A/N: I was originally planning on putting this up tomorrow night but I thought, why not now?? Might as well! Next chapter might be delayed a day or two since I'm busy and I'll be at a concert on Sunday (Penomeco omg). Anyway, comments/discussion are super welcome. 20 comments in 2 chapters is prolly a record for my stories :) !

Enjoy! :)

III. FALSE ALARM

"You love her, but you'll never be the one."

Work on Monday and Tuesday seemed to pass in a torture. Unbearable agony of that time, hour on hour as it was. Six became twelve and eighteen and more. She listened to almost nothing and took in even less. By the time she had finished Tuesday afternoon she could still not decide whether to walk home or walk somewhere else, to wander aimless through the streets. There was no sun in that afternoon though it was still hot. The worst of weather. A thin shower of rain slushed up on the pavements in pinholes, a terrible and humid heat. She walked and walked for a long time. Thinking of nothing in particular. What was there to think of? Of Seulgi? Perhaps. But it hurt to do so and she couldn’t truly figure out why.

She passed by long streets where cars sat like sleeping titans and herringbone sidewalks where dirt washed up in a black loam by the rain sloshed about and miscellanea from a night of drinking lay there like some battlefield of props, old drinking cups and foodboxes and packets of crisps and other assorted items, all caught up in the wind and deposited across a sheer and dark coming eve. She walked for a long time. Not particularly going anywhere. Some streets she recognised. A park, too. Some she had never visited before. Occasionally she would stop and look at herself in those distended windowpane reflections and see all she had become, the twisted visage of her wayward shape, her pointless endeavour going where exactly? Where? Nowhere.

Just after six she came upon Pico’s. Yeri was already there. She was sat by the window and she waved Irene over. Irene ordered a glass of water and sat down opposite. The other two were nowhere to be seen. ‘Hey,’ Yeri said. ‘How was work?’

‘Been better. But I can’t complain. What about you?’

‘Same old, same old. When it comes to working in convenience stores nothing really ever changes.’

‘Yeah. I guess not.’

Yeri drank a mouthful of her coffee and looked around. The café was almost empty. A thin and bleary dusk was rising low over the firmament in red. Smell of bacongrease and coffee in the air. As always. ‘Where are those two?’ Irene said.

‘On their way. They just finished.’

‘I guess I’ll never get used to only working six hours a day. Feels weird.’

‘Yeah, why is that anyway?’

Irene shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Never really asked. But the pay’s good for what it is and I don’t really want to complain. I feel like I’d come across as pushy or something, you know? Or spoiled. I don’t want any negative hangups from that place once I’m gone.’

‘Yeah. Makes sense.’ Yeri was quiet a moment. She grinned. ‘So,’ she said, ‘did you ring the number?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And?’

‘Wasn’t even a real number.’

Yeri laughed. ‘Oh my God. Are you serious?’

Irene nodded.

‘Jesus, that’s bad. Oh, you poor girl. You got set up.’

‘Alright, don’t rub it in.’

‘Maybe it was Kang Seulgi after all.’

‘I get it already.’

‘But seriously though, I’m sorry for you.’

‘Don’t be. It’s alright.’

‘Yeah, but I know what you’re like.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You take everything to heart,’ Yeri said. ‘That’s just how you are.’

‘I don’t.’

‘Yeah you do.’

Irene was quiet for a moment. Yeri watched her. ‘Alright,’ Irene said. ‘Alright, maybe I kind of do. But not this. It’s honestly fine.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

‘I don’t buy it.’

She looked at Yeri for a while. There was no sign of her backing down. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Maybe not. I don’t know. I can’t really tell. I just kind of liked her, you know? I don’t know how to explain it. I felt like I had a genuine connection with her for a while. You know what I mean?’

‘I thought you said you couldn’t remember anything.’

‘Well, not really from the night. But the next morning, yeah. We had a proper conversation and everything. She just seemed so down to earth and everything. I don’t know how to describe it properly. It’s just one of those cheesy things. Like, you know when they say that you can just feel a connection to someone? Yeah. That was me.’

‘I’ve never heard that.’

‘Because you don’t connect with anyone.’

Yeri just shrugged. ‘So what are you going to do?’

‘What can I do?’ Irene said.

‘I don’t know.’

‘I’m just going to let it go. But still, I’m kind of disappointed. Oh my God.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t believe I actually just said that.’

‘Relax. I get it.’

They drank their coffee and water in peace. Watching the slow turning of that coming dark. A dim glimmer of light slowly fading, slowly falling. All looked like mannequins in its bask. Irene finished her water and set the glass down and said: ‘So what about you, then? How’s work and stuff?’

Yeri shrugged. ‘It’s alright, I guess. A couple problems.’

‘Really? Like what?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘No, seriously. What’s up?’

Yeri looked sheepish. She was playing with her fingers and she shrugged again. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s hard to describe without sounding like a total prat.’

‘Try me.’

‘Well. Alright. Basically, all these girls I work with think I’m something I’m not and it’s sort of getting to me and I don’t know what to do about it. Like, I don’t how to properly explain it but they think I’m this crazy person who goes out partying every night and stuff, and they want me to come with them and do what they do and I’m just not about that life. I know, I know. You’re looking at me like I’m talking . I know I like a good night out here and there. I mean, you’ve seen that. But they’ve got this completely wrong idea of me and I don’t know what to do about it.’

‘Why don’t you just tell them?’

‘It’s harder than that. Especially for me. I’m not that good at talking to people, even if I kind of pretend I am. Only when I’m drunk. I’m not like Joy.’

‘Get drunk then.’

‘Very funny.’

‘But seriously. Maybe just sit down and tell them?’

‘I wish I could,’ Yeri said. ‘But I kind of also don’t want them getting the idea of what I really am, if that makes sense. Like, I don’t want them thinking…you know.’

‘That you’re really a proper weirdo who talks about birds speaking and you feed the ducks in your spare time? And that you read poetry in languages you can’t even understand?’

Yeri laughed. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That.’

‘Why not? I mean, it’s who you are.’

‘Yeah but they don’t think that. And I don’t know if that’s something they’d appreciate. I know how stupid that sounds.’

‘Maybe you’re better off not being around them then.’

‘They’re super cool people, though.’

‘Then they should be alright with it.’

Yeri just shrugged. For a minute however solitary she looked lost, almost afraid. It was a strange sight. She went to say something else and looked up and caught Wendy and Joy there in the door. They came over and sat down and ordered coffees. Yeri didn’t say any more. They asked Irene about how her phone call had gone and she told them and they laughed at her and told her they were sorry and she just shrugged it off. But there was something more there. She knew it. She could feel it. Something she wanted to grab a hold of. A tangible feeling. A sort of connection she longed to be a part of again. The others were right. She was a hopeless romantic.

When they parted she walked again alone and cold. She looked up. A black sky, swollen cloud formations. It looked fit to rain or perhaps even storm. By the time she was home it was seven. She stood there in the hallway taking in the familiar smell of scented vanilla and she closed her eyes and listened. Nothing. An eerie silence. A loneliness. She thought of Seulgi again. It was stupid, really. She had only met her once and it had been a one-night stand and nothing more. That’s exactly what it was. But she couldn’t get her out of her head. Seulgi. Kang Seulgi. She took out her phone and looked up the name. And pictures.

It was her. She hadn’t been lying. Same soft round face, same gorgeous eyes, same loose hair. It was most certainly her. She sat there in the living room for a while just thinking about it. A cloudy haze to her thoughts, muddled as they were. Holy . I slept with a celebrity. With a model. She looked at the number again and rang it. Same declining tone. Non-existent. By eight she had not moved from that couch. She turned the TV on and off again and stood and paced around like some dopeaddled maniac. Should I do it. I don’t know. It’s stupid. It’s embarrassing. Maybe.

By nine she had changed and showered and she called a taxi and went out. She was stone cold sober but it would not stop her. The taxi pulled up outside Mission just before ten. She stood in the queue, cold and alone, the stink of sweat and vodka already hot in her nose. A sickening scent, much used to. The roads slushed up in rain, long tire slishes cutting through the murk. A mist hanging in that strange Summer’s night. She waited there for what felt like an eternity. Not quite knowing what she was doing. Hoping in some small way and knowing it was hopeless. It was stupid and useless. Other people looked at her. Couples, groups, people drunk enough to not care that she was aware of their presence and people too drunk to even realise. A dim reverb grew the closer the got to the door. Like in some perpetual pendulum of sound did her fate hang.  

When she was inside she stood there by the main bar peering down at that dim place. It was early but already the crowd had picked up. They danced like one strange undulating unit, a steady rhythm beaten out in time to the music and their conversations like the sounds of some violent horde of maniacs, a berserk cacophony of noise. She stood there debating whether to get a drink or not. When she turned around Seulgi was there by the door. She was dressed in that same black leather jacket and a pair of tight jeans and she had her hair down by her shoulders. A casual look for everyone save her. Already a crowd of six or seven were watching her and talking amongst themselves and she ignored them. She looked around. Saw Irene standing there. For a moment there was nothing. Just a blank stare from both sides. Then she almost smiled.

She came over to where Irene was standing by the balcony. A heavy beat had picked up. By the neonlit illumination they looked like strange spectres conjured up from a place of perpetual colour, blue and red and blue, shades intermittent, a soft spectrum. Seulgi stood there. She studied Irene closely. Looking her up and down. Then she said: ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

‘Yeah,’ said Irene. She didn’t know what else to say. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey.’

‘You remember me?’

‘Yeah. You seem surprised.’

‘No. No. It’s just…’

‘What?’ Seulgi said.

‘Forget it.’

‘You don’t seem as drunk today.’

‘I’m sober as can be.’

‘Really? Why?’

She wanted to say: Because I came here to see if I could find you and I came on my own. Instead she said: ‘I don’t know. Didn’t feel like drinking.’

‘You here with your friends?’

‘Yeah,’ Irene lied. ‘You?’

‘No. On my own.’

‘Really?’

Seulgi nodded. A moment of quiet between them. A sort of unspoken thing though strange as it was. ‘You want a drink?’ she said.

‘Sure.’

Seulgi went up to the bar. A minute later she came back with two tall cups of vodka and Coke and passed one to Irene and they stood for a while drinking. Already Irene’s head was beginning to hurt. Seulgi looked her up and down. ‘You look good,’ she said.

‘Thanks. You too.’

‘You want to get out of here?’

‘And go where?’

‘I don’t know. Back to mine?’

Irene thought for a moment. ‘Alright,’ she said.

Seulgi led her out of the club and across the street to the parking lot. A red Ferrari sat there. Seulgi got in.

‘This is yours?’ Irene said. Seulgi just nodded. She drove under a moonlit night at a wicked speed, the sound there like a phantom sound played back across all the world loud enough as to raise a screaming pulse in that vast and desolate dead. They pulled up at Seulgi’s apartment and Irene stood for a minute surveying it. She couldn’t remember it very well at all. Seulgi led her upstairs without saying a word.

Irene stood there in the kitchen looking about again. All seemed so strange. Like she could remember it and not at the same time. Seulgi made her a coffee and one for herself and sat at the kitchen table across from Irene. For a while they didn’t speak. Not quite knowing what to say. Irene just watched her in silence. Then she said: ‘This is a nice place.’

‘You said that last time.’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘I’m not surprised.’

‘Was I bad?’

Seulgi laughed. ‘Well I’ve seen worse. But yeah. You weren’t the best.’

‘Sorry about that.’

‘Don’t be. It was a fun time.’

They were quiet a while again. Irene finished her coffee. She watched Seulgi very closely. The soft lines of her round face, the overpowering scent of honey and amber. It was almost intoxicating. How her jacket hung just right. As it had the night before. ‘What do you do for a living?’ Seulgi said.

‘What?’

‘What do you do? Like, job wise.’

‘Sorry. I just didn’t expect that.’

‘Just making conversation. I’m curious.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi said. ‘You seem interesting. It’s refreshing.’

‘I’m an accountant,’ said Irene. ‘Well, sort of. I’m an intern at an accounting firm. For now, at least. I don’t know what I’m going to do after that.’

‘Be an accountant?’

‘Yeah. I guess so. I just don’t know if I want to yet.’

‘Really?’

Irene nodded. ‘I don’t know if it’s the right choice for me. I mean, maybe. It used to be. That’s why I took business in university. I loved it for a long time. I probably still do. It’s just all gotten so dull. I think I need a change of pace. Or something to occupy my time. A new hobby or something.’

‘You should do whatever you want to do.’

‘It’s not always that easy.’

Seulgi smiled. ‘I guess not. You want some more coffee?’

‘No, I’m alright.’

She went and poured herself another cup and sat back across from Irene. In that dim light she looked otherworldly. Irene couldn’t take her eyes away. ‘You’re staring,’ Seulgi said with a smirk.

‘Sorry,’ Irene said.

‘Don’t be. It’s cute.’

‘I didn’t mean to. I just…’

‘What?’

‘I didn’t think you were actually Kang Seulgi, you know? That sounds really stupid but I didn’t recognise you so I thought you were lying.’

‘Why would I lie?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I thought you just wanted to get into my pants or something and you thought it’d impress me.’

Seulgi giggled. ‘Is that something that normally happens to you? Girls pretending to be supermodels so they can get into your pants.’

‘Not often enough.’

They both laughed. Outside an absolute dark. Seulgi finished her coffee again. Irene just sat there. After a while she said: ‘So why did you go to Mission tonight? And why weren’t you drunk?’

‘Who says I’m not?’

Irene looked at her again. ‘Are you?’

‘No. I’m sober.’

‘Right. Then why?’

‘I don’t know. I just felt like going, is all. Happens sometimes. I pretty much spend all my nights partying or getting ready to party. I guess I just wanted to go to Mission for a change. I don’t go often.’

Irene studied her face as she spoke. Something else hidden there. Something she would not say or admit to. Seulgi shrugged. ‘What about you?’ she said. ‘And your friends.’

‘We just wanted to go out again. It’s been a while.’

‘Do they know you left?’

‘I’ll let them know tomorrow or something.’

‘They’re not going to think you’re dead or anything, are they?’

‘Probably not. I’ve gone missing before.’

‘That doesn’t fill me with confidence.’

‘It’ll be fine.’

Irene brought the coffeecup to her lips out of reflex. It was empty. Stains of brown, helical around the rim, faint steam in palimpsest. ‘Back at the club,’ she said, ‘I saw like a dozen people crowd around you the moment you got in.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Is that normal?’

Seulgi nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘Jesus, that must get awful.’

‘I’ve learned to live with it. It’s not just random people at clubs. It’s other models, photographers, celebrities, rich families. It’s pretty much everyone. When you suddenly become the hottest prospect in the entertainment world you get a lot of hangers-on.’

‘I can’t even begin to imagine that. What’s it like talking to them all?’

‘Terrible.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah,’ said Seulgi.

‘Why?’

‘They’re all fake as . I know that sounds really pretentious but it’s true. Like, they’re all putting on a front to appeal to the most amount of people possible. Because it boosts their brand of whatever. They all live these in these fake personas so much that they actually start to become them. It’s honestly sickening sometimes. Just puts me right off. I just wish people could be themselves more. Just do whatever they want and not give a about what other people think. You know what I mean?’

‘Yeah,’ Irene said. ‘I guess so. Is that what you do?’

Seulgi smiled. ‘Yeah.’

‘What sort of person are you then?’

‘I just love a good party. That’s pretty much it. I love to get drunk and around.’

‘I sort of guessed that.’

‘Yeah?’

Irene nodded.

‘It’s who I am,’ Seulgi said. ‘Anyone who doesn’t like it is free to hit the door, basically. I won’t apologise for it or anything like that because what’s there to apologise for? I am who I am and at least I’m honest about it.’

‘I can respect that.’

A quiet fell between them. A sort of awkward tension. Irene watching all the while. She was so attractive it almost hurt. Her own heart going in some rapid and uncoordinated rhythm. The kaleidoscopic pulsebeat of her every waking moment. A flush already at her cheeks. And that smell. Honey and amber. To be never rid of it. ‘You said you like books,’ she said. Seulgi looked at her again. A glint in her eye.

‘Yeah. Huge reader.’

‘What’s your favourite book?’

‘Honestly? I mean, I’m a big book nerd.’

‘Me too.’

‘Blood Meridian,’ Seulgi said. She seemed almost proud of this. ‘There’s just so much to digest. It’s a book I don’t think I’ll ever be bored with.’

‘Yeah?’

Seulgi proceeded to tell her in great detail. It was a book Irene had never read but in some strange transitive way it felt almost as if she had. Seulgi told her of the Kid and Toadvine and the Judge and of how beautiful, even Biblical, the prose was and all the meaning she had extracted from it and all she could decipher and as she spoke she gestured wildly and smiled a greater smile than Irene had ever seen and she laughed and instructed with great enthusiasm the truths of that work and others aside, of her favourite authors and their favourite authors and all the books she had read and loved and even the ones she had hated too, and as she spoke Irene listened very closely, an intent like no other, each word like the last word, nodding and smiling and saying yeah and no and I haven’t read that one before.

Seulgi spoke for a long time. When she was finished she sat back, almost sheepish. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Like I said, I get carried away.’

‘It’s alright. Really. I love hearing you talk.’

Seulgi smiled. ‘Thanks.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly midnight.’

‘Jesus, I should probably go.’

‘Work tomorrow?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What time?’

‘Nine.’

‘Yeah. You probably should then.’

‘Thanks for the coffee.’

‘Is that a euphemism?’

‘What? No. I actually think it’s really good coffee.’

Seulgi laughed. ‘You’re cute,’ she said.

‘Thanks.’

Irene stood to leave and sat back down again. Seulgi watched her, confused. ‘Hey,’ Irene said. ‘Why did you give me a fake phone number?’

Seulgi rubbed the back of her neck. She looked at her feet. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just a thing I do often. Whenever I meet someone on a night out. You wouldn’t believe how many of them ask me for my number. It’s practically one hundred percent. And that’s a lot of girls. So I do it to keep a low profile. Well, as low as I can, I suppose.’

‘Right.’

‘Sorry about that.’

‘Can I get your real number?’

Seulgi was quiet a minute. She seemed to be sizing Irene up. As if weighing her value against the deficit of her value and counting its sum. Then she smiled. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I guess so. Just don’t ring or text me all the time. I don’t want people finding out.’

‘You live a secretive life, huh?’

Seulgi shrugged. ‘It’s better that way. Enough people know about me from my partying anyway and from the spotlight and stuff. I don’t want all of Seoul ringing me or talking about my ual escapades or whatever.’

‘ual escapades.’

‘Yeah.’

‘That’s what I am.’

‘I mean…sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like that.’

‘No, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not wrong, is it?’

Seulgi laughed apologetically. ‘No, I guess not.’

‘I’ll see you around.’

‘Yeah. See you.’

They shook hands as if at some cordial meeting and Irene left. Her heart racing madly in her chest. She could barely stand. Her cheeks flushed. She staggered down into the lobby and across the road and stood waiting for a taxi but none came for almost half an hour. She could think of nothing but Seulgi. Of her number, her real number. By the time she had managed to flag a taxi down it was half past twelve and by the time she was home it was one. She collapsed into her bed. It was a cool and starless night. A husk of a sky. Black as it was and interminable. She peered out of the window at it. Looking for signs in the heavens. For the constellations and her fate amongst them. But it was empty.

She slept thinking of Seulgi. Perhaps in truth she would never think of anything else again. Of her face, her eyes. The architecture of her grand design. It was almost too good to be true. Do I love her? She sat there counting the nodules of paint congealed on the ceiling and came to the realisation that she didn’t truly have an answer but it was more likely a yes than a no. Seulgi, Kang Seulgi. I’ve only met you twice and look what you’ve done to me. Look at what you’ve done.

At work she could think again of nothing but Seulgi. It had already become a bad habit. By five she had made it to Pico’s. She sat there by the window waiting for Yeri and watching slowly the rolling afternoon. A hot sun white perched like some great lightbulb in the sky. Where people and shadows of people passed one and the same. The café was not busy at all. A handful of customers, two men in construction vests and hardhats by the far wall, a couple students, few others. Smell of bacon again. As always. She sat with her head rested again the palm of her hand, just thinking. Of work, of her life. Of Kang Seulgi. She took out her phone again and searched for her. Pictures, information. Who she was, where she worked.

‘What are you doing?’

She looked up. Yeri was there. As if by some comical chain of events she had materialised out of thin air to annoy her. She put her phone away and shrugged. ‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey.’

‘How was work?’

Yeri set her bag down. ‘Alright, I guess. Want a drink?’

‘Sure. Coffee.’

She came back with two cups of coffee and sat down opposite. A blue day. Her face cast there in light like some sameself reflection of a face all distorted and such. Irene tipped back the coffee. Steaming and hot and bitter but it was something. ‘You’re early,’ she said.

‘Yeah,’ said Yeri. ‘I wasn’t needed at the shop.’

‘Feels like that happens a lot.’

‘It’s not really very busy. I don’t know why. I can’t complain though. What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘How was work?’

‘Same old.’

‘Suppose being boring suits you, doesn’t it?’

‘Funny.’

Yeri laughed. ‘What did you get up to last night anyway? You didn’t text or anything.’

Irene shrugged.

‘What?’ Yeri said. ‘Go on. Say it.’

‘Say what?’

‘Whatever it is you’re not saying.’

‘I’m not hiding anything.’

‘Yes you are.’

‘I’m not.’

‘C’mon.’

When Irene looked at her she smiled again. A coy smile. ‘I promise I won’t laugh at you,’ she said. ‘Okay?’

Irene thought for a moment. She was looking at the steam coil in her cup, the rim a dark black from which there was no reflection. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘But I know you’re going to tell the other two.’

‘Depends what it is.’

‘Oh, you definitely will.’

‘Well I just want to know more now.’

‘Promise you won’t laugh?’

‘Promise,’ Yeri said.

Irene was quiet. Then in a small voice she said: ‘I went to Mission last night.’

Yeri just looked at her. ‘What?’ she said.

‘I went to Mission.’

‘With who?’

‘No one.’

‘You went on your own?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Why?’

‘I was trying to find Kang Seulgi.’

Yeri laughed.

‘You said you wouldn’t laugh,’ Irene said.

‘I’m sorry. That’s just ing hilarious. You went to Mission to look for Kang Seulgi. That might be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Oh, that was definitely worth it. One hundred percent.’

‘Why’s that so funny?’

‘Seriously?’

Irene nodded.

‘Well you’re either delusional or whipped. I don’t know which is worse, honestly.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, if you really did sleep with a supermodel, like you said you did, and you’re spending your time literally searching for her, that’s a bit obsessive, no? And if you didn’t sleep with her, and you went looking thinking that you did, then you’ve lost your mind.’

‘I haven’t lost my mind. Not yet, at least.’

‘Then you’re whipped. And you slept with a supermodel. Jesus. Just think how crazy that sounds. You sure you haven’t gone a bit loopy?’

‘Pretty sure.’

‘Well. I don’t know what to say to that now. Why the hell did you go looking for her?’

Irene shrugged again. She was playing with her nails and her face had flushed a soft red. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just can’t stop thinking about her, and not because she’s a supermodel. Because she was super cool. Like, the perfect woman. I know how crazy that sounds. How crazy I sound, Jesus. But yeah, I think I’m whipped. I’ve only met her twice and I think I’m in love.’

‘Met her twice?’

‘I found her there.’

Yeri laughed again. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Now I know you’ve lost it.’

‘What?’

‘You went to Mission.’

‘Yeah.’

‘On your own.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Looking for a supermodel.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And then you found her there. And went home with her?’

‘What are you getting at?’

‘Do you realise how insane that sounds?’

‘Probably very. But I’m not lying. Why would I lie about something like that?’

Yeri finished her coffee. She looked out the window and squinted. As if forming some sort of coherent response or query. ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘so let’s assume you did actually meet her last night, and you went back with her.’

‘I did.’

‘Did you sleep with her?’

‘What? No.’

‘Well why not?’

‘I just didn’t.’

‘What happened then?’

‘We just talked.’

‘You just talked.’

Irene nodded. ‘And had coffee.’

‘Is that a euphemism?’

‘No. Why does everyone immediately think that? We actually just drank coffee.’

‘And then what?’

‘Well.’

‘What?’

‘Well then I went home.’

Yeri looked dumbstruck. ‘This is most elaborate story you’ve ever made up,’ she said. ‘Seriously commendable.’

‘It’s true. Honest.’

‘I kind of hope it actually is, you know? Just for how funny that would be. And how strange.’

‘She gave me her number,’ Irene said.

‘I know. You said.’

‘Her real number this time.’

‘Have you rang her?’

‘No.’

‘Or text?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Then how do you know it’s real?’

Irene didn’t say anything. She just looked at her phone. Weighing up this very real possibility. ‘I’m sure it’s real,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘I just have a feeling about it. An intuition.’

‘You should ring it then.’

‘I will.’

‘When?’

Irene shrugged. ‘Later.’

‘Why not now?’

‘God, you’re so nosy.’

‘Hey, I can’t help it.’

When Irene looked up she saw Wendy and Joy there by the door and she waved them over. They came with their coffees and sat and they all talked for a while and Irene watched Yeri to make sure she wouldn’t say anything. She didn’t, but the smile on face was telling. She would. Irene knew that. Oh, she would. When they had finished the coffee Yeri coughed against her hand and grinned and said: ‘Irene had something to tell you both.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘She does. Go on, Irene.’

‘What is it?’ Wendy said. They both looked expectant. Irene looked from Joy to Wendy to Yeri. ‘I hate you,’ she said. Yeri laughed.

‘What is it?’

‘I went to Mission last night.’

‘What? Why?’

‘I –’

‘She went to find Kang Seulgi,’ Yeri said. ‘On her own.’

They just looked at her for a minute. Both with mouths agape. Like two statues vigilant, posed in comical expressions of shock. ‘No ,’ Joy said. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Holy . Why didn’t you say anything?’

‘What was I supposed to say?’ Irene said.

‘She got her number too,’ said Yeri. ‘Her real number, apparently.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Joy said.

‘She’s in love.’

‘I’m not in love,’ said Irene. She pushed her coffee away. ‘I’m just curious, is all.’

‘Uh-huh. Curious. So curious you went for a night out on your own just for the possibility that she might be there. A supermodel. At Mission. Just for that. And you went home with her.’

‘Oh my God,’ Wendy said, ‘you went home with her?’

‘She did.’

‘Did you sleep with her?’ said Joy.

‘Why are you all curious about what I get up to?’ Irene said.

‘Because it’s fun.’

‘No, I didn’t sleep with her. We just talked.’

‘About what?’

‘About a bit of everything. She’s really cool.’

‘She’s really cool,’ Joy repeated in mock amusement. ‘Look at you, acting all hip and social and everything. You’re in there with a big-time model now.’

‘Stop it.’

‘Have you rung her?’ Wendy said.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘I’ve been at work.’

‘Are you going to?’

‘What is this, 20 Questions?’

‘Are you?’

‘Yeah. Probably. I mean, why not?’

Wendy grinned. ‘Well it can’t be any worse than last time.’

‘Amen to that,’ Joy said.

‘Imagine: Irene, the girlfriend of Korea’s hottest young model.’

Irene shook her head. ‘Stop.’

‘Maybe you’ll end up famous yourself.’

‘Alright, stop.’

‘Can you imagine?’ Yeri said. She giggled. ‘Irene, front page on the paper. Or on a magazine cover. One minute you’re working an accounting firm, the next you’re getting caught on a beach in a bikini by the paparazzi. Imagine what the headlines are going to say.’

‘Kang Seulgi gets herself a new girlfriend?’ Joy said.

Wendy laughed. ‘Kang Seulgi falls in love with part-time accountant from Seoul.’

‘Kang Seulgi bored to sleep by new lover,’ said Yeri.

Irene stood. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘That’s my queue to leave.’

‘Hey, no. Wait. We were just getting started. I can think of much better titles.’

‘Nope. I’m going.’

‘How about: World’s least intimidating stalker spotted on beach with supermodel.’

‘Goodbye.’

‘Or: Scandalous love affair. Kang Seulgi caught with girl who frowns too much.’

‘Bye.’

She left them there and headed home. About half way along she stopped and looked back. Long streets going dark. Where people passed the arcades like nightwatchmen. Things brought up from another place, another world. She stood on that corner for a long time. A cool breeze working up in the evening. It was almost six. Would it come to pass that these feelings would disappear? Would she be that same Irene again? Of course. But it would take time and she wanted desperately to see Seulgi.

It was silly. If she was being true to herself it was very silly. She thought about a story her mother had told me. About how she had met her father. It had taken them almost four years to stir up that flame of romance. And then she thought of her own feelings, of past relationships, of Seulgi. Some loves take a lifetime, some a day. But there is no constraint in the human condition to accept one as more valid than the other save a societal burden favouring in most cases the former. They held the same intrinsic value. Love was a betterment of one’s soul, love was love. Days, weeks, months. A year or fifty. It was all the same in the end. It was the same emotion.

She stood there by the corner surveying the red copper dusk and then where she would normally go left she went right. She took the bus into Gangnam. Her heart racing, hands shaking. In brief moments of reflection she thought it a bad idea but by the time she had collected herself into some form of coherency the bus had come to her destination. She stood there on the curb looking up across the street. A vast complex of glass, reflected in the pinchbeck dusklight the distention of a city pressed like a castellation, tower on tower, slick like stone. She gathered herself for a minute. Then she went across and through the lobby.

It was a long lobby. Brown leather chairs, TV sets hung on the walls, cream paint. She went up to the second floor. Her heart going now like some untampered metronome, offbeat as it was. A long corridor up to the door. Dim light, solitary on the ceiling. She listened and what she didn’t know. For Seulgi, perhaps. She was no doubt in there but all was very quiet and against the frosted glass of the door all looked like some vague shimmer as seen through melted glass. Irene took a long breath. She stood up by the door and knocked and wait.

The sight that greeted her was Seulgi in an oversized white shirt and a pair of boyshorts. Her hair a mess, makeup light. And that scent. That honey and amber. She seemed surprised to see Irene there.

‘Irene,’ she said.

Irene smiled awkwardly. ‘Hey.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I just thought, you know, since you gave me your number, that you wanted to see me again.’

‘Yeah. I mean…yeah. Why are you here?’

‘I thought it’d maybe be better to see you in person, you know?’

Seulgi shifted nervously. She had the door half opened and she stood with one hand pressed up against the frame as if to obstruct Irene from view. ‘Now’s not really a good time,’ she said.

‘Oh.’

 She made to say more and was cut off by something she saw. There was another girl behind Seulgi. She was stood by the kitchen counter. Irene could just about make her out over Seulgi. She was tall and lean and brown-haired and she was save her small underwear and when she saw Irene she just sort of stood there dumbly covering her s. Seulgi shifted about. ‘I’ll text you?’ she said.

‘No,’ Irene stuttered. ‘I mean, it’s alright. Like, I mean. Sorry. I’ll just leave you. Sorry. I didn’t know you…sorry.’

She backed out and down the corridor towards the elevator. Seulgi didn’t say anything. She stood there half in the doorway, leaning against the jamb and watching Irene go. Her face unreadable. Pity, perhaps. Or something entirely different. Irene thumbed the Lobby button hard enough to leave a welt on her skin. The last thing she saw before the doors closed was Seulgi, stood there still in the doorway, her round face, her soot lashes, the soft and asive tang of amber and honey. And the girl behind her. The girl with her hands over Seulgi’s chest, the girl pulling her back into the apartment like some wicked siren. And the door closing. Then she was gone.