Irene watches as the doctor checks up on the girl - Kang Seulgi, she’s come to know. Irene had sent Wendy off, assuring her that she would call her later on before hopping into the ambulance beside Seulgi. The girl had looked rather calm throughout the whole ride despite the vulnerability she had shown in front of Irene.

“She has a minor concussion, but she should be fine with some prescribed medicine and rest,” the doctor says.

Irene nods, eyes darting over to look at the girl sitting patiently on the edge of the hospital bed, bare feet swinging over cold, marble flooring. The doctor hands her a piece of paper with whatever medicine he wants Seulgi to take written on it with chicken scratch - as expected.

Irene thanks the man and then walks over to Seulgi who looks up at her approach. Seulgi’s pretty - though in a chic sort of way. She has a cold aura about her that Irene can almost compare with that of her mother’s. But despite that, she has an intriguing face that Irene would be content to look at all day.

Just her type.

If Wendy doesn’t her this time.

“The doctor says you should be okay with some rest and medicine. It’s a mild concussion. My name’s Irene, by the way,” Irene says, giving Seulgi her winning smile.

“Kang Seulgi. And thank you. For everything.”

Irene even likes her voice. It’s soft and feminine. She rubs the back of her neck with a sheepish grin. “Nah, it was no big deal.”

Seulgi slips on her black sneakers before straightening up. Irene was right. She is bigger than her. Seulgi walks up to her and holds out a hand with the same blank expression she’s had on since the ambulance ride here. Irene hands over the piece of notebook paper, feeling the warm, smooth skin of Seulgi’s hand as she does so.

Seulgi looks over it before looking back up at her. “Am I free to go?”

Irene nods. “Yup!”

Seulgi’s brows abruptly furrow and she suddenly looks at Irene as if she’s looking at her with new eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“Are the colors of your hair and eyes natural?”

Irene opens to reply but then closes it again when an idea forms in her head. She grins slyly. “Maybe I’ll tell you over a cup of coffee.”

Seulgi tilts her head, a twitch at the corners of her lips and a flash of amusement in cat-like eyes momentarily warming up a cold expression. “Maybe you will.” 

Irene nurses a cup of hot chocolate in her hands, lifting a hand to let it drift over the steam rising out of the white mug, the transparent smoke filtering between her fingers instead. The sweet scent of chocolate and the stimulating smell of coffee mixes in the air around them.

Seulgi’s sipping from a small cup of espresso, her expression unreadable as she looks out of the wall length window on the second floor of the cafe. Irene rests her face in her hand, openly staring at Seulgi who doesn’t seem to notice until a customer walks by their table and snaps her out of whatever stupor she’d been in.

Seulgi blinks at her then looks away, then looks back at her again. She clears . “So, my question?”

Irene grins then leans forward toward Seulgi who seems to naturally copy her action. Irene looks around playfully as if she’s about to tell Seulgi a life-threatening secret, then cups and whispers in Seulgi’s ear, “They’re real.”

Seulgi smells like a mixture of citrus and coconut, tangy and sweet at the same time. There’s a stronger scent that Irene’s senses pick up naturally - the smell of her blood. It’s intoxicating. She smells tantalizing. Irene feels bloodlust rise in her body and she quickly leans back into her seat again, laughing at the confused expression on Seulgi’s face instead to try to brush off the feeling.

“Are you a mix?”

“Huh?” Irene blinks at the question then hesitantly answers, “ . . . No. I’m full Korean.” It’s not a lie, but it’s also not a complete truth.

“Blue eyes, blonde hair. Korean. That’s unique.”

“Thanks. Your face is unique, too. Beautiful.”

Seulgi covers half of her face with a dainty hand, her eyes averting from Irene’s. Irene can still see the pink dusting the girl’s cheeks, however, and she grins.

Irene takes a sip of her hot chocolate, the heat having no effect on her whatsoever, but still pretending like it does for the sake of those around her. If she started gulping it down like water, there would be a problem. She and Seulgi are already attracting attention just by sitting down anyway.

“Oh my gosh, are they idols?”

“Why are they so pretty?”

“I like the blonde one!”

“No, the brown hair is better!”

Irene smiles at the whispered conversations that a human wouldn’t have been able to hear registers in her mind. Seulgi doesn’t even seem to realize that there are people watching them. Irene wonders if Seulgi even knows how pretty she is.

Seulgi’s sipping her espresso again, seeming to have recovered from her initial embarrassment. Irene taps the table, gaining the girl’s attention. “How old are you?”

Seulgi’s response is automatic. “Twenty-three. How old are you?”

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