Secret #1: I saw you crying.

Halloween.

Whoever invented this event should be called a genius. On halloween, you can be literally anything. Oh, and here I am, undercovering as a human with my white sweater and blue jeans. It would be safe to say that I'm a normal man tonight, because in other days, I'm not. Bottomline is, I'm not dressed up for Halloween. But if I were to really prepare for a costume, I think being an austronaut would be cool. I mean, what's cooler than pretending to experience both earth and the entire universe? I had to remind myself that I'm not here for Halloween. 

I scan the street and I see superheroes, scary monsters and even animals. Across the street, I see goblins, fairies, movie characters... the list practically goes on. I smile in fascination as I watch these people play their characters. And then, just as I was about to keep going and quit my Halloween preoccupation, I see a red-haired ballerina.

Wearing her off-white ballet dress and pink shoes, she stands out from the crowd. It must be her fiery red hair. I watch her as she timidly maneuvers herself through the crowd of costume-clad people. I catch myself crossing the street and following her direction. 

A voice in my head reminds me of the mission I have for tonight, but I shrug it off. As if there is an invisible magnet between us, I follow her. It was not hard to track her - she stands tall and simply stands out. 

She halts as she enters a cinema, and I watch her as she scans the list of movies on full show for the night. She bites her fingernail as she contemplates, seemingly scanning the short list of movies for at least five times. Finally, she has perhaps made up her mind. She turns in graceful fashion, and I catch a glimpse of her face more clearly. 

Wait, she looks familiar.

But no, that is just odd. It's my first time in Seoul. 

"I'm watching this," she tells the lady at the ticket booth.  "One ticket please."

Mmm, only one. So she's not having company for tonight?

The ticket booth lady looks at her and asks, "Are you sure, miss? This movie is a special screening for kids."

I look at where the lady is pointing from a huge poster. I assume that an animated Disney movie has been chosen over the other thriller and horror movies for adults. 

"I'm sure," she tells the lady. "One ticket please," she repeats, this time with a little coldness and annoyance in her voice.

My eyes follow her as she takes her ticket and walks on towards the cinema room. 

Minutes forward, I am seated on the seat directly behind her, watching the same movie. Just