Yeonhee had yet to think up a name for her umbrella action group, but she and Chenle had both done some reaching out over the course of the week and Chenle had managed to get a motion passed at the student union, which meant that there was a fair amount of support for it, and almost all the student groups they’d contacted had been interested in having representatives of some kind on the panel.  Sehun had helped her draft an email of written notice that she needed to send to the republicans at the university, but she was well aware that she also needed to tell Daehyun and the national organisation of republicans that she was stepping down and would be unlikely to involve herself in future republican activities, and that was going to be a lot harder to do.

To make matters even more complicated, on Monday morning she discovered a letter when she dropped by the university office to check her mail for a parcel of new clothes she was expecting (she knew that Yixing would think it ridiculous, but she didn’t want to show him up by not being presentably dressed when he had his friend round the next weekend and she had found a sale with lots of designer clothes and got herself a new outfit).  Two people with Hanmi names had requested to meet her for lunch to talk about republicanism and republican politics, and since they hadn’t given any contact details other than where Yeonhee could find them (a small tapas bar just off campus) and there was no time for her to write back making some excuse so she didn’t have to go, Yeonhee realised with a grimace that to be polite she really ought to show up, even if it was only for a few minutes to tell them that she didn’t really have the time and that they’d be much better suited to talking to somebody who’d be continuing on the republican committee when she wasn’t going to.  She also needed to tender her resignation for all things republican as soon as she could, or else she’d likely end up in more situations of this kind.

She was greeted in the tapas bar by two men probably a couple of years older than her wearing suits and looking like they were about to head into court to do legal battle.  A bit surprised, she hesitated, the excuse about family circumstances and not being able to stay long frozen on the tip of her tongue.

One of them got to his feet and introduced himself as Minwoo and his companion as Jaebum.  Jaebum worked in tech while Minwoo actually was a lawyer, which immediately had Yeonhee wondering if she’d overstepped any legal lines, or if they perhaps knew about the prince and there was some legal thing to do with the republicans that she was flouting as a result.

“Do sit down,” Minwoo told her after she’d numbly shaken both their hands.  With more hesitation, Yeonhee did.

“I can’t stay too long,” she said.  “There’s a family crisis and so I don’t have much time on my hands at the moment—”

“We’ll get straight to the point then.”  Minwoo drew his thumbs and forefingers across the table as though straightening out an invisible piece of paper.  “As you may have gathered, the mainstream republican movement at the moment is heading more and more firmly towards a unity effort for Hanmi and Zenyu peoples – that’s always been its main strand, but in light of recent events and atrocities, it’s become far more prevalent and a number of people in the movement are even saying they’re willing to support the royal family as a temporary measure to get the country back on its feet until there’s a functioning government, because unity is more important.  The separationist voice, which you epitomise, is in grave danger of being lost – there are already rumblings about trying to shut it down due to perceptions of it augmenting ethnic tensions.  There’s never been a better time to push for separation, and it would go a long way to sorting out the problems that the politicians currently have with factionalism.  We need somebody to step in and be a leader, or at least a face, so that people will actually realise that we’re not extremist loonbags and that we’re actually a sensible political movement.”

“You mean you need me.  Or at least, you want me.”  Yeonhee curled her toes, trying not to show too many outer signs of discomfort.  She didn’t like where this was going at all.

“You need us too or you’re going to become irrelevant,” Jaebum said.

His voice made Yeonhee shudder.  It was hard, grating, and didn’t belong to a software technician so much as it sounded like it came from a hardened gang member.  It honestly sounded like he was about to tack on and do as I say or I’ll shoot you.

“That or you’ll start to stand as a poster child for something you don’t even believe in,” Minwoo continued smoothly.  His tone was significantly nicer, but no less confident.  Yeonhee found herself wondering if he was playing Good Cop or something.

“And who is us?” Yeonhee demanded.

“We’re part of a small activist group called Separate for Unity—”

“I’ve never heard of you,” Yeonhee interrupted.

The glower on Jaebum’s face made her shrink down in her seat.

“We’re just a small group,” Minwoo rephrased.  “But we’re part of the more general umbrella of separationist republicans.”

“Like Antiroyo and such.”  Yeonhee pursed her lips.

“Well, our founder was a member of Antiroyo,” said Minwoo.  “Technically we still have connections.”  He exchanged glances with Jaebum.  Yeonhee swallowed.  She was liking this less and less.  Making a mental note to tell Chen, or at least Yixing, about the meeting, she made a show of looking at her watch and getting up.

“I’m really sorry, but I honestly have to go—”

“Well, perhaps we could set up a meeting at a more convenient time?” Minwoo suggested at once.  “If Jaebum gives you his number, you can call to tell us when you’re free and we can go from there.”

Jaebum also got to his feet.  “Afraid I don’t have any business cards left on me, but if you give me your phone I can just put my number in,” he said gruffly.

That made Yeonhee even more uneasy, not least because of the amount of material on it relating to the palace.  Chen had impressed upon her that she was never to lend anybody her phone, just in case, and to ensure that she never lost it or fell prey to it getting stolen, and Luhan and one or two other bodyguards had mentioned it in passing when they’d seen her on her phone.

“I’m sorry,” she said as firmly as she could, “but I don’t think I can help you.  I have exams coming up and I’m planning to step down from my duties as chapter president and national youth representative to focus on getting a good degree—”

“The problems with the country aren’t going to be sorted by the time you finish finals,” Minwoo pointed out.  “In fact, that would be the perfect point for you to come and join us – we have the capacity for one or two full-time paid jobs, and we could guarantee you something from the moment you step out