"You know Mr Choi? Mrs Choi's husband? Yoongi helped me catch him."

A stunned silence followed Namjoon's words. Su Ji's eyes went so wide they looked as though they might drop out of her head.

"Mr... Mr Choi?" she finally stammered. "A wolf?"

"You didn't know that?"

She shook her head.

"I thought you did... I thought Yoongi would have talked to you about it."

A stab of white-hot anger took over her shock. She looked Namjoon squarely in the eye. "Why would you ask for Yoongi's help again? Isn't it obvious that it pains him?"

"I-" Namjoon tried to say, but Su Ji wasn't finished.

"This was the incient that made the two of you like this," she said, finally seeing light. "You made him help you." She thought of something even worse – Namjoon had told her what Protectors did to wolves... it all made sense now. Mrs Choi's hatred towards him, blaming him for her husband's death... Su Ji had thought the old lady was spewing nonsense, but it was the truth. Namjoon had killed Mr Choi.

But he wouldn't... Namjoon wasn't a murderer... but hadn't he said the wolves were not considered as people? That they were a threat to human life?

He had killed a wolf. Yoongi himself was a wolf, and he had helped. No wonder his relationship with Namjoon had become so bad.

She took a deep breath – she needed to hear it from him, if there was even a small chance that she was wrong, she needed to hear it. Mustering up all her courage, she uttered her question: "Did you kill Mr Choi?"

For the first time, Namjoon's face twisted with emotion – pain. "I didn't mean to..." he said softly. "It was an accident..."

"Accident?" yelled Su Ji. "You kill wolves! On purpose! That's why you exist! And you say it was an accident?"
 

"He was out of control... he was too old to control himself... he was attacking people left and right... the Protectors had ordered-"

"That's not a reason to get Yoongi involved!" Su Ji raised her hands and hit Namjoon's chest, once, twce, thrice. "Why would you do that? Why do you kill wolves?"

A pair of cold hands closed around her wrists, holding them steady. Their coldness made her shudder, but he didn't let go.

"Want to know why I got Yoongi involved?" he said, his voice shaking slightly. "Because I didn't want to kill Mr Choi – Yoongi and I made a plan to catch him and keep him somewhere away from the village -"

"I don't believe you!" she yelled, twisting her hands away from him – why did he keep grabbing them today?

"Go home," said Namjoon suddenly.

"No! I want to find Yoongi!"

"Go home." His voice sharpened. "Your grandmother is here – I'll find him."

Grandmother.

Su Ji had completely forgotten that she would be back. That tore her in two: half of her wanted to go after Yoongi and find him – she could sense that he was in a tremendous amount of pain – and the other part of her longed to see her grandmother again.

Namjoon gave her a little push, which she jumped away from.

"Just go," he said, and as usual, when he gave an order, you ended up doing it. Almost against her will, Su Ji found herself turning her back on him, on the forest, and making her way back home.

Despite heading home, she was still worried – if only Yoongi had not run off... if only he would come back soon...

Grandmother was standing on the porch, and Su Ji ran up to her, waving frantically and calling, "Grandma! You're here!"

She threw herself in her chuckling grandmother's arms, longing to be comforted that everything would be ok.
 

****

The road was bordered with thick mud, and all kinds of things had washed up from the flood – plants, driftwood, plastic bottles, wrappers of all kinds, and little cardboard boxes.

Hoseok picked his way through the road carefully, not wanting to get his nice white sneakers dirty. The flooding had finally stopped, the river had returned to it's place, settled between the eroded banks.

Who on earth would make a village so close to the river? No wonder they got flooded every year. Yet there was a charm about it – he also knew that Aanchal loved to take walks along the river banks on a hot summer day, barefoot so she could feel the wet cool ground.

This was the first time he would be coming to her house. It felt very strange – Mrs Park had invited him over for dinner, via Aanchal. She wanted to meet him – even though Mrs Park and his mother were friends, Hoseok had never met her. His parents preferred to keep him indoors, away from public scrutiny.

After going past rows and rows of houses, he finally spotted a familiar figure standing on a porch, waving so energetically it looked as though her arms would fall off.

Grinning, he waved back just as energetically, and Aanchal raced down to meet him.

"I thought you would never make it down here in time!" she cried, pushing her curly hair away from her face. "I thought I would die of hunger before you turned up!"

"Sorry," said Hoseok. "The bus was late-"

"Ok, ok, but let's go in, hurry!" She grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the house, dragging him inside.

"Mom!" she yelled. "He's here! Can we eat now?"

A laughing woman with hair as curly as Aanchal's met them at the door. "Yes, yes, come eat now!"

She smiled at Hoseok warmly, and three dimples appeared on either side. "Hello, Hoseok," she said, extending her hand. "It's good to meet you, I've heard so much about you!"

"Hello, Mrs Park," he said, shaking her hand and giving a sideways glance at Aanchal – what had she been telling her mother about him?

She gave him a sly grin before quickly disappearing into the hallway, and reappeared almost immediately with her father and sister in tow. "This is Hoseok!" she cried, and they both smiled at him as warmly as Mrs Park, extending their hands and welcoming him.

"You're cute," said Aanchal's sister, after shakng his hand. Aanchal whacked her lightly on the arm. "He is, but don't go getting any ideas!"

The Parks laughed, and Mr Park said, "Why not? Don't tell me he's already taken?"

His tone was light and teasing, and Hoseok realized that they had no idea what kind of relationship he had with Aanchal – to her family, they were student and tutor, and maybe friends. Nothing more.

There wasn't enough time for the disappointment to settle in – they all headed to the dining room, where a large table was laden with delicious food. Aanchal pulled out a chair – "Sit here, Hobie!" - and sat next to him.

After everyone took their seats, Mrs Park ladeled soup into one of the bowls and passed it to Hoseok. "Guests first!"

This simple gesture surprised Hoseok a bit – he had never been served first. When he had lived with his parents and brother in Seoul, he had always been the last person to get food on his plate since he was the youngest – they served Yoseob first, though.

"Thank you," he said, and she smiled in response and went on to serve everyone else. Everyone sang out a "Thank you" when they recieved their bowls, and this took him a bit by surprise too – back at home, a maid had quietly served them, one by one. No one had ever thanked anyone for food.

It actually felt nice. For some reason, it made him more aware of what he was about to eat, instead of mindlessly taking it for granted. Someone had prepared this, they had taken time and effort, and this family was willing to share it with him – saying thank you had made him realize this even more.

"Taste it," said Mr Park. "Go on, it's delicious."

No one had eaten yet. They were looking at him, everyone smiling and expectant. They were waiting for him to start, and only then they would start, since he was a guest.

Hoseok dipped his spoon in his bowl and brought it to his lips. He could feel the salty warmth, the sweet tanginess of tomato soup seeped into a crouton, and it seperated into delicious soft strands in his mouth before slipping down his throat.

"How is it?" asked Mr Park eagerly.

He smiled. "It's delicious. Thank you, Mrs Park, you cook very well."

"No!" cried Mr Park in disappointment. "I made it!"

"Oh!" exclaimed Hoseok, as everyone burst into laughter. "Sorry, I meant Mr Park!"

"That's why he wanted to know so badly what you thought of it," said Aanchal's sister, Sarang. "You should have suspected it from the start!"

"Why?" put in Mr Park. "I would be the same if it weren't me who cooked it! Your mother is a very talented cook!" He reached over the small space of the table and closed his hand around Mrs Park's, who laughed and pushed him away.

"You never act like this for something you didn't make!" she said teasingly.

Holding his wife's hand seemed like such a small gesture to Mr Park, it came to him so naturally and effortlessly. Hoseok glanced at it a second time – he had never seen his parents hold hands in front of him.

"Eat fast." Aanchal's words interrupted his train of thoughts. "Because only then we can go to the main course!"

He nodded, and ate his soup. Once everyone had finished, Mrs Park brought over an enormous bowl of spaghetti, and Mr Park brought the tomato sauce and grated cheese.

"We hope you like spaghetti," said Mrs Park. Hoseok reassured her that he did, and she said, "Mr Park and I traveled a lot before the girls were born – we were a big fan of foreign cuisine!" She started to give everyone their spaghetti, and piled on a generous amount of sauce and cheese. "Italian pasta was one of our obsessions, and so was French bread."

"Ah," said Mr Park in a dreamy voice. "We woke up on cold mornings and went to the bakery – there's nothing better than a nice fresh croissant and a pain au chocolate. And the cheese! My word, the cheese! You could sample them in the shops before buying them, and once we were asked to leave because we ate too many! Remember?"

Hoseok twirled spaghetti around in his fork, thoroughly enjoying the conversation.

"I remember!" said Mrs Park. "Oh, but one of the best places to eat was in India – naan and paneer butter masala. Mr Park once ate so many laddoos he got sick!"
 

Laddoos? Hoseok could recognize the sweet! "I once ate too many, too!" he put in.