Seulgi regains consciousness slowly, temple throbbing in rhythm to the steady drip drip drip of water from above. She tries to move her hands first but feels the tight restraints keeping her arms bound behind her.

 

“I’m sorry that I had to make it hurt,” comes an almost kind comment from in front of her.

 

Seulgi moans a little, dropping her head as her eyes flutter open. She can see her dark slacks are filthy which is super annoying because they’re her favorite pair. She glances at the ground and sees chalky concrete. The clack of heels makes her tense, bracing for whoever the hell kidnapped her to finish the job. Seulgi can just see black shiny heels out of the corner of her eye.

 

“Poor thing. Blunt head trauma and chloroform aren’t very fun, right? But what could I do? You were getting a little bit too close to my work.”

 

Suddenly, Seulgi’s head is yanked back by her hair and she is staring right into Irene’s face.

 

“Holy… holy ,” she stutters out, mind reeling.

 

“Isn’t meeting me in person better than seeing my face on a computer screen?”

 

Seulgi swallows, very dry.

 

“W-well, the lighting here isn’t that good.”

 

Irene’s painted mouth twitches and the hand loosens enough for Seulgi to sit forward. She wishes she could reach up and rub .

 

“I was supposed to kill you hours ago, you know. And I am very good at my job.”

 

“I know,” Seulgi mutters, thinking of the horrible international murders she’d been monitoring at her desk, working as an analyst for the NIS.

 

“If you know, then why’re you interfering? Why are you making my life harder than it needs to be?”

 

Seulgi squeezes her eyes shut as she hears the clack of heels pacing around her, like a shark circling a bleeding seal. Is this how it’s going to end, she wonders, bound and murdered by a y international assassin she has been trying to not think about every time she’s alone in her apartment?

 

Even though the room she’s in is barely lit, Seulgi can make out the skeleton of thick concrete walls and leaking pipes overhead. All illuminated by an electric lantern a few paces away. When Irene stands in front of the light, her tightfitting business suit makes Seulgi swallow again.

 

“If you’re going to kill me, can I ask you a question?”

 

The other woman purses her lips, arching an eyebrow as she casually leans against a wall. She crosses her arms over her chest and tilts her head just a little in silent permission.

 

“Why do you go by the name Irene? That’s obviously not your real name.”

 

“Why not? I could be Korean-American.”

 

“You’re not from the United States.”

 

“Oh? You have done your research on me.”

 

Seulgi can’t help the laugh that erupts from and suddenly the hysteria of being kidnapped and forced to face the woman that has been on her mind for the past six months spills out of her. Irene continues to stare, the corner of lifting just a little. It’s the face a cat has when it’s playing with a fluffy mouse, batting away with amusement before snapping its neck.

 

“You’re from North Korea.”

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

“You make references to Hwang Jinyi’s sijo poems in a majority of your kills. That gisaeng was born in Kaesong. If I had to make a guess, I’d say your hometown may even be Kaesong, too.”

 

“Just trying to share Hwang Jinyi with the rest of the world. Call it my version of soft power,” Irene murmurs with a wider smile. She taps a finger slowly against her arm as she studies Seulgi with undeniable interest.

 

Seulgi can feel excitement rising within her. She’d been guessing Irene was from North Korea up until this point based on her own deductions but of course her superiors and co-workers had dismissed her. We can’t rule anything out, they’d said. What does an international assassin care about some poems? It’s pure coincidence!

 

“So, you were born and raised near the border. But something must have taken you to the Reconnaissance General Bureau.”

 

“Maybe they saw potential in me. You’re always being watched up north, whether you know it or not.”

 

“What does a young girl do to prove her worth to one of the world’s most brutal intelligence agencies?”

 

Irene’s smile widens until her eyes are practically sparkling.

 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

 

“But you don’t work for them anymore, do you?”

 

Irene’s smile dims at the question and Seulgi hates herself a little for being disappointed at the sight. She shifts slightly in her chair, her skin chafing against the binds around her wrists.

 

“I wouldn’t be gallivanting around doing this work if I still was under the Party’s control,” Irene says simply as she takes a step forward. Seulgi’s heart hammers in her ears when the other woman is standing before her. She her head as she stares at Seulgi like she’s a shiny new toy. Seulgi thinks back to some of Irene’s most recent kills and wonders if maybe that’s what all her victims are to her.

 

“I feel like if you tell me who you work for, you’ll definitely kill me.”

 

“You’re as good as dead to be honest. You’ve seen my face. Know my hometown. Have an idea of my prior work experience. You’re like the annoying human version of a resume.”

 

Seulgi tips her chin up when Irene is right in front of her, her dirty shoes almost touching the pointed toes of the other woman’s shiny heels. Irene stretches a finger out and taps Seulgi’s nose. Seulgi wrinkles her nose in response. Her annoyed face makes Irene giggle and the sound is so sweet that it almost makes Seulgi’s shoulders relax.

 

“Sorry, I just had to do that. Your face is too cute to resist.”

 

Seulgi’s cheeks suddenly feels very warm at the comment and Irene just covers her face with her hand, trying to control her laughter.

 

“Well, this isn’t what I expected.”

 

Instantly, Irene’s posture is ramrod straight as she snaps her head toward the sound. From the darkness walks a tall man with short cropped hair in an unassuming business suit that does very little to conceal the thick cords of muscle around his chest and arms. Seulgi suspects he could crush her head with his bare hands.

 

“What did you expect?”

 

“Your usually crass bloodbath.”

 

“It’s art. I told you that I think your grisly killings are boring and uninspired.”

 

The man clenches his jaw at Irene in irritation before glancing over at Seulgi.

 

.

 

She’s seen blurry images of him in some of the reports related to Irene. There had been a singular crisp picture of him from ten years ago when he used to work for the Reconnaissance General Bureau’s Room 39 as a drug smuggler. He had a beard and moustache then but Seulgi doesn’t forget faces. She’s too good of an analyst for that.

 

“You were supposed to kill her by now.”

 

“I wasn’t aware there was a time limit on the kill. I was told to report back to the hotel tomorrow for my new passport. I’m allowed a little bit of fun before then, aren’t I?”

 

The man scoffs as he shifts one of his hands to his back pocket. From her spot, she can see something very much gun-shaped protruding from his pants. Seulgi chances a look at Irene who remains focused on the man’s face, clearly not expecting whatever he’s going to do.

 

“Well, that’ll no longer be necessary.”

 

Irene arches an eyebrow before sliding her gaze to Seulgi who is desperately mouthing “gun.” Just as Irene’s eyes widen, the man lunges forward and practically falls on top of the smaller woman. They move so quickly that Seulgi can barely catch what they’re doing. In one moment, Irene is ducking a powerful punch and attempting to grapple him to the floor with the momentum of a side kick. But the man weathers the blow and flips Irene onto her front. She is prone on the floor, panting as she stares up at the man who pulls his gun from his pocket.

 

“It’s a shame that it has to end like this. You have been pretty useful to The Twelve. But we can’t all live forever.”

 

Seulgi makes eye contact with Irene. She glances down at the floor, seeing that in the scuffle the lantern has been knocked just out of reach. Chewing on her lip, she starts to rock, trying to get some momentum.

 

“Do you really think that it’s going to just end like this?” Irene asks, pointedly keeping her gaze off Seulgi.

 

“How else is this supposed to go?”

 

Instead of replying, Irene just smiles as Seulgi launches her body forward, falling on top of the lantern and engulfing the room in darkness. Her whole side throbs with the impact on hard concrete and she thinks there may be shards of glass digging into her arm. Suddenly the sound of a gun goes off and Seulgi yelps, trying to make her body smaller. 

 

For a moment there is the sound of heavy breathing and scuffling. And then Seulgi hears an ugly squelch over and over. It’s the sound of someone’s head being pounded in with a blunt object, she realizes dimly. The sound echoes over and over in the small room, making Seulgi shake. Soon, all she can hear is her own shallow breaths as she waits in the darkness in pure terror, not completely sure who survived.

 

Finally, there is one last wet squelch and it’s over. Whoever survived had satisfactorily bashed the other person’s head in. Desperately, Seulgi squints in the darkness, trying to make out any hint of who might be her lifeline or her death sentence.

 

Then she hears the sound of familiar heels. Before Seulgi can even feel relief, a blinding light is shining in her eyes. She blearily looks up and sees Irene, her face and blazer completely spattered with blood. Seulgi doesn’t even try to look over at the man.

 

“A little stuck?” Irene asks, rubbing her brow bone with the back of her hand and smearing blood across her forehead.

 

Seulgi bursts into tears.

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

It is only when they stumble out from that basement floor and into dark evening that Seulgi has an inkling of where they are.

 

“You brought me to Incheon?” she asks in disbelief, gesturing at the unoccupied construction site surrounding them. Irene squints at Seulgi in annoyance at the high-pitched exclamation, leaning against a crumbling concrete slab instead of answering.

 

“It’s close to the airport,” Irene mutters at last, narrowing her eyes as she scans around them. Seulgi studies her with a frown, watching closely as the other woman grabs at her side with a wince.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Then why are you touching your side?”

 

Seulgi sighs as she watches this international killer, who has brutalized a body so badly that Seulgi had to turn away from her computer screen, let out a little whimper, bottom lip trembling. Seulgi frowns as she takes a step closer. Irene’s eyes instantly meet Seulgi’s, wide and dangerous. With a sigh, Seulgi puts her hand up.

 

“I have no weapon that could possibly hurt you. Seriously, I just want to help. You saved my life.”

 

“You want to help me?” Irene is leaning a bit more heavily against the block of concrete though, little by little revealing the trembling in her hands and the drooping of her eyes in obvious exhaustion.

 

“You could have just left me in that chair. Who knows how long it would have been before anyone found me?”

 

“They wouldn’t have. There’s a contract dispute for this property between the construction company and the conglomerate using the land. I think the workers are going to be striking at Gwanghwamun until at least next Friday.”

 

“Then you really didn’t leave me to die. I should repay the favor.”

 

“I was going to kill you. Slowly. For the fun of it,” Irene says through gritted teeth, her voice resembling the way an elementary school teacher explains long division to a particularly challenged child.

 

“Good thing you didn’t kill me before he arrived.”

 

Irene pauses, meeting Seulgi’s eyes for a long moment.

 

“Maybe.”

 

Seulgi sighs and drops her hands, shuffling her feet slowly as she inches forward until she is almost chest to chest with the other woman. Suddenly, she feels a piece of glass poking against her side, right above her kidney.

 

“I really do want to help you, Irene-ssi. Can I see your side?”

 

Irene’s eyes narrow as she studies Seulgi, gaze moving from Seulgi’s eyes to her nose, . She clenches her jaw in clear irritation before finally dropping her hand away from her side. Seulgi gives the other woman a smile of reassurance and bends her knees to look closer as Irene pulls open her expensive looking blazer to show the silk blouse underneath. The navy fabric is soaked through with crimson.

 

“You’re bleeding,” whispers Seulgi in concern. She meets Irene’s dark gaze, trying to see even a flicker of emotion break in those pensive eyes.

 

“When Archer shot his gun. It just brushed my side, but I need to wrap and clean the wound.”

 

“It wouldn’t be safe to go back to your hotel, right?”

 

“Well you’d be safe with all the security that’d kill me so you can escape my clutches,” Irene says dryly. Seulgi just scoffs as she tentatively reaches forward, her hand brushing Irene’s as she holds the blazer open wider. The blood is dark, starting to cake in places. She drops her gaze to Irene’s skirt, noticing crimson coating the fabric covering the outside of her thigh. Seulgi can’t easily bring her to a hospital without a lot of questions.

 

“You just need somewhere to rest for a little bit since you don’t need stitches?”

 

“I think so.”

 

“Well,” Seulgi murmurs, seeing telltale neon signs in the dark skyline, “I think I know a place we can go to for some privacy.”

 

 

 

---

 

 

 

It, unfortunately, isn’t Seulgi’s first time staying at a love hotel. She’d done it once in college with an old girlfriend because they both commuted to university from their parents’ houses. This place though, dark and smelling a bit too strongly of fish from the market just down the street, isn’t exactly like the almost clinically clean place she’d gone to in Seoul.

 

“Uh, one room please.”

 

“How many?”

 

“T-two.”

 

“For how long?”

 

Seulgi pauses. She can’t exactly look over and ask Irene how long it’ll take to patch up her wound.

 

“Um, what are the options?”

 

The clerk sighs and taps his hand against the board that is hanging from his desk.

 

“1 hour, 3 hours, and all night.”

 

“Uh, all night should be fine I think.”

 

The clerk pauses, giving Seulgi a skeptical glance. She can’t even see his eyes due to the glare from his reading glasses. His contemplative moment ends as he shrugs his shoulder and taps a few numbers into a register.

 

“How do you want to pay?”

 

Seulgi blinks slowly, realizing her credit card is in a small wallet attached to her phone which is being held hostage by Irene. She glances behind her at the other woman who is trying to stand casually with a black plastic bag filled with supplies bought from a pharmacy nearby. Irene arches an eyebrow in clear annoyance, gesturing with a hand towards Seulgi and the clerk.

 

“Jagi-ya,” she says, ignoring the way the clerk wrinkles his nose at the word, “where’s my phone? With my credit card?”

 

Irene narrows her eyes as she takes measured steps to stay by Seulgi’s side. The other woman gives her a steely gaze, a stare so icy that Seulgi feels a bit of a chill despite the nice spring weather. Then she plasters on a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes as she turns to the cashier. Seulgi is grateful that there’d been a public restroom nearby that had gotten the blood off Irene’s face and hands. The hairline is still a bit red, unfortunately.

 

“Here. Sorry.” She slides Seulgi’s credit card over and the clerk quickly takes it.

 

“Do you want a suite with a theme?”

 

“No tha-”

 

“Yes. What options do you have?”

 

“Atlantis. Jeju Island. Paris.”

 

“Paris would be wonderful.”

 

The clerk nods as he swipes Seulgi’s card and then slides over a machine requesting pin access. Seulgi takes the device with a hum. And then she practically chokes on air.

 

“C-can’t we get something a little cheaper?”

 

“Do I look like someone who deserves less than the best? Jagi-ya?”

 

Seulgi sighs, trying to harness the fierce look she’d seen Irene level at the pharmacist earlier when he tried to make a comment about the blood obviously still in her hair. The look seems to have no effect on Irene who simply arches a single eyebrow which. Impressive.

 

“No, you deserve the best,” grumbles Seulgi as she aggressively taps out her four-digit pin before giving it back to the apathetic clerk. He slides over the key card with a sigh.

 

“Room 627. If anything gets too dirty, we will charge the additional cleaning fee to your credit card.”

 

“Okay.” Seulgi snatches the key off the desk and practically stomps over to the elevator. The murky silver makes her suspect the doors haven’t been cleaned since the IMF crisis in the nineties. She chances a glance at Irene who is similarly wrinkling her nose.

 

“We don’t have another option,” Seulgi says quietly.

 

“You mean you didn’t just want an excuse to have me alone in a love hotel on a Thursday night?”

 

The elevator dings open and they sidle in together.

 

“That sounds like one of my nightmares.”

 

“So, you dream about me?”

 

Seulgi fights the urge to roll her eyes.

 

“It seems like the blood loss has gotten to you. I hope you’ll be able to make it to our room.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll have no problem with carrying me the rest of the way.”

 

Seulgi grinds her teeth together as she glares at the changing numbers at the top of the elevator. She startles when Irene pokes at her nose again.

 

“Can’t you show some gratitude? I’m not exactly paid enough to be blowing this much on a love hotel visit.”

 

Irene just smirks in reply.

 

Their room is luckily near the elevator. Seulgi jams in their key card, fumbling with the plastic and earning a red light from the sensor. It takes her nearly three tries to get the damn door open.

 

“I thought I was going to die out there,” Irene dryly observes as she immediately throws her bag of gauze, medical tape, hydro-peroxide, and other items onto a maroon comforter. Seulgi blinks slowly at the large room with a queen-sized bed, large television, and an ostentatious mural of a Parisian night complete with a lit Eiffel Tower.

 

She turns to ask Irene if she wants to use the restroom when she sees the other woman with her shirt half ed.

 

“Why are you taking off your clothes?” Seulgi practically yells, hands covering her eyes.

 

“How else am I supposed to clean this thing?” Irene retorts, completely topless save for a lacy black bra.

 

“D-do that in the bathroom!”

 

Seulgi peeks through her hands and sees Irene’s grinning face.

 

“Is this the sort of thing you see in your –ah— nightmares?”

 

Seulgi grumbles as she blindly moves backward, tripping and falling onto the mattress. 

 

“Are you clothed?” she asks through her hands.

 

“Yeah.”

 

Seulgi peeks and then lets out a frustrated noise.

 

“I should have expected that.”

 

“Mm, you should have. It’s cute that you’re nearly 30 and scared of a topless woman. I thought you’d like the free show since it seems all you do at the NIS is stalk me.”

 

“You kill people for a living. Some of those kills jeopardize South Korea’s national security interests.”

 

“I have to make a living somehow,” comes Irene’s easy reply. Seulgi can hear the crinkle of plastic. She peaks through her fingers and sees that the other woman is turning away with her supplies. Her back disappears behind the frosted glass of the attached bathroom. Seulgi can’t help but watch Irene as she turns on the sink tap and begins to work on her wound. It is only when their eyes meet through the glass that Seulgi turns away, facing the ornate headboard with fake marble.

 

She spends the rest of her time studying the plastic, trying to guess what period the maker was trying to emulate for this European-esque headboard. She’s just starting to narrow it down to either Renaissance or Baroque when she hears the bathroom door open.

 

“Can I turn around now?”

 

“I’m not wearing any clothes.”

 

“Seriously?” Seulgi rolls onto her stomach to bury her face in her arms but stops with a hiss. Trying to not see anything but the bedspread beneath her, she looks down at her side. Wincing, she touches her ribs and feels a sharp pain digging into her skin.

 

“It’s probably glass. From when you feel on that lantern.”

 

Seulgi jerks up when Irene’s hand gently presses right above her throbbing side. To her relief, she sees the other woman is wearing one of the fluffy white robes that had been provided on hooks next to the bathroom.

 

“You lied. About not wearing clothes.”

 

“Disappointed?”

 

Seulgi huffs and starts to pull away when suddenly she is flipped on her back with Irene straddling her hips. She flails her arms and accidentally grips the other woman’s bare thighs.

 

“Oh I’m s-sorry I didn’t-”

 

Irene just smiles down at Seulgi as she leans forward, pinning Seulgi’s wrists into the plush mattress. Her face is suddenly too close, and her hair is down, a curtain temporarily ensconcing them from their strange circumstances.

 

“Is this where your mind goes, when you’re alone trying to not think about me?”

 

“No?”

 

“Mm?” Irene murmurs, her breath warm against Seulgi’s face. “Well then what do you not try to think about doing with me?”

 

“Talking,” Seulgi says honestly. “Asking you questions.”

 

“About?”

 

“About your life. About when you started getting interested in medieval poetry. About what made you decide to live like this. About other… other things.”

 

Irene frowns at the words, eyes flicking all over Seulgi’s face as if trying to detect a lie. After a long moment, she sighs, her grip on Seulgi’s wrists loosening.

 

“I’ll let you ask me one question.”

 

“Your name?”

 

“That’s more boring than I expected.”

 

“Not to me,” Seulgi whispers to the ceiling, focusing on the stippled texture instead of the woman on top of her.

 

“I thought you’d ask me for something more interesting. Like a kiss goodbye?”

 

“A kiss goodbye?”

 

Seulgi meets Irene’s eyes for a confused moment before the other woman is stuffing a rag over her nose and mouth. Seulgi flails helplessly but the familiar bitterness she tastes isn’t just from the fabric itself. When did Irene have time to smuggle chloroform into the love hotel? Did she make it from a cocktail of chemicals she bought at the pharmacy? Was it on her this whole time? That was how she kidnapped Seulgi earlier, wasn’t it?

 

She feels everything getting fuzzy around her as she blinks slowly, taking in Irene gazing down at her with a shifting expression that gets harder to focus on. Seulgi is barely struggling anymore as she finds it harder to keep her eyes open. Vaguely, she realizes the other woman is leaning forward, her breath warm against Seulgi’s ear. 

 

“It’s Joohyun.”

 

“Joohyun,” Seulgi thoughtlessly mumbles as she reaches a hand up and weakly grips the other woman’s arm.

 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

 

The corner of Seulgi’s mouth lifts as she finds she can’t keep her eyes open anymore. She hates that her last thought is a vague excitement of getting to use that name when she and the other woman inevitably meet again.