For Moonbyul, life is going in its usual course.

 

What she did not expect in her usual day at the cafe was this one customer. The one customer that, when she has this aura of commanding all attention to her, Moonbyul cannot help but notice.

 

This one particular woman that always orders the same drink and sits near the window between 4PM and 6PM. With her visiting schedule hardly erratic, Moonbyul remembers it as a muscle memory.

 

It's the same woman within her peripheral view that is once again occupying the rest of the cafe’s attention and thoughts. It's interesting.

 

Moonbyul grasped to the back of her head only to find no hair to tie for. Of course, she had cut it clean. How could she forget about that? Closing her eyes in a second of internal embarrassment, with an oath to pull herself together, her ears caught the sound of the bell, signifying a new customer.

 

“nei baa baa ne? (Where’s your dad?)”

 

From the way this newcomer came straight in front of Moonbyul, it already created a sense of deja vu but for the wrong reason, even when she knew the person.

”ngo5 mou5 gin3 gwo3 keoi5 (I have not seen him).” Moonbyul flinched slightly as she caught an odor emanating from him, most likely alcohol. “ngo5 ji5 wai4 keoi5 tung4 nei5 hai2 jat1 cai4 ,suk1 suk1 。( I thought he’s with you, uncle).” She took a deep breath in an attempt to survive the odor that is not just alcohol. “He’s your gambling buddy, after all.” It was a sentence spoken without any sarcasm, but the man dismissed it with a grunt.

 

“I’m not his caretaker.” He snorted, quickly scanning the woman from head to toe. “You are becoming more beautiful day by day. How about I introduce you to my son? You all would make such a good couple.”

 

Moonbyul held the urge to roll her eyes when she felt the back of her hand covered by the uncle’s, but the whole situation quickly interrupted with a voice.

 

“Can I order?”

 

The dazzling woman that usually sits near the window for three days straight is now standing over the counter. Both Moonbyul and the uncle keep staring at the same point until the girl pulls herself together. “Yes! Uh… Let me just …” She sputtered lamely, scrambling to the other side of the counter. The woman pointed her attention to the uncle. “Can I sit there?”

 

The uncle chortled. “There’s a lot of other seats, lady.”

 

Whatever politeness that she had possessed before gone up into smoke as her stare turned cold, her head tilted to the right, signaling the route straight to the exit.

 

To which the uncle abides immediately, possibly knowing by instinct that it is not the right time to be messing around. Moments later, the barista came to the counter. “Here is your order—oh.”

 

“He had urgent matters.” The woman responds tersely, taking the seat and sipping, ignoring the barista who is scratching her head by now. It was a long moment that Moonbyul became unsure of when to ask or perhaps create small talk that she hated for sure, but watching this lady sipping her drink is… what is the right word?

 

Peaceful. The moment that she wished could last longer.

 

“That man is harassing you.” Her blunt remarks jolted Moonbyul out of her reverie. “Don’t let him.”

 

“He’s my… father’s friend.” Moonbyul doesn’t know why she shares this with a stranger. She didn’t have the obligation to explain herself but here they are. “But… thank you.”

 

Moonbyul wonders if she said the wrong thing, because soon after that the lady leave the café in a rush.

 

--

 

Is she offending the lady somehow?

 

It doesn’t seem like it because the lady came back and occupied the same seat again.

 

It was the first and last moment the lady attempted a conversation, but other than that is a reverse back to their first meeting. Moonbyul finds herself observing most of the time she is not tending to the orders.

 

She always arrives at the same time. With a newspaper, spread it all over and shut it close, leaving at the exact same time: one hour before closing.

 

It has been a solid week. The interest between her lady customers may have waned, but for Moonbyul it became the exact opposite.

 

Curiosity is gradually turning into something else. Even bigger curiosity? Even more questions? The questions that awaken her earlier in the morning and the cause of bigger steps on her way to the cafe.

 

The clock’s ticking. Moonbyul was tapping her fingers impatiently.

 

The lady’s late. Is she not coming? Is she—

 

All the what ifs vanished as the lady stepping into the café, taking her "assigned" seat that Moonbyul had painted into softer color along with the table. Whether the lady notices or not does not matter. It would be severely embarrassing if she did pay attention.

 

Two hours passed.

 

When the lady folded her newspaper and stood up, Moonbyul decided to take a leap of faith.

 

“Let me offer you a complimentary drink and cake, anything you’d like.”

 

The lady, to Moonbyul’s prediction, shaking her head. “It’s okay.”

 

“Please. You have become a regular here. I owe you from yesterday anyway. Let me at least do this.”

 

Moonbyul put on her best performance of puppy eyes that must have worked because the lady gave up just as quickly. She prepared the tea and the cake giddily, serving it to the lady and standing behind the counter, still smiling from ear to ear.

 

“No need to rush. I will close the café as soon as you are done.”

 

“I eat better with my company. So…”

 

Thus, Moonbyul found herself sitting across from the lady behind the same table. Between cutting the cake in half and sipping her tea, the dark bags under the lady’s eyes become prominent. The fact this lady has been sitting very still in the same place for a week is already worrying, and this just adds more to that.

 

“You seem to have something on your mind this morning.”

 

Maybe the treat can cheer her up. She had absolutely no idea why she even thought of that. The lady did not come up with a response, but Moonbyul could not blame her. That sentence was spoken slightly above a whisper. Instead, she took another time observing the lady.

 

She is reserved, but it fails to hide the qualities to her that is otherworldly and… dazzling. Moonbyul cannot imagine anyone saying no to her.

 

The lady is now staring back at her, clearly confused.

 

. The latter must have come out loud.

 

And suddenly a laughter rang out, clearing the air. It was clear, crisp, Moonbyul is sure she can hear the bells. It was the kind of laughter that offset every glum, unapproachable aura she had given off for a week.

 

Now she doesn’t know if she wants to hear anything else.

 

Moonbyul scratched the side of her cheek impulsively, blushing, trying to think of something right to say, but the laughter suddenly vanished.

 

She lifts her head to find the lady’s eyes transfixed on her. It took a while to realize that she’s staring at her wrist. In quick succession she pulled her sleeve to cover it. “Oh, it’s—"

 

But as the lady reached out her hand, Moonbyul wondered for the nth time on what came over her as she gave hers to hold on to. Her manicured fingers languidly caressing Moonbyul’s wrist.

 

It was a completely deep, inflamed impression, almost bluish. In the past, traces of dead skin on it showed clear signs of profuse bleeding. Of all the things she can show… the sheer ugliness of it all causing Moonbyul to almost die in embarrassment. The ground can just swallow her now and no one will care.

 

“Why don’t you treat it?”

 

The lady adopted a totally different tone that made her heart skip a beat if that was possible. No, it is impossible. They just met.

 

“I was… about to.” Moonbyul went with details that she hoped could fit into the conversation and not let it die in the middle. She could not be the mood killer of this conversation.

 

She cannot let her down anymore.

 

…?

 

Before she gathers her own thoughts, the lady stands abruptly, writing on a napkin before pushing it into Moonbyul’s hand, her gesture persisting.

 

“Call me.”

 

The pleading tone in her words caused Moonbyul to stand up as well, tucking the napkin safely inside her pocket before calling out. “Let me take you to the bus stop.”

 

As soon as it was said, a black car halted smoothly near the curb, right in front of the café.

 

Of course. How many times can one act stupid in one day?

 

“Will you be here again tomorrow?”

 

The lady turns to face her completely. The sight of fluttering lashes and black locks that glistened under the light made her breath hitch.

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

This has been a weird turn of conversation. But that doesn