

“Sarah’s eyes also changed color sometimes,” Jackson whispers to himself, as if I’m not meant to hear. He shakes his head. My heart jumps into my throat, but he keeps going. “Everything matches up. Minhee is Flux, isn’t she?”

I stay silent, both relieved and terribly disappointed, but he’s already sure.

Taehyung’s bouncing around by now. “Are you serious? Your sister is No Name, I mean Flux? That’s so cool!”

“...Yes,” I finally answer. It’s not a lie, after all, and this kind of partial truth is the best I can do for now. I’m sorry, Jackson.