Sundays were as busy as ever. Saturdays were too inconspicuous. Wednesdays, however. Wednesdays: snug between heaven and hell; bridging Fridays and Mondays; balancing the weekend and the drudging 9 to 5. The Gentlewoman’s Club found solace teetering on this in-between. Moral ambiguity piercing each ear, Wheein Jung began today’s main topic of discussion.

Supposing this humble gathering of extraordinary women had a mastermind, it was her, “Detectives responding to noise complaints? Either duty has Yixing Zhang on a strong leash, or he’s still chasing our tails.”

“Stereotypical who-done-its end with ‘jilted lover kills ex-boyfriend’ 8 out of 10 times.” Yongsun Byun cut into today’s dessert: lemons bars prepared with a sugary glaze. Though the statistic was questionable, the three women sitting in Hyejin Ahn’s tea room were more curious about the recipe of the baker’s delectable dish. 

Sinking pearly whites into heaven realized, the great mother and savior Hwasa made a suggestive proposal, “Let me know when Baekhyun stops being man enough for you, honey.”

“Stop teasing. My darling doesn’t know jealousy’s definition quite yet,” Solar beamed. Boisterously struck a dainty pose. Belated applause came from Moonbyul Yi.

Soured continence the lemon treat only exacerbated, the auto mechanic in a breath before, “Where’s the body, Wheein?”

Slighted by her accusatory question, Moo Mama’s bartender answered, “Taken care of.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Something tells me there’s subtext I’m missing here.”

Societies like theirs weren’t without inner turmoil. Three rules make up the guiding code of the Gentlewoman’s Club: 1) Don’t talk about Gentlewoman’s Club; 2) Don’t wear pink on Fridays; 3) Don’t kill and tell. The latter didn’t exist upon the club’s creation. “The trust of the innocent is the liar’s most useful tool,” Wheein commented while constructing their airtight alibis.

Stephen King, she cited later — methodically memorizing quotes for troubling times. If not for her regular name drops, Wheein Jung could fake wisdom with a cheeky smile. A hand folding perfectly pert curls behind star-studded ears. A murderer convinced, Moonbyul wasn’t keen on acting innocent.

“Stop teasing,” Solar repeated, passing the remote control, “and show her.”

Several headliners passed as they watched the local news. Highgate Ridge Elementary’s award Ceremony. Captain Wu’s upcoming wedding date. Moo Mama’s seasonal karaoke contest. Scattered stories on the state of the Republic sprinkled throughout to keep viewers worldly. Moonbyul Yi zoned out until, “Breaking news out of HRPD today.

“Sehun Oh, 23, went missing last month during his ‘weekly hike’ to Highgate’s mountain campgrounds. However, as discovered just three hours ago, it appeared he got more of nature than he bargained for. Personal effects belonging to Sehun Oh littered an unmarked path through the forest floor — ten meters below where law enforcement officials presume he fell from an overhanging cliff.

“Signs point to an animal attack; forensic specialists identified multiple canine tracks on site. HRPD continues its search for Sehun Oh’s body. Though met with lackluster results, Captain Wu says, ‘We can only hope for the best.’ The community prays Sehun Oh returns home safe and sound.”

“Safe and sound in the belly of the beast,” Hwasa lemon glaze from her fingers. Each tip pop. Pop. Popped from pink, puckered lips.

“Satisfied?” Wheein sat, triumphant. 

“Sehun’s dead. Devoured. Digested — most likely. Darling?” Solar had a knack for mothering. Babying, as Baekhyun Byun put it. Catering to the child who cried in her arms.

Sobbing soggy, crocodile tears, Moonbyul Yi put her trust in the Gentlewoman’s Club once more.

Circumstantial. The relationship between Moonbyul Yi and Sehun Oh was based on pure coincidence. Two people — lacking romantic attachments — met, felt, crept into each other’s arms. “You can’t fix me; I’m not broken,” the line he dropped. Bait she caught, accepting the challenge.

Cliches depict the good girl and the bad boy. A confident man painting his own reality, Sehun Oh was referring to his 1989 Dodge Challenger: good ol’ Betsy. “Is what she says.” Moonbyul remembers his fingers tapping on shiny blue paint. An inconsistent rhythm he played with a smile. 

Charming, too charming, she sympathized with the (ex-)girlfriend who keyed the beautiful gas-guzzler from headlight to taillight. Other than the routine sanding, he refused to give her a peek under the hood — secrets hidden under a flimsy straw top. She hasn’t seen beneath the wizened aesthetic to this day. 

“Curious?” Sehun Oh asked when car keys passed from her hand to his. Whatever her expression, it prompted, “Care for a ride, Miss Yi?” Miss Yi had a nice ring to it. 

Cacophonous jazz music played upon ignition — a dead giveaway if she’d noticed. More than Sehun’s boundless confidence, Moonbyul was wrapped round his whistling. Caught with her hood closed. Delivered to him on a silver platter by illusions of an idealistic future — she’d caught the bouquet at Mr. & Mrs. Byun’s wedding one week prior. 

“Cash or credit?” she asked at Starry's Auto Shop & Body after the impromptu road trip. Swaying to a melody memorized. Mesmerized against her better judgement. Sehun Oh’s womanizing reputation preceded his confidence. Charm. Cunning.

Carefully watching her movements, he opted on, “Dinner.”

Circumstantial: two years of meeting, feeling, creeping. Wheein Jung had many friends. All Sehun Oh did was choose one.

A/N: Plot twist? (I also did a thing in this chapter. Here's a hint: Snake Charmer. S. C. Subliminal messaging much?)