A/N: Happy New Year everyone! I hope everyone's spending and celebrating it well. And here's to a new year! So, hopefully from this title, you all know what's in store. I wanted to give everyone what they've been waiting for, to start the year off nice and all :) I had dropped two hints in previous chappies when it came to Seulgi, hopefully by the end of this chappie you've had picked up on it or a small "ahhh" of realisation hits you. If not, I'm always up for a discussion down in the comment section. I do read and reply to each and every one, so feel free to ask if ever :) Without further ado, here's Irene meeting Seulgi!

One on her back. A large one on her back. She had probed for more information out of Joy, but to her and Joy's disappointment, Wendy had apparently slammed the door on her with an apology before she could see anything more than just the blonde’s back, sans the foretold bra.

She hadn't seen or heard from Wendy since either. It seems that the notion of exchanging numbers had not come to mind at all. Joy had said it makes sense, what with her lack of social skills. Irene resented the accusation but had nothing to back herself up with.

She doesn't even know why she's so worked up about this whole mystery. It did give her something new to do within her day, yes. Had her interacting with more people, even if one of them seems to detest both her and Joy. What will become of this new excitement in her life when she does come to meet her new neighbour, though?

Irene doesn't dwell much more on it when a knock comes to her door, signalling her usual tardiness for work. She tends to it with no groans this time, not even playing the you get it game with Joy. She doesn't know what's gotten into her elderly neighbour, but she's not about to complain about Ms Murphy’s new routine of feeding her.

“Good morning, dear. I packed you a big lunch this time. Thought I'd try oriental dishes this time. Hopefully it will remind you of home. Made the onigiri myself.”

She grabs the containers from Ms Murphy with an appreciative smile. She doesn't even have the heart to tell the woman that she's Korean, not Japanese. She should probably nip the misunderstanding in the bud, but the woman's smiling at her and Irene hates confrontations.

So, she thanks her with a “Joy and I will love it.”

The Tupperware in her hands jog her memory of the identical ones she's stacked on her island, waiting to be returned to its owner. When Joy shimmies in for her daily affection, Irene scampers off to grab the stack of three.

“I almost forgot,” she passes them over.

Ms Murphy gushes over them, as if Irene was giving them to her as a gift. “You didn't have to, dear.” Irene thinks, of course she did, they're yours, aren't they? But she bites her tongue, there was no need to be cheeky. “I hope you enjoy everything. Don't want to be left hungry during your company picnic.” How the woman knows about her company picnic, she would never know.

Joy shifts in the hallway not built to fit two people standing shoulder to shoulder, to give her a look of confusion. “You have a company picnic?”

Irene can't help but roll her eyes. For someone so prideful over the amount of gossip and information she has on people, Joy seems to tune out half the things Irene tells her. Like for example, her company picnic which she has moaned and groaned about for the last month, ever since she was given news about it.

“Why else would I be dressed like this for work?”

Joy's eyes roam down, examining the plain white t-shirt, shorts and sneakers she's wearing. She clicks her tongue after taking her entire outfit in, before shrugging. “I'dunno. Thought you hit a midlife crisis and stopped caring about what others thought of you.”

Taking offence, her brows settle in as she glares, her fist clenched ready to find an excuse to bruise her giant friend. “Excuse me?”

“It's bound to happen. Thought it was your time.”

And that's all it took for Irene to say thank you to Ms Murphy one more time before closing the door and using Joy as a punching bag.

--

There was not one cloud in the sky. The air was crisp in the wide expanse of nature she found herself sitting smack bang in the middle of. The field her boss had chosen gave no trees as the much-needed shelter. The amount of sunscreen she had drowned her skin with was alarming and dripping off with the help of the sweat her pores was working up. The picnic blanket one of her co-worker was in charge of providing for everyone was as hot as newly paved tar under her, the sweat pooling under her thighs was making her grossly stick to the felt material of the blanket.

When everyone was setting up, she had jumped at the open position situated right next to the esky. Not even the cool air coming from it could save her. Not when all the ice had already melted.

All in all, the heat was unbearable, and Irene felt utterly disgusting.

This whole company picnic was meant to build team spirit and create strong bonds, but truthfully the only thing building up in Irene was hatred. And really, it wasn't anyone's fault. The heat just brings out the worst in her and being stuck in a breezeless vat that's steaming her like a dumpling wasn't helping.

“Hey, Irene.” It's that co-worker again. The keen-bean, always eager for her to join them for lunch. Dressed in a floral playsuit, Irene's got to admit they don't look so drab anymore. Not that her co-workers’ clothing was the reason for her rejections. Just, it was a nice change. “Would you like to tag in for the next round of touch rugby? No tackling, so you won't get hurt, I promise.” It's that smile again. So expectant. Eyes gleaming with hope that maybe this time Irene would say yes.

But this time it wasn't because Irene wanted to say no. Not like she was keen on the idea of sports, but there was an actual reason behind her rejection this time. “I'd die of heatstroke if I move.”

And that makes her co-worker laugh. Like what she said was ridiculous and humorous altogether. And seeing how they unabashedly chuckle has her cracking a smile as well.

“You're hilarious, Irene. Come on, it'll be a quick round. No heatstroke’s, I can guarantee.”

They're trying so hard it makes her feel bad. And she guesses, if the air is as still as ever, then it'll be best if she moves to get some sort of breeze against her dampening skin. It'll take her mind off the heat too, hopefully.

“Sure. But only for one round.”

And the smile that beams across her co-worker was almost blinding. Just as close to the deafening squeal that leaves their lips, alongside a, “she said yes, guys!” before they haul Irene's sweaty heap up off the blanket.

When Irene said she wasn't keen on sports it wasn't because she was bad at it. She just wasn't good at it, per se. If someone is sprinting right at her then, of course, she's going to run off, even if it's away from her team's goal. But apparently seeing her flee and scream bloody murder was amusing to everyone. She supposed people laughing at her rather than being mad was the better option.

It didn't take long before Irene stuffed up. As in, hurled the ball at her teammate whilst on the run, in sheer trepidation, and having it bonk right off their head and into the far tree-line.

She doesn't know who's more shocked. Her for having hurt someone unintentionally, or her co-worker having to calm her down as she hyperventilates over them and the wound she’s created.

“I-Irene, I'm okay. Calm down, really, it's fine. Just a bump on the noggin.” The red splotch on the side of their forehead didn't help in calming her one bit.

Mumbling another sorry, she goes off to help the others locate the ball. If only she knew where it bounced off to.

She got the shade she wanted alright but being surrounded by trees that all started to look the same didn't help. Not one bit. Not at all.

Especially when it seems she's travelled further than needed be. And especially when she spots something that is the worst-case scenario when being slightly lost in the woods.

Irene may not be a scout’s girl, but she's certain that there shouldn't be a blaze happening a few metres ahead of her.

--

She's panicking. And a panicking Irene is a stupid Irene.

Directions was never her strong suit. If not for Google maps on her phone, she would honestly still get lost locating her apartment complex. So, put that into the mix of her panicking and trying to beat a fast approaching wildfire just spells utter disaster.

She's screaming fire and running. But running where? She doesn't know. If it's not into the direction of the fire, then she's honestly okay with being lost right now.

But the more she runs the more she realises, when did everything start getting so smoky? A thick cloud of smoke begins to settle in, surrounding the tree-lines and her. The air feels heavier, and she begins to cough when she tries to breathe harder but only inhales more smoke. Her eyes are stinging, blurring up as they water from the irritation.

Irene feels lost and caged in, and when did everything get hotter? Like it wasn't hot enough before.

Everything at eye level is a thick, grey fog. So, Irene falls to a crouch, crawling as she tries to lower herself away from the dense cloud above her head. It doesn't help much, if at all, but the air is better down here if anything.

She’s gasping and crawling, and her cries for help begin, but they come out as a mere croaked out whisper. Her breaths are shorter, is burning and scratchy, and she honestly feels light headed.

So, this is what it's like when oxygen isn't plentiful.

She feels her body slackening, no matter how hard she perseveres. The ground seems nice right now, just a quick rest to gather her energy.

Just a quick one.

So, she settles, and closes her eyes.

--

She doesn't know how quick that rest was until she wakes with a gasp, the oxygen filling her lungs was more than euphoric. She's coughing in no time after her first breath, and her eyes are heavy and still stinging when she tries to open them.

Is she out of the forest?

Because it's getting loud. Like someone turning the volume up on the speaker, noise begins to leak in her ears.

“Over here! She's breathing!”

The yelling is coming from all sides of her. One is distinct, however, as if whoever it's coming from is hovering above her. And through the squint of her eyes, she realises that someone is.

From the well defined uniform of heavy layers, the oxygen tank on their back, and helmet, Irene pinpoints that it’s a firefighter kneeling just above her. They're head is turned away from her, as if looking for someone.

A flurry of paramedics appears soon after and it dawns on her that that was who they were waiting for. She has no time to thank the firefighter, not when hands are grappling at her from all sides to drag her onto a stretcher and a breathing mask is fixed over .  

And because the firefighter runs off, not missing a beat after someone screams from afar, “Seulgi! I need your help over here!” There's something about that voice that sounds familiar to Irene, but her mind’s too hazy right now to discern from who and where.

It doesn't take long before she loses consciousness again. But one name does stick to her as she goes.

Seulgi.