It’s a full moon tonight.

Full moons aren’t ideal for stargazing. They contrast too harshly, and shine too much, which makes it harder to look at the stars effectively because the light doesn’t allow the dimmer stars to be seen.

My father loves the full moon. He says it represents life in general. Like the stars on the sky during a full moon, when the going gets tough, and people are outshined, only the great ones remain.

I once asked him what kind of star I would make.

He simply looked at me and told me I would disappear as soon as the full moon appeared.

But, he had added, if I worked hard, I could be the brightest star in the sky, whether or not there was a full moon or no.

That was one of the nicest things he told me.

“I hope you don’t mind me changing our mode of transportation on Friday,” Ryeowook’s voice spoke over the phone, “It was scheduled for servicing tomorrow, and will only be returned back to me on Saturday morning. I apologize; I had forgotten about it.”

“That’s fine,” Sun Young said, walking aimlessly in her room while blowing gently on the steamed potato her mother had steamed earlier. Her phone was on loudspeaker, on the bedside table, and she shrugged as if he could see her. “It’s really fine. But how will we get to the venue?”

Outside her room, Amber stepped out of the bathroom, a towel on her head as she brushed her teeth.

Sun Young placed a finger on her lips, before pointing to her phone.

“I would suggest another car, or even rent a limousine, but something tells me it wouldn’t exactly help your nerves.”

Sun Young stilled, pausing in place as her head swivelled to the phone. “What do you mean?”

“Do you not like being in cars? Or is my driving that terrible?”

She in a gasp, sharing a glance with Amber.

Tell him, her friend mouthed.

“Uhh, I have something to t-tell you,” Sun Young stammered, nervously plucking at the skin of her potato, “If…If you don’t mind, that is.”

Dear God, I am actually gonna do this, she thought, fear and excitement making her antsy. I am actually, actually gonna tell a guy about it.

“Ah, my driving must be terrible, then,” Ryeowook said, oblivious.

“No! Not at all, that’s not what I meant,” she hurried to say, releasing a nervous breath, “You’re right, I have a phobia of cars…kind of. It’s not something that I, um, tell a lot of people.”

There. I said it.

There was a long pause as she waited for his reply. Somehow she was waiting for him to say something, to ask her why, to bombard her with curious questions like many other people who had before him, way back when she didn’t make her fear a secret.

But she should have known better; it was Ryeowook here, and he was anything but nosy. Or obnoxious.

“Well. I won’t ask you why. I’m just glad it wasn’t my driving,” he said, making her blink in surprise, “I don’t drive as well as I ride a horse, you know.”

She smiled to herself, a wave of relief washing over her. “I’m pretty sure you’re good at both,” she commented, “Alright, then, Mr. Fancy Horse Whisperer. What shall be your proposition regarding this turn of events?”

But something at the back of her mind felt…disappointed, somehow. Like she had expected him to try asking her why.

Sun Young, you say you don’t like people poking around, and here you are wanting someone to poke around.

You can be so irritating sometimes.

“Well, my dear Flower Girl,” he drawled, making her smile absentmindedly, “Considering the way things seem to be, I shall be getting a bus.”

The smile wavered on her face. “A what now?”

“You know how celebrities have those party buses when they go on tour?” he asked, “You can have your fitting and makeup done, and we can simply take the bus to the gala. Limousines are overrated anyway.”

Is he referring to those tour buses?

Hardly glamorous, but I guess it’s alright.

“Oh.”

“I can see the red carpet, and the journalists waiting to capture the attendees to the gala, and suddenly, out of nowhere, a large bus stops and the doors open to reveal the two of us, like some rockstars coming to a formal event.”

Okay, wait. That’s a really cool image.

“It makes me laugh just thinking about it,” she said, unsuccessfully holding in the rush of amusement rising up inside her as she let out a little laugh, “Well, alright, then. I accept your crazy idea, and I will look forward to Friday.”

“Brilliant, and likewise,” he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, “I can’t believe it. You might actually make me look forward to the gala. And here I thought the only reason I would drag my feet to it was the girl of my dreams.”

He said it so calmly, Sun Young almost missed it. “What…girl?”

“My, my, look at the time. I shall be off; my sister insists on nightly Skype sessions, as if I am the younger sibling of the family who needs to be checked up on.”

Amber hurried closer to her phone, picking it up. “Did you just say girl of your dreams?”

He actually likes someone? Holy cow.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he commented, “Sleep well, Sun Young. You too, Amber. I had an inkling the phone was on speaker mode.”

And with that, there was silence.

“Darn it!”

Amber turned to her, placing the phone back down. She clapped slowly, before taking out the toothbrush from . “A splendid cliffhanger. This really is a Korean drama,” she said smugly, walking back to the bathroom.

Sun Young sighed, proceeding to flop onto her computer chair, biting into her potato. “Do you think he knows I kind of have a crush on him?”

Amber hopped out of the bathroom, wiping with her towel. “Maybe. Even if he doesn’t, you seem to be doing a bad job of hiding it,” she said, jumping onto the bed and propping herself up on her elbows, “Maybe he said that to hint to you to back off. Or he’s just slowly treating you like a bro and who knows? He might confide in you about it during the gala.”

She groaned. “I need to seriously chill.”

“Just do like you would do to Chanyeol. He has no idea you sort of like him too,” she singsonged, “Wow. Now that I think of it, you’re like the main protagonist of your drama; two guys who are lowkey rivals for your love.”

Despite herself, Sun Young burst into laughter. “Amber, stop.”

“I half-thought it was Kyungsoo at first, because he totally seems up your alley,” her friend continued, mischief in her eyes, “But I guess you always need a best guy friend. Besides, you guys look more like siblings than friends.”

Sun Young rolled her eyes. “You are seriously going to turn this into some kind of drama parallel, aren’t you?”

“Gurl, I already am doing it.”

“You are such an .”

“Thank you.”

When I said yes to Ryeowook’s invitation to the fashion gala, I didn’t think it was going to be this big.

She stared out of the heavily tinted windows of the party bus – a large, spacious vehicle complete with its own bar, leather seats, and a disco ball – and turned to Ryeowook, who was admiring himself in the mirrow affixed against the kitchenette.

“I’m feeling a little queasy.”

He gave her a knowing smile. “Nervous?”

“Very,” she said, resuming her gaze out of the window, “Look at the amount of people out there. What if they recognize me?”

She felt him approach her, and as she turned to him, she saw he was holding up a mask. The upper half of the face was made up of cardboard, covered with glitter and feathers and gold t, and the bottom half was fabric, the same shade as her pastel gown.

“I thought it might be easier for you to breathe,” he said, helping her to put it on.

She took a deep breath, holding up the mask. “Okay, I feel a little less exposed now.”

Ryeowook reached for his own mask, one that was attached to a stick. Unlike Sun Young, he had no qualms about opening it later, and he didn’t really seem to care nor wanted to stick to the theme of masquerade if he could help it.

“And I know you might not agree with me, but blond looks good on you,” he added.

Ah. Yes.

I almost forgot about my hair.

Long story short, Ryeowook decided that, to evade anyone who might recognize me from the show, we would go with a different look.

And that look included me being a blonde.

Now, I am not a big fan of dyeing my hair. In fact I hate it, and I absolutely dislike the fact that my hair gets all dry.

Enter the wig that I used for my cosplay back when I had an anime phase.

“Alright then, Ms Park,” he said, as the bus stopped and the door opened, “Allow me to welcome you into my world.”

He walked out, and all she could think of was how his fingers were waiting for hers as she stepped out of the bus and into the furor of camera flashes, shouting press members, and the blinding red carpet that he led her on.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, this is actually happening.

Ryeowook tucked her fingers in the crook of his elbow, giving her a little amused smile as she held on to her chest with a free hand.

“Scared?” he asked her softly, and she looked up into his eyes.

“I feel like an undercover agent,” she whispered to him, and he chuckled.

He held his mask away, letting her see his face, where mischief twinkled in his eyes. “An undercover princess,” he said back with a wink, “Just remember, you’re not you tonight. You’re one of Seoul’s socialites at one of the most exclusive fashion launches, so don’t hold yourself back.”

Something bloomed in her chest. Excitement? Liberation? Nervous flutters?

Maybe all of them.

She smiled underneath her mask, taking a deep breath as she held her head up high, waving to the cameras that called for their attention every now and then. There was something almost cringeworthy about the whole thing, and the thought of bursting into laughter at her little act did cross her mind, but then she spotted other socialites – ladies and gentlemen in extravagant costumes who were posing and giving their best pouts to the cameras – and suddenly she didn’t feel like a fake.

She peeked at her partner, who seemed to blend in yet at the same time, stand out. He was no longer holding the mask over his face, and instead directed his gaze towards the cameras that were near to them. He didn’t smile; at best he gave a subtle smirk and continued walking up the steps.

Just then something bright pink caught her attention, and she stared as a woman passed her by, wearing a flamingo-themed ensemble. Drowned in layers and layers of pink feathers, the woman in pink was taking up half the walking space with her flamboyant look. Beside her, two other women in similar looks walked up the steps, followed by an entourage of people in various costumes, the sheer size of their party making other guests hurry to the side to avoid the avalanche of colors.

Ryeowook guided her slightly towards him just as the ladies passed them by, and Sun Young glanced at him, a little baffled at the gesture. But by then, he had already let go of her waist and was continuing up the stairs, with her blinking in confusion.

Shaking her head, she tapped his arm. “I wonder where she got that costume.”

“People usually have them in advance, specially ordered for them,” he replied, “That’s the Shin family, by the way. They’re always travelling in a huge bunch of cousins, like some elite club gang.”

“Is that a bad thing?” she asked, distractedly staring at the group posing at the top of the stairs.

“Well, when you have too much money to spare, and too many parties to go to, it can make you a little cocky,” he murmured, “The one wearing the Napoleon costume wanted to date my sister but I knew better than to let her go out with him. And look, here he is, with his latest chick.”

She looked at the man in question, a tall masked man who was holding hands with a girl in a mermaid getup. She could only see the bottom half of his face, but judging by the charming smile he was giving, she had an inkling that he was probably devilishly handsome.

Her fingers absentmindedly curled in Ryeowook’s elbow, and she drew closer to him, thankful for his company in this potential minefield of powerful people. She was certain he – along with her own conscience – was able to steer her away from the possibility of anything horrid this evening.

Maybe this isn’t so bad after all.

“I told you so,” Ryeowook said, as they reached the top stair.

Oops, I must’ve said that aloud.

He patted her hand that was on his elbow. “Now,” he said, turning back to the cameras, “Let’s give them a very nice shot.”

Sun Young bit her lip. “I don’t know how to pose,” she muttered under her breath as she tried to adjust her skirts so as to turn better, “I’ve never done this-”

“Stop right there,” Ryeowook blurted, stopping her half-turn, “Okay, lower your chin. Okay put your free hand on your hip and look at the camera.”

She followed his directions, a little confused. “Um, okay.”

Flashes blinded her as she looked at the wave of cameras from left to right.

He gave her a sideways look. “That’s my sister’s go-to pose whenever we go for these kind of events,” he quipped, “It works, I tell you.”

Comprehension dawned on her. “Riiiiight, because you told me you don’t usually go to parties,” she , “So I’m a little suspicious that you know so much about looking good for the cameras.”

He gave her a look that was a cross between a smirk and a mock-embarrassed expression. “Well,” he said with a little cocky shrug, “I’m just highly observant, and might have a good eye for photography.”

And then he raised a hand in greeting before turning, leading them towards the open doors where two masked men in suits stood guard.

One was wearing a crow mask, with a long beak, and the other, a grotesque furry one with large painted eyes and a furry mane.

Sun Young gazed at them, fascinated.

“Your invitation, please,” the one with the beak said.

Ryeowook let go of Sun Young’s hand, reaching into his coat pocket and taking out the embossed invitation to pass to him.

“Thank you, sir,” he said, “How would you like to be announced?”

She glanced at Ryeowook.

He was shrugging out of his coat. “Kim Ryeowook,” he said, and when the man turned to her, he gave her a little shrug as if to say, up to you.

She turned back to the man. “Just “guest” would be fine, thank you.”

He bowed to them. “Enjoy your evening,” he said, and Ryeowook offered his arm to her once again.

She smiled, taking it.

This is it, we’re going in.

She in a gasp as they entered the large convention hall. A long runway was set up in the middle, and chairs were arranged around the runway. Music played in the background, and long banners hung from the ceilings.

Vivi by Oh Sehun, Spring/Summer Collection, it said, accompanied by a sharp-gazed man seated in a leather armchair, a fluffy dog sitting comfortably on his lap.

Looks like an eccentric dude, she thought, noting the paw print kimono the man was wearing, along with fluffy bunny slippers. His hair was different shades of rainbow colors, and a smirk adorned his lips.

Baekhyun would probably be friends with him.

She looked around, seeing many guests milling around and chatting to each other. Waiters moved around, holding trays on which hors d’ouvres and pastries were neatly arranged, while others were walking around holding trays of champagne.

Well, well, well. Everything screams extravagant and fancy. Even the waiters are wearing masks.

“Kim Ryeowook and Guest,” an announcement blared over the speakers, and just like that, many faces turned in their direction.

Behind the mask, she felt her cheeks turn hot, and she gulped. “Did they have to announce us like that?”

“Of course,” he said, “That is what this world is like, my dear Sun Young. You have to know who’s who so that you can network accordingly.”

“Then I don’t know if I want to be part of this world,” she whispered, seeing a middle-aged man stare her down as she passed by.

He smiled, raising his champagne flute at her, and she bowed slightly, but not before she saw him slide his gaze from her head to toe.

Ugh, gross.

Suddenly she felt exposed. Despite the Queen Anne’s neckline of her gown, she felt even more self-conscious of her bare skin now as compared to the off-shoulder burgundy dress that she had worn the night Ju Hyun had targeted her during dinner.

Ju Hyun.

Sun Young wondered if she had been invited to this prestigious event too, like Chanyeol had been.

Oh, man. Chanyeol. I almost forgot he’s gonna be here tonight.

He could even be here right now, somewhere in this sea of weirdly dressed people.

I wonder where.

“Kim Ryeowook and Guest!”

Chanyeol raised his head the same time as his sister did, a wave of something electric coursing through his body as the name was announced.

What the heck is Ryeowook doing at Sehun’s show?

She turned to him. “Ryeowook?” she asked, “That’s my Ryeowook, isn’t it?”

He frowned, craning his head to squint at the entrance. “I don’t know anyone with the same name,” he muttered.

Sure enough, even from his seat in front of the runway, he could see the familiar dark-haired equestrian wearing a red military inspired costume; his face was not even covered.

Pfft. He didn’t even bother to dress up nicely. Does he have any other color in his wardrobe apart from red? How boring.

He appraised the equestrian, and his eyes narrowed when he spotted him turning to speak to the lady at his arm.

Who’s that?

“Ooh, that’s not Ryujin, isn’t it?” his sister said, echoing his thoughts, “I heard she’s in New York for some fashion shows. Busy girl.”

“Hmm.”

“Still, I wonder who he asked to go with him,” she added, using the pamphlet on her lap to fan herself, “He could have asked me; I couldn’t even get Yixing to come tonight.”

He turned to her. “At least your fiance is a nice guy,” he said pointedly, “Unlike him.”

Yoora sighed. “Both are nice people, Channie,” she chided, her voice gentle as her hand slipped into his, “I wouldn’t think of them highly if they weren’t.”

He cast Ryeowook a look. “Yes, but you don’t understand, noona,” he mumbled.

He’s trying to steal Sun Young. Heck, he might have even played her tonight.

He took out his phone, momentarily thinking of snapping a picture of Ryeowook and sending it to Sun Young out of spite.

‘What’s your Friday Night plan tonight again,’ is an apt caption.

So much for refusing my invite to spend time with that idiot.

A little voice at the back of his mind contemplated whether she had actually lied about the whole thing. Maybe she had just said she had plans with Ryeowook just because she knew he didn’t like the equestrian, and wanted to get a reaction out of him and to reject his invitation to the gala.

Well, whatever it was, he couldn’t help but feel stung.

He scowled, staring at the girl next to Ryeowook as the couple walked towards the other side – away from him and his sister’s seats – and tried to get a good look at her.

All he could see past the mask was curly blonde hair, elaborately styled with colorful ribbons interwoven into her braids. She was wearing some kind of bejewelled gown, and her mask had a crescent moon on the forehead.

He frowned.

Surely…

Surely he isn’t that much of a jerk…?

I don’t know. I don’t even know what’s real or not.

He leaned forwards, squinting at the couple in the distance, trying to make out who it was on his arm. But no one came to mind, and since he himself did not mingle with the other chaebols as often as, say, Ju Hyun, he couldn’t think of a girl who would actually fit Ryeowook’s type.

That is, if he even had a type.

And he was afraid that Sun Young was exactly the type he would go for; she was very much like him, all rapid-fire rebuttals, the same scorn for bureaucracy, and the similar iciness in their eyes.

He ran a hand through his hair, mildly frustrated that he might have been able to ask Sun Young to the gala tonight instead of going without a partner like his sister. He couldn’t help but channel his anger to Ryeowook.

“Good god, Chanyeol, stop fidgeting,” Yoora chastised, standing up and peering over the runway in front of them, “I wonder if he might see me if I wave?”

“Please no.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Honestly, Channie, you are such a sourpuss.”

“Has he ever dated anyone?”

His sister frowned. “No,” she answered immediately, “If he did, I’d be the first to know.”

He jerked his head in the direction of the equestrian. “Maybe that’s his date.”

Eyebrows still knotted, Yoora shook her head. “Impossible. He’s not that kind of person. He rarely goes out with girls, if at all. That much I know.”

“Then who is that, then?” he challenged her, “If he’s so close to you, how can you not know who the girl is?”

“I,” she began, looking past the runway, looking slightly lost, “I have no idea.”

Chanyeol slumped against his seat, folding his arms over his chest. “Well, I guess we both have that in common,” he huffed, as the lights began to dim.

He could still see Ryeowook in the dark, glaring at him intensely as the host announced over the speaker that the show was starting in minutes.

I swear, if he played her…

I will personally smack the daylights out of his smug little face.

I’ve had it up to here with his audacity to rub his friendship with Sun Young in my face.

As he sat there, steaming, he felt his sister’s cool hand slip into his once more, and he looked at her as she smiled back at him.

“Can you not be so angsty?” she asked, “You’re going to make it seem like I dragged you here and you’re counting down the minutes till you can leave.”

“Fine,” he muttered.

He straightened up, tearing his gaze away from Ryeowook to the runway, where the first few models were starting to walk.

Sehun and his weird patterns.

I swear, I really care about him, but this is so not my taste; Baekhyun would be a better audience.

He turned his head towards the direction where he knew Ryeowook was sitting at, but before he could get a good look, he felt his sister’s fingers pull his face back towards the runway.

He gave her a look.

She raised an eyebrow. “You were about to glare at him again.”

“I was-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“But-”

“Chan. Behave.”

He pouted, raising his hands up. “Fine. Fine,” he stressed, rolling his eyes as he forced himself to stare at the models once more.

Oh, this is going to be torture.

It feels weird being the one in Seoul while you’re not in town, Yoora texted, smiling faintly as she waited for Yixing to reply.

Well, consider it a little revenge for you always leaving poor old me in Seoul, he texted back, making her pout.

It’s not like I can help it, she sent back, pressing on a teary-eyed emoticon to accompany her text. I miss you so much, I feel so alone in this crowded ballroom.

Hang in there. I’ll come back in time before you return to Japan again, he promised. Now go, don’t be antisocial. Go make some new friends.

She chuckled to herself, sending a goodbye text before keeping her phone in her bag.

The fashion show had felt like forever, but here they were now, enjoying a little dinner and dance at one of the convention center’s ballrooms, and Sehun certainly had much fun in organizing the décor, because it looked like they had been transported back in time to some fancy dress parties in Europe.

It certainly didn’t look like they were in a convention center in downtown Seoul; it felt more like a manor house, in her opinion.

A waiter passed by. “Miss, any champagne for you?”

“Yes, please,” she said with a smile, as she reached for a glass.

“May I?” someone said from behind, “I wouldn’t mind a glass of champagne myself.”

Yoora turned, momentarily surprised by the voice, and a wide smile spread across her lips. “If it isn’t the man of the night,” she said brightly, turning to face Ryeowook as he reached for a glass of champagne.

“I’m an insignificant speck, what are you talking about,” he commented, sipping his drink as his eyes regarded her over the rim of his glass.

Yoora rolled her eyes. “I admit, I think it’s just my brother making you out to be some kind of celebrity,” she remarked with a chuckle, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard him this chatty about you.”

“Tell Chanyeol I’m extremely flattered,” he replied breezily.

“I will,” she assured him, walking to the nearby table of desserts, reaching out for an éclair, “You look very nice.”

“I always look nice,” was his answer.

“You always have something smartass to reply with.”

“Of course,” he returned, gesturing to her, “You’re a sight for sore eyes. I’m always amazed how you think dressing down is going to make you blend in, but you just stand out even more.”

“Is that a compliment?” she asked, taking another éclair.

He leaned against the table, watching her intently. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt my compliments?”

She shook her head in amusement. “Well, there was once you were saying something to me during my engagement party,” she trailed off, “You said, and I quote, ‘You can do so much better, but I’m sure you’re wonderful enough to make any relationship work’ and I got so confused by that.”

His eyes twinkled. “Other than that?” he prompted.

She faced him. “Never,” she said, as he nodded.

“Then, to answer your question, I am complimenting you now,” he concluded, making her laugh softly as she reached for a fruit tart.

Pausing halfway, she turned to him, but Ryeowook’s eyes were full of comprehension that, before she even spoke, he beat her to it before she could ask.

“She’s not my sister, you know.”

“That wasn’t what I wanted to-”

“Yes it was. Chanyeol was probably wondering who it was as well.”

Her cheeks pink with embarassment, Yoora glanced down at the fruit tart, before stuffing it into if only to have something to do. “Well, you’re right about that,” she murmured, casting him a sheepish look, “He was dying to know.”

Ryeowook hesitated for a moment. “Were you?”

“Was I what?”

“Curious,” he answered, “To know who she was?”

Yoora stared at him. “Of course; you barely go out with anyone. In fact, I can bet you’ve never actually had a relationship after college.”

His thin lips curled into a small smile. “You’d probably be right,” he commented, sipping his champagne.

Yoora watched him, her former same-year schoolmate with the same enigmatic expression, his deepset eyes hiding things she couldn’t see. “I’m glad you came with a date,” she told him, making his eyes look back at hers once more, “It’s good to start somewhere, and if it creates a buzz, then why not?”

“She’s not my date date, though.”

A feeling she couldn’t explain coursed through her whole being. “She’s not?”

He shook his head. “She’s just…” he frowned, and she could see his lips pout slightly, “She’s like my sister. But like, not like my sister at the same time.”

“Not your sister but like a sister?” she deadpanned, “Are you for real?”

“She’s someone who deserves to go for these things, but never got a chance to. I’m giving her the chance.”

“You sound like a benevolent benefactor.”

“Since when am I not, Yoora?” he asked, and she laughed.

“That’s not the Ryeowook I knew back in college,” she said, nostalgia getting a hold of her, “I vividly remember your nickname to be Scrooge. Oh, those were the days.”

“And now look where we are,” he finished for her, and she gave him a tender smile.

“That’s right,” she said, casting a look around her, “Oh, we should get to the side, they’re starting to dance.”

She was about to walk away when she felt a hand on her wrist.

She looked at Ryeowook, who was significantly closer. “What is it?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you dance,” he said, and it made her have shivers despite the fact that she was an engaged woman, “Will you humor, Yoora?”

She stared at him then. “Am I dreaming, or is the school’s biggest cynic asking me to dance?” she asked, allowing him to take her hand.

Faint tingles erupted on her skin, like sparks making her shiver, but he didn’t notice.

“Probably a mixture of both,” he answered, “Are you that surprised?”

It’s just a dance.

He’s not asking you to cheat on Yixing.

Just dance.

“A little,” she said, the flutter in her voice surprising herself as she watched him smile.

Sun Young pushed open the squeaky doors to the Greenhouse, the indoor garden Ryeowook had told her to go to, her footsteps echoing in the empty space as she walked through the winding paths around the plants.

The gala was a great way to spend her Friday, sure, but there was something almost…mechanical about it. She enjoyed the show, and had taken a lot of pictures which she had sent to Soojung, who had gone to Busan for a weekend trip with her friends.

Her colleague had been more than happy to receive the spam of messages, and now her phone had half its battery life thanks to the numerous videos and pictures.

But then, after the gala, the dinner and dance had been a little intimidating; there were many people swarming Ryeowook, and he had been talking to them graciously. Most of them had assumed that she was his sister, and after a while it was getting tiresome to say that she wasn’t, because upon saying that, they gave her looks and asked what her name was, who her parents were, and what she did.

In Ryeowook’s own words, they wanted to size her up. He had been almost apologetic, and to throw them off even more, he had introduced her as his equestrian friend.

Your mask has a moon on it; if anyone asks what’s your concept tonight, just tell them you’re the Roman goddess of the moon, Luna.

Luna Kim.

Has a nice ring to it.

She could see how much he was trying to avoid people, but as much as they tried – and they had been sticking to the walls of the ballroom when they were not dancing – there were always people who came over and asked about his family, namely his father and his sister.

At one time, he had wondered aloud if they even knew he was a national athlete, but then he had laughed it off, preferring the lack of acknowledgement.

It gives you freedom, in a way. People won’t really know what you’re up to, and, in that sense, you can’t let them pressure you to reach their expectations on what you should or should not be.

Eventually she had asked Ryeowook if she could just go out for some fresh air. He suggested the convention center greenhouse; that way, she could escape the noise and get fresh air without having to leave the building. She didn’t want to leave him, but he insisted that she go exploring while he ‘entertained the vultures’, as he had put it.

Now here I am.

It felt like she had entered another world, and the loud, dazzling sounds of the party had faded into something that was – but not quite – full of silence.

Here, it was dimmer, less overwhelming. She could hear the sounds of insects, amidst the soft music playing in the background. Leaves hung overhead, all shapes and sizes, and as she moved further into the maze of greenery, she felt the initial restlessness ebb away bit by bit.

At least here, I could block out the small talk and little insincere smiles.

“Whoa,” she murmured, looking up and around in wonder, as she spotted a few butterflies fluttering around the plants.

I see why he wanted me to come here.

He must’ve known I’d feel at home.

The air was faintly damp and cool to her skin, the scent of the garden fresh and grassy as she walked deeper into the glass house. Hanging plants caressed the top of her head and she smiled to herself as she took off her mask.

It looks like something in a fantasy movie. Look at the way th