Seulgi slept into the early afternoon. Allowing Stardust’s influence to recede left her with a feeling of emptiness, like a spent battery. Coupled with the baseline level of exhaustion she’d accumulated throughout the day, Seulgi was barely able to keep herself upright during her five o’clock shower. She didn’t even rise by her own accord; her mother had to come in and wake her, banging on the door and touting something about the negative effects of oversleeping. Seulgi would have given a scientifically-backed retort, but she was too groggy to do so. Instead, she groaned and dragged herself out of bed.

    After brushing her teeth and washing her face, Seulgi checked her phone. She furrowed her brow as she saw a missed call from Sooyoung, along with a message:

    “Eodum is possessing people and sending them after us. Be careful.”

    Seulgi’s attempt to call her roommate back led straight to voicemail. She stood in her room for a moment, making a note to speak to Joohyun about this later. If Eodum was already acting against them, Joohyun’s plans might have to change. Seulgi was unsure of what that would exactly entail, but she assumed it was something her partner should know.

    The rain cloud of Sooyoung’s eerie text only slightly dampened Seulgi’s mood. Her meeting with Joohyun the previous night was still fresh in her mind, and the ghosts of the older woman’s ministrations were still fresh on her body.

    “Morning, Seul,” Seulgi’s dad greeted as she marched into the living room, yawning.

    “Morning, dad.” she said, walking over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Seulgi’s dad was a tall, burly man, built more like a construction worker than a nurse. He had a stern face and wide features. In his offspring, both traits had been overridden by the more feminine characteristics of his wife. Despite his appearance, however, he was quite kind. His accepting nature and good cheer had gotten Seulgi through many tough times in her childhood.

“Where are mom and Bogum?” Seulgi asked from the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee from the French press. Her dad always made her French press coffee in the mornings, and though it had sat out for awhile, it was far tastier than the cheap instant stuff she endured at her dorm.

“Mom is out in the back, drying clothes. I think Bogum went out for lunch with one of his girlfriends.” Seulgi’s dad looked away from the television to face his daughter. “I heard you two were going to a party in Hollywood Hills tonight?”

Seulgi, presently focused on not burning the eggs she was trying to cook, started.

“Yeah, we are. I totally forgot.” she said. The bitter tang of social anxiety began to make its way into her gut, but Stardust’s thrill of anticipation fended it off.

Well, I’m glad one of us is excited. Seulgi thought, wondering if it would be possible to just have Stardust take the wheel for the evening.

    “I’m surprised that you said yes,” Seulgi’s dad said, returning his attention to the news. “I thought you hated parties.”

    “Oh, I do. There’s no doubt about that,” Seulgi said with a nervous chuckle. “But you know, I’m trying to come out of my shell a bit, meet more people… that’s part of college, right?”

    “Your mother wouldn’t agree, but I would say so,” her dad said. “I always thought you were too obsessed with your grades. I heard you were getting into playing guitar more as well. From what Bogum told me, you’ve gotten really good at it.”

    Seulgi perked up. “Yeah, I think I have, at least. Want to hear me play a little?”

    “Sure.”

    Seulgi shut the stove off, allowing the eggs to finish cooking by their residual heat before bolting upstairs to grab her guitar. Up until recently, her dad was one of the few people she was comfortable playing music for. She couldn’t even remember the last occasion she’d played for him. Two years ago, maybe? Her improvement since then had been exponential. She was looking forward to showing him the skill she’d gained, especially over the past two weeks.

    Under the patient eye of her dad, Seulgi returned to the living room and removed her guitar from its case. She plucked the strings a bit, tuned it, began to find her rhythm. As she did, she felt Stardust’s presence looming just behind her consciousness, ready to augment her playing. Briefly, Seulgi felt a certain guilt at using her Representation’s talents as her own, but she quickly disregarded the notion as ridiculous. Stardust was a fragment of her personality. The Representation’s talents were Seulgi’s subconscious attributes formed into their own separate being. Using them was the same as using her own abilities. Stardust just made those abilities more accessible, is all.

    The first notes that Seulgi played were experimental. They gave her a feel for the song that she was in the mood for, and gave Stardust’s influence the opportunity to work its way into the music. She progressed from there, adding her usual flares, turning her careful strumming from a physical, thoughtful act to one of pure abstraction. The soundscape of her playing became a raging river of which she had complete command, a water goddess directing a white-capped length at her own whim. Her dad began to tap his foot and sway, and Seulgi mirrored his movements, giving him a fond smile.

She was glad to see that, while he seemed to be enjoying her playing, her dad wasn’t stolen by its majesty. Reading his expression, it was obvious that he still saw Seulgi’s playing as a thing as simple as his daughter enjoying a hobby. There was no starry wonder in eyes, no twitchy movements that suggested obsession. Stardust’s mood was mildly soured by his reaction, but Seulgi didn’t care. She preferred her dad to react this way.

After a rising, rocking crescendo, Seulgi started another song, this one slower and subdued by comparison. Both were original creations, formed from snippets of her past work and melded into complete works that she was able to produce with the help of her Representation.

During the second song, Seulgi’s mother joined them from outside. Usually the older woman’s presence caused Seulgi to falter - similar to the effect strangers had had on her in the past - but on this occasion, it only made her more eager to play. Seulgi understood this was a sentiment driven entirely by Stardust. The Representation held an immense desire to show her skills to Seulgi’s mother, and this was reflected in the intricate chords she churned out for the woman.

Seulgi finished the song with a wavering, lingering note, a strike of melancholy that she knew would have brought tears to the eyes of the casual onlooker. Her dad gave her an enthusiastic round of applause - as she knew he would, as he always did - but the reaction that Stardust waited on was from her mother.

The older woman, who was wearing a blank expression up until that point, gave a slow nod.

“You’ve improved, I see,” she said, walking to the kitchen to wash her hands.

The simple, short compliment was the equivalent to years worth of praise from Seulgi’s shrewd mother. Stardust glowed with content as she retreated back into the sliver of the Astral Plane that Seulgi’s mind occupied.

“Damn, Seul, that was amazing,” Bogum said, striding into the living room. Judging by the gaudy, trim suit and dress pants he wore, their dad’s assumption about his whereabouts had been correct. “How’d you get so good?”

“Practice,” Seulgi said with a smile, reverently returning her instrument to its case.

“The glowing ring was a nice effect,” Seulgi’s dad said, unmuting the television.

“Yeah,” Bogum said, gesturing toward Seulgi’s hand. “Where’d you get that?”

A swell of cold came over Seulgi. She glanced down at the piece of jewelry. Its glow was fading, but it still showed signs of its previous brilliance.

“Oh yeah,” Seulgi said nervously, scrambling for an explanation. “Uh… it was a gift from one of my friends. It matches my playing by detecting, uh, the movements of my hand.”

“Was it, perhaps, your friend Joohyun?” Bogum asked teasingly.

Seulgi responded with feigned indignance, hiding her relief that the subject of the magical ring seemed to have passed.

***

    Seulgi spent the next few hours catching up on her schoolwork. She had lost much of her motivation to study preemptively, instead focusing on completing the assignments that were due soon. She sat in the living room, drinking cup after cup of coffee, turning Joohyun’s ring about on her finger, bouncing her knee up and down as she tried to keep hold of the slippery scraps of her attention span. There was a part of her - the part closely associated with Stardust, she was sure - that saw no point in these futile efforts. Becoming a doctor was a noble pursuit, and there was a great amount of acclaim to it, but was that really what she wanted to do? So much dedication, time, and effort. If she decided to become a surgeon, she would be in her late thirties before she was independant or making any real money. Not to mention the financially ruining loans required for medical school. The grueling hours, the sleepless nights, the gruntwork…

    But here, sitting right there on her left hand, was the key to another life. Acclaim and glory, inches away. She was the chosen one, wasn’t she? Wasn’t this the point in the story where she would break away from her normal life and become a superhero? Shouldn’t there be some kind of trial, battle, or training montage?

    Perhaps she hesitated to break free of her mundane existence due to sheer disbelief. Everything was happening at breakneck speed. It was hard to believe that she had first visited the Galactic Lounge a mere two weeks ago.

    The sun had nearly set when Seulgi’s mother finished cooking dinner. The older woman hadn’t spoken much since Stardust’s performance earlier that morning. Seulgi suspected that, in her mother’s mind, the possibility of her daughter continuing on a path into the medical field was growing narrower and narrower. If only Seulgi could tell her the truth, show her what was really going on. Perhaps then she’d understand.

    But obviously, Seulgi couldn’t do that. She had proof, and could show her family the powers the ring bestowed her, but…

    No. That wasn’t an option. The burdens she bore, those of cosmic existentialism and a planet under threat of destruction, belonged to her alone. She wouldn’t place the literal weight of the world on her family’s shoulders.

    “What time are we gonna be going to that party?” Seulgi asked her brother midway through their meal, ignoring her mother’s disapproving frown.

    Bogum looked up from the fried rice he was wolfing down. “We’ll probably show up around eleven or so. It officially starts at ten, but you’re not really supposed to show up at ten.”

    “You sound like Sooyoung. But alright.”

    “Bring your guitar,” Bogum added. “A couple of my producers and instrumental guys are gonna be there, along with my manager. I think some big names in the industry will be attending, too.”

    Stardust perked up, and Seulgi felt a grin unfurling on her face. “Like who?”

    “I’m not exactly sure,” Bogum said with a shrug. “My manager knows a lot of people in the pop scene. I think one of Frank Ocean’s producers will be there? But-”

    “One of Frank Ocean’s producers?” Seulgi said, flabbergasted. “And you want me to just show up and start playing my guitar? I’ll look like an idiot.”

    “Fine, don’t bring it then. My manager has a bunch of instruments at his house anyway.”

    Bogum paused for a moment, appearing lost in thought. Then, his eyes lit up as if he had been struck by a grand, life-changing idea.

    “I can suggest you play for them, talk you up, you know?” he said excitedly. “Help you get a foot in the door.”

    Seulgi felt her face warming at the prospect, but Stardust was ecstatic. Sarcasm and hypotheticals aside, Stardust would likely be doing much of the work tonight.

    “Get a foot in the door for what, exactly?” Seulgi’s mother interjected.

Stardust was prepared for another verbal tete-a-tete, but Seulgi didn’t feel like making things awkward again.

Fortunately, Bogum seemed to be in agreement, and took matters into his own hands.

“I meant that in a theoretical way, mom,” he said, pretending to be casual, disinterested. “It’s a hobby that Seulgi’s really into, might as well try to make some money off it, right? If she did some backing track stuff for me or other musicians, it would help pay her med school costs.”

Excellent execution, Bogum. Seulgi thought as her mother gave a reluctant, slow nod.

“Fine. But don’t let it get to your head, or distract you from what’s important,” Seulgi’s mother warned, jabbing her chopsticks toward her daughter. “Your studies come first. Not playing guitar in stadiums or whatever it is you pretend to dream of.”

Seulgi agreed vigorously, forcing herself not to make eye contact with her brother. She feared that if she did, her expression of gratitude and relief would give her away.

***

    Seulgi allowed Stardust to choose their outfit for the evening. Usually, Sooyoung would have provided her services, but the younger girl continued to maintain radio silence. She still hadn’t returned the previous call, and her phone remained off, as evidenced by Seulgi’s second attempt to contact her going straight to voicemail. Along with Joohyun’s absence for the day, Seulgi was left with a visceral foreboding that was only matched by nervousness for this upcoming party.

    As a distraction, Seulgi rifled through her closet, offering mental suggestions to Stardust, who disapproved of almost every article of clothing her host produced. Eventually, she reached the back of her closet, where she found a particularly gaudy silver blouse. It had an iridescent sheen to it, reflecting the lights of her room in miniature rainbows, with lace-thin straps at the shoulders that had enough slack to curl and hang decoratively around her arms. Stardust chose it without a second thought, and even Seulgi thought it fit her well.

    Reluctantly, Stardust settled for a pair of black leather pants that Seulgi had worn during her goth phase in high school. She’d bought them prior to her final “growth” spurt - those precious two inches of growth that brought her from five-two to five-four - so there was a good bit of ankle showing when she slipped them on. The tall black boots she wore with them were enough to fill the gap, giving a purposeful look to the ensemble that Seulgi herself would never have been able to pull off. Stardust, however, looked regal in it, like the enigmatic space princess she was.

    To avoid altering her base appearance too much, Seulgi only allowed Stardust’s physical being to imprint slightly on her own. It was a difficult balance that required constant attention to the level of connection to the Astral Plane she maintained. Too much and she would begin to develop those streaks of black that Stardust had beneath her eyes, along with a silvery cast to her hair. Too little and Seulgi’s nerves would return, biting away at her, making her stomach churn and her head swim.

    “Don’t let mom see you in that outfit,” Bogum said as Seulgi descended the stairs. He wore another of his many suits, this one with a pink vest and a blue tie. “Too avant garde for her. I think it looks nice, though.”

    Though Seulgi’s mother had retired to her room a few minutes prior, her father was still awake, having a glass of wine and reading a book in the living room. As expected, he had little opinion on Seulgi and Bogum’s choice of garments, informing them they looked lovely and handsome respectively. Even the stiff, cold Stardust was endeared by their father’s unwavering acceptance.

    “We’re leaving kinda early, huh?” Seulgi said, noting that it was only quarter to ten.

    “We’re driving through LA and it’s a Saturday night,” Bogum said, lightning a joint as he adjusted the rearview mirror. He took a drag, puffed out a plume of smoke, and began backing out of the driveway. “We’ll be lucky to get there before midnight.”

    Seulgi shrugged and took the joint from him. She had only ever visited LA during off hours. It was one of the many dual blessings and curses that came with her social anxiety.

    They sped down Bird’s Eye Drive, leaving a cloud of smoke and the scent of burning rubber in their wake.

    Bogum was right about the LA traffic; the moment they hit Route-60, their pace dropped to a crawl. Stardust’s eagerness combined with Seulgi’s normal anxiety led to a restlessness, a level of unease that the slog of traffic extenuated. The joint helped; California weed had a heavy quality to it that NJ weed didn’t. It was that selectively bred, finely chosen, high-volume THC. Seulgi rolled her window down and breathed in the hot dusk wind, sipped on some whiskey that Bogum had brought in a water bottle. Straight whiskey had never been her first choice for an alcoholic drink, but her alter ego didn’t shy away from such strong, bold flavors. Hell, an unaugmented Seulgi would have forbidden her brother from sharing the drink with her while he drove, but Stardust leaned in, assured her that everything was fine, that everyone drove a little tipsy every once in a while. It wasn’t like he was chugging the stuff, and the drive was primarily a straight line anyway.

    They took the exit into Hollywood Hills, earning a brief reprieve from the traffic through a series of connecting roads, finding themselves on the palm-lined North Beachwood Drive. By then, night had fallen, yet it was still early enough that Hollywood Hills’ eponymous, white-lettered sign remained illuminated. Seulgi admired the artificial beauty of the sign. It was a claim made by Los Angeles’ wealthiest, a symbol of an elevated life, looming above the lower classes that marveled in wonder at its distant mystery. High society in Los Angeles was a glitter-dusted, unknowable void, navigable by only those who belonged, those who were invited into the fold. Like the Astral Plane, the key to Seulgi’s initiation into that world was Stardust.

    Bogum parked on Hollyridge Drive, behind a line of similarly parked cars. They finished the whiskey and lit another joint, smoking as they scaled the mountainside of Hollyridge. There were other guests around, some milling about and socializing, others trickling into the few spaces between homes where they could take photos of the perspective from Hollywood Hills. Though Seulgi had lived most of her life near mountains, the plateaus and hills here had far superior views. The city of Los Angeles was a vibrant beacon to the east. Beyond it, the landscape sloped and dipped, a palette of browns and greens interlaced with the dark streams of highways. Cars, presenting as tiny sailboats of light, drifted down those blacktop rivers, riding the tides of Saturday night traffic.

    “That’s the house,” Bogum said, pointing to a brightly lit home up ahead.

The building was made of chocolate-colored wood, the bulk of its frame jutting out over the space where the front door was positioned. A small crowd had gathered outside.

As Seulgi and her brother approached, she felt Stardust stepping in, bringing with her a steady, calm assuredness. The people - adorned in clothing that Seulgi knew was far more expensive than her own - should have presented an insurmountable challenge to her stoned mind. Yet Stardust left her anticipating that challenge, looking forward to the opportunity to flaunt her impeccable social grace.

Seulgi smiled regally as they reached the front door. A couple of the people looked their way, and a short, balding man in a sport jacket ushered them over enthusiastically.

From there, the night became a blend of calculated conversations and superficial amicability. The man who had invited them over was Bogum’s manager, Jerry Miles, and he was one of the few who seemed at least somewhat genuine. He introduced them to a plethora of faces and names, dolled-up statues of men and women who all wore the same brands of clothing and the same false smiles. It was, by a miracle of misfortune, worse than what Seulgi had heard of Hollywood culture.

Stardust thrived in it. She politicked with the best of them, slipping in hints about her hidden talents and flirting with the men who she aptly identified as well-liked or influential. She spoke to the host, an older gentleman whose habit of brushing against her was too frequent to be an accident, complimented him on the interior design of his house. Even her brother could barely keep up, and in some instances he simply retreated into the small circle of his friends, allowing Stardust to operate alone. She didn’t mind. In that multi-tiered house of light wood and cream-hued walls, decorated with expensive, shiny knick-knacks and immense windows that couldn’t have offered any privacy, Stardust became the main attraction of the party. She leaned on desks that cost more than Bogum’s car, drank rum that was older than her father, and ate oeur d'oeuvres that tasted of silver and gold. 

Seulgi watched it all unfold, an internal viewer at a cinema, exercising just enough restraint to prevent her alter ego from taking full control. When Stardust went to refill her drinks, visit the washroom, or step out onto the massive balcony for a cigarette, Seulgi would reassert herself. It was odd to be a passenger in her own body for extended periods, leaving her with a spacey, detached sensation each time she returned to herself. She partially attributed the feeling to the amount of liquor Stardust had consumed. The Representation drank without regard, knocking back drinks like a woman who was five inches taller and thirty pounds heavier.

On one of those occasions, after midnight had come and gone, and a rotund California moon hung low overhead, Seulgi found herself on the balcony alone. She smoked her fifth cigarette of the night, given to her by one of the creepy older men inside. The smoke and flavor were robust and pronounced. Even Hollywood cigarettes were fancy.

From behind her came the creak of the door opening, and she turned lazily, expecting to see Bogum, Jerry, or perhaps a couple coming outside to steal a few drunken kisses. She was wrong on all accounts.

Seulgi felt a shock run through her, and she spun, pointing an accusing finger at the newcomer.

“You!” she hissed.

“Me!” The dark-skinned man said, grinning sloppily and tipping his glass to her.

Tyler sauntered over with the gait of an intoxicated man, leaned up against the railing and dug through his coat pocket. The suit he wore was faded in color, but tastefully so; it looked like an outfit that was meant to be worn sloppily. Tie askew, jacket open, shirt partially untucked.

 “What are you doing here?” Seulgi demanded, forgotten cigarette dropping from her fingers and into the bushes below.

Unphased, Tyler placed a fresh cigarette between her fingers, then produced another for himself.

“Trying to find my wife. You?”

“Uhh… I’m here with my brother,” Seulgi said, allowing Tyler to light her new cigarette. “Are you from around here?”

Tyler looked thoughtful, took another drink, smacked his lips. “In a sense. I’m from Ladera.”

“That’s almost six hours away,” Seulgi said flatly.

Tyler nodded solemnly, Seulgi had said something particularly wise. “It is.”

The pair was quiet then, Seulgi wading in the ocean of alcohol she’d consumed, Tyler staring out at Los Angeles. A playful breeze poked at them, twiddling with the ends of Seulgi’s hair and Tyler’s loosened tie.

“I’m digging that ring you’re wearing,” Tyler said, lips on the rim of his glass. “Looks expensive. Strong. Fancy.”

Seulgi furrowed her brow, feeling Stardust bristling at the periphery of her awareness.

“Be careful with fancy things though,” Tyler said, standing straight, gesturing grandly at the wood-paneled home. “Don’t let them, and the lifestyle they bring, get to your head.”

Stardust remained tense, dismissing Tyler’s words as a kind of distraction. He had piqued Seulgi’s interest, however.

“Now, I’m sure that this is hypocritical of me to say, but all this is supremely fake. Do you get that feeling?”

Seulgi nodded despite Stardust’s desire to walk away and leave this clearly insane man to his prattle.

“It can be damaging to the ego, the psyche. All this indulgence and narcissism…” Tyler trailed off, breaking the verbal spell that he had been casting to swallow a mouthful of his drink. “At best it’s a distraction, at worst you get completely absorbed in it, and it controls your whole life.”

Seulgi took a deep breath, allowing some of Stardust’s courage to fill her. Not enough to override her own personality and desire, although Seulgi could feel the Representation trying to worm her way to the forefront.

“What’s the whole deal with you and Evanie?” she asked. “Wasn’t she buying you alcohol or something like a week ago so you didn’t go through withdrawals? And like, overall, what’s your deal?”

Tyler laughed dryly, folded his arms over his chest, and sighed. “That is a story for another day. I doubt you have the time to hear it, and I assume you’ve got enough on your plate right now. School, balancing your burgeoning music career, the coming apocalypse…”

Stardust reached out, locked Tyler’s forearm in a vice. The tall man gave her a sharp look. His face remained jovial, though his eyes took on a hard cast, tightening at the corners and narrowing slightly.

“What do you know?” Stardust hissed.

“Enough,” Tyler said. Then, casually, he finished his whiskey. “I was talking to Seulgi. Not you.”

Immediately, Stardust was thrown back into the Astral Plane. Seulgi felt herself propelled forward, forced back into her body. She gasped and nearly stumbled at the suddenness of the switch. For the first time since creating the Representation, Seulgi was entirely alone in her mind. It should have been a sensation familiar to her, yet it wasn’t. She felt like something was missing.

“How did you do that?” Seulgi gasped, releasing Tyler’s arm.

“Don’t worry, she’ll come back soon enough for you to continue performing for these leeches,” Tyler said, taking a drag from his unashed cigarette. “So, while I have your attention: it may not feel like it now, but things are going to be coming to a head soon, my friend. When they do, me and my people will do everything we can to help. But ultimately, the burden’s on your shoulders, Seulgi.”

Seulgi swallowed. The gravity of his final sentence weighed on her soul like a block of stone.

“But you knew that, right?” Tyler said, tossing his cigarette over the balcony, its embers arcing through the air like a falling, dying star. “You are the Chosen One, after all.”

With that, Tyler departed, stepping around a man who was pushing his way outside. Lost in thought, Seulgi didn’t realize who it was until he was directly in front of her.

“Seul, I was just talking to Malay, and-” Bogum paused, taking in the expression on his sister’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… I’m fine,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. She could feel Stardust returning, tentatively, with an apprehension that Seulgi had never seen in the Representation. Whatever Tyler had done had frightened her. “What’s up?”

“Frank’s producer, Malay, wants to see you play,” Bogum said with a winning smile. “I don’t know how you did it, but literally everyone is talking about you. They adore you, Seul.”

“Alright. I’ll be there in a sec. I just have to make a phone call.” Seulgi said, grinning weakly and fishing her phone from her pocket. 

“Are you sure?” Bogum said worriedly. “If you’re not feeling well…”

Seulgi nodded, gave some words of false reassurance, then waved her brother off. As he retreated inside to hold her waiting audience off, she struggled to withhold the ripple of panic that was rising within her. How could she play for an audience of wealthy industry musicians while her mind was so jumbled?

Nothing but a dial tone from Sooyoung. Seulgi sent another text to her roommate, kicking herself for not having any alternative means to contact the younger girl. Afterward, Seulgi tried to reach out to Joohyun through the Astral Plane, but it was like yelling into an infinite, empty room.

From that echoing expanse came a different voice, however.

We have to go back inside, Stardust said. We have mortals to entertain.

How can you even think about that now? Seulgi demanded, clutching the wooden railing of the balcony with pale hands. Tyler said something was coming, and he’s right, we-

There’s nothing we can do about it without giving ourselves away, Stardust snapped, cold logic in her tone. We can worry about Joohyun and Sooyoung later. Sooyoung is fine; she has Yerim’s power, remember? And Joohyun can take care of herself. You know these things.

Seulgi glanced back and saw her brother watching from inside the house. She gave him another wave, feigning confidence.

You’re gonna have to do most of the legwork here. Seulgi said, taking a deep, slow breath, fighting back nausea.

Stardust reflected a smile. That’s fine.

With that, the Representation rushed forward, melding with Seulgi’s spirit, sending that frigid, refreshing strength into her bones. Seulgi relinquished control, retreating into herself, yet still remaining invested enough to maintain her appearance.

As Stardust opened the balcony door and stepped back into her element, the corners of lifted in a wide, shark-like grin. Yes, Sooyoung and Joohyun would be fine. They could wait. She and Seulgi could figure things out in the morning.

For now, she had hearts to steal and a career to mold.

-----------------------------

Not much romance in this chapter, just some more building of Stardust as a character, as well as a visit from an (unexpected) familiar face. Next chapter will be an extension of this scene - with lots more action and plot development (though there is plot development here, it just might not be obvious...). After that, we'll switch back to Yerim and Sooyoung and see what they're up to. Maybe a bit of Sooyoung's backstory will be revelead as well (:

Thanks for reading!

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