“What can you possibly give her?”

She has a sin to confess.

The moment they met in the café, when Hyejin touched her cropped, brown hair with a nonchalant tug, some of the memories came, or it was just there in the first place, untouched, hidden from sight?

This is a woman of her memories.

And she’s getting greedy.

"I am always yours from the very beginning."

That’s where she’s wrong. She is of her own person, and based on what Moonbyul heard from Kyung, the past three years had been kinder— she had gained notoriety as the heiress that dominates the underworld and makes the organization even stronger than before.

Kyung also made her promise for one thing.

“The Organization become even bigger as it is; but you are always become her burden… if you can somehow help her living this life… She has done a really good job so far…”

As in for Moonbyul to leave and never to be seen again. Perhaps, that way, Hyejin has her chance of living like a flower that she is. Secrets traded: Kyung will say nothing about Moonbyul’s memories and let her try to change her mind.

A promise that she had performed to the utmost atrocity.

Saving her again in the woods, the reciprocated kiss in the villa, all mistakes that she will not repeat the second time. It is high time for Hyejin to notice her worthiness already.

And how she’s just a baggage.

“Earth to unnie!”

A pitcher of lemonade ed right into her face, this close to touching her nose. Behind it is Shuhua, her forever-cute co-worker who works out great in catching the hearts of everyone on this premise, herself included. “Mind telling me what happened yesterday?”

“I will take your jeep for a good clean, Shuhua. For the nth time, I'm so sorry for getting it dirty.” Driving deep into the woods will get it that way, she can only be grateful there’s no remnants of blood or hair that will make the whole ordeal even creepier.

Shuhua’s face crunched in a distaste like it is far from what she’s getting at.

“what really, really happened.”

It is all a matter of her favourite unnie looking so down and missing three orders, either that or getting the order wrong. The reprimand from an aunty, whom has become their regular, apparently is not enough for a good wake-up call. Her head is still in the clouds.

“You are not paying attention.”

No one can resist Shuhua blowing her cheeks in a mock irritation. “Aigoo, it’s nothing really.” Moonbyul pats her head in a cooing manner, and for a while it seems to calm the other girl’s rising temper. “Just lacking some sleep.”

Lacking sleep didn’t result in such a sad face but Shuhua did not say it out loud.

“order up!”

Another order for lattes and two stacks of pancakes put them back in a jiffy, moving back and forth from one to another side of the counter, getting in sync with the tandem of the cafe.

The day that went as usual, nothing out of the ordinary, the one that Moonbyul hopes stays that way.

--

During her walk from the cafe to her flat (it took approximately 30 minutes by bus), she sat herself comfortably under the bus stop, admiring the colorful neon advertising banner right next to her side.

Along with the twirling colors she was again the prison of her thoughts.

What is her plan after leaving Hyejin? Faking a name, her identity will again be obscure, and she will once again become a stranger in a foreign land.

“You can never push me out of your hair.”

That is a threat if Moonbyul has never seen one. And with the power and influence she holds now, that sentence held truth to an immense degree.

The woman will run a mile. Or two miles. Even more.

Rubbing her hands together, she slapped both against each other and stood up to get inside the arriving bus. As soon as she tapped the card and took one of the seats available, her phone rang.

Digging inside her loose jacket, she swiped it open and muttered a greeting. As the speaker explained, her eyes are getting brighter with the prospect of another freelance job available.

“Thank you! Keep me posted.”

--

This is a strangest freelancing job she has ever received.

Let’s not start with how easy it went: the interview that ended frighteningly quickly, she was handed a set of uniform and to come to a designated place at exactly the intended time. There was no explanation on how it will go, just on how she will have to look nice and serve guests their champagne and desserts.

It was held in the biggest ballroom of the high-end district in Hong Kong.

Act nice. Looks nice. Serving drinks and letting the guests have their own fun in the ballroom. Not a big deal. She can do this, and it will end in a flash.

All the guests are either wearing white or black and they are looking highly regal. Judging by the secrecy of each guest (they were mentioned with what seemed like a name that sounds anonymous), this is a party that was only reserved for a certain class.

Based on their shoes and how they hold themselves in the interactions, no doubt the higher ones.

Watching their interaction gave her another instance to think, to bring herself into a nostalgia. She felt that familiarity, there it goes. It is happening again.

She massaged her head and pinched them continuously, cursing the pain that didn’t abate just as quickly. The last thing she needs is to have another attack and convulsing herself to embarrassment ever again.

Reminding herself of her duty as a waiter, she circulated the drinks in a smooth manner, almost sure some fell into her charm. One can’t help but be narcissistic once in a while.

“time for us to wear the designated masks, ladies and gentlemen.”

As part of the party, masks are lifted over the faces, shapes and concepts, all intriguing. Some even went as far as getting a cat mask complete with their realistic whiskers and skin. Three of them are here and Moonbyul is convinced this is a party for Yokai.

“a night where you can be other than yourself. A night where you can be acquainted with each other, circumstances and social standings be damned!”

Even when it was spoken in Cantonese, the details did not missed Moonbyul’s earshot. Letting go? Where has she heard that before--

“Mansaeng.”

Another call set her in shock. It is her employer. The manager that acts as the organizer of the night.

“One of the guests didn’t have a partner.” He reiterated with every stress as if Moonbyul cannot hear him clearly. “You are the stand-in. Dance with her for this round as soon as the music start.” Moonbyul’s face turned white. No way. Not in the freaking way. She can’t freaking dance even to save her own life! “But boss, I don’t- I cant dance!” Soon she was pushed from behind, running as far to the door that leads to the balcony. Moonbyul took one last look over her shoulder and her eyes went full pleading