“What is this?!” Jinah repeated, sounding a bit angry. Then, in a softer voice, barely a whisper, she asked, “Is this real?” She sounded so vulnerable, it made Luhan’s chest feel heavy. Seeing a weak Jinah was like going weak in the knees. It wasn’t right. You’d end up sprawled on the floor.

          Luhan gave her a small, encouraging smile as he slowly closed the door behind him and walked up to her. He nodded at her.

          She turned back to the screen, at the two smiling faces. Her parents. They were her parents. Her parents! Her parents… Jinah had mixed feelings about this. One side of her wanted to greet and tell her parents everything about – well, everything, because that’s how most of the good-hearted characters in books did. But on the other hand, she had a grip of reality. Her parents had done nothing for her other than give birth to her which might as well have been the accidental and unwanted mistake due to greed of pleasure with their “loved one”. While giving birth to her might sound huge – and in a way, it is – when that’s all they had ever done for her in the past seventeen years without a single greeting or letter, it was hard to be thankful for that. They gave her life, yes, but then they abandoned her and sold her to the dwelling system for money.

          The man’s arm was around the woman’s shoulder, and her arm was around his waist. Both were smiling warmly and tenderly at Jinah, and Jinah felt an unexplainable sharp pain in her chest. What was this? Why did she feel it? She couldn’t define it, and what she didn’t know, Jinah didn’t like.

          The woman – supposedly her mother – spoke gently, “Miss Kim was right, you really are beautiful.”

          That was a topic Jinah could talk about. “You know Miss Kim?” Jinah asked.

          “Well, of course we do! She was your representative, right? How is she? She told me you were an excellent student with a very loyal best friend. Sen Minjung, correct?”

          Jinah was taken aback. She was absolutely overwhelmed. “Y-You… you’ve been… checking up on me? This whole time? All along?”

          “All along,” her mother replied, her dimples deepening.

          Jinah didn’t know how to feel, but she knew what to say. “I thought you had abandoned me. Well, you did. You sold me to the dwelling system, didn’t you?”

          Her parents faced each other, sharing a look Jinah couldn’t comprehend. Jinah could hardly process that they were her parents at the moment, but it was sinking in at the back of her mind. The front was occupied with the millions of questions she just had to ask. They wore a rueful smile, one that showed regret, shame, and remorse.

          “We didn’t have a choice,” her mother finally said.

          “Yes you did. Don’t lie to me, I know exactly what happens,” Jinah snapped, her voice abrasive and edgy. “After you get pregnant, you sign a contract with the government, saying that you will have this baby under governmental restrictions. That is mandatory. When the gender is exploited, if it’s a boy, you automatically raise him until he’s twelve. If it’s a girl, you raise them until the age of five and you are given the choice to either keep her and have her go to the dwelling like a school, or sell her to the dwelling for money. You chose the latter. You very well had the choice, and –”

          “We had the choice legally, but we didn’t have it financially,” her father said. “We could just barely fund for ourselves. The dwellings had more money than us. You would be in better conditions there than here.”

          “Right. Birthers and Factory workers don’t get paid very much, do they,” Jinah said, remembering the basic occupations of males and females after their gang life, or after failing Army training or as a dwelling candidate. Suddenly, she felt flustered. How could she have been so insensitively blunt? “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said all that, you clearly didn’t have the –”

          “Oh, we’re not a Birther or a Factory worker,” her mother said with a small chuckle. Her hand tightened around her husband’s waist. “We’re former gang members.”

          Jinah’s eyes widened again. “What? Then how couldn’t you have supported yourselves?”

          Her mother chuckled again. “We were a Basic Gang. Not everyone has the privilege of being a Top Prix like you, Jinah.”

          “Oh.” Only now did Jinah realize how conceited and naïve she sounded. She was making a terrible impression on her parents. “I’m… sorry.”

          “Don’t apologize, it’s understandable. Besides, you’ve grown into such a beautiful young lady, and we’re very proud of you,” said her mother. “All the achievements you’ve made – academically, athletically, musically, and more – we’re so, so proud. You even managed to be the third for Overall Candidates! That’s amazing, Jinah. However…” her mother’s eyebrows went up a bit. “The six records… Jinah, I heard you were also very stubborn and you refused to obey a certain… representative’s orders.”

          “Miss Park is a plain eyesore,” Jinah said straightforwardly and honestly. “And yeah, I’m not proud about the six records, either… wait, they changed it to three later!”

          Her father grinned. “That’s alright. Because ‘that itself should have its merits’, right?”

          Jinah frowned. She had heard that somewhere.

          Her mother laughed. “Honey, she frowns just like you!”

          “Hey, what are your names?” Jinah asked suddenly. Now that she knew that they had been checking up on her, and had given her to the dwelling for her own benefits, she felt a whole lot better about her parents. The blurry image of them when she was five had been hazy, and she could hardly recall any memories, but seeing familiar and older versions of them was truly amazing. They were her creators and they seemed like very nice people. She was glad.

          “We’re sorry, but… we can’t give you that information,” her mother said. “It’s against the law.”

          Jinah’s shoulders dropped in disappointment. “I’m guessing you can’t tell me where you guys live either, huh? Does that mean we’ll never get the chance to meet in person? Ever?”

          “Oh, no!” her mother exclaimed. “No, we can meet after you get an official job. Then we can meet anytime.”

          Her father nodded. “We waited twelve years just to see a seventeen-year-old Jinah. You can wait ten or so to see the old faces of your poor parents, can’t you?”

          Jinah smiled. “Yes, I can.”

          Her father had a lopsided smile on his face. “Good for you, Jin.”

          Jin. A nickname. A simple and short one, but Jinah liked it. Jin. She felt warm and sweet on the inside, and energy was flowing through her veins. Suddenly, all the sleepiness was gone and she was happy. She felt like something had been returned to her after years. That jubilant feeling when you find something that you’ve lost was very similar to the one Jinah was feeling. Could she have somewhere, sometime, somehow, been waiting for this? At the back of her mind, had she somewhere, sometime, somehow, been yearning for a parent’s love? Was it even possible for this to be love?

          Then, her father’s gaze drifted elsewhere. “I see that we have someone else with us. Luhun, was it?”

          “Luhan, sir,” Luhan said as he bent down a little so that they could see his face, and not just his shirt. “I’m the leader of our gang.”

          Jinah’s parents exchanged a look, and it was friendly. Although neither Jinah nor Luhan knew why that happened, the moment had occurred because Luhan had said ‘our gang’ insteadof ‘my gang’. Jinah’s mother smiled at him, “You’re very handsome.”

          Luhan smiled back. “Thank you, Mrs. Shin. You’re very pretty, just like your daughter.”

          Her mother laughed as Jinah choked on her spit and looked away, trying hard not to blush, but of course that only made it worse. As her mother’s laughter dissipated, her father said, “Well, we’re on a time limit here, so…”

          “There’s a time limit?” Jinah inquired.

          “Afraid so.”

          “Wha – why?!”

          “Just in case some people decide to meet up by communicating through the rings.”

          Jinah’s eyebrows furrowed, earning a little squeal from her mother. “Wait,” Jinah said, pointing at the screen, towards her mother. “Isn’t your item a necklace and not a ring?”

          “Observant. Excellent. That’s my daughter!” her father said proudly. “It is a chain with a ring slipped through. So yes, in way, it’s a necklace. Your mother has never taken it off in a dozen years when she first received it.”

          “It was my idea!” her mother exclaimed, a hint of childishness present in her upbeat and lighthearted voice. “Anyways, Luhan, thank you for taking good care of Jinah. Do you mind giving us some alone time?”

          “Not at all,” Luhan said politely as he stepped back. He gave Jinah a reassuring smile that made her heart flutter and pitter-patter. She didn’t know why, but it did. She shakily returned it. Luhan exited the room but unbeknownst to her, as soon as he closed the door, he leaned against it to listen in.

          “Yeah?” Luhan heard Jinah say, her voice a bit muffled due to the solid door between them.

          Jinah saw her parent’s expressions become a little stern. “Do you love him?” her mother asked.

          Jinah’s eyes almost bulged out. “W-What? I mean… pardon? No. No, no, no. Wait, why?” The sudden and unexpected question made Jinah’s brain jumble up, and she couldn’t think properly and she didn’t know what to say first.

          “You know, your father was the leader of our gang, too…”

          Jinah’s cheeks heated up at the thought of marrying Luhan. It was absurd and silly. Moreover, impossible. In fact, Jinah couldn’t imagine herself married. But seeing her parents made her think twice. What kind of person would she marry in the future?

          “Mother, seriously. I don’t… love Luhan.”

          “He seems nice,” her mother said. “He’s very good-looking, too. I take it you’re going to keep that promise or remaining – hm – pure until you get an official job that you made on Nation News?”

          Jinah’s jaw dropped. “You watched it?!”

          Her mother laughed at her daughter’s open mouth. “You have the same habit as your dad, you know? Anyways, yes, we did. Wolf’s Top Prix, Shin Jinah. I know my daughter very well.”

          So that’s where the ‘that itself should have its merits’ sounded familiar, Jinah thought, remembering where she had heard it. Chanyeol had said it at the interview about her six records.

          “You know, my mom married her gang leader, too…” her mother continued.

          Jinah lightly scoffed, but it wasn’t the same scoff she used at other times. This one had less malice and wasn’t surly. It was like she was joking or being sarcastic in an innocuous way. “Seriously, mother?”

          “Why? He seems nice!”

          “I have to really get to know him, inside out,” Jinah stated. She sneezed, and rubbed her nose, feeling a bit nauseous. But she was way too into the conversation to feel sick. They were her parents, for sky’s sake! “And it’s not like I totally trust him either.”

          “But are you willing to let him to get you know you, inside out, and have him ‘totally’ trust you?” her mother asked in return. “Are you willing to accept all the consequences that comes with ‘totally trusting’ someone?”

          “No,” Jinah answered without hesitation. “I’m not letting anyone know me inside out, nor am I going to allow myself to trust someone completely. That’s stupid. But if someone gets hurt because they trusted me, then that’s their loss, not mine. I didn’t tell them to trust me, did I?”

          Her parents shared another look. Their hidden motives behind these glances, truthfully, bothered Jinah a bit, and made her doubt – what if they were mocking her? What if the government are using ‘parents’ as an excuse to find a weakness? There were so many possibilities, but when Jinah looked back at the door, she felt reassured. Luhan said I could believe this. He said this was real. Unknowingly, Jinah’s excuse for assurance for herself proved that she trusted him. She was subconsciously being hypocritical, but of course she refused to think like that, and her mind rejected that thought too.

         Her mother smiled at her, as sweet as sugar. “You’re still searching for true love, aren’t you?”

         That question took Jinah by surprise, and her eyes widened at it. “Miss Kim told you that, too?! What? But how? I stopped talking about it with her since I was twelve!”

         Her father chuckled. It was a warm and happy sound, and for some reason, it made Jinah want to laugh, too. But she didn’t, because there was no way Miss Kim knew that she had been repeating the quote in her head… unless… she told them to have them crush Jinah’s hope? Maybe Liha was right after all, dwelling was just temporary protection… “We could all guess. If that quote meant so much to you, enough to have you reading it after you got recorded, then it means you have a real and sane grasp of reality. To be able to find truth within the dystopian society that the government had created – that’s wisdom, Jinah. You’re a Callidum through and through.”

         “So it does exist, doesn’t it? Love, I mean? Oh, I know it’s not everywhere and for everyone… but it’s possible, right?”

         Her mother nodded. “Yes.”

         “Look at us!” her father pulled her mother closer. “What do you think this is called?”

         “Good, or else half of my morals had an empty foundation for the past seventeen years of my life,” Jinah replied candidly. Jinah’s lips curled up evenly but faintly in the midst of her soft chortles.

         “But Jinah, back to Luhun,” her mother commenced.

         “It’s Luhan, not Luhun,” Jinah corrected.

         Her mother giggled and held her father’s arm tighter. “Aw, look honey, she’s defending him!”

         “That’s his name, though,” Jinah frowned.

         “But he’s not here to hear it, right? Who would be offended? It’s not like he’s eavesdropping, or anything.”

         Caught, thought Luhan with a wide grin, but he remained rooted to his spot as he continued to listen. Smart mother… Callidum through and through, huh?

         “It’s for future reference,” Jinah clarified, reasoning logically and cautiously, the way she was taught to do at Callidum. “What if the next time you see him, you call him ‘Luhun’? When mistakes are corrected at its early stages, the changes and adjustments are easy and swift,” Jinah replied simply.

         Her mother raised an eyebrow with a slightly mischievous and lopsided smile, making Jinah feel uncanny. Only she never realized that that smirk mirrored hers when she was at the brink of being victorious in an argument, winning a debate, or about to reveal a piece of information that would completely turn the tables. “So you’re saying I’m going to see Luhun in ten years? Married to you? Aw, Jinah! You’re thinking about marriage already?”

         Jinah’s lips parted. Did her mother just outsmart her? No, in general – did someone just outsmart her? With words?! “WHAT?!”

         Luhan smirked at the other side of the door with his arms crossed. He didn’t really consider this eavesdropping. It was more like listening for Jinah’s benefit. That way, if Jinah wanted to confirm something from this conversation, Luhan could do it. Marry Jinah? Luhan thought to himself, imagining the tomboyish Jinah in a white wedding dress with curly hair, flushed cheeks, and makeup. Well, wouldn’t that be interesting.