For the first time in living memory, Park Jiwoon came personally to wake his daughter up.  It was the first time in at least ten years that he’d actually set foot in Jinsu’s room, and it was also just before five in the morning.

Groggily, Jinsu sat up in bed and blinked at him in the eye-wateringly bright light, not at all pleased that he’d thought it was a good idea to turn it on.  Any protest, however, was unintelligible because her brain was hardly awake enough for her to think coherently, let alone put together a reasonable expression of displeasure.  She gave a humongous yawn instead.

“Do be dignified, Jinsu, I can see your tonsils,” he told her as he sat on the bed.  Jinsu tried not to flinch at the way he inadvertently rumpled up her covers.

“S’erfff,” she grumbled, scrubbing a hand through her hair before flopping back down onto the bed and attempting to pull her duvet up over her head.  It was impossible with somebody twice her weight sitting on it.

“I wanted to talk to you about your trip on the Attayear,” he said.  “We need to make sure everything runs smoothly.”

There was a pause as he waited for her to respond.  It took Jinsu a good while to do so.

“Dad, it’s early.  Go away.  Trying to sleep.”  It was about all she could manage.

He gave something that was halfway between a snort and a sigh.  “You will need to be out at the warehouse by half past eight and you haven’t even packed.  I should have asked your maid to do it last night while we were out.”

The prospect of Saeeun packing for her to go away for a week made Jinsu wince.  The girl definitely had an eye for tasteful clothing, and that much couldn’t be denied, but there was a vast difference between tasteful clothes Saeeun would be comfortable wearing and clothes that Jinsu would be comfortable wearing, and Jinsu got the impression that Saeeun lived vicariously through Jinsu wearing things in her closet that she would never have picked out herself.  Especially when it came to high-heeled shoes.

“You missed the briefing last night because you were needed for other things,” her father went on, “but you will be on the Attayear for a week, and you’ll be both my representative – and company representative – and the representative of the Institute, since you now hold the position of youth ambassador.  I’ve been in discussion with the National Institute of Archaeology as well as the Education minister and the president since the Attayear was completed and we decided that the most interesting time period to send you back to would be during the Balhae dynasty.”

Jinsu let out another massive yawn.  “But that’s in modern-day North Korea.  And China.  And China will flip. . . be unhappy.”

“Exactly,” said her father.  “The historians of this country and the world in general can barely get at Balhae and only have research and artifacts that was done before the war and moved away from the North, so this would be a prime occasion to actually go in and get some first-hand experience and knowledge of the times.”

That interested Jinsu enough for her to prop herself up a little and open her eyes properly.  She stifled another yawn.  History was about the only non-scientific subject that she really enjoyed and this was a period of time that genuinely would be fascinating to go back to.

“It would be nice – really nice – if you could bring back some souvenirs.  The others were given strict instructions during the briefing that they were to leave everything as it was, to blend in and then to leave – touch nothing, alter nothing, change nothing – because we don’t know what kind of effects it’ll have on the future.  That said, we think that if you dress like a local, you should be able to trade for souvenirs.  I’ve left some things downstairs for you to collect in my study.  But one thing is very important.”

Jinsu held back yet another yawn, blinking in an attempt to convey her interest.

“You’ve got to be the one who actually brings it back and presents it.  Or at the very least, make sure that the one who does it isn’t Byun Baekhyun.  I’m not having him stealing our thunder like that.”

Too sleepy to give a verbal response still, Jinsu nodded.

It was another hour and a half before he left, after inundating Jinsu with instructions she was never going to remember, but she did process the fuzzy feeling of warmth when he looked down at her just before he left and said, “You look shattered.  You should rest a bit more.”  He’d even given her a rather awkward pat on the shoulder.

When she woke up, Jinsu found herself wondering if it was really real.  She was still tired, and was about ready to hit snooze on her alarm clock and roll over to go back to sleep again when her bedroom door burst open and her brother barrelled in.

“Jiiiiiiiiinsuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!” he yelled, dive-bombing onto her bed.  Thoroughly squished, Jinsu squeezed and flailed.

“Jimin!  Get off!  What did I ever do to you?”

He responded by practically smothering her.  “You have the makings of greatness!” he shouted in her ear.  “But you have to take the helm and chart your own course!  You’re gonna be the only girl on the Attayear, Jinsu, and since I’m not coming with you, now’s my chance to be suuuuuuuper over-protective of my little sis!”

“Jimin!” Jinsu whined, thrashing her feet in protest.  “It’s too early for you to be butchering Treasure Planet!”

He placed a large smooch on her nose.  With a shriek, Jinsu attempted to whack her head back through her pillow and out of the way.  Cackling with glee, her big brother sat up and scooted out of her reach.  Jinsu glared at him.

“How on earth are you twenty-six?” she demanded.

“You need to get up and pack,” he told her.  “We’re leaving in half an hour.”

“Half an hour?”

“Just kidding.  You have a full hour.  Chop chop!”

Awake and panicking, Jinsu shot out of bed.  Jimin, being the wonderfully helpful big brother he was, disappeared and left her to it.

Forty-five minutes later, with a holdall packed for the week, complete with medical supplies and toiletries, Jinsu was downstairs in clothes she was pretty certain Saeeun would have approved of.  Mrs Kwon raised an eyebrow at the mildly distressed grey skinny jeans and the fluffy jumper she’d pulled over the top of them and kept dragging down to mid-thigh, but Jimin started it like she was some kind of pet bunny.  Jinsu scooted further down the table and looked at the large plate of bacon and fried eggs in front of her brother.

“These are for you,” he announced, shoving them towards her.  Jinsu looked from the plate to her brother in alarm.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin assured her.  “Jimin’s been teaching me how to cook.  They aren’t poisonous.”

Still wary, Jinsu took a tentative bite.  Concluding that he was telling the truth, she proceeded to scoff the rest.

“Well, I’m gonna put your stuff in the car,” Jimin announced.  “See you out front in ten?”

Still with full of egg, Jinsu agreed, and her brother left the table.

Ten minutes later, Jinsu was almost out at the front door when she remembered her father saying he’d left stuff for her in his office, and she doubled back to see what it could possibly be.  He thankfully wasn’t in the room when Jinsu entered it, meaning that he’d gone to the company offices for the day, or possibly to handle the press for the Attayear’s launch.  However, it wasn’t too hard to find what he’d intended for her.

The first thing that caught her eye were the clothes neatly piled on his desk.  Bright silks and rougher-spun cloth in less vibrant colours were piled almost three feet high, as though her father expected her to change her outfits every two or three hours while she was back in the past.

Then her eye fell to the leather sack resting against the desk with a smart luggage tag attached to its top with her name written on it.  Jinsu bent to pick it up, but quickly released it, surprised at its weight.  Curious, she looked inside, and her jaw dropped.

It was full of ancient coins and gold bars.  Jinsu had absolutely no idea how her father had got hold of them, though she knew he was rich enough to splash out on something like this, but the mere thought of him actually lavishing this much money on her was mind-blowing.  The other question was whether the ancient coins – so well polished they glinted in the study’s artificial light – had been requisitioned from a museum that had a hoard of them, or whether Park Jiwoon had somehow persuaded the mint to run a massive bunch of them off.  Either was perfectly plausible, knowing her father.

Deciding it wasn’t something worth worrying about, Jinsu heaved the sack up onto her shoulder and reached out with the other hand to grab the clothes.  Feeling like a rather inept thief and barely able to see where she was going, and made her way out of the room and to the front door, where Jimin was waiting rather anxiously for her.  He took the clothes from her, calling back into the house for Mrs Kwon to bring another bag or suitcase for some kind, and told Jinsu to put the sack in the car and get in, which she did.  When Mrs Kwon bustled up with another suitcase, Jimin stuffed the clothes into it and all but chucked it in the boot before getting into the driver’s seat.

“I thought you were packed,” he grumped as he started the car up.

“I forgot Dad said he’d left me stuff in the office.”

“Oh.”

Jinsu settled back in her seat.  “He’s given me enough gold for me to be a millionaire in Balhae and enough clothing for me to stay there for a year.  I didn’t realise he hated the Byun family so much and was still fussed about making digs at them publically.”

Jimin gave a sort of grunt, and there was silence for the rest of the journey.

Finding a space in the carpark by the Attayear warehouse was like trying to catch mercury.  Numerous cars were parked illegally as the place was overflowing, and there were people everywhere.  Jinsu recognised a few faces from the previous night – a number of the students were obviously there with friends and family – and reporters and general members of the public were swarming all over the place.  Pursing his lips, Jimin came to a halt behind a car that was also hovering in a vain attempt to find somewhere to park, and he cut the engine.

“I suggest you go out and I’ll join you with your stuff in a bit,” he said.  “Though. . .”  He side-eyed her.  “God, Jinsu, Dad is going to freak if you appear on TV looking like that.  It’s far too casual.”

“What?”  Blankly, Jinsu pushed down the hem of her fluffy jumper with the palms of her heels.  “What’s the problem with looking casual?”

“You’re going on national TV and you actually look your age.  Seriously, Jin—”

“I’m sure I can sneak round the reporters if I don’t have to carry my stuff.”

There was a very pregnant silence.  It looked like Jimin was chewing the inside of his cheek.

“Jinsu,” he began slowly.  “Did Dad not tell you that you’re being interviewed on his behalf as part of the production team of the Attayear as he can’t be here, and as the national representative of science?”

“No,” Jinsu responded automatically before correcting herself, a frown beginning to form.  “I mean, he might have done, but I don’t remember.  It was way too early in the morning and I more or less thought I’d dreamt him coming into my room because he hasn’t done it since he sent you away to the States ten years ago.”

Jimin mumbled a swear word under his breath and let out a heavy sigh.  “Have you packed anything smart?  Or anything that would make you look like a business woman?  Or a dress?”

“Didn’t really think I’d need them.”

“Okay.  It’s okay, Jimin, we can sort this out.”  Mumbling what sounded like a pep talk to himself, he reached for his phone.  Curious as to who he was dialing, Jinsu craned her neck to see, but he already had his phone up by his ear.

“Jimin, we need help.”

The sight of Girlfriend-Jimin roaring up on a superbike in full leathers was surprisingly enough to distract the press from the excitement of the time machine for a good few minutes.  Jinsu wasn’t totally sure how Girlfriend-Jimin managed to get them away because reporters were smushed up against the windows of the car and her brother had got out to greet his girlfriend.  Not that long later, Girlfriend-Ji