It was late afternoon by the time they reached the cemetery. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a bloody light upon the heavens, giving the world an eerie glow. The heat had not decreased. Taewoon continued to feel it on his skin, consciously sensing the tanning of his skin.

Eun Mi walked ahead of him, a bouquet of flowers in her arms. The cemetery really wasn’t much to look at. Green grass grew only around the gravestones, the ground shifting dramatically from the flush vegetation to dry, loose earth. Trees were arranged in long lines across the property, providing shade for those that came to visit the deceased.

Taewoon could not help thinking that the grass grew due to the decomposition of the bodies below. Nor could he help imagining the trees’ roots wrapped around coffins, cracking them to get to the corpses inside.

He followed Eun Mi deep inside the place, down past the endless graves, to a mighty tree. She stopped there, just by the edge of its long shadow. Her eyes were trained on the ground, shoulders slumped.

Taewoon stood behind her. The atmosphere changed; the heat became heavier, the wind stilled. The world stopped moving.

After a few minutes like this, Eun Mi exhaled. She used one hand to tuck her skirt behind her knees as she crouched down, lowering the flowers onto the green grass. Much to Taewoon’s surprise, when she finally spoke, she did it in Korean.

“Mom, have you been well? I brought someone with me today. I’d like for you to meet him.”

Her words indicated that he should step forward and greet her mother. Taewoon approached respectfully. Eun Mi wasn’t Korean, she did not bow to her parents upon greeting them. In fact, Taewoon knew that they had not passed away in the summer time so they could not be observing their memorial day. Feeling slightly disrespectful for not bowing, Taewoon crouched beside Eun Mi.

“Good evening, my name is Woo Taewoon.” He felt Eun Mi lace her fingers through his.

“Mom, he’s my boyfriend. See? You didn’t have to worry.”

Taewoon listened to Eun Mi talk to her mother for a long time. She told her about how CELESTIAL had become successful, more successful than anyone had ever expected. She told her about how Su Jong had dyed his hair all sorts of colors, about how convinced she was that he would end up being bald from all the chemicals in the dyes. Eun Mi told her about their looming comeback and two year anniversary. She told her about how she’d met Taewoon, praising him in ways that he’d never imaged being praised.

“He’s a great man, isn’t he, mom?”

“I’m really not that great,” he opposed. “She’s exaggerating, ma’am.”

Eun Mi bumped him with her shoulder. It caused them both to lose their balance, their legs already tired from crouching for so long. They toppled over, Eun Mi landing over Taewoon’s legs, his boots digging into her side.

He reached over to help her sit up, removing his over shirt so that she could cover her legs and sit more comfortably. Eun Mi smiled. “See, mom? What did I say?”

Taewoon blushed, coughing into the crook of his elbow to disguise his embarrassment. Eun Mi had not yet addressed her father. She had not greeted him, so Taewoon could not greet him either. Once again, Taewoon felt awfully rude for not acknowledging Eun Mi’s father, but unless she did so first, he had to wait.

After a long while, Eun Mi seemed to finish talking to her mother. She turned her body towards her father’s gravestone, her face tight. She reached into her bag, procuring her black belt. Her Korean name had been engraved on one end with the name of Master Park’s dojo in the other.

Unceremoniously, she tossed it towards her father. She didn’t say anything, she simply stared at his name engraved upon the black marble headstone.

It was then that Taewoon learned something deep and dark about Eun Mi: she was haunted by her father.

He’d heard it more than enough times, how she could have become an Olympian, how she had the talent to be a part of the Olympic team if she had simply continued with her training. That talent came from her father, the athlete. The man that lost his opportunity, his one shot at becoming an Olympian.

It wasn’t uncommon for parents to live vicariously through their children. Eun Mi had become the object through which he could accomplish his dreams. The moment Eun Mi had decided to chase after her own, his authority had started haunting her.

“Second dan, daddy,” she said through gritted teeth. “Aren’t you proud?”

Eun Mi turned to Taewoon, a desperate expression contorted her features. “Do you know why they died? They died because they were on their way to pick me up for a special lesson. I was late because my friend’s mother was running late herself. Daddy was furious. He couldn’t wait, so he decided to go pick me up himself.”

She turned back to her father’s grave. “You should have left mommy at home. Why did she have to die, too? If you hadn’t been so short-tempered, if you had just waited, you would both still be alive. Why did mommy have to die too? It was a stupid lesson. Just a stupid lesson. Daddy, why?”

Eun Mi buried her face in her hands, her body wrecking with sobs. Taewoon inched closer, placing his arms around her shoulders. He could not begin to understand the depth of her grief, the intensity of her regret and resentment.

There was no doubt that she loved her father; even after so many years had passed, she’d continued to honor his memory and dreams by practicing Tae Kwon Do despite her busy schedule. She had not once forgotten him, but she could also not ignore the reason as to why they had been on the streets that day.

Eun Mi had yet to forgive her father for dying.

“My father,” she hiccupped, straightening up in Taewoon’s arms. “My father was a very strict man. Mom always said that his father’s unexpected passing is what caused him to change his lifestyle. He’d already possessed the discipline from his training, so it seemed that losing my grandfather hardened him.

“He wanted to be an Olympian, but he couldn’t do it. When mom became pregnant, he said he wanted a son to train. It took him a while to warm up to me after I was born. I have no pictures of him holding me as a baby.”

Taewoon felt sick upon hearing that. He could not process the idea of how any man would forsake their children, male or female, in any way.

“I guess he got over it when I displayed athleticism as a toddler. I liked Tae Kwon Do, he loved me because I was good. The better I became, the more he seemed to accept me. Isn’t that stupid? Don’t you think that’s stupid?”

He her hair, cupping her face in his large hands. “You don’t want to do it anymore, do you?”

“Do what?”

“Tae Kwon Do. You feel guilty for pursuing your own dreams, don’t you? You feel as if you’re betraying your father by choosing a different path.”

Taewoon could see that Eun Mi’s relationship with her father had been strained further after his death than during his lifetime. Her young mind had been unable to cope with the loss, so it had shut the pain away. He could see how her mind had become so fragile now; she could not, in good conscience, cease her training without somehow feeling as if she were betraying her father.

“Eun Mi-ah,” he said, wiping a fat tear away with his thumb. “Marisol, you are not betraying anyone. This is your life. You make the rules. Live the way you want to live without apologies. Stop holding on to this. The more you hold on to it, the more toxic it becomes. Grieve your parents. Remember them. But remember that they have passed away. The living must go on living.”

Her eyes were clouded by heavy tears, tears of anguish and misplaced grief. Taewoon her cheeks with gentle fingertips.

Thunder cracked over their heads. Eun Mi screamed, launching herself into his arms. Taewoon’s eyes went wide with surprise, his heart pounding. He looked up at the sky, finding no trace of the scarlet hues that had possessed it when they’d first arrived. Eun Mi peeked up at it from the safety of his embrace, laughing around her tears.

“Desert storm,” she laughed. “We probably won’t see any rain, just thunder and lightning.”

Taewoon cast a weary glance at the tree that marked her parents’ graves. “Then we should move away from all these trees, don’t you think?”

He helped her stand. Eun Mi slipped into his over shirt, nearly disappearing within it. She took her belt from her father’s grave, holding it close to her chest.

She did not say anything for a long time. Thunder boomed over their heads. A lightning bolt struck out to their left. Taewoon marveled at the proximity of such a storm; they could so easily be lost to its force.

Eun Mi said a couple of words to her father in Spanish before asking Taewoon to greet him. He bowed ninety degrees, silently conveying his respect while promising to take care of his daughter.

Eun Mi gave them on last glance before walking away, Taewoon’s hand tightly grasped in hers. The rain crashed down on them halfway back to the truck. It came so suddenly that they were completely drenched by the time they reached the vehicle.

“What kind of psycho weather is this?” Taewoon gasped, shivering in the passenger seat. “What happened to the thunderstorm? I thought you said there’d be no rain!”

“I’m not a meteorologist!”

“You!”

Taewoon reached for her. Eun Mi squealed and ducked away as much as she could. Their teasing wrestling caused them to press the steering wheel, the truck’s honk resounding in the storming cemetery. They screamed their surprise, laughing like idiots.

“We should go. The keeper will close the gates soon.”

“You don’t want to stay here and hunt for ghosts?” He wiggled his fingers at her. “Get an EVP or two?”

Eun Mi’s face paled. She turned the key, reeved the engine, and sped out of there.

The storm followed them all the way back to the house. Eun Mi, ever the mischievous one, parked the truck out on the street instead of using the garage. Groaning, Taewoon ran out after her, getting soaked once more.

“You’re going to make us sick!”

“Oh like if we have anything important to do.”

“You have your comeback scheduled for next week.”

Eun Mi kicked off her shoes, shaking her hair. Taewoon raised his arms to shield his face then made a grab at her. He took her by the waist, swinging her around.

Somehow, they ended up in the living room, Taewoon finally pinned to the ground after Eun Mi used her Tae Kwon Do skills on him. He tapped out. Eun Mi celebrated by stepping on his as she headed for some towels. She charged a kiss a towel when she returned.

“How are you feeling?” Taewoon inquired. He bowed his head, allowing her to dry his hair.

“Better. Something you said back there made a lot of sense. I think, back then, I didn’t know how to get over the initial shock of their deaths. And with all the legal problems, I didn’t have the chance to grieve them.”

“Legal problems?”

Taewoon sat her on his lap, gently soaking up the dampness from her hair. He felt her nod.

“I lost this house when my parents passed. It wasn’t yet paid in full and the bank repossessed it. Aunt Minha was off at school, so I stayed with my dad’s brother. I didn’t have much, the things that used to be mine were put into storage for the time being. The only thing I could really inherit was my dad’s dojo.”

“Your father had a dojo?”

“Broke his back earning money for it. He only managed to pay it off because his classes were so good. It was the best dojo in town.”

Taewoon could see where this was headed. It did not surprise him in the least when she said her uncle had then attempted to sell the only thing she’d had to her name. A nasty legal battle ensued once Minha caught wind of it. She’d flown back from grad school to protect her goddaughter’s property.

After a while, Minha realized that the only way to prevent him from selling the property was to become Eun Mi’s legal guardian, the fight for her followed. Minha won custody of her goddaughter, the dojo stayed open, and she took Eun Mi with her to Mexico while she finished grad school.

“What happened with the dojo?”

“It remained open. Master Choi took over.”

“Choi?”

Eun Mi pressed her back against his chest, taking his arms and wrapping them around herself. “He’s a Korean immigrant. We come from all places, y’know? Just up until last year, the neighbors were from South Africa. Anyway, he had amazing credentials. Taught the Marines back in South Korea and stuff.”

“I’m kind of scared of this man now.”

“You should be. He’s a scary guy, but a good teacher.”

“Is he still there?”

“Kind of. He doesn’t teach anymore, but he’s still overseeing the dojo. He couldn’t believe it when I first talked to him in Korean. He looked at me as if I’d been possessed!”

He leaned against the sofa, his cheek resting on Eun Mi’s head. “How long where you in Mexico?”

“Not very long. Auntie decided to go to Korea one summer and I was street casted.”

Something in her voice gave him pause. “Eun Mi?”

“Woon-ah,” she twisted around, sitting sideways on his lap, her eyes wider than usual. “Have you ever regretted becoming an idol?”

Taewoon didn’t flinch at the question; he’d seen it coming. He’d seen it coming because he had, in fact, wondered the very same thing more than once.

“I think we all regret becoming a celebrity once or twice.”

Eun Mi blinked at him. He knew she could tell he was not telling her everything. He hugged her closer, pressing his cheek against her head.

And so Taewoon told her of the time he’d just about given up on his artistic career.

It had all started back when Co-Ed School had gone under fire. In between lawsuits, police investigations, and member fights, Taewoon had resumed his college education.

Returning to school, studying for the TOEIC, spending more hours in the language academy than the practice room wasn’t a crime—except that it had felt like one.

He had not prepared so ardently for grad school so that he may return to it later after all his idol activities were done. Taewoon had been preparing himself to leave the industry.

“‘I’ll go as far as I can,’ I said. ‘I’ll practice as much as I can, fight for this as long as I can.’”

With so much down time in between comebacks, Taewoon managed to make his way into one of the best grad schools for business management. He went in fully intending to leave the industry behind.

Taewoon had gone ahead with the execution of Plan B; in case he didn’t debut, in case Co-Ed School and SPEED failed, in case he failed.

“You have an MBA?” Eun Mi drew back, eyes wide. “And you passed the TOEIC?”

“Yeah.”

She paused. “What was your score?”

“I…don’t remember.”

“Woon-ah!”

“About 880?”

“That’s really high! Wait,” she gasped, smacking his shoulder. “That means you’re fluent in English!”

“I wouldn’t say fluent. I haven’t really been practicing.”

Taewoon reached for her hair, entangling his fingers in the silky waves. Eun Mi’s excitement died down at the sight of his expression.

“What did you plan to do with your degree?”

“I planned to work for my uncle. He has no sons, and he wants one of us to take over the company.”

“Okay, first of all, how damned ist. I bet his daughter would be a badass CEO if she wanted to.”

“I agree. She has a good sense for business.”

She rewarded him with a sweet kiss, pressing her hand to his cheek, caressing it softly with her thumb.

“Secondly, why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I go work for him?”

She nodded. Taewoon sighed.

“Because I wanted to give my dreams another chance. I wanted to give it my all, not just a half-assed attempt like I’d been doing up until then. I wanted to make sure that I could say I tried everything to become successful alongside SPEED.”

He fell silent abruptly. His hand came up to take hers as he leaned his face into her palm, closing his eyes. His voice was hardly above a whisper when he finally spoke.

“Should I give up? Should I go work for my uncle now that I’m no longer in the running for Show Me the Money and MBK terminated my contract?”

Taewoon locked his gaze with hers. This was the first time Eun Mi heard that the company had cut him loose. His grip on her hand tightened, his eyebrows drawing together.

“Quit.”

“W-what?”

“Quit. You didn’t make it in Show Me the Money, you’re not under a label. Quit. Go work for your uncle.”

Taewoon stared at her for a few stunned seconds, dropping his hand to his side before looking away. Something dark, nasty, had crept around the base of his stomach; the aching sense of betrayal.

Eun Mi smiled a tiny smile. She scooped up his hands into hers, kissing his knuckles ever so softly.

“See? You can’t really quit, can you? Why do you keep wondering such useless things when we both know it’s impossible for you to quit? There is nothing wrong with having a Plan B. It’s smart to have a Plan B because you can throw yourself in fearlessly.

“Thinking ‘If all else fails, I have this,’ is okay. Worrying, doubting, sacrificing, all of that is alright. You’re entitled to that. You’re entitled to pursue your dreams. Taewoon, you have just as much chance at success as anyone. The first few tries might not have worked out the way you wanted them to, but the next one might.”

She hugged him gently, cuddling against his chest. His shirt was still damp from the rain, a reminder of the day’s events. Eun Mi closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than to turn back the hands of time, to give him another opportunity during the competition.

“You’ve worked very hard,” she whispered. “Don’t give up.”

If Taewoon gave up, where would that leave her?

Eun Mi had not worked even a fourth as hard as Taewoon had. She’d long ago suspected that that street casting had been part of an elaborate plan concocted between her aunt and the CEO. Her aunt had been desperate to rekindle the passion that Eun Mi had lost throughout the years after her parents’ passing. So desperate, that she’d asked her employer to give her goddaughter an opportunity as a trainee.

It had worked. Eun Mi had emerged from her shell. Now, aside from feeling as if she’d stolen someone else’s opportunity, she felt as if it had simply been given to her in a silver platter.

Was she really talented enough to be a part of CELESTIAL or had her uncle merely taken pity on her once more?

“You shouldn’t give up, either,” Taewoon said suddenly. “Things have been difficult for you lately. Don’t give them the gratification of seeing you waver. You’re the most beautiful when you’re up on stage.”

He’d said the last part in barely a whisper, not because he’d been shy about what he’d said, but because the mere thought of Eun Mi singing her heart out during CELESTIAL’s stage in Music Bank in Hanoi took his breath away, his skin breaking out in goosebumps.

“I want to see you on stage,” he said.

Eun Mi swallowed the lump in . Somehow, his words gave her the push she needed to take another step, even if it was only a step that would carry her momentum forward while she staggered about. Taewoon wasn’t a magical creature that could solve all her issues, but he sure as heck got close enough to one.