Having walked down the road of a questionable neighbourhood, they had passed through the glass shop door and into the cramped, cluttered room full of multi-coloured exotic goods from every known culture, to where they stood now, in front of a little green door in the corner of the store.

  He wrinkled his nose at the potent scent of incense permeating through every millimeter of the air, his lips pursed in a skeptical frown. Thick eyelashes peering up from abundant black curls looked up at him with a childlike expression of excited amusement, her long, pink painted nails creeping up playfully on his arm. “Come on~” she sang. “Stop frowning Tae.”

  “Is it that obvious?” he said with a light chuckle. “I was trying not to.”

  “Give in to your sense of adventure!” she said. He found it difficult to give in to his ‘sense of adventure’ when he was certain that they were signing up to get swindled.

  “No, I’m serious,” she continued. “My friends all tell me that she’s for real, the real deal. They told me everything she said to them came true, and she’s even like psychic or something. She knew information about them even though they didn’t say anything about it.”

  “Alright, alright. I’m convinced, let’s go in,” he said, putting on a humouring smile.

  She hooked her arm into his and turned the brass door knob, opening in to a dim, dark room and releasing the heavy scent of smoke and perfume.

  They passed through a waterfall of decorative beaded hangings that clacked as he pulled them out of the way. A small, but sharp gasp rang through the air as they faced a bespectacled girl in a cushioned chair, twisting her neck to see them enter. Her hand twisted a lock of her hair as her school shoe clad foot tapped on the worn, wooden floorboards.

  His eyes passed over the girl to the person sitting behind the purple, cloth draped table. Vast, almond shaped eyes stared unmoving, like an oil painting, towards his own, her face a blend of ethnicities with Asian being the most prominent, but by only by a smidge. Thin pink lips beneath a small, upturned nose tightened in a straight line, betraying no emotion.

   “Oh, we’re sorry!” his girlfriend apologised. “We didn’t know someone else was still in here.” The expressionless face, for the first time, flicked into one of a cordial smile like that of a retail worker.

   “Oh that’s no problem, we’ll be finished soon.” The bespectacled girl gave a slight, agreeing nod.

   “We’re very sorry for disrupting you,” said his girlfriend, addressing the girl in the customer seat before turning to the fortune teller. “But I just want to ask before we step outside, how much do you charge?”

  The teller linked her ringed hands together and rested her chin on top of them. “Thirty dollars for a basic reading. Extra charges apply for added information.”

  “Thirty dollars?!” he yelled before a hand stopped him.

  “That’ll be no problem,” said his girlfriend. She turned to him with a pleading smile. “Come on? Please?” she whispered. Choking noises of objection escaped his open mouth, but wisely he closed them and nodded. “Fine.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pitch in half,” she assured. She rifled through he handbag, squinting in the dim, candle lit room. “I think I left my wallet in the car,” she muttered.

  She tapped his chest with the back of her hand. “Wait here babe, I’ll go get it.” She turned to the teller. “Do you mind if he watches? He still doesn’t believe in this yet.”

  “That would be no problem,” she replied courteously. “Take your time.”

  “Great,” she said. She turned to her boyfriend and tapped on her cheek with her finger and he bent down for a light kiss before she stepped out of the room, shutting the door with a dull thud and leaving him alone in the corner of the narrow, cluttered room, roughly the size of a walk in closet.

  Strange trinkets littered every free space and strange objects hung from the ceiling. By the teller’s elbow there stood a clear, crystal ball, and spread out across the table were a number of tarot cards placed face down. The room was accented with hints of royal purple which mingled well under the orange light of the dripping candles.

  “Now where were we?” said the teller, in a low voice as smooth as warm milk. “Ah, the seven of pentacles.”

  She held up a single card of a man staring at seven stars in golden orbs growing from a bush.

  “What does that mean?” the customer asked inquisitively.

  “The seven of pentacles, in your case, represents vision, reward, and investment. For you it means that you are to be rewarded for your hard work.”

  The girl’s eyes lit up and she almost seemed to try and push her body forward while remaining in the same spot.

  “Coupled with your other cards,” the teller continued, gesturing to the spread on the table with a graceful, swaying arm. “The cards are telling you your fate. You need not to worry about your studies for your long hours of hard, tireless work will show through in your final exams. Effort does not go unrewarded.”

  Taehyung was unimpressed. He could have told her that. By the number of thick, textbooks leaning against a school bag beneath the girl’s chair, even he could have seen that she was studious. The speech the teller gave was no different from what he had heard teacher’s spout endlessly come exam time.

  The teller continued to explain the cards and Taehyung took the opportunity to observe the teller’s face, noting the many earthy coloured beaded jewellery hanging from her person, which struck him as oddly familiar.

  As time trickled through the ancient hourglass on the table, pieces of his memory settled into position, displaying the clear picture he had been searching for, and recognition lit up in his eyes. The fortune teller was his classmate, one of the more obscure members of his large year.

  A tiny scoff escaped his lips as he confirmed his already strong opinion that the whole operation was a sham. The girl had probably spread rumours of her ‘ability’ herself in order to milk cash.

  “However,” said the teller in a mystical voice tinged in warning. “It also warns you that a potential dent to your marks will be from the ravages of overwork. You may be at risk of a clouded mind during the exams from stress or lack of sleep, so beware of that and make adjustments to your habits.”

  The girl breathed out a sigh. “Yeah…I know. I’ve been getting worried myself that I’d do that. It happened in the trial exams. I’ll try not to let it happen again.”

   “But regardless, the cards believe your marks will be good.”

  “Yeah, thank you,” she said. “It feels so good to know that. You don’t understand how much pressure there is for me to succeed.” She pulled out her bag from under the chair and took out a two bills of cash from a pocket, handing it to the fortune teller.

  The teller folded the money in her fingers before placing it behind the table, disappearing in what could only be assumed to be a secret compartment beneath the table cloth. The girl gathered up her bags and textbooks before parting the beads on her way out. “Thank you so much. I’ll come here again.”

  “You’re always welcome,” she replied with a smile, before the beads clacked and the door shut with a hollow thud, leaving her and Taehyung alone in the narrow room.

  A few brief seconds of silence mingled with the perfumed air before the teller addressed the boy in the corner. “So, are you planning on going or is it just your girlfriend?”

  “You’re the psychic, you tell me,” he replied in a slightly challenging tone.

 “Regardless of what you think, it appears that your girlfriend is taking her time. Perhaps she is searching for her wallet without realising it was in her handbag the whole time. Whatever the reason, you have the opportunity to kill time. "

  “Sorry but I’m not shelling out thirty dollars to get my fortune told by a classmate. You’re in my year, what’s your name? Inra? Inya?”   

  “Yira,” she said. "Kwon Yira, Kim Taehyung.”

  “Look, Yira, don’t take this the wrong way but I really don’t believe in any of this. I’m sorry.”

  “What you believe,” she said, looking neither offended nor defensive, instead appearing bored. “Doesn’t particularly matter to me.”  

  “Yeah, so I really don’t want to get a fortune. I don’t think there would be anything you can tell me that I’d find shocking.”

  Her blank face showed no emotion but she tilted her head as if she were amused by the challenge. “You’re not that into her,” she said.  

   “Excuse me?”

  She raised a finger and pointed it at the door. “Her,” she said. “Despite being in a relationship, you aren’t particularly interested in her.”

  His face dropped all politeness and anger flashed in his eyes. “Sorry but what gives you the right to-”

  “You,” she continued on, not even acknowledging him. “Personally don’t believe in any of this, fortune telling, card reading, and so on, believing it all to be a sham for money. Yet your girlfriend believes it with all her heart and it bothers you that she does, but you humour her for the sake of avoiding conflict and to maintain the relationship despite the fact you find it tedious.” She looked at him with her big, still eyes. “Am I correct?”

   “I don’t have to answer that,” he said obstinately.

  Time ticked on, and Yira busied herself by collecting her cards, losing all interest in conversation while Taehyung stood still in the corner, wondering how she could have known something even he wouldn’t admit to himself.

  With a clack of the knob, the door creaked open, letting in a strip of light into the dark, smoky room, and his girlfriend entered, unaware of the tense atmosphere. “Sorry!” she apologised. “I’m really sorry it took so long, I spent ages trying to find my wallet and for a while I thought it was stolen, but, silly me! It turns out it was in my handbag all along!”

  “It’s a common mistake,” Yira smiled, putting on her worker smile once again and making Taehyung frown.

  The girl pulled out the chair and sat down, gesturing for Taehyung to come over. Grudgingly, he stood behind her on the chair where he could clearly see Yira’s face in the candlelight, her long wavy hair cascading onto the table and creating a black river on the draping. A section of hair from her forehead was pulled back, revealing to moles on the edge of her hairline.

  “Now,” she began. “What do you wish to know?”

  “Ooh, I don’t know. Tae, what do you think?” Taehyung shrugged, still glaring at Yira. “Well, how about I just leave it to you?” she said, addressing Yira.

  “Sure,” she smiled. “Give me your hand.”

  She reached out her hand and Yira took it in hers, turning it so that her palms faced upwards, allowing her to inspect every crease and line on the pink surface. Taehyung watched sceptically from behind.

  “You are a giving person, very social. You are happiest when you are with people and you are very sympathetic and aware of the feelings of others. You are intelligent but few people, even yourself are able to see it due to your wide spread of activities and hobbies which don’t allow to you to specialise and focus,” Yira said, still looking at her palm. 

  Taehyung rolled his eyes, but his girlfriends turned to him, mouthing “Oh my god,” excitedly, forcing him to smile at her in support. “However you are prone to being unreliable. You tend to forget about your responsibilities which results in most of the conflict in your relationships.”

  “Sadly true,” she replied with a giggle.

  “You come from an extended family, likely including your grandparents, and you have a younger sibling, I suspect a brother.”

  “Oh my god, how did you know that?” she gasped.

  “He is the cheeky type and I believe he likes hiding your possessions. When you go home, check under his bed. Your fortune in life is good, you will suffer some bumps in the road but they’ll be small.”

   “Hey, does my palm say how long I’ll live?”

  “Your lifespan falls a little short of what is average in this nation but it is still fairly long. You are to receive an increase in wealth from family in the next month but beware of how you spend it for it might disappear quicker than you realise. Do you play any sports?” she asked.

  “Yeah, netball, why?”

  “It says here that you’re going to receive a small, but permanent injury to yourself in the near future, so beware of what you do in netball,” she advised. She dropped her hand and pulled back into the chair. “I’m afraid that is all, your life in the near future is fairly smooth flowing.”

  “Well thank you!” she chirped. “And I’ll totally kill my brother when I get home.” She pulled out fifteen dollars from her wallet, before tapping Taehyung on the arm. Taehyung groaned a little, feeling discontent that they had to pay for such little, and trivial information.  

  “Well since your boyfriend is paying for half, I think I’ll give him my predictions for his future tomorrow,” she said.

  “Really?” he said with an unamused expression on his face.

  “Tomorrow,” she said with almost a joking tone in her voice. “You’ll have your lunch stolen by a spotted dog, and it will bark three times before running off.”

  “Yeah right,” he said, placing the money on the counter. Even though her face was still infuriatingly emotionless, he suspected she was toying with him out of perhaps revenge for not believing.

  “Thank you,” his girlfriend smiled as they stepped foot out the door. “

  Yeah, thanks a lot,” he said sarcastically.

  He turned to look at her one last time, almost as if trying to learn something more from her, but he shook his head of the frivolous thoughts and looked away, shutting the door behind him.

  “What do you think?” his girlfriend whispered to him as they left the store. “She’s totally something else isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, she’s something else alright,” he mumbled.

  Yira sighed in the increasingly darkening room. The candles around her had melted to their base and had only a short while of life left in them. She stretched her limbs and pulled out of the ornate, wooden chair she had been sitting in for hours and began pulling off the long, embroidered dress she was wearing, revealing a school uniform beneath.

  She folded the dress neatly onto the chair and counted the money, placing the amount in her wallet before blowing out the candles one by one, gracefully ignoring the growing presence behind her.

  “Sheesh, I’ve been waiting here for ages expecting you to at least call me out,” said a high, girlish voice.

  “I assumed that you would be introducing yourself either way so I didn’t bother,” she replied without looking back.

  “You’re still as cold as ever,” she replied. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’m doing here?”

  For the first time, Yira turned around to see the person in her room. Bright, silver eyes stared at her from under brown bangs; her shoulder length hair tussled under a cat ear hoodie. She was short, but not tiny, with a youthfully plump face that fooled others of her age. “Asking serves no interest to me, Jun Jirin,” Yira replied, returning to her work.

  “That boy was cute,” said Jirin. “But he sure frowned a lot; I was getting sick of looking at it from the wall. But damn, looks like that are rare.” She walked forward with the grace of a dancer and dropped her hand on the table, leaning forward and looking up with challenging eyes. “So,” she began; her true purpose for presence on her lips. “What did you see?”

   Without asking, Yira knew what she was talking about. It wasn’t often one could look at someone’s face and see death so clear and solid, not an image or sound, just raw understanding of an oncoming demise. “He’s going to die.”

   “And I wonder how,” she purred.

  Yira shot her a look, her wide unmoving eyes exerting an unknown pressure that would have shaken a normal man, but made Jirin break out into a wide smile like the Cheshire cat. “Oh ho,” she grinned. “Looks like this one’s viable.” She leaned forward. “I want to play a game. Come play with me, come play with me!”

  Yira breathed out a dull sigh. “I’m not interested.”

  “It’s a betting game,” she carried on, intent focus in her eyes like a child looking at a new toy behind a glass shop window.

  Yira stood still and turned to her, not saying a word but listening.

  “See who can win over fate,” she said. “If I succeed in ensuring his death, then I win. However, if you succeed in preventing it, you win.”

  “Do I have a choice in any of this?”

  “Come on,” she said. “Psychic against psychic. Don’t you think that’d be fun?” She held up nine fingers. “I’ll have nine tries. If you prevent his death all nine times, you win, but if I succeed even once, I win.”

  “You can do whatever you want,” said Yira, looking as bored as ever. “I won’t be joining you.”

  Jirin giggled before walking backward. She hit the wall but she kept on going, passing through it as if it were just an illusion, the surface enveloping her entire body. “I’ll see you when he game starts.”

  “And when will it start?” Yira asked.

  As her entire body was into the wall, sinking into it as if it were almost water she smiled. “There is no timeline, Yira. Doesn’t that sound fun?”