It wasn’t easy studying while also trying to hold down two part-time jobs, but Shon Seungwan did her best. She didn’t have rich parents to pay her way—okay, she didn’t have any parents, rich or otherwise—nor was she smart enough to land a fully-paid scholarship to university. Oh, she was smart enough to get by, but she was also realistic, and the scores of the top 0.01% were way out of her league. So from 7 am to midday, she worked at the 7-11 on the corner of her street. From midday to 5 pm she went home to the tiny apartment she shared with her older brother, and studied. Then, from 5 pm to midnight, she worked at the GS25 on the corner at the other end of her street. This was sometimes confusing, like when she would forget which convenience store she was working in and direct customers to the wrong shelf for instant noodles, or remember that they were getting low on band-aids and order in some more, only to find that the shelf in question was amply stocked, and it was the other store that had run out.

It was the medical supplies in the GS25 that she was glumly regarding now. It wasn’t much use having a six-month supply of extra-tough fabric band-aids at the 7-11 when all the GS25 could offer was two boxes of Disney Princess sticking plasters. The fact that they were waterproof didn’t really help.

With a sigh, she pushed her hands on her knees and stood up. It was nearly 10 pm, and usually the store was much quieter in these last two hours of her shift. She’d place an order on the computer for more band-aids, and then get in a couple of hours study before closing up. It wasn’t like anyone would come in for band-aids this late at night.

In hindsight, that was probably tempting fate.

She settled herself behind the counter and opened her book to the exercises that had been tying her brain in knots for the past few days. They were example questions for the spatial awareness test that was one of the requirements for her chosen career. The test consisted of looking at diagrams drawn out on the page and somehow figuring out which 3-dimensional shape they would match if folded up and stuck together in the right way—except you weren’t allowed to actually cut them out and fold them up. The simple ones, cubes and cones and such, were obvious, but the book rapidly progressed to bizarre-looking collections of lines and planes and angles, and no matter how much she might screw up her eyes and twist her neck and squint, every time she decided she’d picked the right one, the answers in the back of the book told her she was wrong.

It was during one particularly mystifying problem that had her turning the book upside-down and holding it inches from her nose in an attempt to see if that helped at all when she heard the doorway sensor chime. It was such a familiar noise, and she was so engrossed in her problem, that she barely registered the fact that she had a customer.

Something clacked onto the counter in front of her, and she automatically put out a hand to scan it without looking away from her book. It wasn’t until a 50,000 won note was placed beside it that she finally pulled herself out of her daze of angles and planes. A 50,000 won note would need change, which meant she had to open the cash register, which meant actually looking at what she was doing.

She glanced at the item she’d just scanned. Huh. The Disney Princess band-aids. Now there was only one box left. She picked up the note and tapped into the cash register, glancing up as she did so at the young man who was now tucking the box into the inside pocket of his dark suit jacket, and her eyes widened. A cobweb of dried blood slipped down from his hairline above his left eye, made a gruesome decoration across his left cheek and jaw, and stained the collar of his white business shirt.

Okay, so that was a lot of blood.

“Um...are you okay?” she asked, fingers hovering over the open cash drawer.

He glanced at her. Pretty eyes, she thought. Wide and clear, with surprisingly long lashes. In the fluorescent lighting of the store they looked almost golden. The glance was distant, though. Dismissive. He wasn’t really seeing her.

“Yes,” he said briefly, almost coldly. Seungwan nodded and fumbled for the change, wondering if she should offer to help. The cut itself must be hidden under his hair, but judging by the mess on his face and the sticky, matted-looking quality of the black hair above it, it had bled a lot. Disney Princess band-aids might not quite rise to the occasion, even if they were waterproof.

She counted out the 47,575 won she owed him in change. Really, she grumbled to herself as she filled her palm with notes and coins. Who pays for a box of band-aids with a 50,000 won note? Did he not have a T-money card?

She looked up, holding out the handful of cash. “Here’s your change, sir…”

The store was empty. The young man was gone.

“Really?” she asked the empty store in general. “Guy couldn’t wait thirty seconds? For this much change?” At minimum wage, it was more than she’d earn in a whole day. It would buy him 20 boxes of Disney Princess band-aids, if only she’d had that many in stock.

For a moment, she contemplated keeping the money. He hadn’t actually said keep the change, but vanishing before she could give it to him basically meant the same thing, right? But no, she scolded herself even as she rounded the counter and ran towards the doors. She didn’t have to think like that now. She had a home, a job—two jobs, in fact —so she could afford to be honest, and she was going to have an honourable career, just like her big brother. Just as soon as she figured out how to solve those stupid spatial awareness problems.

“Hey, wait,” she called, stepping out of the sliding doors with the pile of cash clutched in her hand. There was hardly anyone around, and she immediately spotted his retreating suit-clad back. He’d already gotten to the stoplights at the corner. “Hey! Mister! You with the head wound!” She couldn’t run after him as she wasn’t supposed to leave the store unattended, but she could do a pretty piercing yell when she wanted.

He spun around and shot her an icy glare that she could feel even over the 50 metres or so between them. Undeterred, Seungwan brandished the handful of cash. “You forgot your change!”

He strode back towards her, so swiftly and purposefully that she took an involuntary step backwards. He wasn’t tall, and very slender, but he moved with the kind of fluid, lethal grace that she associated with the most highly-ranked black belts at her taekwondo dojang. The blood that decorated his face didn’t allay his dangerous air all. Seungwan took a second step back as he reached her, watching the grim lines of his face nervously.

“Back inside,” he ordered. She scurried to obey. The door chime pinged as he followed her in. Spinning around, she held out the money, stretching out her arm to try and keep him at a distance. “It’s just you forgot your—"

“Do you really think it's a good idea to shout about your handful of cash on the street at midnight?”

Seungwan blinked. It wouldn’t actually be midnight for another twenty minutes yet, but that wasn’t what