Soojin was grateful she was a night owl. It made afternoon shifts and late-night classes bearable. 

It wasn’t that Soojin was opposed to the wee hours of the morning — the sound of the song birds, the dew on the leaves, the gentleness as the city came too. But there was a lethargy that clung to her bones that the morning glory just couldn’t shake no matter how many cups of coffee she chugged.

The only downside though to the late nights was the weirdos it tended to attract.

Soojin wasn’t sure what it was about the night, but it had a tendency of illuminating a more tactless and, at times, deplorable face of humanity. It broke the silence with catcalls and lumbering followers. Once, on her walk home from the studio, a drunk stumbling man had gone so far as to reach for her hand.

It made her grateful that her parents had taken her childhood interest in martial arts seriously. It wasn’t that Soojin had ever hoped she would have to use it in self defense but, when the need arose, it made her all the more grateful she knew how.

“Hey! Lady with the backpack! Stop!”

The voice that filtered through the night air was a mixture of frantic and frustrated. It sounded distant and, given the grungy location, Soojin had no intention of stopping to check just who was calling who.

“Hey! I said stop!”

The voice grew closer and, paired with the scuffling of running feet, Soojin had two options: fight or flight. It was a basic biological function, one even Soojin wasn’t immune to. It wasn’t that she wanted to fight. In all honesty, flight would likely be the better of the two options. But after the long day and killer practice, Soojin wasn’t sure she had it in her to take off in a sprint, not even with the boost of adrenaline coursing through her veins.

“Hey, did you hear me? I said—”

When the hand touched her shoulder, everything was instinctual. From the way Soojin pivoted to the way her hand molded around the wrist. It was oddly delicate, the way her fingers could wrap around and were able to touch on the other side. But it was a passing thought, one Soojin shelved for another time as she used the momentum of the stranger to send them careening over her shoulder.

The scream wasn’t what Soojin was expecting. It was loud and sounded genuinely bewildered.

Staring down at the face of her attacker, Soojin blinked in surprise. Her features were delicate. From the pale pallor of her skin to the slope of her jaw, nothing about the woman reminded Soojin of a mugger or someone strung out on drugs.

“Wha—”

The tears in the corner of the woman’s eyes looked real.

“Don’t—” she broke into a series of coughs, “Don’t read my wish.”

Wish?

Perplexed, Soojin tightened her hold. It wasn’t that she wanted to see the wince but Soojin couldn’t factor out drug usage. Not with a request that bizarre.

“Your wish?”

The whimper was pitiful. “My wish,” she started again only to motion angrily toward Soojin’s looming form, “It fell in your bag. Give it back.” As an afterthought, she added, “Please.”

“Stay down.”

It was a warning, one Soojin didn’t want to have to give again. When she received an affirming nod accompanied by a disgruntled ‘I think I’m too broken anyways’ she stepped back. Eyes trained on the figure carping on the filthy sidewalk, Soojin reached for the bag slung over her shoulders.

A white object fluttered to the ground.

Soojin bent over to retrieve the item. It was a small paper plane, one Soojin didn’t own and had no right being in her possessions or on her being.

“What is—”

“My wish,” the woman cut off. Despite her groan she made a grabbing motion with her hands, “Give it back.”

Turning the plane in her hands, Soojin scoffed. “This is your wish? What did you wish for: fame, fortune, and good looks?” Her fingers toyed with the crease lines of the plane. Beneath them was stark black ink and, Soojin realised, something written in earnest on the inner folds.

“Stop.”

The urgency in the voice made Soojin stop, her hands stilling as they had begun to unfold the plane.