Sehun parks the car in an underground car park and we take the stairs up to the street, where a modern, stained-glass church towers into the sky and stunning modern buildings house everyday cafés and boutiques. In the setting sun, the city has a moody, ominous vibe that makes me look cautiously at the pedestrians, my awe of its architecture fighting with my fear of encountering other Strategia.

"Welcome to Ansan," Sehun says. "Just making a quick stop before we head on to Incheon." He told me the same thing a half hour ago, and when I asked what it was, he said in a typical Sehun way, "You'll see."

I never really cared much about traveling when I was living in Jeongsan, figuring it was something I would get to eventually. But two minutes on a dirt road or two seconds in Ansan and it's clear that I was deeply wrong. Why have I been going to dance camps all these years instead of saving up my money to go to Gyeonggi? Not that Appa would have let me go, considering what now know about our family, but still.

"So that's really how you pronounce it, huh, with an Ahh in the beginning, Anh-san?" I ask.

"Yes," Sehun says, smiling at my reaction.

"I meant like the scenery, anh~?" I reply, cutely.

Sehun lefts an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"You've never heard of anh? Like 'darling' or 'honey,' for Vietnamese couples?" I say, even though I positive his proper education never included pet names that couples from other countries call each other.

"Why do I feel like I'm going to regret having this conversation with you?" he asks.

"Cháo, Sehun," I say in a dramatized girl, twirling my hair, "where are you going, anh?" And when he doesn't answer, I giggle, "Anh-san."

Sehun shakes his ehad and I allow myself a real laugh at his indignation. I slip my hand into his nonbanadged one, mostly because I want to remember walking down this jaw-dropping street with him, but also so I don't walk into anything while I'm cranning my neck.

For just an instant, he tenses, and I realize that holding hands probably isn't a Strategia thing. I remember how aggressively Sejeong reacted the first time I stopped her in the hallway by grabbing her arm. She almost leveled me on the spot. But a half second later, Sehun relaxes and his fingers curl around mine, pulling me close by his side.

"You're a perfect tourist," he says with a smile.

"Damn right I am. Remind me to insist that you take me traveling for fun when this is all over," I say.

"Strategia don't typically travel for fun. We travel with purpose," Sehun replies, not like he's trying to shut me down, but like he's never really considered the idea before.

"Then you're seriously missing out," I say.

"The more time I spend with you, the more I believe that," Sehun says, and there is something genuine in his voice that makes my heart swell. I squeeze his hand. But as sweet as he's being with me, he's equally hawkish in the way he eyes the street and the pedestrians. Then I remember-Sehun said most Strategia live in cities. And just like that, my moment of delight is replaced by suspicion.

I immediately question my surroundings: the woman who stares for a second too long from the bakery window. The man walking a poodle-is he holding the dog's leash tighter than necessary? A young guy selling umbrellas, which could easily be used to conceal a thin blade. Sehun said that after what happened with Kyungsoo, we would be constantly looking over our shoulders; I just didn't realize how literal he was being.

Sehun stops in front of an impressive stone building that looks like something that once belonged to an earl or dignitary. Above the door reads CENTRAL LIBRARY and carved into the stone are the words LET THERE BE LIGHT.

I look at Sehun, surprised. "A library?"

"This won't take long," he says, and I give him a questioning look. It's strange that he held back telling me we were coming here, but maybe he's suffering from lack of internet access and needs to look something up? Although I'm not sure Strategia actually care about being online; my friends at home would be baffled by the concept.

"About Incheon," I say, now wondering if he omitted my other parts of our journey. "Are we stopping anywhere else along the way or are we heading straight there?"

Sehun scans the street around us. "I'm thinking we'll drive for a few hours tonight and stop along a farm road somewhere to sleep, then continue in the morning. Unfortunately, my family doesn't have an apartment in Ansan, only in Incheon. Under other circumstances we could stay at the Strategia hotel in Ansan, but after our encounter with Kyungsoo, I think it would be a categorically stupid idea," he says, keeping his voice low while eyeing the pedestrains passing us to head into the library.

"Maybe we could find an inn or some little place would be inconspicuous?" I suggest, not thrilled with the idea of sleeping in the car in winter.

Sehun shakes his head. "The reason all our Families keep apartments in major cities or stay at Strategia properties is because non-Strategia hotels have security cameras that are easily monitored and staff are easily bribed. But more importantly, those places don't have a no-killing rule."

"Right," I say, and look warily at the street for possible onlookers. "So sleeping in the car it is."

He gives me a knowing smile and we walk through a large double doors of the library.

Inside is exactly what you would expect from such a grand building-magnificent domed ceilings and wall line with wood paneled bookshelves. Sehun weaves us through the rooms and along elegant hallways with the ease of someone who knows exactly where he's going. I watch him as I walk. We think differently, were raised differently, and interact with the world differently, yet I have more in common with him than I ever did with the kids in my high school in Jeongsan.

Sehun stops in a back corner of the library at a counter that has a sign reading REFERENCE DESK. The girl behind it wears all black and has an asymmetrical pixie cut. She leans her elbows on the counter and scrutinizes Sehun in a way that instantly tells me she's Strategia.

"Do you have any materials on Cyrus the Great?" Sehun asks casually.

To my surprise, I recognize the name from one of Sejeong's tutoring sessions. Cyrus the Great was the founder of the  Persian Empire, which is where the Wolf Family Strategia originated.

"Audere es facere," Sehun says under his breath, and it reminds me of the Latin phrase Jungkook said to use at the Eagle apothecary, which I have yet to tell Sehun about.

The girl gives Sehun a hard stare and disappears into the room behind her without a word.

I look at Sehun, who winks at me, but before I can ask him to explain, the girl returns with a black clothbound book. She plops it onto the counter with a thunk.

"Name and date," she says, and pushes a ledger toward him.

Sehun writes his name and scoops up the book, and we walk to the other side of the room, where there is a quiet seating area and no people.

I stare at Sehun in surprise. "You wrote your name," I say in a hushed voice. "I thought Strategia don't usually keep written records."

"A necessary evil from time to time," Sehun says quietly, and flips through the pages of the book. "And a way for Families to keep track of their correspondence."

"Correspondence?" I ask, but there is no need, because Sehun lands on a page that has a series of letters circled in pencil. 

My eyes widen. I lean over the yellowed pages with him and ogle the letters. By the smudges on the page and the faint eraser marks, it's obvious that the circles have been drawn and redrawn in countless configurations. Secret codes guarded by Strategia in public libraries-another example of how they hide in plain sight.

Sehun stares at the page, his forehead wrinkling in concentration, reminding me of his twin sister. And the moment I think of Sejeong, I realize how much I miss her.

I study the circled letters, attempting to piece them together in some configuration that makes sense. I try them forward, backward, and one letter off the alphabet, but it's all just gibberish. And the longer Sehun stares at the page, the more serious his expression becomes.

Finally, he closes the book and stands. "Shall we?" he says in a cheerful tone, which might just be an indication that he's not going to discuss the message here, but for some reason his good mood feels ominous.

I nod and we return to the reference desk. Sehun places the book on the counter and the girls stamps at the ledger Returned like it was nothing more than a commonplace transaction. And then we weave out way out of the library as casually as we came in.

The moment we step outside, I turn to him. "The everydayness of Strategia is eerie," I say.

Sehun raises an amused brow. "Is that so?"

"They're just everywhere . . . lurking in libraries and hotels and who knows where else," I say, and Sehun laughs while wrapping his arm around my waist.

"You mean we're everywhere," he corrects me, and I realize that even though I know I'm Strategia, I'm still not comfortable identifying as one. While Strategia skill sets are awe-inspiring, the brutality I've seen is stomach-turning. And once again the image of the dead assassin from the woods flashes in my mind.

I shake my head, like the action might somehow erase the memory and the sense of dread that accompanies it. "So that book . . .," I say. "Families leave messages for each other that way?"

"It's less traceable than emails or phone calls," he says. "Every Family has books and codes in libraries in major cities."

"Is that secure?" I ask, keeping my voice as quiet as possible. "Couldn't other Strategia intercept messages that way?"

"Yes, it's secure, and yes, they could intercept messages," Sehun admits, putting on his gloves. "But they don't. It's like the study rooms in the library at the Academy-everyone respects everyone else's privacy because not respecting it would invite retaliation. And if someone was caught breaching another Family's correspondence, not only would that person be punished, but their entire Family would lose the ability to use the libraries. It's not worth it."

I don't know if I'll ever understand the nature of Strategia-chaotic and orderly, deceptive and respectful. "And the message you just read?" I say, leaving the question open-ended.

"I'm not sure yet," Sehun says, and immediately changes the subject. "Let's grab a coffee and some food before we get back on the road. There's a café on this block where the author of Zombie Kid used to work on. And the view of Ansan Lotte Castle isn't bad, either." Sehun smiles, but his eyes don't. Which tells me I was right to be suspicious; something is definitely bothering him.

"Okay, Sehun, what's up?"

We cross the street and stop in front of a café with a bright red storefront.

"You mean besides a coffee and a deadly blacksmith stalker?" he says, and pushes the door open for me, temporarily halting our conversation.

Wintry garlands are strewn around chalkboards, and white lights twinkle along the glass displays filled with mouthwatering pastries. Everything smells of cinnamon and nutmeg. Normally I would be soaking in every second of this winter-themed bliss, but all I can think about is what Sehun isn't telling me.

I quickly ordered and we talk a seat at a table by the far wall.

I slip out of my coat and lean forward, looking Sehun straight in the eye. "Despite the risk of being followed," I say, quietly picking up our conversation, "You randomly took a detour to the library. And now you're doing everything to distract me from hearing what you found other than balancing a seal on your head. While dancing."

He raises a brow at the seal statement, like he doesn't know where I come up with this stuff.

"A desperate need for a coffee or not," I say, "don't tell me it's nothing if it's something. And it's clearly something."

Sehun sighs. "I'm not avoiding telling you," he says carefully. "It's just that I only got a piece of the message and I'm not sure what it all means yet."

I look at him sideways. "What do you mean, you only got a piece of it?"

Sehun sits back in his chair. He gives the other patrons a quick glance, and I can tell by his face that he doesn't find anything out of the ordinary. "The way those codes work is that you only see the latest correspondence but could have missed a long conversation that came before it. It can be hard to interpret out of context."

I frown at him. "Okay, now you're really making me nervous. You never try to qualify things."

He hesitates, not trying to deny it. A waiter brings our food and drinks, setting them down in front of us.

When we're along again, Sehun sips his coffee and studies me. Whatever he sees in my expression must tell him that I'm not going to let this go.

He leans forward with a sigh. "The message said Minho's dead and there will be retaliation."

Instead of me grappling to process some big reveal, my nervousness shifts to confusion. That's the message he was resisting sharing with me? "Who's Minho?"

Sehun pushes his hair back even though it's perfectly in place and gives the other patrons a scan. "Taemin's cousin. Your cousin. Not a first cousin, but a second or possibly a third. He was one of Taecyeon's favorites. Students the Academy always joked that Minho was the reason Taemin tried so hard to prove he was good at everything. That he was always worried his grandfather would eventually appoint Minho as head of the Family instead of him," he says, keeping his voice down and his body language casual.

I frown, knowing there is a dot I should have connected somewhere but haven't; it's clawing at the edge of my awareness.

Sehun rubs the back of his neck. "I didn't recognize him the woods. It was too dark and the one time I met him was long ago and he didn't have short hair then," he says, and the realization hits me like a slap.

I stare at him, unmoving.

"At first I thought the message must be wrong," Sehun continues, "that it couldn't be Minho, because Taecyeon wouldn't send him to America to just sit and wait . . . but then there was that expensive jet that pointed to an important Family member. And it's always possible that if Taecyeon knows about you, he might assume you would go back to Jeongsan and therefore prioritized that mission."

"Oh god. Sehun," I say, my voice losing its volume and catching in my throat. "You're saying . . . I killed my cousin?" I try to swallow the nauseated feeling in my stomach as the image of his limp body and the pool of blood flashes through my mind.

"You survived an attack, Suzy, nothing more," Sehun says, and his voice is insistent, like there is no other way to see it.

I shake my head, as though I could somehow unknow this. "Maybe I didn't kill him on purpose, but he's still dead," I say. "And it's my fault."

"There is a world of difference between defending yourself and cold-blood murder," Sehun says, and as much as I want to agree with him, I can't. "Believe me, Minho was doing everything in his power at the time to kill you."

I not only have Yoo's death on my conscience, but now Minho's, and what makes it even more terrible is that they were both my relatives.

I sit on my back porch and toss a pebble toward a can that's about twenty feet away from me. It catches the rim and bounces off onto the floorboards. It's raining so hard outside that the forest in my backyard is blurred by sheets of water and the dampness is making my T-shirt stick to me.

"You've been at that for an hour now," appa says, opening the screen door and joining me on the porch. "What are you doing?"

"Figured I might as well something useful until this rain stops and I can go to Jisoo's," I say, tossing another pebble. This one lands cleanly in the can.

"And this is useful?" appa asks.

"It is if you plan on landing a gumball in someone's soup at lunch," I say.

The look Appa gives me tells me he doesn't approve.

"What?" I say with my most innocent expression.

"You're practicing a skill so that you can splash soup on someone?" he asks.

"Im Jaebum put his chewed-up gum on my math book cover yesterday! It was gross," I say.

"Your actions matter, Suzy," Appa says, and I sigh because he's clearly missing the part about Jaebum defiling my book. "What other people do is on them, but you're responsible for every single one of your choices."

"Appppppa," I say. "It's just a joke."

"Okay," he says. "Well, what if I told you that if you land your next toss, I'll give you 20,000 won?"

My face lights up. "Will you?"

"But if you don't make it," he continues,"you can't hang out with your friends this weekend."

I stare at him, unsure what to say.

"So, are you going to take the shot?" he asks, pressing me.

I hesitate, trying to assess what my chances are. So far, I've made about six in ten. It's not bad odds, but it's not great, either. "No," I huff.

"Why?" appa asks.

"Because it's not worth it," I say.

"Exactly," appa says, and I look at him, trying to figure out how this is related to Jaebum and his stupid gum. "Think about it this way: How would you feel if you splashes soup on him and everyone laughed?"

"I don't know," I say, because I'm actually not sure anymore.

"Well, how would you feel if everyone laughed and then he went home and cried?" appa says, and my eyes widen.

"Terrible. Really really terrible," I say, flustered. "It was supposed to be a joke. I'm not trying to hurt -"

"I know you're not," appa says, his voice gentler. "But when you have as many skills as you do, Soo, it's important to use them wisely and with caution. Misuse can lead to consequences you weren't intending, consequences you alone will be responsible for."

I'm gripping my cup of cocoa for warmth when it suddenly occurs to me that I've overlooked the second part of Sehun's message.

I examine Sehun, my tone serious. "You said the message was Minho's dead and there will be retaliation. What does retaliation mean in a situation like this? Retaliation against whom?"

Sehun nods, like he couldn't agree more. "That's the part I've been wrestling with. There are a lot of ways the Tigers might retaliate for killing a close Family member."

"Let's just say that was Minho in the woods by my house. And let's also say that they know or suspect that I killed him. Is the retaliation meant for me?" I look Sehun square in the eyes.

"That would be my guess," he says, and my fear grows.

My thoughts drift to the Academy's eye-for-an-eye punishment system. "How exactly do the Tigers retaliate?"

Sehun shakes his head. "Let's just hope we don't have to find out," he says, and I hope with all my might right along with him.