France

The two thieves were nearly invisible in the darkness of the gallery, illuminated by nothing but the moon beyond the skylight and the startlingly bright emergency lights above them.

“That doesn’t look convincing at all,” Sooyoung murmured. 

The replica hung on the wall perfectly, not crooked nor off to the side, but occupying the space of the original as if it was the original itself.

Truthfully, it was a very good copy. To the regular eye, there wasn’t any difference. It was what it was: robed eighteenth century commoners building a home, the ordinary labours of their everyday lives depicted with ink on paper.

However, Sooyoung had spent hours totaling days looking at Kim Hongdo’s work over the years, studying his genre paintings with a meticulous, enamoured eye. She was familiar with his style, the way he drew his lines and used his colours, the careful detail on his figures, how he positioned them in the composition to create liveliness even in the most mundane of scenes. 

She was well-acquainted, so to her pedantic eyes, the copy on the wall just didn't cut it. Not at all.

Jinsoul, though, gave her an indifferent shrug. “I’m a thief, not an expert. It’s what they gave me,” she said defensively.

Obviously. Anyone can tell.

Jinsoul’s new hair was a striking blonde, gleaming under the light. Coming from a thief, it seemed like an inconvenience. Coming from an admirer, it was absolutely enticing.

Sooyoung considered herself more of an admirer than a thief.

“I like it,” was what Jinsoul said when Sooyoung commented on her new look.

Sooyoung’s lips pulled up in a smile. Jinsoul was gorgeous no matter her hair colour.  

Her eyes fell on the small case at the blonde’s side. She knew the authentic Kim Hongdo work was in there and tried not to think about the damage Jinsoul might’ve accidentally inflicted when she stuffed it into her case. Sooyoung held back from wincing, keeping her composure steady.

“The painting’s in your hands, but we both know that when we go our separate ways, it’ll be with me,” Sooyoung told her, eyes carefully trained on Jinsoul’s. She had quite a penetrating gaze, but it was nothing Sooyoung couldn’t mirror.

The thing with Jinsoul was that she wasn’t one to yield either, always matching Sooyoung in pace. That was what Sooyoung liked about her; she knew when to push and pull, when to dangle temptation in front of Sooyoung and when to snatch it back. It kept Sooyoung on her toes, adding just another layer of thrill to what they were already doing.

They might've been there together, but Sooyoung certainly didn't work for whoever Jinsoul did. Civil as they were, there existed a heated undercurrent that spurred a tension between them.

“Can’t nab a piece of artwork on your own, yet here you are with that smirk on your face. Have you no shame?” Jinsoul taunted.

Sooyoung inched closer. It was her derisive chuckle that stole Jinsoul’s gaze, dropping at once from her eyes to her lips.

Got you.

Trailing her fingers down Jinsoul’s arms, Sooyoung knew she left goosebumps even beneath the sleeve of Jinsoul’s black hoodie.

Jinsoul still hadn't let go of the case by the time Sooyoung’s hand reached it.

And so Sooyoung got close to her ear, exposed by her sliding hood, closer until she was nearly touching.

(Jinsoul’s blonde was as intoxicating in scent as it was in sight.)

“Not my fault you can’t get enough of me,” Sooyoung murmured and that was when Jinsoul loosened her grip, letting the case slip into Sooyoung’s fingers instead.

Finally.

The artwork was in her hands.

She pulled away, but Jinsoul acted fast, grabbing her sleeve and muttering a rough, worked up ‘come with me’ beneath her breath.

How could Sooyoung have possibly declined such an invite?

She got what she wanted, but she couldn't get it for free. That was the paradox of thieving. 

 

/

 

Switzerland

The painting fit right into her collection.

Sooyoung had quite a selection of Kim Hongdo works, him being one of her favourite Joseon era artists and all. His works – all authentic – adorned the niche by her bookcase with scenes of the day-to-day lives of her ancestors hanging from floor to ceiling.

She sipped on her coffee as she gazed at the new addition. How the artist managed to add life to the most pedestrian subject matter never failed to take Sooyoung’s breath away, filling her with immense bliss. Coupled with the memory of Jinsoul’s hands around her wrists, grip as rugged as the impatient kisses she littered across her skin, Sooyoung let out a content sigh. Her heart pounded.

This is the life.

She ambled over to the window, gently dancing over some dragon-adorned flasks from the Ming dynasty (pocketed from an art fair in Amsterdam), feet narrowly avoiding the teal Guan ware vase by her dresser (this one nabbed from an open-invite auction in Brussels).

Sooyoung stuck her head out of the window, inhaling the Swiss air.

Surrounded by her prized collection, her small flat nestled deep within the snow-covered Alps was more of a home to her than any house she grew up in back in Korea.

 

/

 

Sooyoung always thought her bed was far too big for her.

Everything was way bigger than necessary; her bed, her room, her house, her dreams, her parents’ salaries, her parents’ expectations, her parents’ ambitions for her.

So big, it was suffocating. The irony.  

Sooyoung couldn’t wait to get out. The privilege of being born to such filthy rich, reputation-obsessed parents came with her being shipped overseas the second she graduated high school. For her own good, they said, and bigger opportunities too. But Sooyoung knew she was being shaped into a showpiece. That was just the reality in her family’s world. 

Life was a constant competition, you see, and a kid who earned a foreign doctorate was just as much of a bragging right for a mother in their insular community as her carefully polished fine china collection.

How exhausting. Everything felt so artificial. 

To Sooyoung, there was no realer freedom than the smell of Swiss air the second she exited Zurich airport. Free from her superficial lifestyle and her materialistic parents, free from their negligence and judgmental eyes, free from the reins that held her back.  Here, she could finally pursue her love for art. 

Ever since she was a kid, it was the only thing that captured her heart as her only source of sincerity.

 

 

Sooyoung switched into an art history program at her university without telling her parents.

She was no gifted artist, just a girl drawn to beautiful images and objects, and only those that give her a hit of coup de coeur – a blow to the heart.

On the surface, maybe she was like her materialistic parents. Except her love stemmed from within, no stimulus aside from how fast it made her heart beat at first glance.

She loved art for herself, not to please or impress others. And it made her feel something more genuine than anything she had ever felt for her parents.

 

/

 

Germany

Jinsoul fiddled with the small box in her hands, ogling at the figures on the ivory paneling decorating the side.

“y,” she uttered thoughtlessly between bated breaths.

“Crude, Jinsoul...”

“Give me a break, my mind’s still a little hazy.”

What’s ‘y’ to Jinsoul was ‘absolutely breathtaking' to Sooyoung. Sensuous maidens carved in ivory, the sheer fabrics draped over their plump limbs and flashy jewelry hanging off their thick necks flaunting a blue blood life. They were in pairs, hands joined and bodies curled around each other in an intimate show of fertility and desire beneath the ornate arches of a palace.

How fitting, considering her and Jinsoul were lying in bed, just as entangled and cozy as the lovers depicted in the eighteenth century Indian carving.

(Sooyoung’s nab from a local museum, vied for passionately by Jinsoul, who had arrived a few seconds too late. Poor her.

Fortunately for Jinsoul, Sooyoung had always told her she was open for negotiation. In private quarters, obviously. 

Unfortunately for Jinsoul, that was a lie – what Sooyoung found first was always hers to keep, no matter how loud Jinsoul made her moan.)

They were far from being wealthy court maidens in holy embrace at a palace courtyard, but to Sooyoung, Jinsoul might as well have been just as divine.

“Hazy? Lost a few braincells when you hit the headboard?” Sooyoung quipped. 

A scoff in reply from the blonde. “Oh, you.”

“You just did.”

Sooyoung leaned over to give Jinsoul a smiling kiss as she took the box out of her hands. Placing it carefully on the bedside table, she took another glance at the carving.

God, how heart-stirring of a piece.  

She let out a soft sigh. “You should at least wash your hands before handling fine art.”

Jinsoul faced Sooyoung and gently cupped her jaw. At her touch, Sooyoung’s eyes couldn't help but flutter close.

“I did, love," Jinsoul hummed, "I made sure my fingers were clean before I put ‘em in you.”

Sooyoung promptly opened her eyes just to roll them, ignoring the warmth blossoming on her cheeks. “Crude, Jinsoul.”

There was a sweeter way Jinsoul could've shared that sentiment, but the woman's tongue was unpolished and rough, contrary to the beauty of everything else about her. Jung Jinsoul always struck her as a curious diamond in the rough, with a clumsy personality that betrayed the genteel appearance her parents would've fallen in love with. Sooyoung was enthralled, to say the least. 

The woman of her dreams gave her a teasing smile. “You know, you always seem to mind my crude language after, but never during. What’s up with that?”

Jinsoul run a thumb across her bottom lip, slow and deliberate.

Sooyoung let her linger there for a bit before taking the hand and planting a kiss on the pale knuckles. And then she rose from the bed, the sheets clutched to her chest.

“I guess when you’re out of breath and panting my name, every sentence that comes out of your mouth, even the dirtiest of words, sounds so sweet,” Sooyoung answered, searching for her discarded clothing from the mess on the floor.

Behind her, Jinsoul laughed lightly. It was pure honey to her ears. 

Sooyoung grabbed the box from the side table. “I hate to be leaving while you’re awake, but I have a train to catch.”

When she turned around, she found Jinsoul propped up on her elbows and eyeing the box in Sooyoung’s hand, her pretty features twisted in offence.

“You’re taking it? Are you serious? Come on, Sooyoung.”

Sooyoung shook her head. Everything below her head begged her to stay and extend her time with Jinsoul, but Sooyoung knew she must go if she wanted to keep the box for herself.

“Sorry, love. Better luck next time,” Sooyoung told her with a small smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you. Tschüss.”

She leaned in and gave Jinsoul a soft kiss on the forehead before slipping out of their Dresden hotel room, ivory container and its seductive, opulent maidens in tow.

Sooyoung didn't let herself dwell too long on the look of disappointment on Jinsoul’s face, opting to think about how perfect the box would fit into her collection instead. She had never stolen a work hailing from India before. It was exciting. She even made space for it, right beside the golden sixth century crown sitting atop her old art history textbooks.

The books were always dusty, but never the crown. Sooyoung couldn't wait to see it with the box.

 

/

 

Sooyoung never intended to be a thief.

She became one out of impulse, driven by temptation. Perhaps that was a better way to describe it. 

The first time she took something without asking was was she took herself to a nearby Swiss village, dropping by a local art fair and desperate to rid herself of anxiety and stress over piling essays and looming finals.

It took her breath away as fast as it caught her eye: an elaborate golden headdress, glossy jadeite embellishing the branches of the crown like green apples on a tree.

Needless to say, she was overcome with a blow to the heart. Suddenly, her fingers itched to reach for it.  Sooyoung overheard the dealer tell a group of elderly admirers that it hailed from the Three Kingdoms period and was found in the tomb of a Goguryeo monarch.

(What was an ancient Korean burial artifact doing in the hands of a white-haired European man? Better off in her care, Sooyoung thought.)

In the absence of suspicious eyes, Sooyoung took the beautiful crown. Swift in her movements but mindful in her care, she slipped it into her bag without anyone noticing and slipped away just as quietly, heart pounding in exhilaration.

She planted the crown on top of a stack of books on her desk. It glistened every time sunlight hit it right.

Whenever she was nose deep in her studies, glancing over at the crown filled Sooyoung with more energy and motivation to concentrate than any hit of Adderall could ever give her.

 

 

Since then, she continued to steal. Never from big museums, just small ones at towns all over Switzerland and neighbouring countries, at galleries and art fairs, even from auction houses.

Stealing, itself, was an art.

First, one must work with deft hands, always swift and neat, never leaving a trace and staying extremely mindful of the surroundings. It was all about the timing. Sooyoung's movements mirrored that of an artist skillfully working through a portrait, hands akin to a sculptor working with clay, gentle even in its calloused roughness.

Second, Sooyoung only took what captured her heart and stirred her soul. She only took what she could imagine waking up to and could fill her with immense bliss with just a single glance.

That was what made her different from her folks. She had no regard for their price tags nor worth on the market. She judged purely by their value in her eyes, for which there was no criteria aside from what emotions she felt when she looked at it. 

Over her university years, Sooyoung amassed an impressive collection of pilfered artwork. Everything was displayed in her modest loft apartment serving as a single-person dorm, remarkably private.

They served an audience of one – just Sooyoung, and not another soul.

 

/

 

France

They were in a small rural town, its name too unusual for Sooyoung to even try to pronounce, with old-fashioned buildings that looked like they came straight out of an American brochure on European villages.

Despite that, the collection at the local gallery was spectacular, with pieces ranging from South America to East Asia, varying time periods. It was a strange and eclectic mix, probably mismatched to the eyes of a snobby connoisseur, but a complete wonder to Sooyoung.

She wasn't too surprised to spot a familiar face in the gallery.

Jinsoul’s blonde may have helped her better blend in with the European crowd, but Sooyoung could find her from across the room.

(How could you miss a woman like her? Before Jinsoul, Sooyoung had only met one other girl in Europe captivating enough to steal her attention like this.)

“Evening, Jinsoul,” Sooyoung sung, waltzing to her side. 

Jinsoul stood in front of a still-life painting, pretending to admire it. If she was surprised to see Sooyoung, she didn't show it, instead greeting her with that lazy grin of hers that Sooyoung loved so much.

“You’re here too, huh? Funny…this place is a bit off-the grid,” Jinsoul whispered, “I didn’t even tip you off on this job.”

Sooyoung shrugged. “Maybe it’s fate.”

The woman beside her snickered.

Despite the town’s seeming insignificance, the gallery’s impressive collection merited a relatively known art fair annually attended by connoisseurs and locals alike from surrounding cities. Sooyoung figured Jinsoul would show up, but she kept that to herself.

“Do you ever wonder how often we’ve passed by each other and never knew?”

“Often,” Jinsoul smoothly replied, “I think about you all the time.”

Sooyoung let out a muffled, amused snort. “Charming,” she said, lips quirking up into a smile, “now what’s so important here that you didn’t even bother letting me know…?”

As much as Sooyoung would've liked to believe that her and Jinsoul’s meet-ups were purely coincidental – maybe even destiny at work – the world was just far too big for that. Instead, their occasional rendezvous was more of a roundabout business arrangement. 

Sooyoung getting a text from Jinsoul vaguely cluing her in on her next job, along with a photo of the artwork she had been hired to take. 

Sooyoung having to figure out where in the world that artwork was and to show up if she had her eye on the same artwork. 

She had always felt that all the extra steps were so unnecessary when Jinsoul could've simply told her the exact details. Or even simpler: I just want to see you again, or something along those lines.

But to Jinsoul, this was all just a game. It always had been.

Most of the time, Sooyoung was never interested in whatever Jinsoul was tasked with taking. She’d go and vie for it anyway, just for a chance to spend a night with Jinsoul.

But sometimes, rarity would strike and Jinsoul would send her a work of art that had Sooyoung thinking of only one thing: I got to have that for myself.  

Over several months, she got quite good at this illicit scavenger art hunt that took her all around the world, chasing an artwork if not a woman. (They were one and the same, eventually.)

“Sorry, this one’s kind of important…I couldn’t let you take it from me.” Jinsoul kept her intent gaze at the still-life hanging in front of them, swirling the glass she gingerly held in her hands. “Three frames over, the really dark one with the woman driving a sword into the dude's bare chest.”

Sooyoung shifted her eyes over to the piece Jinsoul was talking about.

There hung a Baroque painting from the seventeenth century, if its dramatic subject matter said anything; a man dying in the hands of a woman, their forms jumping out of the blackness as raking light illuminated them from a window somewhere. It was melodramatic, clearly meant to stir the emotions of whoever was viewing the painting.

“Intense,” was all Sooyoung murmured.

“Right? It’s kind of badass,” Jinsoul humed, “so…are you interested too?”

Sooyoung wasn’t. She came here for a delicate Japanese teabowl, and that was already sitting pretty inside her bag, having found the opportunity to seize it within minutes of entering the gallery.

But she wouldn't have a reason to spend a night with Jinsoul if she didn't feign temptation towards the Baroque painting.

(It was a beautiful piece, sure, but no blow to Sooyoung’s heart. She found a more immediate attachment to Asian art, for obvious reasons.)

“Of course I am. It’s one of the best pieces here,” Sooyoung answered anyway, “a bit ambitious, though, don’t you think? Looks to be about...hmm, a little over half a metre in height? And there’s too many people around. You really think you can take it?”

“Well, Jungeun did say it was going to be a challenge. But you like challenges, don’t you, Sooyoung?”

Sooyoung turned and met Jinsoul’s provoking gaze behind her lidded eyes, the edge of her cup at her lips. Her tongue darted out from behind her teeth, touching the glass before taking a tantalizingly slow sip.

Sooyoung swallowed. Jinsoul was such a tease sometimes, salacious and alluring in the most inappropriate of times. But that was just another aspect of their liaisons that made Sooyoung’s heart jolt.

Jinsoul sidestepped around her and disappeared into the crowd, gone as if she was never there.

 

 

Funny enough, Sooyoung knew exactly when Jinsoul was going to take the painting. She was an unpredictable lover, but often a terribly predictable thief.

(It takes one to know one.)

So when much of the crowd made their way outside for some air, snacks, and chatter, Sooyoung made her way back to the wing of the gallery where the painting hung. Sure enough, Jinsoul was there, hovering by an elderly couple too deep in conversation to notice the pretty young blonde watching them.

A straggler left the room and Jinsoul, whose eyes had been trailing him, met Sooyoung’s gaze by the door.

There was hesitation in her eyes and Sooyoung could tell she was worrying about the elderly couple still lingering in the room and standing too close to the Baroque work.

Coward, Sooyoung mused, they’re too busy talking to notice anything. Just take the painting and go.

But Jinsoul remained rooted to her spot, choosing instead to teeter back and forth on her toes like a child. That was when Sooyoung decided to lend her a hand. 

Finishing the rest of her macaron, she drifted over to the elderly couple, gracefully purposeful in her steps. With effortless French, Sooyoung casually slipped into their conversation and drew them towards the opposite side of the room, engaging them in some discourse over an abstract Léger piece that hung between two portraits.

(She racked her head for ways to bull the discussion, doing the mental gymnastics to remember whatever she could from the few European modern art classes she took in university.)

A brief glance over the elderly man’s shoulder and she found Jinsoul raising an eyebrow at her.

The next time she glanced over his shoulder, the Baroque painting was gone from the wall and Jinsoul was nowhere to be seen.

 

 

“Didn’t need your help, you know…”

Jinsoul’s words were a little bit slurred, but there was no sloppiness to the way her hand roamed over Sooyoung’s thigh beneath the table. Bold of her, but Sooyoung let her do as she pleased. They had the privacy a secluded booth, the distraction of a busy pub just down the street from the gallery, and the thrill of stealing a massive Baroque painting. 

“Looks like you needed it,” Sooyoung said, smirking at the way Jinsoul’s eyes flittered constantly between her lips and her eyes. Her intentions were so glaringly transparent sometimes, it was almost amusing.

“I didn’t. I was just waiting for the right moment,” Jinsoul drawled, “before you so kindly swooped in to distract them…”

Sooyoung smiled. “I was just drawn by their discussion over cubism, that’s all. Or is it ambitious of me to assume you know anything about art movements?”

“I do not give a single about art movements,” Jinsoul slurred absentmindedly, “but mmm, it’s so arousing when you patronise me.”

Sooyoung cocked her head. “And this is why you’ll never make it past friendly introductions in any conversation with a local even if you tried.”

“Maybe I can learn from you then. What name do you give ‘em? Yves?”

“That’s a male name, stupid…”

Jinsoul only hummed, fingers ghosting over Sooyoung’s skin, inching every bit closer to where they were used to being in. “Use that French tongue on me tonight and maybe I’ll let you have the painting.”

“Where is it, by the way?”

“In a tube. Inside pocket of my jacket. Had to discard the hideous frame.”

Sooyoung frowned at her answer, wincing at the thought of Jinsoul roughly slicing the Baroque painting out of its frame and rolling up the canvas, the paint cracking and falling off in flakes at her rough handling. Even if it wasn't up Sooyoung’s alley, art was art, and any damage to it hurt just as much as any. 

You careless, thoughtless . K illing art, just like that.

Jinsoul was too busy staring at her lips, probably lost in some fantasy inside that whimsical mind of hers, to notice the momentary twitch in Sooyoung’s features.

Maybe she could still save the painting. Win it back and anonymously return it to the gallery, or something. But truthfully, Sooyoung's priorities were a bit more blurred than that. Perhaps it was the alcohol in her system, or the way Jinsoul touched her and looked at her.

“Have you thought up an excuse for Jungeun yet? For when you go back to her, like the little lapdog that you are, empty-handed.”

Jinsoul lifted a taunting eyebrow. “You’re feeling awfully confident today, aren’t you?”

“You know I only let you take the painting because I knew I could earn it from you,” Sooyoung teased, inching her face slightly closer to Jinsoul’s.  

(Even in a tipsy state, cheeks coloured with rose, the woman was electrifying.)

A chuckle played off Jinsoul’s lips. “We’ll see about that.”

 

/

 

“You’re gonna bail at the last minute.”

“We’ll see about that.”

That was the last thing Jiwoo said to her before she shot her a wink and disappeared into the village museum. Sooyoung was left loitering on the steps, tasked with being the lookout. Jiwoo came out no longer than a few minutes later with one hand deep in her jacket pocket and the other tugging Sooyoung back to their rental car.

Once they were seated inside, doors locked, Jiwoo pulled her hand out to show Sooyoung her greatest feat: a grave good from an ancient Chinese tomb in the form of beautiful azurite beads strung together in a bracelet.

Sooyoung’s breath caught in the second she saw it. Even in the dark, it gleamed.

“I saw you staring at it when we visited last week. I knew you wanted it, but couldn’t find the right time to take it. It’s our last day in the village, so here,” Jiwoo said, placing the bracelet on Sooyoung’s palm with the gentlest care. “I told you I could nab something on my own. You doubted me!”

Sooyoung was too awed to say anything, opting to grin at Jiwoo instead as her lips stretched impossibly to her ears.

“Happy six months,” Jiwoo told her softly, “well, I have more planned for our anniversary - and I mean activities that are not illegal - but I wanted to get this bracelet for you first.”

“You didn’t have to, Jiwoo. Really.”

Jiwoo chuckled. Sooyoung thought her smile should be in a museum. “I did it for you. I love you, you know?”

Sooyoung protectively closed her hand around the beads before leaning over to give Jiwoo a tender, lingering kiss.

 

 

Sooyoung met Jiwoo during her third year. Same faculty, different departments. Considering the sparse population of Korean students in their faculty, Jiwoo naturally gravitated towards Sooyoung and clung on to her in search of familiarity in a foreign world.

Sooyoung had always been sociable, but was careful not to befriend anyone too closely out of fear that her growing collection of stolen art would be discovered and stripped from her.

But Jiwoo was a warm presence to be around and extremely persistent in her chase – it didn’t take Sooyoung very long to figure out that the younger girl was very much into her.

Maybe it was the way Jiwoo always accommodated for her; or the way Jiwoo attentively listened to her talk about art with curious eyes; or the way Jiwoo would blush furiously at her flirtations, but always hit her back with something twice as charming; or the way Jiwoo tasted on her lips or melted at her touch, the way she’d gasp over Sooyoung’s dancing fingers.

Maybe it was all of those that had Sooyoung’s heart jolting.

Sooyoung had fallen in love, and it was a feeling so familiar, yet unfamiliar at the same time. A blow to the heart, except not for an object nor a painting, but for a person.

For Jiwoo.

 

/

 

America

The composition in front of her was utterly mesmerising.

Her eyes traveled up the high cliffs emerging out of the mist, imposing and powerful. Sooyoung was always amazed at Chinese painters’ ability to give their audience an almost spiritual experience through otherworldly depictions of the natural world. 

It was a beauty of a piece that reminded her of the painting she took from a German art fair years prior as Jiwoo looked over her shoulder with childish exhilaration in her eyes.

Jiwoo. Sooyoung hadn’t seen her, much less thought about her, in a long time, yet the image of her still came up in her thoughts from time to time.

Her hands itched to take the landscape painting off the wall. But at nearly two metres in height, and right by the security desk, she knew the hanging scroll was far too risky of a theft. 

But it would've been a shame to leave the gallery empty-handed.

She rounded the exhibition once again and luckily, something much more achievable caught her eye. The collection of golden coins from the Zhou dynasty looked so polished atop the velvet covering that one could believe they were minted just yesterday.

Those would look nice with the golden crown.

 

/

 

It was a month into their relationship when Jiwoo became the first, and only, person Sooyoung decided to show her collection to.

Unsurprisingly, Jiwoo was taken aback when Sooyoung had told her about her little illicit hobby, but it was a risk Sooyoung was willing to take. As her feelings for Jiwoo grew, so did her guilt over hiding such a big part of her life to her. 

She thought Jiwoo would turn away from her, call her an absolute maniac and wanting nothing to do with her thieving. 

But to her luck, Jiwoo had an inkling for defying the odds.

She still remembered standing in front of the door to her apartment, heart beating impossibly fast. No one had ever been inside but her. Jiwoo reached over to hold her hand.

“Don’t be nervous,” Jiwoo said, “you can trust me. I promise.”

And it was the certainty and reassurance in her eyes that helped Sooyoung open that door.

Jiwoo was amazed – who wouldn’t be? Ornate jewelry and clay figures sat over dressers and tables, graceful ceramics and imperial incense burners strewn purposefully across the floor, walls adorned with hanging silk scrolls of waterfalls and mountains.

It took Sooyoung’s breath away every time she walked in. B y the look on Jiwoo’s face, it seemed to have robbed her of her breath too.

“What do you think?” Sooyoung asked hesitantly, watching as Jiwoo slowly looked around the room, eyes wider than her ajar mouth.

“It’s…beautiful. Wow,” Jiwoo answered, bending down to have a better look at the pale green bottle by the door (Goryeo dynasty, inlaid with black slip beneath the glaze, stolen from a museum in northern Italy). “You took all of these…?”

Sooyoung had to tame her smile. “Are you going to tell on me?”

“Of course not,” Jiwoo replied without hesitation.

“Yeah, I did. Over the past two years or so.”

“…How’d you do it?”

“Quietly. Quickly.”

And then they were silent for a moment as Jiwoo admired the scroll on the closet door (Ming dynasty, ink and colour on paper, carefully taken from a gallery in Lucerne).

“Can you take me next time?”

Sooyoung froze, nearly breaking her neck at how fast she turned her head. “What?”

She found Jiwoo grinning at her. “I want to go with you, if it’s okay. I’ll be your lookout, or your getaway driver, or something.”

It was then Sooyoung knew that they were meant to be.

She cracked a smile, heart about to beat right out of her chest.

Sooyoung took Jiwoo to an art fair in Germany the next week.

 

/

 

Jinsoul beat her to the coins. Of course she did. She was a brilliant thief.

By the grace of some god, they both had their eyes on the exact same artifact. This was a genuine coincidence, as Jinsoul never messaged her about it. Sooyoung didn't even have an idea that the woman was in the same county as her, much less the same city. 

Sooyoung saw her walking away from the gallery, the fire alarm blaring from within - certainly a distraction Jinsoul set up to help her get away - and Sooyoung had an itching feeling that her precious coins were in the thermos Jinsoul was clutching. 

She caught up to the woman, snaking an arm around her waist and sliding a hand into her pocket.

“You know, the blonde is growing on me,” Sooyoung greeted nonchalantly, “you look pretty today. Like always.”

Jinsoul spun to face her. Much to Sooyoung’s amusement, her surprise melted into relief, and then into interest as her eyes wandered low. “So do you… Like always.”

They turned into a park. Sooyoung never really liked New York parks; she found the towering high-rises ruined the tree line like an unwelcome reminder that they were not really lost in nature.  

“You have something I want,” Sooyoung said, eyeing the thermos.

Jinsoul gave the bottle a shake like she was a bartender to confirm Sooyoung’s suspicions. She held back from flinching and prayed that whatever liquid was inside wasn’t damaging the coins.

“This? What a weird coincidence. Should’ve gotten there before me, you know the early bird gets the worm,” Jinsoul answered teasingly.

“I didn't know you were going in the middle of the day. Wanted to stop by for one last check and unexpectedly found a pretty blonde walking away from the crime scene," Sooyoung replied, "I lost out an easy one, didn’t I?”

Jinsoul hummed. “Calling yourself a thief at this point is an insult to me. Don’t you feel sorry?”

Sooyoung raised an eyebrow. “Doesn't it count if I steal from you?”

“But you don’t even steal it from me, I give it to you.” Jinsoul’s touch lingered for a moment before she pulled out Sooyoung’s hand from her pocket. She turned to her with a mischievous smile, voice dangerously husky. “Seriously, you should be embarrassed of yourself…”

Jinsoul flipped the thermos. The clanging of the coins made Sooyoung visibly flinch this time, but Jinsoul’s darkened eyes stay locked with her gaze.

“What matters isn’t how it's obtained, love, it's who has it in the end,” Sooyoung retorted.

Jinsoul playfully lifted an eyebrow. “If you want what’s in here, you’re gonna have to work for it.” 

Sooyoung returned her tease with a smirk, entangling their fingers together. Jinsoul was challenging her; Sooyoung liked challenges, especially if she knew the odds were in her favour.

“Won’t be very hard,” Sooyoung mused, restraining herself from getting any closer.

Is it just me, or do you look more beautiful than usual today?

The blonde chuckled, taunting and amused. “I’ll make you work hard for it.”

Jung Jinsoul, always a tease. In Sooyoung's eyes, that was what made her an exceptional lover.

 

/

 

Jiwoo and Sooyoung were regular lovers.

They went for brunch on weekend afternoons, studied together on weekday nights, and strolled out of art fairs and museums hand in hand with an artifact or two beneath their jackets. Very regular.

Stealing was always thrilling for Sooyoung, but walking out of a museum with an exquisite stoneware vase tucked under one arm and Jiwoo hooked on the other made for a very special feeling. 

They may have been unconventional at first glance, but in the greater scheme of things, they were just like regular lovers.

Akin to young newlyweds out hunting for the perfect addition to their new apartment, except it may be a twelfth century hanging scroll from dynastic China that healed the soul rather than a mirror from Ikea meant to fill an empty wall with reflections of their smiling faces. 

That was all they really are. Young women in love.

 

/

 

Jinsoul left a trail of kisses along her collarbone and Sooyoung considered she might be in love.

When she pulled back for a breath, Sooyoung took the opportunity to flip her on to her back.

She returned Jinsoul’s actions with equal fervour as the golden coins float into her thoughts. Sooyoung increased her pace, relishing in the way Jinsoul arched into her. She let herself drown in the expanse of skin that Jinsoul offered her; let herself be spurred on by Jinsoul’s curses and thoughtless confessions of her love.

You say that, but do you really mean it?

Sooyoung knew she was in love too. With what, though?

Well, that was much more of a loaded question than one might've expected. And it always had been, it seems.

 

/

 

“Don’t you think this is getting a little out of hand?”

Sooyoung carefully rolled up a scroll while her girlfriend paced back and forth. 

(She only kept her hanging scrolls on display for brief periods of time, occasionally switching them out with previously stored paintings. The changes added variety to the space, she thought, and it was best not to expose the paintings for too long.)

“What do you mean?” Sooyoung asked absentmindedly, focused on the task at hand. She did not want to tear the painting.

“I’m worried. You’re going to get caught one of these days.”

“I won’t.”

Jiwoo sighed, but Sooyoung missed it. “Sooyoung, I’m in my last year of university. I have a plan for myself. What are you going to do? What have you been doing? Your parents think you’ve got an entirely different degree. They think you’ve been doing an internship with a company, but you work at a café.”

“Are you shaming baristas? Low blow,” Sooyoung replied in jest, tucking the scroll into a box as her tongue stuck out in concentration.

“That’s not my point!” Jiwoo exclaimed, “I’m being serious! On the days you’re not making coffee, you’re out wherever stealing art. That’s all you do. I told you I don’t go with you anymore because I’m busy, but truth is, I’m scared!”

Jiwoo had stopped accompanying her a few months prior. It broke Sooyoung’s heart at first. Having grown used to having Jiwoo by her side, stealing without her just wasn’t the same. But eventually, all it took was a couple more solo trips before she started feeling fulfilled again. She traveled alone and stole without any qualms, finding ecstasy in art by herself, the same way she did before Jiwoo.

They were drifting further apart. Sooyoung knew that.

(But it was a thought that was kept in the very back of her mind, stored away like a handscroll. It wasn't good to expose it for too long.)

Sooyoung walked over to her shelf to put away the rolled painting. “You shouldn’t be scared. I’d nev