AUTHOR'S NOTE: So, I kind of expected the 'Daily Updates' option to win the Poll, with like 50% of the vote or something...and then it was 92%.  LOL! Seems like you guys really want daily updates hahaha (which is no problem at all for me, so don't worry about me overworking or stressing <3)

Keep the love coming, there's honestly nothing better on this whole site than reading the comments of my readers, it's so heartwarming to see, genuinely <3  I'll try replying to a bunch more in the future if you guys want me to since I feel like I'm ignoring a couple people and I don't wanna do that!

Anyway, here's a little tease: Chapters 11 and 13 are my favourites of the whole thing so far, so get ready for tomorrow haha. This one's still great, though! I hope my comedy's coming through since like I said I'm a bit out of practice with the genre, but yeah (sorry for the long- Author's Notes every damn chapter as well lol)

Enjoy! :)

10

The Man Who Sold The World

First they went into one of the other rooms in the left of the house and found nothing. Just more trays of food and people eating little pickles out of china bowls and people with slicked hair laughing obnoxiously at one another like clowns at a festival, ludicrous in their displays, slapping their thighs and slapping each other on the shoulders. It didn’t even seem real. She followed Irene more by smell than sight because to look at her in that backless dress was almost sinful, Seulgi thought. Almost like she was seeing something she wasn’t supposed to see. Like she was witness to a mistake. Or as if Irene were testing her patience. Or her resolve, one or the other.

They nodded to a couple of people, smiled. Irene even spoke to a few. Though whether she recognised them or not Seulgi couldn’t tell. She waved and shook hands and said hello and goodbye and disappeared again with Seulgi in tow, navigating the seemingly endless corridors on the ground floor, the first floor, the second. Three or four bathrooms, many more bedrooms. Random hallways leading to nothing. Great oblique paintings hanging from varnished walls everywhere she turned. But The Cube not among them. Of course. She thought that was a stupid idea in and of itself. Sometime later they stopped on the balcony overlooking the entranceway below and waited a minute. Somewhere in the house a soft eighties’ tune was playing.

‘What are we doing?’ Seulgi said.

‘Trying to find Yeri.’

‘I know. But, where is she?’

Irene turned and flagged down one of the waiters and he came over. She took a glass of white wine and thanked him with a smile far too enthusiastic and drank and turned back to survey the rest of the house. ‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘Why don’t we just ask someone?’

‘I don’t want to come across too eager, you know? I’m sure other people have the same idea.’

‘Why?’

‘She’s the richest person in this house. I guarantee you that. Whether she’s earned it or not doesn’t really matter, does it? As long as she’s got it. ing sycophants.’

‘Didn’t know you thought so strongly about it.’

‘I don’t.’ Irene sipped at the wine. ‘I mean, I maybe I do. I don’t even know. But, it. Whatever.’

‘We need to find her.’

‘Do we?’

‘What?’ Seulgi said.

‘I don’t know. I was just being awkward for the sake of it.’

Seulgi looked at her. They shared a moment of quiet she didn’t much like. Irene watching her over the rim of her glass, that distant glint in her eyes of something devious, something a little bit reckless perhaps, something waiting to happen. That glare she couldn’t quite place properly. Or didn’t want to for fear of what it actually was and what it would give way to if spoken about. So she just stood there with her arms over the balcony railing looking dumbly at Irene while Irene finished the wine and set the glass on the floor and grinned that knowing grin that was so frustrating in its mysticism.

‘What do we do when we find her?’ Irene said.

‘What?’

‘What do we do?’

‘She’s meant to be your friend,’ Seulgi said.

‘More an acquaintance, but still. Whatever.’

‘You don’t know?’

Irene gave a curt shrug.

‘We need to sit her down and ask her if she knows anything about the painting,’ Seulgi said. ‘Anything at all.’

‘Well, yeah. I figured that.’

‘Why’d you ask then?’

‘Just being awkward.’ She shot another devious smirk. ‘If we can get her alone, maybe a little drunk, it’ll be easy. Jesus, listen to me – how creepy does that sound? If we can get her a little bit drunk.’

‘That’s illegal.’

‘Is it?’ Irene said. ‘Let’s be honest, it’s not like you’re the bastion of modern justice you claim to be.’

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘Your friend Wendy. I mean, you said it yourself. Weed’s pretty ing illegal in Korea. Like, entirely so. But you didn’t seem to care. You even threatened her with it, if I recall rightly.’

‘We’ve got bigger problems to be dealing with than that.’

‘Still. Nothing wrong with breaking a couple laws now and again, right? What’s that age-old saying? Rules are meant to be broken? Or is it laws? Or both. I don’t know.’

‘Irene.’

‘Right.’

She looked about and into the crowds that had gathered by the stairs and down along the banister. As if they might be privy to something she was about to say but none cared or even acknowledged them. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘Well. We need to get her comfortable, is what we need to do. If we can get her talking about art we can get her blabbing about The Cube, I guarantee it. And that shouldn’t be too difficult. She loves art. It’s the whole reason she hosts these things. Well, that and the sickening social laddering, I suppose. But whatever. Then we try and get everything we can from her. People who’ve spoken about it, things she’s heard – like that, you know? And for Christ’s sake, Seulgi, please don’t tell her you’re a detective.’

‘I wasn’t going to.’

‘You know how bad that’d be? We’d be out the door before you knew it. She’s not going to say anything to any sort of law enforcement, I’ll tell you that much. They shy away like…’ Irene, stopping, clicking her fingers. Then: ‘Well, like something that shies away from something. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head.’

‘Like horses?’

‘I prefer dogs.’ She smirked. ‘But sure, if you want. Like shying horses. So don’t tell her. Or even let on about it. Or even imply it. Or even hint it.’

‘I won’t.’

‘Good. That’s good. It shouldn’t be too hard, as long as she remembers me.’

‘And if she doesn’t? Seulgi said.

‘Well it’ll be a lot harder then, won’t it?’

‘Will she?’

‘Will she what? Remember me?’

Seulgi nodded.

‘I don’t know,’ Irene said. ‘Like I told you, it’s been a while. But she should. Who can forget this face, you know?’

And Seulgi, internally, saying: Boy, don’t I know it.

They stood there a couple minutes longer in silence. Listening to the conversations of others, in the way that people not really comfortable in their surroundings often do, looking for a way to fit in, soaking up contextual clues, preparing to put them into practices themselves – what to talk about, how to go about greeting people. Little things. Things that never mattered anywhere else but probably mattered here. Then Irene leant over the railing and nudged Seulgi and said in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, ‘There. She’s there.’

‘Who? That one?’

They were looking at a young girl, maybe nineteen or twenty, in a black dress down by the door. She was quite small, had a small face. And a smile on it that said much of nothing, rather blank entirely. Like Irene had said. She had a small mouth – for some reason Seulgi noticed that first. Perhaps she had been looking at mouths too much. At a certain someone’s. She stood with two other guys speaking mutely and laughing with glasses of champagne bubbling in their hands and another woman came over and they hugged and stepped back and spoke again. Irene nudged Seulgi a second time. ‘That’s her, by the door.’

‘That’s Yeri?’

‘Sure is.’

‘She looks young.’

‘I told you she was.’

‘Like, too young to be doing this. Below legal age.’

‘What, you gonna arrest her or something?’ And then, having looked at Seulgi’s graveness, Irene said, ‘Wait. Don’t actually get the idea of arresting her into your head. I know it’s something you’d do.’

‘No you don’t.’

‘Well, I bet you would. Seulgi. Please don’t tell her you’re a cop.’

‘I won’t. I promise.’

Irene smiled a half smile and nodded down to the floor and led Seulgi through the crowd and down the stairs to the front. On the way she took two glasses of wine from a tray and handed one to Seulgi and made a face as to say: Hold this, drink this, do whatever. Just make yourself look busy. And for the love of God, please let me do the talking. She went up to the door and when Yeri caught sight of her she politely excused herself from the conversation and came over and hugged Irene before Irene even had time to react.

‘Oh my god,’ she said. And there, that voice. Irene had warned her. Ditzy, she’d said. A ditzy voice. Not quite all there.

‘I didn’t expect you to be here!’

‘I didn’t expect to be here,’ Irene said. ‘But I thought, why not?’

‘You look good. You look really good.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I thought you were in prison?’

Irene looked at Seulgi and back. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Well. I’m out now. A setback, you know?’

‘A setback.’ Yeri laughed. Looked at Seulgi. ‘You going to introduce me to your friend?’

‘Right. This is…’ she paused a moment. ‘This is Wheein.’

‘Wheein,’ Yeri said, holding out a hand. ‘Nice to meet you, Wheein. I’m Yerim. Kim Yerim. Of SK Telecom. You might know me.’

She gave a little curt wave and Seulgi just stood there tapping on the wine glass. ‘Uh, yeah,’ she said. ‘I know you.’

‘Call me Yeri.’

‘Yeri. Nice to meet you, Yeri.’

‘And you.’ And then to Irene: ‘When’d you get here?’

‘Not long ago,’ Irene said. ‘Maybe half an hour. I don’t really know.’

‘Had a couple glasses already?’

Irene laughed. Yeri laughed. They were like actors in a play, Seulgi thought. Both of them more similar than they knew. False pretences under false guises. ‘I can’t believe it,’ Yeri said. ‘Can’t believe you’re here. It’s been, what? A year? Two years? More? I can’t even remember it’s been so long. Can’t believe you’re here.’

‘Well,’ Irene said. ‘Here I am.’

‘Here you are. Come,’ she said. ‘We’ll go speak outside. I need a bit of fresh air.’

She disappeared toward the door and Irene turned to Seulgi and nodded to follow and she did. By the exit one of the butlers in a red vest came up to her carrying a plush black fur coat in front of him. ‘You’re coat, ma’am,’ he said.

‘Yes it is,’ Yeri said. ‘And I’ve got the receipts to prove it.’

Irene and Seulgi just looked at each other.

Outside they stood just beyond the doorway under the long stone arcade while Yeri lit a cigarette and blew greyblack smoke coiling into the cold air and smacked her lips. ‘Can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Oh, you know,’ Irene said. ‘Just looking around.’

‘Looking around.’

‘I can’t believe you’re still doing these.’

‘Yep. Every week.’

‘Still?’

‘Still,’ Yeri said. ‘No breaks.’

‘I thought maybe, with all the drama about the Leeum disappearance and stuff, you would’ve cancelled them. At least for a while.’

Yeri shook her head and took a drag of the cigarette and blew out. ‘Why would I?’ she said.

‘I don’t know. It’s just, you know. There’s a lot of talk going around about who’s taken it and where. I thought maybe you didn’t want to get caught up in that .’

‘It’s fine,’ Yeri said. ‘I think my dad likes me doing these anyway. It gets me out of his way, you know? So, yeah. People still come to them. People still buy stuff. It’s cool. It’s like a closed circuit. A closed money circuit.’ She laughed to herself and took another drag. ‘The Leeum thing’s all sorts of messed up, though. All sorts. We’ve all been talking about it. I mean, talk to literally anyone here and they’ll bring it up. I guarantee you. And for good reason. How could they not, you know? It’s such a big thing. It’s like, the biggest thing. Someone just snatching it like that. Everyone’s got their own little theories about it.’

There was a quiet pause. Then Irene said, ‘What about you? What’s your theory?’

‘Mine?’

Irene nodded.

Yeri finished the cigarette and blew languidly and stubbed out the under her heel. In the air the smoke rolled and curled and dissipated like dream smoke. ‘You want to know my theory?’

Irene nodded again. Yeri leant closer to them. ‘I think it was the government,’ she said.

‘The government.’

‘I mean, think about it. All that keeps happening is the price continues to go up. That’s all that was going to happen. It was, what, two hundred billion? I guarantee you eighteen months from now it would’ve been three hundred billion. And then four hundred. Maybe even higher. Maybe the most expensive painting ever, you know? And people don’t like that, because it presents an even bigger risk. It’s just a whole load of hassle for no real reason. I mean, I love art – you know I love art, Irene, I just love art – but still. Come on. For one painting? That's ludicrous. And it wouldn't be that hard to just make disappear, would it? Not for some guy in the government. I know these people, Irene. I know them. My dad knows them. He works with them all the time. He knows what they're like. Maybe one of them took it. I mean, hey. I'm just saying, you know?'

‘You think the government stole it?’

‘Well. No.’ She paused. ‘Well. Yes. But not really.’

‘Not really.’

‘It’s not stealing if the government does it, right? I don’t think it is. I think there was an American president that said that once, wasn’t there? It’s not illegal if the president does it. Richard Nixon?’

Seulgi and Irene looked at each other.

‘I don’t know,’ she said. She took another cigarette out of the carton in her handbag and offered them both one and they both declined. She lit and drew on her own and then she said, ‘Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it's not the government. But it beats all those other theories, you know?’

‘Other theories?’ Irene said.

‘Yeah. About it being the mafia or something. Not the mafia. What’s it called in Korea? Been watching too many movies. I can’t remember. But, like. Why would the mob steal it? To sell it, I guess. But to who? Foreign mafia? No one in Korea’s going to buy it, that much is for sure. This is a national thing, you know?’

‘We know.’

‘So it can’t be them. I don’t think. I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

Yeri shrugged. ‘It’s beyond me,’ she said.

‘So you haven’t heard anything about it?’

‘I thought I would’ve, honestly. Whenever something like this happens there’s always rumours flying around. But this is different. Nothing’s surfaced. Government , you know?’

‘Uh huh,’ Irene said. ‘Government .’

‘Anyways, what’ve you been up to? Apart from, you know, being in jail.’

‘Nothing much. Just, you know. Being in jail.’

‘Ah. Right. Well. Was it fun?’

‘Being in jail?’

Yeri nodded. She looked every part sincere and for that Seulgi felt a sort of strange pity.

‘Well,’ Irene said. ‘Could’ve been worse, I suppose.’

There was a quiet. Just Yeri smiling. Then she said, ‘I can’t believe you’re here. It’s so good to see you again.’

‘You too.’

And Irene turned to Seulgi and smiled and pushed her hair back out of her face as if to say: Not good. Not good at all.

♣   ♣   ♣

‘Well.’

She took one of the little cocktail sausages and placed it in and chewed.

‘Well,’ Seulgi said. Leaning against the car. Irene beside her, not leaning.

‘I’m sorry,’ Irene said. ‘I thought it’d go better than that. I thought she’d have more for me, you know?’

‘I know.’

‘And what is it with everyone we meet talking about some conspiracy ? Your friend Wendy. Now Yeri. You know what I'm talking about. Eh. Forget it. Good place, though. Right?’

Seulgi shrugged. She had her hands in her pockets. Quietly they watched people coming and going for a couple minutes. Staggering to their cars, hailing cabs, smoking cigars. Smoke and laughter. Some guy in a pink suit came flashing a toothy grin and nodded to them and they nodded back. ‘You got a smoke?’ he said.

‘No, sorry.’

Then while pointing to the car: ‘That yours?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Sweet. Don’t see many of them in Korea. Testa Rossa, right?’ Pronouncing it Teh-stah Rose-ah. Seulgi smiled an awkward smile.

‘It’s just Testarossa,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘One word. It’s all one word.’

‘Right.’

He just sort of turned and walked away and then he was gone. Irene seemed to not be paying attention at all. She had a bottle of the champagne – Black Label – in one hand and a couple cocktail sausages in the other. She turned to Seulgi. ‘We going?’ she said.

‘Sure. Whatever.’

‘God, I love party sausages. Hey. Wait. Are you sure you should be driving? I mean, I know you’re good at breaking the law for a cop and all, but still.’

‘I’ve had one glass.’

‘That’s what they all say. Right before they go over the railing and down the long slope in a blazing fireball of glory.’

Seulgi ignored her. She climbed into the driver’s seat and Irene came around the other side and fell half in. It was clear she was much drunker than Seulgi. She popped the last sausage into and tossed the cocktail stick out the window and sat back. ‘You know what I’m going to say, don’t you?’

‘No,’ Seulgi said.

‘How about a bit of Earth, Wind & Fire, huh?’

‘Whatever.’

She drove while they listened to whatever Irene wanted them to listen to. All Seulgi could think of was Irene. Not even Irene in the passenger seat. Or in front of the mirror. Or in that dress, that backless dress, the slenderness of her frame in the black, how she looked from the front, the smell of her perfume. Those visions had evolved to just a general sense of Irene. Just Irene. When she cut the engine in the underground lot it had just gone one in the morning. Irene stumbled out after her, bottle of champagne still in hand. She stood waiting, expectant. Stood waiting in the car lot, in the corridor, in the hallway outside Seulgi’s apartment. Then she stood in the livingroom doorway, small in the outer dark, waiting and waiting for nothing. She didn’t even realise Seulgi was still by the door and hadn’t moved. When Irene at last turned Seulgi was still there, a piece of paper in hand. An unreadable expression on her face.

‘What?’ Irene said. ‘What is it?’

Seulgi didn’t reply. She read. After a while she looked up and said, ‘It’s a letter.’

‘A letter. From who?’

‘It’s anonymous.’

Irene tried to right herself and couldn’t. In that way that people understanding the severity of a thing often try and cannot fix, still stumbling in the doorway, holding onto the jamb for support, hiccupping and giggling to herself. The champagne still in hand. Seulgi read the letter again and a third time. Then a fourth. ‘What is it?’ Irene said. ‘What does it say?’

‘It’s a tip-off.’

‘What? From who?’

‘I don’t know. It’s anonymous. Kim Taeho, maybe. Probably. , this could be big. Could be huge.'

‘What does it say?’

Seulgi was quiet a moment. Then: ‘It says he’s on the run.’

‘Who’s on the run?’

Seulgi shook her head. ‘It doesn’t give a name. But it says he has information we want regarding the Leeum. It says he was involved in stealing it, him and two other men. It says he wants to meet us – just us – to tell us everything, but he can’t do it over the phone and he can’t contact us because he fears for his safety.’

‘It says all that?’

‘Yeah,’ Seulgi said. ‘And more.’

‘What more?’

‘He says he knows who stole the painting and where it’s going. And where it’s already been. He knows who’s involved. He says there’s a boat party happening on Saturday night and the address we’re to go to if we want to get on that boat is 12 Gapyong street. In Yeouido. Near the docks. He says he’ll meet us there. Then he describes himself. Black hair, about five six. Says he’s got a lotus tattoo on his neck.’

‘What about the moustache?’

Seulgi looked at her and back at the letter. ‘That’s got to be him,’ she said. ‘Kim Taeho. It’s got to be.’

‘It’s bull,’ Irene said.

‘What?’

‘I bet it’s bull.’

‘It says we’re not to contact anyone else or tell anyone and if we do, he’ll know. And the whole thing’ll be called off.’

‘Why does he want to tell us anyway? What does he get out of it?’

‘Doesn’t say.’

‘Doesn’t say,’ Irene repeated.

Seulgi shook her head again. She paced about the room still reading the letter. Parsing anything else from it, anything at all. ‘It just says we’re to meet him at this boat party on Saturday and he’ll give us all we need.’

‘How does he know what we look like?’

‘It gives us a codeword to use.’

‘A codeword? What?’

‘Presumably so he knows it’s us.’

‘What’s the codeword?’

‘Cookie.’

Irene laughed. Seulgi looked at her and back again. Everything felt colder than usual. ‘I bet it’s bull,’ Irene said. ‘I bet it’s a big hoax or something.’

‘How could it be?’

‘I don’t know. But how does he know who we are?’

They shared a silent glance as if to weigh up each possibility of this and as if deciding that they liked absolutely none of them. Seulgi put the letter on the kitchen worktop and sat at one of the stools just thinking and thinking about nothing at all. With great care Irene set the bottle on the table and leant against the end of the worktop. Seulgi could still smell her perfume. With the champagne her cheeks had flushed a delicate pink and she looked almost innocent there, almost naïve. Comically so. She hiccupped and looked at Seulgi. ‘Does it say anything else?’ she said.

‘Only that we have to find a way to get into this party.’

‘What? That’s what it says?’

Seulgi nodded.

‘It doesn’t tell us how? Doesn’t give us a way to get in? Just says we’ve got to get in. That’s some video game . How does he expect us to do that?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘How are we going to do it?’

‘I don’t know.’

'Maybe you could use your overwhelming charm and natural charisma. Maybe that'd work.'

Seulgi ignored her.

‘I don't understand how he expects us to try and get in,' Irene said. 'If we are at all, of course. Are we?’

Seulgi looked at her and looked away and ran a hand through her hair.

‘Seulgi.’

‘I don’t know. I guess we should.’

‘But…’

‘But it’s not protocol.’

‘What? What isn’t?’

‘Are you kidding me?’ Seulgi said.

‘Well forgive me for not knowing proper police protocol, Captain High-Chief-Big-Sitting-Police-Queen.'

‘I need to call this in. Whether it’s real or not, Hongki needs to know.’

‘Does he, though?’

Seulgi looked at her again. ‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ Irene said.

‘It’s the law. It’s pr-’

‘Protocol. Yeah, I get it. But the letter says he’ll know if we tell anyone.’

‘How can he, though?’

‘He seems to know who we are, right? And more importantly, where we are.’

‘I don’t know. I guess.’

‘So maybe he can tell. Maybe, you know, he’s a got a crystal ball or something.’

‘Maybe not.’

‘Do you want to risk it? Not the crystal ball. Forget the crystal ball.’

A quiet. Then Seulgi said, ‘No.’

‘Me neither. What if he’s actually got something important? I mean, I doubt it. But still. Can’t hurt to look it up, can it? What else are we going to do? Find random members of Kim Taeho’s family to question again? Go and ask a couple more store clerks? What other leads have we got? I’m pretty sure I’ve already run out of high-class friends to pester.’

‘I know.’

‘Then we should follow it up, no?’

Seulgi looked at her. ‘You’re very eager,’ she said.

‘I’m just bored, is all.’

‘So you decide to fight crime.’

‘I didn’t decide. Should I remind you of that?’

Seulgi shrugged.

‘You want a drink?’

‘No I do not.’

Irene popped off the cork of the champagne. A thin stream of bubbles went skitting over the side of the bottle and to the floor. ‘Suit yourself,’ she said, and drank. When she was finished she put the bottle back on the table and continued. ‘What are we going to do, then? Are we going to tell about this letter?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well. You’ve got to decide. It’s in two days.’

‘What do you think?’

‘Me?’

Seulgi nodded.

‘Why are you asking me all of a sudden? Thought I was just the silent tagalong.’

‘You are.’

‘But not so silent anymore.’

‘Sure. What do you think?’

‘I think we should follow it up,’ Irene said. ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’

‘The worst?’

‘Sure.’

‘It could be a trap set by the White Lotus Gang to lure us to a place they could off us without anyone knowing.’

‘Well. Okay. What’s the second worst thing that could happen?’

‘How would we go about even doing it?’ Seulgi said. ‘Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually entertaining the possibility of going AWOL.’

‘You’re not in the army, sweetie.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Whoops. You’re not in the army, Seulgi. Better?’

‘It’s still the same thing. Ignoring orders.’

‘Imagine what your husband would say.’

Seulgi ignored her. They were quiet, deliberating. Irene took the champagne and drank again and set it back with a grimace and turned to wait for Seulgi to speak. But for a long time she did not. She just sat there. Then she said, ‘Okay.’ As if readying herself. As if trying to convince herself of something Irene was already convinced of.

‘Okay,’ Irene said.

‘If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to do it.’

‘Well. Yes.’

‘I mean, properly.’

‘Go on.’

‘This boat party, that’s the first concern. We need a way to get onto the boat without anyone finding out who we are.’

‘Obviously. How do we go about doing that?’

‘We could ask Wendy,’ said Seulgi. ‘Or, I could ask Wendy.’

‘To do what?’

‘To get us in.’

‘How would she go about doing that? Is she a miracle worker as well as a stoner hippie?’

‘If there’s anyone in all of Seoul better than her with computers, point me in their direction.’

‘Yeah, well. They said the same thing about me and theft, didn’t they?’

‘She’ll be able to get us in,’ Seulgi said.

‘How?’

‘She’ll forge us fake papers or something.’

‘Fake papers.’ Irene laughed. ‘It’s not the war, sweetie. I don’t think they forge papers for people. I don’t think you need secret papers to get onto a ing boat party.’

‘Well, she’ll get us invites to get onboard.’

‘Will she now.’

‘She’ll do anything I ask of her or she’ll be in a cell by the end of the day.’

‘That’s terrifying. No, I mean truly. I think the power’s gone to your head, sweetie.’

‘This is serious, Irene.’

‘I know.’

‘If we’re doing this,’ Seulgi said, ‘I mean properly doing this, we need to be fully serious. We need to know what we’re doing. There’s no backing out. This could be dangerous. It probably will be. If it’s real.’

‘If.’

‘Yeah.’

There was a silence between them again. ‘So,’ Irene said, ‘tomorrow, then?’

‘Tomorrow?’

She gave a sly little smile, a slur of a smile, hidden behind her insobriety, swaying slightly from side to side. So that Seulgi could barely look her in the eye without flushing a deep scarlet herself. Scent of jasmine high about the room, tangible in the air. Irene took the bottle of champagne and held it up as if in toast. ‘Here’s to tomorrow then,’ she said. ‘Partner.’