“Alright, business time,” Yunho began, opening one of the folders he previously took from the office while Sandara surveyed their surroundings, “I believe some of you with experience of climbing Everest more than once are already familiar with our drill. But there’s no harm in reviewing our itinerary for the next sixty days.”

While her companion shuffled papers, Sandara noticed the decor framing a small portion of the Kathmandu skyline. Potted plants, some suffering, were placed in what might have been an attempt to make the garden terrace more lush. Strands of colored bulbs criss-crossed overhead, unlit at the moment. Somewhere nearby, audible over the cacophony of Thamel, was the gentle rattle of cicadas in the trees.

For the moment, it was hard to imagine going to Everest. Eventhough Sandara could see tall hills in the distance through the misty afternoon, the Himalayas seemed like such a distant place. In a few weeks, she would have to enter them and face a wall of frozen stones that had claimed so many people before her.

“So Dara – is that alright to call you that?” Yunho asked, jolting Sandara’s attention back.

“Yeah, yeah. Please,” she nodded in approval.

“You’ve got a few mountains under your belt,” he continued, “But never done an eight thousander before?”

Dara frowned and shook her head.

“Well, Everest is all fine and good for that if you don’t plan on reaching the summit,” Seunghyun jumped in, pushing his sunglasses up to his forehead. Although he wasn’t being hostile, his eyes bored a certain warning to hers and gone all the trace of playfulness in his voice as he spoke.

“What? You don’t think I can make it?” Sandara retorted back.

“Seunghyun,” Sean fixed his glare at the younger male.

Seunghyun put his sunglasses back on and raised his hands, “Just saying, Boss.”

Yunho sighed, “The Himalayas are a whole different beast from say, the Alps or the Andes. Acclimatizing alone is a necessary thing out here. Kind of a borderline between life and death, depending on your health. Trust me on this, you don’t want to climb unprepared.”

Sandara couldn’t help but notice how Yunho seemed to be controlling himself, fighting back something he obviously couldn’t show. At the very least, Sandara knew that in comparisons to Yunho, Taekwoon, Seunghyun, and all those in their business, she was inexperienced. Mountaineering was a fairly recent hobby for her, achieved only after she made some success with her reporting job and her company agreed to sponsor her.

She had done her homework by doing some extensive researches. Countless hours of surfing the internet, walking the shelves in libraries, reading every magazine and essay she could get her hands on. She had done classes in the Alps and left her mark on the summit of the Matterhorn. But that peak had a long shadow over it, cast by the massive bulk of mountains far in the east. Sandara could never ignore them.

The summit of Everest meant many things to her. Even the word ‘Everest’ brought with it an image to overcome and great success gained from monumental effort. Sandara was not blind to the cost. She knew of the death toll in the Death Zone. Bodies had frozen and had become landmarks for others who decided to take the risk. She had seen the pictures in the documentaries she had watched. She had read novels about the cost of disaster on high mountain peaks. She knew that mountains like Everest and K2 were better likened to gnashing teeth, prepared to destroy anyone who walked into the maw of that range without knowing better.

Sandara let out a breath through her nose and knew it was now or never. Deep down, it wasn’t just the matter of winning some documentary awards for an exclusive coverage. She wanted to touch the summit of the top of the world. She wanted to look out and no matter where she faced, see the world laid bare in the shadow of a goddess. But realistically, it didn’t seem possible. She felt nauseous at the thought, as she had dreamt of seeing that view.

“No, I don’t expect to summit,” she finally admitted, her shoulders lowering as she said it. “Camp III is probably my best hope.”

Yunho looked relieved, but quickly hid it behind a grin as the waitress returned with their drinks. Next to the water, she placed three steaming cups of a brown-gold tea in front of them. To Sandara’s alarm, she could see tiny flecks of oil on the surface. Yunho thanked her and then ordered some generous servings of momo platter for all of them.

Once the waitress was gone, Yunho turned back to Sandara as he sipped his tea. “Alright, you kind of worried me there for a bit,” he said as he placed his cup down. “Greenhorns aren’t uncommon at Everest. You’ve got billionaires who have never seen a mountain higher than Mount Fuji who suddenly think you can haul them up without losing a few toes or fingers, or their lives for that matter. At least this way, you can get acclimated and you get your first dose of the Himalayas. In that case, Everest isn’t a half bad choice, so long as you don’t get summit fever.”

Sandara raised an eyebrow. “Summit fever?” she asked, taking a sip of her water and putting it back down. “I thought that was just...”

“An excuse?” Sojin, who had been silently keeping up with their conversation, answered, and Sandara tried not to look ashamed. Sojin took it goodnaturedly and shrugged. “No, it’s pretty real. The air’s thin up there, like you know. Your brain starts to act strangely. It puts things where they shouldn’t be, narrows your thoughts, gives you tunnel vision so the only thing you can see is the peak. People forget themselves and all they want is to stand there for those few minutes. They tend not to care who or what gets in their way when it happens.”

It was hard to forget the stories of the so-called summit fever. Men and women making mad dashes for the top in a relentless struggle that shoved aside injuries, frostbite, and even the very threat of death. People falling by the wayside, forgotten by their own teammates, or people previously thought to be perfectly decent human beings. For as long as Sandara had entertained the idea of going to Everest, she had never truly thought those claims were real. She chalked it up to some kind of selfishness, a greedy pursuit of something that would only last a mortal moment.

“How can they do that?” she asked, more to her glass than Sojin. “I mean, when they talk about people just dying on the route up and others just walking by them.”

Another shrug, but this time paired with a dismal expression. “Humanity’s a sacrificial cost up there,” she said, apparently trying to mask some bitterness. “Some can overcome it, and most actually do. Sometimes there’s people you just can’t help. They get so high up that even if a hundred people stopped to help them, there would be no way to get them down. The air’s too thin, the route’s dangerous, and there would be more casualties from a rescue attempt than just the one. But you’re right. There’s other times you can’t fathom why people would leave someone who needs help, even if it’s just a situation not far from a camp.”

The mood stayed solemn until the waitress returned with an entire plate of momo. The little dumplings were folded into leaf shapes, ridges on the top forming wave patterns. They were still steaming when she set them down, and she placed a few bowls of sauce beside them.

After she left again, Sandara felt like the pit of her stomach had dropped. The dumplings did look delicious, but her mind was somewhere hundreds of miles away. The others, however, didn’t hesitate for a second. Yunho even loaded up his plate quickly and ate one straight off the main platter.

“Here,” Seunghyun’s arm stretched across the table, shoving a cup of brown gold tea toward her, “Po cha is good to relieve hangover.”