The door to Da Eun’s apartment creaked as she shut it, gentle for fear of alerting any of her neighbors as to her emotions. She had barely made it into the flat when her legs gave out and she collapsed onto the floor with dry, heaving gasps. Her tears had run dry and though all she wanted was to sob herself to sleep, she knew she had to face the problem of her rent. Although it was true that she had been living in Tony’s building for years, and that they were more friends than landlord and tenant, he just couldn’t afford to let her miss another payment. She couldn’t pull the guilt card on him; her conscience wouldn’t let her.

After a massive effort of will, Da Eun stood on shaky legs and stumbled over to her shabby armchair. Curling up in the old upholstery, she reached into her bag for her diary. Somehow, writing down her feelings always made her feel better. But when she reached her hand into her bag, all it encountered was her phone and wallet. Shaking, she upended her bag and emitted a small, hopeless whimper when all that fell out were the aforementioned items. “No, no, no…” She whispered over and over to herself in denial. The small, leather-bound book had been a diamond in the midst of the grime in a secondhand shop, and she knew that the way her finances were now, she couldn’t afford to buy another one, no matter how cheap.

The absence of her diary wasn’t the worst of it. The problem was where it was. It had to have been at the radio building, which meant it was gone forever. There was no way she would, or could, return there. What were that chances that someone had picked it up? If worst came to worst, then someone had done so and had read it. Da Eun refused to imagine the consequences if someone had taken an interest in her. After all, it wasn’t as if- She shrieked. Her address… Her phone number… All the details of her personal life were there for a perfect stranger to see! Taking a deep breath, she put her head between her knees and got a grip on herself.

“Da Eun,” she told herself with a little hitch in her voice. “Everything is going to be okay. Nobody is coming to stalk you. The most important thing right now is what to do about your rent.” The girl calmed herself down and got a pen and a piece of paper. “I need work,” she murmured to herself, the sound of her own voice grounding her in her distress. “But what work? Nobody is going to take me. I was so lucky that the station hired me, but now that I’m- I’m fired…” She trailed off, lip trembling. “If I had gone to college, it would be different,” she said, but refused to think further. It wasn’t her mother’s fault that her father had left them when she was just a baby. She had done her best to raise her child by herself, and though she had later on become bedridden and had finally passed away, Da Eun loved her with a fierceness that belied her absence.

When Da Eun thought of what her mother had suffered, every day, in order to earn enough money to raise her, she felt a deep sadness that her mother had never really known happiness. Her mother had worked every day as a maid, under rich but abusive people, to keep Da Eun in public school and pay for the bare necessities. It seemed like Da Eun had no other choice but to follow in her footsteps; she was far from qualified for anything else.

“I’m going to be working as a maid.”

Da Eun sighed. Tomorrow she would start going around the more luxurious compounds in the city, and hope that she could find work.

***

It was 5:30 pm. Yoseob was the first out the door, inciting many curious and coveting looks from his colleagues. He usually took his time about packing up and tidying his workspace, but today its disheveled state was a testament to his impatience.

“See ya, hyung,” he flung at the guard as he clattered down the stairs and out the door. He had started dialing even as he flagged down a taxi.

“Yeobosayo?”

“Yah, Kwangie!” Yoseob said into the phone. Because Gikwang was the closest to him in age, he was always the first he called when something came up.

“What? Didn’t you just get off work?” Gikwang asked.

“Yeah. You’re home now right?” Yoseob inquired impatiently.

“What do you think? I’m bored out of my mind here, as always. What’s up? Come find meee,” Gikwang pleaded.

“That’s why I’m calling. Duh,” Yoseob retorted. “Though I wonder why I even bother, seeing as you just laze around all day in that penthouse of yours.”

“Yay! Oh, by the way, last night was fun, wanna hang out again tonight?”

“No. See you in a sec.” Yoseob refused shortly and hung up. The taxi was already in the compound and drawing up to the building in which he and the others lived. He paid the driver and skipped up the steps to the door, which the doorman held open for him with a slightly amused expression. “Kamsahamnida!” The young man thanked him cheerfully. The doorman had stopped bothering him with requests for the security code quite some time ago.

Humming, he walked into the lift lobby and punched the button, then stood fiddling with his phone until the doors opened. “Penthouse,” Yoseob said to himself, punching the button for the top floor. He shook his head and grinned at how posh the word sounded.

Stepping out, he burst out laughing at the sight of Gikwang’s head poking out of the doorway.

“SEOBIE! MY SAVIOR!” Gikwang nearly screamed, pulling him into the penthouse.

Still laughing, Yoseob disentangled his arm and flopped down onto the couch. “Come on, you couldn’t have been that bored, could you?”

Gikwang made a face. “I hate being home all day, and you know Doojoon hyung says to only work out three days a week. I’ve already reached my quota,” he complained.

Yoseob didn’t reply, looking around the penthouse. “Kwangie… Why is your place so messy?”

“I dunno. It’s magical, the way it suddenly becomes like this.”

“Yah, if you’re so bored all the time, try tidying up!” Yoseob exclaimed, ever so slightly disgusted at the state of the penthouse.

“It’s not that bad, is it?”

“Yah…” Yoseob sighed. Even though they were the same age, sometimes Gikwang just seemed a little… immature. “You need a keeper,” he told him.

Gikwang yawned. “You mean a housekeeper? No way,” he said.

“Why not? It’s not like you’re going to clean any of this up.”

“Housekeepers are all nosy old ladies. I’m not going to have one poking around my home.”

“Stop stereotyping. When have you ever had a housekeeper?”

“Um… Never?”

“Exactly.” Yoseob said with satisfaction. His gaze landed on a bag of chips and he frowned. “What did you have for lunch?”

“Chips. What else? I don’t know how to cook,” Gikwang answered, as if it were obvious.

“Yah! You definitely need a housekeeper. Or a maid, at least!” Yoseob said firmly. “I’m not going to let you be unhealthy just because you don’t want a ‘nosy old lady’ poking around,” he continued. “And the others won’t either,” he added as Gikwang started to argue.

“Fine! But if you’re so sure they’re not all old ladies, then find me a young, pretty one, and then I’ll hire her,” Gikwang said triumphantly, sure that Yoseob would never succeed. “Not so sure now, hm?”

Yoseob didn’t answer. He was too busy poring over the little black diary he had found that morning.

“What’s that? Ooh, Seobie, you have a diary?” Gikwang teased, grabbing the book.

“Hey! That’s not mine anyway; I found it on the floor in the radio building,” Yoseob said defensively, trying to snatch it back.

“Eh. It’s just a notebook,” Gikwang snorted, unimpressed, and gave it back.

Relieved that his flighty friend hadn’t flipped past the first page, he stowed it deep in his bag and resolved not to take it out again in front of Gikwang. He would wait till all six of them were together; Doojoon would know what to do.