The shop keeper’s bell rang in the dark empty shop, the “closed” sign swung from the door. Yira stepped into the room, her footsteps sounding on the hollow floorboards as she switched on the lights, the keys jingling in her hands. Along the entire street, every store was pitch black and closed.
  “It’s pretty late,” she commented.
  “I don’t care,” said Taehyung. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on.”
  Yira breathed out a weary sigh, as if she found the whole situation nothing but a tedious chore. She dropped the keys onto the counter and approached her green painted door.
  “You know something,” he growled, weakening restraint sounding in his voice. “Don’t act like this is nothing. This is the third time I nearly died!”
  Yira brought her finger to her lips. “Be quiet,” she shushed. “It’s night time.”
  “Well, excuse me raising my voice after I had three near death experiences!” he yelled. “I nearly died fifteen minutes ago, and you were there with me and on every other one too! I’m not taking you home until you tell me what’s going on! Why has this been happening? This only started after I met you! Why did that girl disappear?!”
  Yira looked him straight in the eyes and with a blank face as emotionless as a doll’s. “You’re going to die,” she said, simply and plainly.
  “W-what?” he exclaimed. “What do you mean I’m going to die?”
  Yira brought her finger to her lips again. “Ssshh. I’d rather not attract attention.”
  “Then explain!” he hissed, seething with rage.
  Yira looked to the side and held her arms by her elbows. “From the moment you set foot into my shop, I knew you were going to die. Someone just decided to make a game of it.”
  “Excuse me?” he choked. “Are you kidding me right now? What the hell does that mean?”
  “I don’t tell lies,” she explained. “Not about this at least. A game was made on how you’ll die. A wager on fate. She gets nine tries at your life. If you’re lucky enough to survive them all, you live.”
  “What? Who?! Who’s 'she'?!”
  “Jun Jirin. The girl you saw was just an illusion she made, as well as the bike rider. I made up the prediction of the spotted dog taking your sandwich in an effort to keep from coming back to my shop, but I suppose Jirin made it happen as both a joke and a way to make you return.”
  Taehyung glared at her with a look of disbelief and spun around, storming to the door. “You know what? This is bull. I believed in your whole creepy fortune telling thing but this is bull. I’m leaving. You can get your own ride home.”
  He yanked open the door but before he could step foot outside, a white dove swooped into the store, flapping its wings vigorously as it circled the ceiling like a halo.
  Taehyung stared at it stunned. As far as he knew, white doves didn’t exist in the wild in Seoul city.
  The bird’s wings straightened and it glided down from the lights, becoming thinner and thinner until its feathers grew flat and its body turned to paper, sliding gracefully into Yira’s awaiting hand as a white envelope sealed with red wax.
  Taehyung was speechless. His body felt numb at what he just witnessed, but Yira seemed unaffected, casually opening the letter.
  “Believe me now?” she asked, although she didn’t seem to bothered by his answer.
  With shaky legs, he drew closer. “W-what does it say?”
  For the first time that night, Yira’s eyes grew hard and narrowed. She pulled out a pen from a cup and scribbled something on the back of the paper. “Nothing important. She thinks things will be more amusing for me and you now that you know. She’s announcing her intentions to, and I quote, “Take the game to level two.””
  Taehyung choked. “O-on my life!?”
 Yira re-sealed the envelope and gestured to the door. “Open that for me.”
  He didn’t know why he obeyed, but as if her were caught in a surreal dream, he opened the door. Yira flicked the envelope towards the door, and at some point impossible to pinpoint with the eye, the paper turned to feathers and flapped its wings out into the night.
  A heavy silence fell onto the store as the lone wind whistled through the doorframe.
  “…Why?” he whispered, a thought that escaped his lips.
  “I assume Jun Jirin was bored,” she answered.
  “Is that what my life is worth?” he questioned. “Entertainment for you two?”
  “I didn’t care,” she told him coldly. “You’ve been a Deadman walking since before you stepped foot into my shop. Other people’s lives and fates are none of my business lest they paid and you were no different. However, Jun Jirin spent her whole life searching for someone like her, and she seems intent to test me, whether I participate willingly or not.”
  “So I’m going to die?”
  Yira paused. “You have the chance to live if you evade all nine of her attempts.”
  His eyes grew wide and his mouth opened and closed, but no sound left his lips. He shook his head, his eyes full of fear and denial, and he backed away to the door.
  “No,” he said. “No. I don’t want anything to do with this. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore. I don’t want to see you.”
  Yira unmoving eyes and tight lips betrayed no emotion, her body as still as statue. “If you leave, this no longer becomes my concern. You’re on your own.”
  His heart grew cold and the whole world fell still.
  “I don’t care,” he said, pulling open the door. “I couldn’t give less of a . You’re not human. I don’t want to see you again.”
  And with that, he left out the door, and Yira did nothing to stop him.
***
  He drove for what seemed like hours. He had no destination in mind and the road was endless as was the night. His mind turned and rolled like an insomniac in bed but his thoughts were stuck on a roundabout, unable to find a way out.
  Finally, he stopped his car on the side of a lonely road, groaning as he squeezed his eyes shut and strained to clear his thoughts. The traffic rushed beside him, sending gusts of wind like whispers into the night sky.
  The space in the car felt stuffy, further clouding his thoughts. He pulled out of the car for some fresh, cold air and he wandered onto the park grass.
  The children’s playground was desolate under the moonlight, dew glistening on the slides and swings. The spring horse with its scratched, painted eyes looked eerie and lifeless in the shadows, swaying a little in the wind.
  He sauntered up to the wooden bench by the barbecue and stepped up onto the seat, sitting down on the damp, uneven tabletop. From there he could see out into the street, where cars and trucks rolled by under the orange street lights. There was not a person to be seen, he was alone.
  Fresh air did him good, after a few minutes of listening to nothing but the traffic and his slow breath, his mind cleared, letting him think.
  He recounted all the strange incidents that had occurred. The biker, the dog, and the girl, they had all seemed so real and so vivid. It was impossible to think of them as just an illusion, but no matter how hard he tried to remember, their face, their appearance, were all hazy, as if they were memories from a dream.
  The screen of his phone lit up and a bell sounded. He saw Chaerin’s name on a message but he switched it off and stuffed it into his pocket without bothering to read it, annoyance showing on his face. He wasn’t in any mood to be talking to anyone, not a single person in the world.
  Yira’s impassive face appeared in his mind and sparked his anger. He didn’t know why he ever liked her in the first place. While he knew it was true that he was weak to pretty faces, he had seen many of them in his life and Yira was no different from the rest. He couldn’t think to why he’d like someone as cold as her, who felt nothing from facing his death.
  And there was the other thought. He was going to die.
  He didn’t know how to react to it, it was a foreign concept. He was young and healthy; the thought of death may as well be just a story to him, but right now he was staring into its abyss.
  He tried to grasp the concept, forcing himself to think of it, but all he could see was black, and cold, uncontrollable fear dawned on him. His heart beat rose and his breathing grew shallow. He sat there for the longest time, trying to calm himself to little avail.
  He didn’t want to die.
  Why did he have to die? For the amusement of some girl with a name he never heard of? How could Yira just sit back and watch it happen? And not even give him one word about it?
  But that was how she was. He knew that already from his time with her. She never said a word of her intentions, never bothered others and never wanting to be bothered.
  His breathing grew calm and the look in his eye changed as he looked up to the sky. It was vast, spreading around him like a sheet of navy blue. Thin smoky clouds veiled the sparkles of an infinite spread of bright, blinking stars.
  Yira didn’t do nothing, he slowly realised. At every attempt on his life, she had been there with him. She called out his name, she held him back, and she steered the wheel. She never just watched.
  Yira hated getting involved, but she went out of her way for him, every time.
  His fingers fumbled on the blue charm hanging from his neck by a string. He had it tucked under his shirt to keep it from being seen. Since he had put it back on, his headaches had subsided.
  “…You have the chance to live if you evade all nine of her attempts…”
  She didn’t say he’d die. She avoided it when he asked.
  She told him that he’d no longer be her concern if he left, but how many times had she said she didn’t care?
  His eyes grew wide and he dropped to his feet, jogging back towards his car. His mind was clear, and his heart was still cautious, but hopeful.
  He steered back into the street and started the long drive back where he’d come. As his car began entering familiar roads with familiar buildings, the dark sky was beginning to recede, gradually being replaced by the weak light of early morning. He wasn’t sure if she’d still be in the shop, but he hoped she was.
  But when he arrived at the front of the store, the walls cold and cool under the pale morning light, she was no longer there.
  He was alone on the empty street where not even a car passed by.
***

  The day was bright and noisy with the cheers of students on the field, proudly supporting their soccer team. Yira wasn’t among them however, as she lay under the swaying shade of a tree, her arms under her head and her eyes shut, as if taking a nap on the warm, sunny day.
  Yoojin sat behind her, quietly wetting her finger and turning the pages of an ancient book. They sat alone behind the school hall, paying little attention to the goings on of the rest of the school.
  Another round of cheers erupted from the field and Yoojin’s ears pricked up. She adjusted her glasses and she turned to peer through the bars of the gate, the leaves and grass crinkling beneath her as she moved. She tapped Yira on the shoulder. “It looks like they’re winning.”
  “They will,” she replied without bothering to open her eyes.
  Yoojin hummed a little disapprovingly under her breath. “Are you sure you don’t want to go out there?”
  “Why?”
  Yoojin sighed. “I guess it’s no fun when you know the end result huh?”
  The wind shuffled the leaves above and a petal fluttered down to the ground. The crowd on the field dispersed, leaving a gap into the scene of the game.
  “Hey, I think one of the players is looking this way,” Yoojin mentioned.
  Yira gave a low, dismissive hum as a response.
  “It’s Kim Taehyung,” Yoojin continued. “I think he’s looking at you!”
  Yira made no reply, appearing as if she were just sleeping, but Yoojin squinted at the field, trying to gain a better view through her glasses.
  Through the crowd, as the team took a break, Taehyung could be seen looking towards the edge of the field as he wiped the sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. From the distance, his expression couldn’t be seen, but the direction of his gaze was definite.
  “Do you think he wants to talk to you?” Yoojin pried.
  “Does it matter?” she murmured.
  “Weren’t you two seen together last week?” she asked. “Why were you two together?”
  Yira sighed and rested her arms on her chest, the branches above casting shadows on her face. “It’s no longer relevant.”
***
  The shopkeeper’s bell tinkled as the door swung open. Resolute footsteps sounded from behind the closed door. Yira sat patiently behind the cloth draped table, her fingers linked beneath her chin and her eyes closed.
  The door opened slowly and the shadow of a person appeared over the table. He parted the bead hangings and Yira opened her eyes, her lips turning up into a bright, courteous smile.
  “Welcome!” she greeted.
  Taehyung frowned. He knew that smile as her classic, customer service smile. It bothered him but he didn’t feel like he was in a position to talk back.
  He stepped forward and stopped behind the chair, the door shutting behind him. The room was dark with only the orange glow of the candles. The air was as thick and hot with the smoke of incense as he remembered. It had been only a week since he had last been here, but the strength of the scent seemed to have been renewed, the potent smell of foreign herbs was suffocating.
  “I want to talk to you,” he said, bringing a hand to cover his mouth and nose.
  “Thirty dollars for a basic reading. Extra charges apply for additional information,” she smiled.
  Taehyung stifled a groan. “Look,” he began. “I’m not here as a customer. I know you said I’m no longer your problem but I really need to talk to you.”
  Her face showed no changed, looking like a person in a painting, but she made no reply either so he continued.
  “I don’t get magic,” he declared. “Or whatever you call what you do. I have trouble accepting that kind of thing, so I guess that was a large part of my reaction. But I can’t deny the evidence, the bird turning into an envelope and everything you’ve done.”
  Yira’s lips remained unchanged but a look in her eye showed something akin to mild amusement.
  “It’s hard to take in when you’re told your part of some elaborate game between a fortune teller and someone who I assume is a sociopath.  And also to be told you’re going to die. I don’t think anyone my age can face that.”
  “I was in shock,” he explained. “I didn’t know how to handle things and I ended up blaming you without thinking it through. But I’ve had time to sort things out now.”
  Yira’s body shifted and her face tilted up, as if intrigued.
  “You said I’m no longer your problem, correct?” he asked, but his eyes were certain and his gaze was strong. “But I don’t believe that. I know you hate getting involved in other people’s problems, so I believe it when you said that you didn’t want to participate in the game willingly. I’m assuming that you’re being dragged along. But I also know that I heard you say that you didn’t care many times, but you showed up to save my life every time I was in danger, even when it would have been difficult for you.”
  “You also avoided saying that I would die,” he added. “You chose to say that I had a chance to live. I think you were being hopeful, which I know is unusual for you.”
  He straightened himself and looked her in the eye. “I’m sorry,” he apologised sincerely. “I reacted badly. But I recognise that I really need your help with this, and I trust you.”
  His posture became a little sheepish as if he felt uncertain. “So, I’m sorry. Can we go back to how things were? I… I uh, really don’t want to die.”
  For a second, it seemed like Yira was just going to brush him off, her posture seemed dismissive and her face apathetic, but she sighed and gestured a hand to the corner.
  “Your chair is still there.”