Meaning: Love and do what you love.

WARNING: Cliche, fast-paced, Irene held at knifepoint and placed in a chokehold, Seulgi with a smoking hot body.

Irene had thought she wanted to be a journalist when she was younger, but it turns out she just liked people. She liked the process of meeting and learning and falling in love—platonically, romantically—with strangers, getting little slices of their lives in fleeting conversations driven by curiosity. So outside of her job as a freelance blogger, Irene interviewed people as a hobby. No strings attached. No grand exposès.

The process was simple: Irene would approach those faces that looked just a little lonely and ask if they’d like to grab a hot drink together. Some would look at her skeptical, but others would latch onto the opportunity, eager for social interaction. Of course her pretty face helped.

Most people weren’t too weirded out by her hobby. Thought of it like some sort of Humans of New York situation. She’d ask questions, then silently listen, nodding the whole time, as these strangers of the streets, cafes, bus stops told her concerns that would never make it to the ears of familiar faces. After they were content, whether it be a span of minutes or hours, after they felt that liberation of anonymous expulsion, the strangers would thank her and leave, and Irene herself would be satisfied with the new bond, albeit faint and insignificant to people other than her, that connected her to these heartfelt truths.

She didn’t always remember everyone, though. The ones who did make it into her long term memories were those who had felt incomplete even with their long interviews. Those who had to leave abruptly. Those who were still left with lingering burdens in their chests.

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Yeri had been in her first year of high school when Irene met her. A subdued child with inner fire. The first thing she had done was ask if Irene had a cigarette, and Irene had offered her a stick of gum instead, hoping to alleviate whatever cravings she had. Yeri accepted it begrudgingly. She then followed Irene to grab tea.

She’d grown up in the foster care system due to abusive parents, and she’d spent her whole life on the move, floating between houses and provinces and even countries. She spoke five languages. She flunked her second year of middle school once. She loved small white dogs.

Irene had been meaning to ask Yeri if she had any close friends she stayed with when the younger girl’s phone rang and interrupted them. Yeri’s face had hardened. Irene noticed it all too well. So she turned to look out the window as Yeri excused herself and walked off to answer the call.

When Yeri came back, she told Irene that she had to leave. Eyes flat. Fingers hanging limply at her side. So Irene held her tongue and nodded, smiling assuredly. Hoping that Yeri wouldn’t go home to broken bottles and closed blinds.

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Wendy was a medical student at a prestigious university visiting her parents over the summer. Irene wouldn’t have talked to her, except that they collided at a corner of the sidewalk and hit heads again while bowing in apology. It had to be happenstance that she’d bump into someone when the streets were relatively quiet, so Irene offered to buy a drink, always hot, as compensation. Wendy didn’t refuse, most likely because Irene found out that she was taking out huge loans for her degree, so they sat at a small table and conversed with a comfortable ambience surrounding them.

The medical student had grown up in Canada, and Irene noted that she mixed in English phrases at times when she couldn’t remember the word quickly enough in Korean. Irene asked her if she had ever been to Los Angeles, New York. Wendy replied that she had only briefly lived in Minnesota.

It was about two hours into their conversation when Irene noticed Wendy’s phone buzzing rapidly with text notifications before it started blasting an unfamiliar pop song, presumably in English. Wendy smiled quickly before answering the phone at the table, turning her head slightly to the side. Irene discreetly watched her bright face fall and fall and fall as the first of the tears started running down Wendy’s cheeks.

There was only time for Wendy to quickly spill out that her parents had gotten into a car accident before she rushed off, leaving Irene to spin her cup of now cold tea slowly in its saucer. To wonder if Wendy had wanted to be a doctor of her own accord.

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Joy’s name wasn’t actually Joy, but she didn’t want to tell Irene her real name. In fact, the tall girl had been the first one to approach out of the two women: she marched up to Irene, grabbed her arm, and angrily asked if Irene was Jueun. Irene said she wasn’t. Joy dragged her into a cafe to make sure anyway.

Irene had been in the middle of hearing Joy rant about her cheating boyfriend, after clearing up the misunderstandings, when Joy frowned at something outside of the window and rushed to get her stuff, leaving the building. A little confused, Irene cut her eyes towards the street, thinking that Joy had spotted her boyfriend or something. It was a surprise, to say the least, when Irene saw the taller girl running after a stray dog.

Joy had gotten distracted. Irene grimaced. Now she was curious about how Joy and Sungjae met.

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Irene was on her way home one day when she bumped into a figure who was running a bit too fast to be human. The person, whom Irene assumed to be a woman based on the curves of their body in the outfit they wore, momentarily turned around to glance at Irene.

Except it was dark and under the dim streetlights, all Irene could make out was someone in a mask much akin to the facial covering of Weber’s Phantom but in full form. It was split diagonally in half by black on the left and white on the right, reminding Irene of Jekyll and Hyde, in a sense. The woman’s outfit was rather skin tight and showcased the rippling of her leanly muscled physique with every movement, but Irene’s attention was drawn to the silhouette of a slashed claws drawn on the chest and the various accessories—duty rig around her waist, shoulder holster strapped across the upper body—that made her out to be some sort of organizational henchman on a mission to eliminate someone.

Irene blinked and backed away a little, afraid of confronting the person for too long, but by the time she had opened her eyes, the other woman was nowhere in sight.

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The next day, Irene set out to explore the city when she spotted a monolidded woman staring blankly at a child holding a superhero figure as she walked hand-in-hand with her mother. Irene pursed her lips, noting the long-sleeved, baggy clothing the woman wore despite the hot summer weather, and walked over to sit down next to her on the bus stop bench.

“It’s quite hot today.”

The woman turned slightly to Irene, not looking in the least bit surprised, and shrugged. “I’m not that sensitive to heat.”

“Would you fancy grabbing a hot drink together then?”

“An odd choice considering your previous statement, but why not?” The woman stood up slowly. “Should I consider this a date?”

Irene grabbed the hand held out to her and pulled herself up. “If you want. But I do this a lot with others too.”

“Serial dater?”

“Interviewer.” Irene hummed. “As a hobby, though.”

“Haven’t met anyone who interviews others as a hobby.”

They started walking to an establishment to sit down and grab drinks. “I love people. I love learning about them. So.”

“To love strangers, you say. Interesting.”

Irene pulled open the door for the woman and stepped in afterwards, allowing the cool air-conditioned breeze of the interior to hit her. “It’s complicated. Platonically, romantically. I love people in many ways. Without conditions. Humanity is beautiful, don’t you think?”

The woman hummed, eyes scanning the menu. “I guess. Though I do suppose many people would get tired of it.”

Irene didn’t comment as they ordered and made their way to a table near the window. She let her eyes roam over the other woman’s face and felt the same being done to her, not uncomfortably.

“What’s your name?”

Irene raised an eyebrow, not expecting to be asked first. “Bae Irene. You?”

“Kang Seulgi.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

The server brought their drinks and Irene took a sip of her hot chocolate as she nodded at Seulgi.

“So, what do you do? Most people are at school or work by now.”

“I work...on and off. At random times. When I’m needed.”

“Like on-call patrol duty?”

“Yeah, you could say that.”

“Must be stressful.”

Seulgi traced the rim of her cup with a finger for a while before meeting Irene’s eyes. Irene blinked, trying to decipher what was