Seungwan knocked at the door to the room Chanyeol had taken. When she didn’t get an answer, she hesitated uncertainly for a few moments, then pushed the door open anyway. She wanted to talk to him – talk properly, with neither of them getting angry or upset. She was a tangle of conflicting emotions. When she’d thought she had to sleep with Chanyeol to keep her cover intact, the reality of what she had gotten herself into had come down on her like a ton of bricks. She was lucky this time, but it couldn’t last forever. Sooner or later, she’d have to do something she didn’t want to do. She shivered at the thought of what would have happened if Irene had set her on some other client, instead of Chanyeol. She wasn’t ready for that.

She was afraid of the uncertainty of it all, afraid that she’d say something wrong or give herself away. The stress of having to consider and monitor her every action was exhausting. Chanyeol was the only person now who she didn’t have to hide anything from. She wanted him as an ally, but he seemed to see her as a tool, not a person. She wanted the same things as he did, but he was blocking her out. She’d been angry with him for that. But she’d misunderstood him today. It was possible she’d misunderstood him before. He’d reacted today as if he was angry with her again, but she’d seen how his hands had trembled when he’d turned away, and she couldn’t help but wonder what emotion he was hiding from her.

But when she stepped into his room, she saw why he hadn’t answered her knocking. He’d fallen asleep, lying on his side on top of the heavy embroidered counterpane. He’d not even managed to get his head onto the pillows or pull a blanket over him before passing out. She briefly considered waking him up, but it just felt too cruel.

She drew the curtains so that the light wasn’t falling on his face and started to leave, then hesitated and turned back. Curiosity rose up inside her. Now that he wasn’t awake, she was able to look at him freely and without reserve for the first time. She went over to sit on the bed, then lay down next to him, so that their faces were close together. She searched his sleeping face as if she could find her answers written there. The tension that drew lines and hollows in his face while awake was gone, and she almost thought she could catch a glimpse of the man she’d known before all this had happened. The man Baekhyun had known.

He opened his eyes. She froze, realising just how close together their faces were – but he thought he was dreaming. Mistaking her for a ghost or hallucination of Baekhyun, he whispered apologies through his tears. He told Baekhyun he loved him, and begged to be allowed to sleep. Pity chased away the last shreds of her frustration and anger. Could it be that he was haunted by visions like this every time he tried to sleep? From the way he spoke, this wasn’t the first time. No wonder he looked dead on his feet. If she’d ever seen anyone look more tired, she couldn’t remember it.

This man is broken. She realised the truth of the thought even as it came to her. Losing Baekhyun had broken Chanyeol in a way it hadn’t quite broken her. Perhaps it was because he blamed himself. Perhaps it was because Baekhyun had died working a case Chanyeol was in charge of. Perhaps it was because he’d loved Baekhyun more deeply than she’d ever realised, and had never told her brother, and now it was too late. Her heart ached for him.

“Sleep,” she whispered. He thought she was Baekhyun, but she knew her brother would want her to do this on his behalf. He wouldn’t have wanted his friend and partner to suffer like this. “I know you’re doing all you can. So sleep.”

He slept, and she closed her eyes until her own tears retreated.

“I wish things could have been different for you,” she murmured. Chanyeol had loved her brother, and she knew his pain. She knew heartache and unfairness and endless, hopeless longing. They would never be completely free of it. “I wish you could have protected him. For both our sakes.”

She got up slowly, careful not to wake him, and went back to her own room. After two hours, she knocked loudly on his door and called his name until he woke up. She wanted to let him sleep longer, but she didn’t know what other important things he had to do today.

“I’m sorry,” she told him when he came out, white-faced and with shadows around his eyes so dark they looked bruised. “I got caught up in how this world operates, but I know you’re not like that. I should have thought it through.”

“It’s alright,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. “I know I’m not easy to work with at the moment. I just can’t seem to get my head on straight.”

“I understand,” she said, and for the first time, she thought she really did. Chanyeol was like a wounded animal. He might snarl at her when she tried to help him, he might even try to bite her, but it was not because he hated her. It was because his pain was so great he couldn’t understand or process it. What seemed like anger to her was just an expression of pain.

She went down to the foyer with him to see him off, acting the way she’d seen some of the other girls act with their favourite clients or patrons. Chanyeol weathered her flirting and fluttering without reacting. She waved him off, and hoped he wouldn’t crash his car. She wasn’t sure if he was fully awake.

“Is he your patron?” the girl at the desk asked as she came back inside. Yeri, she read on her nametag. She nodded, and Yeri sighed. “Lucky you. He’s young, and handsome too. My patron is the same age as my grandfather.”

Seungwan managed to hide the horror she felt at this matter-of-fact statement. “If only his personality matched,” she said, and rolled her eyes. “He’s so careful it’s boring.”

Yeri grinned. “I know the type,” she said. “The quiet ones don’t trust easily. They bottle all their feelings up, but when you get his guard down, girl, watch out! It’ll be like a bursting dam.” She turned her attention to the front doors as they slid open, ready to greet the next customer, a young man who strode purposefully towards the desk. Seungwan turned to go back to her room, but a glimpse of the man’s face as he approached made her turn back, her eyes wide.

“I need to see Irene,” the man told Yeri. His eyes flicked over to Seungwan, noting her presence without recognition, then back to Yeri. “Tell her it’s Jongdae.”

Seungwan felt her eyes go even rounder at the name. Yeri disappeared to inform Irene’s bodyguards of the request, and Seungwan found her senses. She went back over to the desk, smiling at Jongdae when he glanced down at her.

“We meet again,” she said. “Is this fate?”

Jongdae hesitated, the beautiful brown eyes she remembered from the convenience store searching her face, and she realised he didn’t recognize her. Of course – she looked so different in pretty clothes and with her hair dyed. Even Chanyeol hadn’t known her at first.

“Don’t come up from behind like that,” she imitated, deepening her voice to a serious, masculine tone. “You might get hurt.”

“What?”

“I used to work at the convenience store,” she relented, hiding a smile at how puzzled he looked. “It was a few months ago. You were injured, and when I tried to check if you were okay, you pulled a knife on me. Let’s just say you made a strong impression.”

She saw the memory dawn in his face. “Ah,” he said. “Sorry about that. I’d had a bad day.” He looked at her again. “You look different.”

She smiled. “In a good way, I hope. You’re Jongdae, right? Irene’s told me a lot about you.”

His face darkened a little. It wasn’t really enough to be called a frown, but it certainly wasn’t a happy look. “Really?”

“Don’t worry. She only told me good things.” She wondered whether to mention that she’d grown up in an orphanage, like him, but decided against it. He seemed like a private sort of man, and it would probably make him uncomfortable, especially when he didn’t know her at all.

“My name is Seungwan,” she said, and held out her hand to shake. He took it automatically. “Shon Seungwan.”

He froze midway through shaking her hand.

“Shon Seungwan?”

“Yes,” she felt her smile slip, replaced by confusion. He was staring at her like she’d just grown a second head. His fingers were gripping hers tighter than was comfortable, and she tried to pull her hand back, but it was like his whole body had frozen. “What’s the matter?” She asked.

He looked lost, suddenly, like a young child. It was the most unguarded expression she’d ever seen from him. “Do you know,” he started, then stopped, pain flitting across his face. “I mean, did you know a man called Byun Baekhyun?”

Seungwan went as still as Jongdae. There was a long silence.

“Yes,” she said eventually. “He was my brother. You knew him?”

“You probably don’t remember me,” he said quietly. “You were only nine or ten.”

“You know me?”

“Baekhyun often talked about you.” His eyes had gone distant, and he seemed to have forgotten he was still holding her hand. “I met you several times. You were always waiting for him at the gate when I’d drop him off at the orphanage. He called you –“

“Wendy,” she whispered the name at the same time he said it. Memories flashed through her. Her hands, wrapped around the grey-painted bars of the gate, her forehead pressed against them as she peered through, waiting for Baekhyun to come back. She’d see them coming from far up the road, Baekhyun and his friend, always smiling or laughing, pushing each other playfully or kicking a can back and forth between them. She’d always beg Baekhyun to take her along too, and each time he’d have to explain that while the kids aged 16 and older were allowed to leave the orphanage grounds unaccompanied, it was against the rules to take younger kids out with them. Seungwan knew this, but she couldn’t help but beg each time. She desperately wanted to hang out with them. Baekhyun would always try and bring her something back to make up for it, even if it was only a little piece of candy. His friend had never paid her much attention, but every now and then he’d give her a present too, something better than Baekhyun could afford. S