“Can we talk? There’s a load of things to discuss. Over noodles, maybe. Seafood noodles?” Nayoung’s voice, however muffled by the line, is clear over the phone. Her points are just as crystal clear. Meeting. The two of them. Discussion. Face to face, voice to voice, probably over steaming bowls of noodles somewhere in a secluded eatery in the secluded corner of the part of Jeju they’re staying in. Nayoung said it in such a level way that Sejeong had to compute in all her light-headedness glory.

Sejeong fights a yawn and dry-swallows it back and rolls to her side, facing away from Chungha’s light snores.

Then, a train of thoughts curveballs itself into her less hazier mind, and the memory plays itself in a mocking manner – the night before, the showdown at the rooftop, then the obscene scenes of her trying to force herself onto Nayoung, who was actually just Suhyun. Sejeong feels the sudden impulse to turn to the noose. “N, no.”

“What? Why?” Nayoung’s outcry attacks her auditory sense. It stings against her steaming, reddening ear.

The sheet rustles, notifying her of Chungha’s movement. Sejeong sounds a shush into the speaker. “Not so loud… I just woke up all sore.”

“You’ve already got plans for the day?”

She doesn’t, but the school should’ve gotten her a long list of plans for the day and she has to play by the schedule. She’s here on a school trip, not a personally paid vacation. “Aren’t we gonna do a… uh… a tour around the shores… or something? Wait, what time is it again?”

“Ohhh, no, the tour’s cancelled. Or delayed till the next day. I think they’re gonna prolong our stay here, probably by a day.”

“Delayed. Why?” She adds a cough, throat feeling flaky after a quarter-night of disuse.

“I think the teachers are investigating the matter right now. They’ve probably got Jieqiong hostage for a day-long interrogation. I feel for the gal, but they gotta do something before the entire incident hits the papers… the headline might get too wild if they don’t do something about it. People will panic. Chaos.”

“Oh… okay. My prayers are with her.”

“She isn’t dead, geez. You’re too out of it – don’t forget to grab some breakfast in the restaurant. You know, left turn from the hall. We all had our shares already but they might have some left for those who slept in… and believe me, quite a number slept in.”

“Yes. Well, we’re all tired.”

“Tired. You sound… clouded.”

But she doesn’t think Nayoung understands. Nayoung wasn’t the one who jumped on a friend with the intention to bone them in the open. And Nayoung hit the bullest bullseye, she feels clouded, cumulonimbus, the enormity of it, crowding around her mind. Suffocating it with thoughts of Nayoung beneath her fingertips, Nayoung under her mercy, Nayoung.

Or… not Nayoung, Suhyun isn’t Nayoung, but at least she looked the part.

She immediately thunders into the speaker, “I think I need to catch some more z’s,” and promptly regrets it the moment she locks eyes with Chungha’s half-lidded ones, eyeing her in confusion. Sejeong mouths her a “good morning”, even though she knows Chungha’s morning eyes won’t catch it.

“Fine. Good night.”

“Yes, b, be seeing you later.”

Nayoung groans into the speaker and Sejeong ends the call prematurely. Her eyes find their home at Chungha’s.

“Rise and shine,” her girlfriend’s voice is roughened by the sleep, her matte lips notably dried.

Sejeong suppresses the urge to kiss the withering lips back to life. “No shine, it’s rainy inside my head. With a dash of flashes and thunders.”

Chungha rolls to her side and when she shuffles closer, Sejeong replies by shuffling closer, until they’re a hook of an arm away from a cuddle. Smile lowered, Chungha says, “I wish I could help.”

“There’s nothing for you to…”

“You’re onto something, aren’t you?” Chungha questions, the kind of question that doesn’t demand an answer. “You, Heehyun, Kim Nayoung. Maybe some others, I don’t know, I don’t want to name the wrong people.”

“It’s nothing, really,”

This time, she speaks slower, like she’s handling something fragile. “No, don’t worry, I won’t pry unless you okayed me to. It’s just that,”

Chungha leaves the last word hanging and Sejeong quirks her brows, but before she could fire off a cue for Chungha to continue, she feels Chungha’s arm pulling her closer in, close enough until Chungha clouds her morning.

“It’s just that… I want you to know that I’m here, in case you need someone to fall back on.”

“I know,” and Sejeong’s telling the truth; sweet, honest, honorable, loyal, devoted Chungha is always there, unmoving, and Sejeong knows there might be a time where she’d finally let Chungha cushion her fall. But not now. Not when the world is still teetering between normalcy and madness, tipping to both sides every so often. Last night was a huge rumble, but not enough to throw it off balance. Another quake might follow soon enough, though.

One day, maybe, she will tell Chungha – not just about the shadow lurking underneath, but also of how present day Kim Sejeong came to be. The entire history, all the ugly bits included.

Before silence could occupy the space between them, Sejeong shoos it away with a, “They cancelled the scheds and we’re all freed the whole day. You, me, the mall nearby.”

“Understood, sunshine.” And in a whirl, Chungha is hovering on top of her, stamping a feather-light kiss on her forehead, and giggles a crisp laugh into her hair. Sejeong smiles against the humming throat, kisses the buzz equally lightly, and feels warm blood rustling underneath her cheeks.
 

If glares could kill, then Nayoung would’ve cold-bloodedly murdered her own phone, with her own self as the one held accountable.  “She—she hung up on me! That witch!”

Heehyun and Chaeyeon merely shoot her a look that translates to a “shut up” with an imperative period at the end. Heehyun, still with the look, then commands, “C’mon, break it.”

The fifteen pool balls are already racked up on the table, the triangle used to rack the balls now discarded away to the table beside them.

Still a couple of hours away from the high noon, the pool lounge is unsurprisingly still deserted, though when they first stepped their foot into the place, Nayoung expected clusters of skipping high-schoolers to occupy two tables, though their boisterous laughter would occupy the whole lounge.  Chaeyeon was elated, Heehyun quickly jazzed in and made a beeline for the sleekest table.

The two asked Nayoung out for an exclusive outing sometime in the morning, which she accepted without another thought, because she knew Heehyun going out of her way to take her on a date means there are certain topics they will discuss during the three-way date.

With the cue ball placed legally behind the head string – in the kitchen – Nayoung manhandles her cue stick and breaks the triangle into shambles, the cue ball launching all the solids and stripes to various directions.

“No balls pocketed,” Chaeyeon announces from Heehyun’s side, acting as Heehyun’s aide, “no wonder Heehyun proposed 8-balls instead of a talk over bubble drinks. You .”

Nayoung unfolds herself from the position and her shoulders sag at the bad opening. “Gimme a break! I’m still sore all over, it’s been a while since I almost died!”

The clicking sound of the cue tip hitting the ball steals Nayoung’s attention, and before her is Heehyun pocketing two stripes with a smug grin she itches to wipe off her face. Heehyun pulls herself back to her full height, readying herself for another clean shot, and makes a show of wiping imaginary sweats off her forehead. Chaeyeon laughs to the tune of some ‘30s swing playing from the lounge’s speakers. Nayoung feels something sliding in her stomach – it’s her breakfast reacting to her impending loss.

“Remember, Naongie,” Heehyun wags a finger from across the table, “loser buys the queenies lunch.”

“Yes, m’lady.”

Chaeyeon’s giggles come into a stop and she shoots a playful question, “Why are you so easy to push around?”

The question catches her a tiny bit off guard. It takes her half a min to conjure an answer. “I mean, I at everything that isn’t losing…”

“You’re a pushover and you’re Kim Youngbum’s daughter,” Heehyun muses, an arm stretched out to inform Nayoung that the turn is hers, “you’re like, two things I loathe rolled into one.”

Oh, how her ears perked up at the name. “Don’t associate me with my father. Or anyone from my family, for the matter.” Nayoung finds herself pocketing a solid. Maybe the fury-induced cue stick did the trick. “Well? You guys didn’t just ask me out for a game of 8-balls, right? We don’t even talk that much in class.”

Chaeyeon, palms flat on the table, leans slightly forward in a way that suggests that the topic’s something light. But Nayoung knows better. Heehyun and Chaeyeon aren’t just classmates – there’s Ki Heehyun who was a subject among many others under the cruel adult’s play from the years back. There’s Jung Chaeyeon, daughter of the man who invested the most in said sinfest.

And then there’s Kim Nayoung, a black rook among the fallen pieces.
 

Mina pops her head into the room she shares with Hyeyeon one last time. “You sure you don’t wanna join us?”

Hyeyeon isn’t even bothered enough to look up from her laptop. “Nope, I got something better to do.”

She never expected Hyeyeon to agree, still, she huffs and pulls her head from the halfway closing door. “’Kay, that was the last call. Your loss. Have run rotting there!”

Mina closes the door with a harsher huff and turns back to the hallway, abuzz with chattering of her fellow classmates standing around in a flock. Doyeon gains her attention when the taller girl gives her a nudge. “She’s staying in?”

“Yup,”

Then, Somi half-shouts at her, distance three people away from her spot, “Class rep isn’t coming?”

Mina waves back to notify Somi of Hyeyeon’s decision and the latter nods as an affirmation, then goes back to the loud four-way chat she has with her circle.

With the tour schedule cleared and the day officially theirs to spend accordingly, her classmates band together for a “bonding”, an impromptu tour of their own… probably around the mall. The weather is way too clear for a pack of heroes-in-training that just want to take a break from excessive sweating, come noon and the sun would probably melt bones. Today is a day where they squeeze as much fun and calories before going back to their cutthroat routines.

Yeonjung’s eyes linger at the door separating the lively hallway from the dead silent room Mina shares with the class rep. “What’s keeping her cooped up in there? It’s a sunny day outside…”

Doyeon answers for her, “Unlike us fresh blood young’uns, the gal’s always loaded with secret agendas. Mina probably has zero idea either.” Then, the lanky beauty has her limbs spider all over Mina. “Right?”

Her hunch tells her that Hyeyeon’s investigating the recent series of incidents. Part of her wants to stay back and forces herself into Hyeyeon’s little bubble, but Yeonjung pleaded her to join the bonding trip, and while she could turn Doyeon down without any remorse whatsoever, Yeonjung’s puppy eyes are her Achilles Heel.

Or maybe, she’s just doing some class rep duties that’s confidential to all the non-class-reps. “Uh-huh. I’m drawing blanks.”

All eyes are then redirected at Somi, who’s cutting through the flock in reminiscence of Moses when he crossed the red sea. She adds a clapping even though she has stolen pretty much everyone’s attention, including the cleaning service woman at the corner. “Alright girls, decide our stop later, now we gotta move it before it gets too grilling outside! Chop chop!”

The shepherd has spoken. The sheeps are put into motion. Mina, the black sheep, moves along with a grumble. Doyeon then makes fun of the way Somi speed-walks and earns muted laughter from both her and Yeonjung, but Doyeon’s show is put to an abrupt stop the moment Yoojung pops up from behind her.

“Mind if I guest the trio today?” Yoojung asks skipping lightly just beside Doyeon.

Is a “no” even possible for this kind of question? Doyeon volunteers to hum an approval for Yoojung, which nets her a comical thumbs up from the vertically-challenged girl.

Exiting the hotel with their trio now getting a plus one, something clicks in Mina’s head. “Hey, you guys shared the same room, right?”

“Yeeeees,” the way Doyeon drags her word implies that she knows the direction Mina’s heading.

“Did you guys, like, do things, cause, you know, last night—“

Yoojung skips a little to the front and chirps in, “No ‘cause I was a hundred percent sober and I kicked Doyeon across the room!”

Mina sounds an audible gasp and Doyeon cuts the conversation short with a dramatic, whipped finger snap, “Ladies, don’t be so insufferable so early in the morning and leave the details alone.”

“So you got affected!”

Doyeon hops onto the bus first with a firm “no”, followed by a cackling Yoojung, then a mildly laughing Yeonjung, then Mina thinks.

She thinks of Doyeon. Then, Doyeon and Yoojung. Lastly, there’s Yeonjung.

She hops onto the bus at last and scans for the other two in the trio and the plus one. Doyeon’s snug beside Yoojung, and in front of her, is Yeonjung waving at her with a seat beside her reserved.

Then, she thanks god for making her settle on the bonding trip instead of staying back with Hyeyeon. High school love triangle. Terrific.
 

Hand in hand, she and Chungha waltz into the nearby mall with no particular destination in mind. What greets them is the many familiar faces of their own schoolmates, girls and guys alike, all of them trying to spend the day as indoor as possible. She heaves a relieved sigh at the contact of the air conditioning, and Chungha chuckles, but not necessarily in a mocking way.

“So,” Sejeong’s fingers travel up to just below Chungha’s slightly bent elbow and settles there, “do we just walk around ‘till we’re struck with an idea, or?”

“I’m up for anything. You make every walk a fun time, but you didn’t hear that from me.” Chungha adds a smile and Sejeong feels spasms in response.

Months into dating Chungha, she’s still not used to how charming Chungha can be. “I make every walk a fun time,” she parrots, her tone sounding like a musing, “how so?”

They round a corner, and Chungha points to a store three stores away from them. Sejeong’s knee-jerk response is a low “ohhhh” as her brows raise at the lingerie store dominated by the color black and red. Classy. Sejeong leans to the side, invading Chungha’s already much minimized privacy. “What are you hinting at, hm?”

“No,” Chungha’s no is almost too immediate, “no no no, it’s not the lingerie. Or the skimpy whatever displayed. Or the pretty lady doing the by-foot promotion outside.”

Sejeong pinches the tight skin around Chungha’s elbow lightly and takes in enjoyment from seeing the way her girlfriend’s cheeks are dyed a slight pink. “Mm-hmm.”

Chungha seems to have found her voice back fast, “No, but, you know how to make even the dreariest walk fun with your quips, jokes, teasing, anything—you’re a splendid talker. I think this is the umpteenth time I told you that.”

They’re currently two stores away from the lingerie store, so they’re still morally correct to talk about it before they get into the promoter’s earshot. Sejeong eggs her on, “You want me to talk about lingerie?”

“I want you to talk about anything,” and Chungha smiles at her, and her smile spells out honesty, and it wipes Sejeong’s smug grin off in one clean swipe, “anything, everything, the mic’s yours. You’re a fantastic listener, but damn you’re magical at… wordsmithing? I miss listening to you go on about something,” and in a different breath, Chungha finishes, “I miss us.”

Past the lingerie store and the -dropping employee, Sejeong’s finally done smithing words. “Sorry for not being around lately,”

“It’s okay, I get that. You have a mountain load of things to deal with.” Chungha stops in her track and Sejeong follows suit, but she hasn’t been really paying attention in anything but the thoughts unraveling in her mind. So when she looks up, before them is the mall’s indoor ice-skating dome. Then Chungha leans closer into her side, and her breath is nectar vaporized against Sejeong’s ear, “I hope you don’t mind a round of therapeutic ice-skating?”
 

Somi wanted arcade, and it pricked Mina how everyone suddenly wanted arcade also. Not that Mina has a choice in mind, and she knows the mall’s arcade isn’t the cockroach-laden underground arcade with Street Fighter machines from the later 80’s. Her thought is summarized in a sugar-coated manner by Yoojung (who’s still tagging along with their trio, much to Mina’s growing curiosity), “Somi’s charisma is out of the world.”

Doyeon responds with a flair of dramatization, “People are cattle. Follow the herd,” before whopping a score by paddling the puck into an unpredictable long arc. The air hockey table lets out a sharp ping indicating a score followed by Doyeon and Yoojung’s loud cheers. Then, Doyeon adds a boast as the cherry on top, “An electric shot, as promised,” and finishes the boast making an “okay” finger gesture and kissing it like she’s some kind of five starred French sous chef.

Mina suppresses the urge to slam the low-friction table, refusing to eye the scoreboard and the stark difference between the two teams.

Yeonjung nudges her side, “Um, you know, we’re both at this anyway and it’s not like you’re going to win this round. Neither am I gonna win my round. So what got you so fired up?”

“Dunno,”

Her teammate then lowers her voice even though no one would listen in anyway – especially the opposing team, “Mina you sound like you’re menstruating!”

Instead of replying to Yeonjung, she eyes the way Doyeon’s so dogged for Yoojung. It’s definitely not jealousy. Denial is still just a river in Egypt. Her eyes wander to Yeonjung’s side-profile and her diluted gaze at the merry pair on the opposing side. Well.

Mina tries an easy serve to start the game.

Doyeon counters with a hard smash. Mina could swear she saw sparks along the puck’s trail.

The ping resounds, notifying them of another goal made, and the opposing team does a round of practiced hi-fives combo. Mina’s scrunched expression feigns annoyance, in truth, she’s furious. Doyeon’s killing smash did smash all her buttons. “What the hell is up with you?!”

Stopped mid-gait, Doyeon’s eyes widen, visibly taken aback by her explosive remark, “Uhh, what?”

“Stop playing like this is some kinda life and death crap! It’s just air hockey for Pete’s sake!” Mina makes sure to end her veins-popped rant by lessening the shout, “What the hell is up with you?”

Her question twists Doyeon’s confusion into that of angry contortion. Her lips part, fire hanging at the tip of her tongue, but she’s interrupted by Somi’s shout from the corner housing dance arcade machines.

“Yoojung! C’mere! Beat Haeyoung and save us from miseryyyyy!”

Yoojung signals a quick hand gesture to Somi, then turns to the three of them. “I’m gonna tell her I’ll be here to finish this game first. Will be back quick!”

As Yoojung scurries far enough for Mina to make sure she won’t catch even the slightest whiff of their conversation, she drops the question, releasing it of its self-restraint manacles, “Trying to impress much?”

Doyeon’s now sharpened into focus. Maybe because Yoojung is no longer a present witness. “I think you’ve gotten, like, the wrongest idea.”

“Really,”

“Mina, the word wrongest doesn’t even exist. You know the severity. I made the word for you just now so you can tell how wro—“

“Oh c’mon, I may be an idiot but I wouldn’t miss the way you got all energized and crap the moment Yoojung started yapping about Somi’s electric smashes!”

“Can’t let a girl enjoy a good ‘ol competitive game of air hockey don’tcha?!”

Mina slams a smashing palm against the low-friction table. “My point is you’re such a tryhard it grates! That ‘electric’—oh, cringe—smash was just you trying to outbest Somi in her eyes right down to the electric pat!”

Doyeon counters with an part accusing, mostly taunting finger, “You were just shocked you got curb-stomped by me. Plug the pettiness out and talk to me when you’re all wired to the usual Mina.” She makes a shooing gesture, fanning Mina’s flame further. “Shoo. Give it up, five, I’m the ten here.”

“Yoojung’s entire existence turned you into a fricking jock!”

A smidge electrified, mostly furious, Doyeon clicks her tongue. “Okay that ruffled my fur.”

She can feel Yeonjung panicking beside her, but she has prodded too far to back down. Her fist grabs the air hockey mallet out of reflex. “Oooh, bullsye!”

Doyeon is practically dyed red when Mina snort-laughs. In a voice louder than before, she counters, “Laugh while you can, Legolas, I’m not letting you off for calling me a jock!”

Mina turns to Yeonjung the moment the latter wraps her arms around hers, face blanketed by worry, “Um, Mina, I think you’re really kinda out of it, so, uh, calm down, okay?”

She knows she’s been out of it since the morning. She isn’t sure why, but then she sees Yeonjung, then her eyes glaze over to Yoojung, who’s back by Doyeon’s side, then her eyes gravitate back to Yeonjung, by her side.

Maybe she isn’t angry at anyone in particular. It’s different from the time she’s urged to strangle Somi alive when she gets too much to handle in classes.

Maybe she has grown overprotective of their little bubble with the exclusive capacity of three people.

She needs to let off some steam.

With the puck at her side of the field, Mina paddles it one last time towards Doyeon’s side. The action turns out to be a mistake; with her emotions experiencing a violent turmoil, her self-restraint’s been ebbed by all the shouting. She had unknowingly infused her Pollux manifest power into her paddling, and as the result, the puck launches itself lightning fast, past Doyeon and all the unfortunate souls witnessing its meteor-drive up close, and clogs itself into the wall a meter behind – but not without scalding half of its width.

The eyes are on hers. Yeonjung’s gasp is inaudible.

Mina goes, “O-oops,”

Then, Yeonjung half-shrieks at Doyeon, “Doyeon copy my power quick!” before she grabs Mina by the hand and vanishes out of the public’s eye, cloaked by her invisibility power. Doyeon and Yoojung disappear not even a second after. They flee the crime scene.

--

Skating shoes propped on, Chungha dives in first into the rink. Right now they’ve relocated themselves into the winter-decorated skating mini-dome, minus the man-made snow and the bone-needling temperature.

An arm stretched towards her, Chungha looks like she’d be a better fit for a ballroom than a skating rink. “I’ll lead,”

There’s a plethora of things Chungha has yet to know about her. Like, the fact that she’s actually a much more proficient skater than Chungha. Not to discredit Chungha, a prodigy at everything sporty, and enough of a hard-worker to turn the talent into a respectable skill, but in Sejeong’s case, she’s a capable skater without all the talent, much less the hard work.

She accepts Chungha’s hand and settles on a small park, launching herself to Chungha, making the shorter girl tumble a bit as she hurriedly balance the both of them. Then, perhaps picking up on Sejeong’s ease, “So… you skate,”

A recount of her childhood doesn’t suit the merry atmosphere of weekend ice skating. “Only occasionally.”

One day, she will tell Chungha everything. Her childhood. The isolated sanctum of children broken inside out. Adults in white lab coat, coat adorned with visible patches of tears (not theirs, never theirs). She will do the recount for hours, preferably with the two of them sprawled on bed as the story would tire her. She will tell Chungha from start to finish, from the moment she wakes up realizing she’s cities away from home, to the time she was designed into a child soldier. Then she will force herself to shoulder through to the part where she was wired a varying lots of bite-sized information, kilobytes of warring knowledge, martial arts technique, practical skills that might come in handy. It’s no surprise that she and the other surviving subjects would crop out to be among the top in classes. Only a handful knows the why’s, and the number will stay the same, as the subjects are way too burdened for a mass retelling of these dark days, and the witnesses will remain mute as the stories were never theirs.

She will tell Chungha once everything’s settled. For now, she focuses on the way Chungha flutters on the ice, movement sharp but somehow swan-like. Chungha performs a spin and unknowingly steals attentions. Sejeong’s sure she is no longer her sole audience.

Then Chungha turns to her, all teethy smile and unblemished vigor. And here comes the dilemma – that’s the thing about not telling Chungha everything, because she doesn’t have the heart to stain her. To her, Chungha is a reminiscence of youth she isn’t allowed to have.

The train of thoughts pools into a guilt as she considers Chungha an illusion, never really attainable.
 

“… and that’s all I know,” Nayoung finishes with her side of the story, “that’s it, really. I have no real leads nor ideas of the big agenda and you’ve me dry.”

Her long-winded overview gains an approving hum from Chaeyeon and a dipping mull-hum from Heehyun.

Silence encircles them, the wary kind of silence. The suspense takes the form a spool, ever-threading as the seconds beget into a full minute.

Chaeyeon’s voice is soft and easy in contrast to the topic at hand, “We knew as much except the bit about the stunt you pulled on the student council. So Mr. Kim Wonshik really does make patent drugs!”

Nayoung makes out a sheepish chuckle at the fond memory of her getting chased by intoxicated fools who craved for a piece of her. That was the only time where she was legit desirable! What came out of it was worth the scratch marks all over her body too. The confidential information regarding the victims involved during Jang Geunsuk’s incident, along with Jang Geunseuk’s own report, was stored there. The first time she glazed over the reports, it made her wonder whether the student council knew more than they let on, or whether they were simply doggedly given the reports.

“This piece of info gives another dimension to the pres, don’t you think?” Chaeyeon turns to Heehyun, who’s pulling herself back to her full height after pocketing another ball. After two others.

Nayoung inhales the scent of her impending loss.

Heehyun pipes in after another second of mulling, “Never pegged her as completely innocent anyway. It’s all in the hunch.”

“You trust hunches?”

Heehyun’s smile leans more to the left. “My hunches, Nayoung. Instinct. They’re usually spot-on.”

Boy, what a pet dog. But Nayoung keeps that to herself.

“So,” Heehyun taps an idle foot, “According to the report, Jang Geunseuk and the first years weren’t kept away from the academy for medical reasons.”

“There was no hospital in the area they were supposed to be in, according to the file.” Nayoung’s eyes wander to the ceiling, counting the damp patches as she remembers the details. “But a quick research notified me of an MNet building nearby. Shady enough?”

Heehyun shoots her a sharp look and a click of tongue. “Building, like, some sorta secret batcave hideout or,”

“No, but like, an adequately sized company with MNet owning a fair share of its shares.” Nayoung glances towards the counter, finding the man behind it fiddling with his phone, half-lidded eyes the evidence of a disinterest. “The place is pretty much their territory. They’ve got influences in the area. The town’s major has ties with the company.”

Chaeyeon shares a look with Heehyun first before asking, “Nayoung? Where’d you get all of these infos from?”

“You familiar with Shin Bora? She’s my brother’s fiancée and I’m friends with her. My bastards of parents won’t rope Taekwoon into a marriage unless it’s political.”

 Chaeyeon goes silent, lips pursed, Nayoung nails it as the girl processing what she’s gotten from her. And Nayoung leaves her to her own bubble. Unlike Heehyun, who pops it abruptly as she heaves a shouted groan with her head hung up.

“Nayoung, listen up,” Heehyun starts, “I hate you. I really, really despise you, and not just you. Your entire family.”

“Gee, newsflash…”

The door to the pool lounge opens and hits the bell into chiming, notifying the owner of another patron. Nayoung scans the man from top to bottom out of wariness. Baseball cap, head hung low, face mostly obscured. He approaches the counter, says something to the employee that earns him a nod, then strides from one table to another while occasionally bending his body to look under the table. Like he’s looking for something.

Nayoung chooses to brush him off. “Okay. Carry on with the hate speech.”

“Alright. Yes. I hate y’all so much I fantasize about taking my sweet revenge on you guys. I hold grudges. Your pops are the bastards behind that project and I loathe them for ruining my life and others’. You’re their privileged kid with no power whatsoever but managed to get your into this school, and I ing hate you because—I have to.”

And she doesn’t blame Heehyun per se.

“But right now I’m throwing that aside cause we need to crack this together. Me and Chaeyeon, and you.” Heehyun’s voice is resolute. “Nayoung—Kwangsoo’s up and about and the last time he was out in the open, he went behind the govts and kick-started that damn project with his cult’s henchmen. And—“

Nayoung opens to ask why Heehyun abruptly went quiet and realized that the man’s checking the table behind her. Chaeyeon tries to cover them up with a talk about a cozy café across the hotel they’re staying in and Heehyun plays along.

When the man has passed by, Heehyun continues, “—and we can’t trust the govt. Not the school either. It’s owned by those dogs.”

Nayoung swallows the bile rising in . “Then who are our allies?”

Heehyun shrugs. “Not much, but,” and sticks a thumb to Chaeyeon’s direction, “rest assured, we’ve got a Jung on our side.”

“I’m doing this for Heehyun. I’ve got debts to repay.”

“Aw, Chaeyeon, sweet of you but I wish you could just repay me back in cash with some interests on top,”

Nayoung’s focus wavers and she turns to the employee, who asks the ball-capped man, “You found your stuff?”

The man waves a hand back dismissively before scurrying out of the lounge. The bell chimes along with his leave. The door clicks shut. The employee goes back to minding his own business.

Chaeyeon’s suddenly the one with the stick and she pockets the 8-ball with an ease that leans towards practiced. Standing beside Heehyun, she has a partly smug, mostly cute, smile donned on. “How does chicken wings sound, Nayoung?”

The loser has to treat the winner lunch, or, in this case, plural winners. “Sounds ka-chink.”

Heehyun and Chaeyeon do a double hi-five and Nayoung retreats from the table to the less rowdier counter. The employee looks up from his phone, eyes three-fourth-lidded, and Nayoung is determined to make it quick in order to not being too much of a bother, but at the same time, she doesn’t trust lounge food enough, meaning she has to ask how many pieces will one menu of chicken wings hold. Some call it housewife-like trust issues, she calls it an attempt to not get fobbed off.

“Uh, what’s your menu for wings… um, wait lemme check my wallet first. Hope you accept credit card though, I haven’t been on an ATM run since forever. Busy life.” Nayoung adds a cracked chuckle to caramel the situation by a miniscule even when the employee deadpans back on her. She speeds things up by hurriedly reaching out for her jeans’ back pocket, fishing for her wallet. She finds nothing.

Her other back pocket gives her the same negative result.

“Ohhhhh wait,” her eyes frantically flee from one corner to another. She bends low, ducks lower, mumbling oh under her breath. Then, she throws a forced smile at Heehyun and Chaeyeon’s curiously angled brows. “Um, guys, remember that shady man with the Yankee ball cap? Damn, Yankee isn’t even in season anymore…”

Heehyun sounds exasperated, “Wow, very pointless, Circle.”

“No, , I was pickpocketed!”

“What,”

Her steps towards the door are laced with haste. “Heehyun gimme a ride, he’s probably not that far! C’mon!”

Nayoung watches Heehyun grumbling, and soon the grumbles turn into a pained growl as she bends down waist-up and the familiar, bony and jagged wings claw their way out of her back. She then turns to Chaeyeon. “Chae?”

Instead of replying Heehyun, Chaeyeon shouts a, “The 6-pieces cheesy wings, please!” towards the employee.

“Jeebus,” and Heehyun turns back to Nayoung, smoke metaphorically coming out of her nostrils, “I want a feast later.”

Nayoung opens the door with a kick and files outside with Heehyun following just behind her. Her eyes scan the crowd and she spots the dulled red color of the ball cap melting into the assorted hue of street fashion.

“Heehyun gimme a ride, we’ll try to corner him somewhere,” she’s replied with silence, “I can’t treat to you to a feast without my dang wallet!”

She feels Heehyun’s arm around her waist and just a second later, she’s suddenly airborne, Heehyun trailing after the red ball cap by flying low, Nayoung hoisted with an arm.

Although the position is very much uncomfortable as Heehyun’s opted to carry her as if she’s a bean bag. “Heehyun? Your arm around my waist please – c’mon lower – n-not the side! I’m ticklish!”

Heehyun snarls through her teeth, “I’m dropping you!”

“I’m literally just 100 centimeters above the ground dropping me will just give me a few scratches, but no credit card. You want that feast you help me get it.”

Meters until an intersection, Nayoung has a plan devised in her disposal. She struggles to reach for her phone despite the uncompromising position and hot-dials an ally. “Mina?”

“Whuh?”

“You’re in the mall right now right?”

“Ummm, yeah. What’s with all the wooshing noises are you alright?”

“Heehyun to the left!”

“We steering him to the mall?” Heehyun barks back, eyes focused on their squabbling target.

“Yeah. Mina, stay on the line, we’re doing our first hero job over. There’s a thief on the loose and he’s our first ever fresh catch.”
 

“I was thinking how it’d be sweet if I could teach you a thing or two about skating, like those flicks the girls back in the dorm watched when on rainy Saturday nights.”

Their skate is slow and easy. Sejeong tries to not breeze too professionally. “My hands over yours as you guide me?”

“There’s also that part where one slips on the ice and the other holds them close. That’s the main feast of ice skating date scenes.”

“You know I don’t slip,”

“Sometimes I wish you do…”

Sejeong stops on her track and feels her smile docked to a freeze by the reverse tide. “Mm? Where did that come from?”

Chungha pulls a slow reverse after spinning to face her, drifting further away by second (is this a metaphor?), “I wish you’d need people. I sometimes wish you’d need me with whatever you’re going through.”

There is a flurry of defense she wants to put out, but none of those non-answers could put Chungha’s worries—or insecurities—to a rest. So she opts to silence and waits for the next tide. The background music provided by the skating rink switches from a Nutcracker-esque winter woodland fantasy-esque tune to something closer to an aria, with the strings and the operetta singing.

And the tide comes in the form of Chungha pulling a slow arc with a leg extended, back broken into an artistic arc and she pulls a spin next. And Sejeong’s face breaks into a rapture at Chungha’s ruling of the rink, and she’s sure her eyes aren’t the only set that’s onto Chungha’s sways.

Chungha spins around Sejeong, and halfway, with her hands inviting and palms up, she asks her, “Since we skipped the beginner’s tutorial session I had in mind this morning, we’re moving onto the second lesson.”

Sejeong puts her hands on top of Chungha’s palms and give them a pair of firm hold. “Intermediate class? Becoming the rink’s fairy how-tos?”

“Trust 101. Trust your weight to me and I’ll sweep you across the dance floor.” And Chungha reverse-skates, the beginning of another set of sways. Sejeong trusts her.

Chungha is the go-to dancing extraordinaire in the class anyway, aside from being one of the star students in their year – or the school, at the moment. The teachers’ pride. What’s not to trust?

(Is she keeping all this away from Chungha—and a significant lot of people—because she doesn’t trust them, or is this her way of keeping them out of things? By locking them out of the loop?)

At least until her ear picks up on a loud crash from the rim area of the rink. Both her and Chungha are alerted to the noise and their gaze shoot to the same general direction. It’s difficult to see what’s going on with the people blocking their view to the happening.

Their curiosity is answered by the flown vending machine zooming past them before crashing onto the ground a meter behind. Sejeong spins around and sees no casualty aside from the man flown along with the vending machine, bruised, but still having the struggle in him to get up and prepare for a dash.

Squirming out of the crowd behind them is Mina, an arm flexed on her side, screaming “Jackpot!” in celebration.

The next thing that flies past them is a winged figure with a human towed by an arm, ducking low to drop the human it’s towing as it maneuvers to the side. Sejeong runs closer after recognizing the two by name.

Nayoung towers over the bruised man between her feet, a hand stretched up with a dusted wallet. “My baby!”

Sejeong’s still too bummed by the happenings to actually be glad over Nayoung trumping a pickpocket thief. She notices Mina finally reaching her side sharing Nayoung’s joy with a, “Our first catch!”

Nayoung has her other hand outstretched to Mina with an invite for a hi-five. “New sheriffs in town! Heehyun is the stallion.”

They share a hi-five. Sejeong’s still blinking. And blink mores when she notices the man under Nayoung rising to half his height with a pocket knife ready, its blade flared with sparks of electricity, announcing his power.

Nayoung and Mina haven’t noticed, so Sejeong conjures a dozen of fists made up of her own shadow and punches his consciousness out of him. The knife kisses the ice rink with a loud clank.

The pair finally notice. “Oh, um, gee, thanks Sejeong. He would’ve gotten me good.”

“No worries. He’s out for good now.”

Heehyun approaches, wings tucked back and she’s pretty much in her normal form now saves for her the huge rip in the back of her shirt. But she doesn’t join them, instead she crouches beside the thief. She’s joined by Chungha, who proposes, “Let’s tow him to the mall’s police box.”

This time, Sejeong finds herself laughing as her eyes glaze over to Nayoung and Mina—of course, at the end of the day, the two will somehow find their ways back onto her. Usually with a flash, bang, an ounce of too-wide grins, and tons of trouble. “You two ruined my date.”

“But I got my wallet back.” Nayoung tucks her wallet in her back pocket, then brings up two palms that ask for double hi-fives. One for Mina and one for her. “Thanks to you two homegirls.”

“Treat me ice cream!”

Sejeong finds herself answering Nayoung’s palm with her own nonetheless – and she knows this three-way hi-fives is just a prelude of their story as a three.
 

Note(s): [2] it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything… I’d like to apologize since I’m swamped with university and life in general, but I’ll be getting back to writing as the next two weeks won’t be as busy. I have an update for my other fic and a one-shot in the work, I’ll get around to finish them!

[3] the update’s longer than usual and I’d like to apologize haha :(( thanks for sticking with me though!!