Bomi didn’t watch her knife when it flew from her hand. Instead, just as it left her fingers, she pulled her gaze to Chorong. The moment Chorong’s body began to crumble to the floor, Bomi exploded from her position to catch her leader. She catapulted her body forward just in time to catch Chorong and gently ease her to the floor. Blood was quickly seeping through her clothes.

“God damnit, Unnie,” Bomi cursed. “Why?”

Eunji was by Chorong’s side in a second, followed by Hayoung and Namjoo. Without wasting time, Eunji tore off her jacket and pressed it against Chorong’s wound. 

“Are you alright, Unnie?” Eunji asked breathlessly.

Chorong’s face was laden in sweat and it twisted in pain as she tried to sit up. She looked at the Shadow Clan woman, who lay gruesomely still on the floor. Bomi’s knife jutted straight out of the center of her forehead―perfect aim, as always. A line of blood trickled down from the woman’s forehead, and Hayoung walked over to ensure that the woman was truly dead.  Chorong shifted her leg, and her face twisted in pain again. Eunji pressed down harder on the leader’s wound to stop the bleeding from her leg.

Chorong turned away from the dead woman and locked eyes with Bomi. 

 “Well,” Chorong said to her, “thank God you didn’t miss.”

Bomi didn’t know what Chorong’s favorite food was, and she felt quite ashamed that she didn’t. As she walked to the infirmary with a bowl of congee, she battled with the fear that Chorong secretly hated the classic dish. Bomi knew that she could have asked Eunji or any of the other members for Chorong’s favorite food, but she had been too embarrassed to. Congee was the easiest and quickest meal to make, so Bomi had chosen to make it for the leader.

When she reached the infirmary, Bomi slowly eased the door open. “Chorong-unnie?”

Chorong looked up from her book. She was wearing her glasses, which was a look that Bomi had come to like, because whenever Chorong had visited her at night, she would often wear them. Chorong set down her book and said, “Bomi. Come in.”

Bomi approached Chorong’s bed, slowly taking in her bandaged wounds. It had only been a day since the mission, and the doctor had said that Chorong would be able to leave the infirmary after a day of rest. Her injuries were far from bad, but it still felt like a punch to her gut seeing Chorong in the infirmary bed. 

“Our roles have reversed,” Bomi commented with a small smile.

“I’d much rather have it this way than the other way around,” Chorong replied nonchalantly, unaware of the spark that it sent through Bomi’s chest. She nodded at the container in Bomi’s hand. “What’s that?”

Suddenly, Bomi felt shy. She had never done something like this for Chorong, and she didn’t know if they were on that level yet, but it was too late to go back now. Bomi pulled over a chair and sat down. “I made you congee.”

Chorong’s eyes widened in mild surprise. Bomi handed Chorong the container and watched her remove the lid and inspect its contents. “You made this?”

“Why is that so surprising?”

“You don’t strike me as a cook.”

“Hey, I can do other things with knives that don’t involve throwing them.”

Chorong laughed lightly and set the container aside. “Thank you, Bomi. I’ll enjoy it later.”

“I didn’t know what your favorite food was, so I figured that congee was a pretty safe bet. I know it’s not anything fancy and you probably would have preferred something else, but I tried to add other things to it. You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

“Bbom-ah, it’s fine. I appreciate it and will eat it regardless.”

Bomi paused and blinked, wondering if she had misheard. “What did you just call me?”

“Bbom-ah,” Chorong repeated. “Sorry, Eunji calls you that a lot and I guess it just stuck with me.”

“Oh,” was all Bomi said. 

Chorong tilted her head. “Is it alright if I call you that?”

Bomi scratched the back of her neck and cleared . She didn’t know why hearing that nickname come from Chorong had affected her so deeply. “Yes. You can call me whatever you’d like.”

“I like Bbom-ah. It has a cute ring to it.”

“Are you calling me cute?”

“No, I’m calling your name cute.” Chorong ran a hand through her hair and then rested her hand by her side, open and with her fingers slightly curled. Bomi couldn’t help but think about how easily she could slip her own hand into Chorong’s open palm. She squeezed her fist to try to force the thought out. Chorong’s eyes fell to Bomi’s fist, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just said, “Dakbal, by the way.”

“Dakbal? Is that your nickname?”

“No, of course not,” laughed Chorong. “That’s my favorite food.”

“Dakbal…I’ll remember that,” Bomi said. She glanced at Chorong’s leg, which was hidden under the blanket, but she could still remember that wound as clear as day. The bleeding, Chorong’s painful expression, her anguished cry―how could Bomi forget that? “How are you feeling?”

Chorong rotated her leg side to side. “I’ve been through worse.”

“How’s the pain?”

“It doesn’t compare to the other injuries I’ve gotten.”

“God, you’re just as stubborn as me,” Bomi groaned.

“I’m glad you realize how stubborn you are,” Chorong grinned. She glanced down at Bomi’s hand again and sat up straighter. “Thank you, by the way. You saved my life.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay,” Bomi said. “I was terrified that I would miss, and I have never missed in my life.”

“Well, you didn’t miss.” Chorong continued to stare at Bomi’s hand, and after a few seconds, she reached forward and wrapped her fingers around it. Her hand was soft and warm, and although Bomi jolted at the sudden touch, she did not pull away. “I was the all-star student in the academy, but you were always still the best at knife-throwing.”

“Things could have gone horribly wrong.”

Chorong’s voice was sure and unwavering. “I trusted you.”

For a while, Bomi said nothing and remained trapped by Chorong’s captivating eyes. The leader was staring at her with the same, mysterious look as she had that night that they had almost kissed. If Bomi leaned in right now, would Chorong welcome her like last time or would she pull away? 

“Thank you for trusting me,” Bomi murmured.

“That’s what teammates do.”

“Yeah,” Bomi muttered, wrapping her fingers around Chorong’s hand, “That’s what teammates do.”

Bomi nearly leaned in to answer her question, but she suddenly heard footsteps approaching the infirmary. She and Chorong snapped their attention towards the sound, and not so long after, the door opened and Eunji appeared in the doorway with her adorable grin that she always wore around.

But when Eunji noticed that Bomi was also in the room, something in her expression changed. “Oh, Bbom-ah. I didn’t realize that you would be here too.”

“I almost impaled Chorong-unnie with my knife yesterday night, so I felt obligated to visit her,” Bomi replied.

“You did not almost impale me,” Chorong said.

“No, but it would make a much better story.” Bomi gestured to the other chair next to the bed. “Come here, Eunji-ah.”

Eunji surveyed them for a second, then stepped back into the doorway. Bomi had known her long enough to know that her smile was restrained. “I just came here to quickly check on Chorong-unnie. I have some work to get done, but I promise I’ll come back later, okay?”

Eunji took another step back, and Bomi called out, “Wait, Eunji-ah!”

But it was too late. Eunji had already backed out of the infirmary and swiftly walked away, the sound of her quick, receding footsteps the only reminder of her presence.

“Did you gain any new information from Seungri and the mission last night?” Naeun asked.  

“No, none of the members survived last night. A few of them had their phones on them, and the tech team is still working on extracting any possible information from them,” Hayoung replied. She was walking with her and Namjoo towards the infirmary to visit Chorong. It was late afternoon, and Hayoung was extremely tired; she’d been up past three in the morning last night because of the mission, and she had only gotten a few hours of sleep before she had to wake up for work again. Aside from checking up on Chorong, there was nothing more that Hayoung wanted to do than collapse onto her bed.

“Seungri has also already told us everything that he could,” Namjoo added. “Or so he claims. We’re keeping him in custody until we decide how to proceed with him and his family.”

“I see,” said Naeun. “Keep me updated.”

“Will do,” nodded Hayoung. The infirmary was down the hall, and ahead, Hayoung saw a short, dark-haired woman walking quickly towards them. When the woman got closer and Hayoung realized who she was, she exclaimed, “Eunji-unnie!”

Eunji and Naeun were almost in sync when they snapped their heads forward and beheld the other party. Next to Hayoung, Naeun straightened her back and stepped forward. “Did you just come from visiting Chorong?”

Eunji’s eyes swept across the three of them, and her lips parted to say something, but no words came out. Hayoung immediately knew that something was wrong. Eunji’s shoulders were stiff, her hands were in tight fists by her side, and it looked as though she had just bolted out of the infirmary, like she hadn’t wanted to be there. That last bit seemed extraordinarily out of the blue―Eunji, not wanting to see Chorong? Something was wrong. By the way Naeun relaxed her shoulders and took another step towards Eunji, Hayoung knew that Naeun had sensed it too. Hayoung was vaguely aware of Namjoo standing next to her, watching her carefully.

“Yes,” Eunji finally answered. “I have some work to do now, so I’ll see you later.”

Before any of them could answer, Eunji walked away, her steps too rushed to be normal.

“I wonder what that was about,” Namjoo muttered.

Wordlessly, Naeun walked towards the infirmary and peeked through the window. Hayoung saw her jaw clench, and a second later, Naeun was running after Eunji.

“Princess!” Namjoo called out, but Naeun had already disappeared from sight. “Damn, her long legs can really take her far.”

Namjoo peered through the infirmary window, and Hayoung joined her shortly after. It didn’t take her long to see what Naeun―and most likely Eunji―had seen: Bomi and Chorong were in there together, with their fingers very obviously intertwined. 

“You really are a psychic, Hayoung-ah,” uttered Namjoo. “They really do have feelings for each other.”

“I’m not a psychic, remember,” Hayoung murmured. “I just have eyes.”

And yet as she stared down the hall where Naeun had desperately run off into, Hayoung wondered how her eyes had been so blind to something that had been right in front of her for so long.