Daesung was an early riser, and it seemed that her adult body still functioned that way. She half-expected to drag herself out of bed with difficulty, actually. She slipped out of the furnace of her comforter and shuffled across the cod floorboards of her room and to the door. After washing up, she headed downstairs to the kitchen.

She naturally fell into the routine of before going to school—the monotonous rut that she unfailingly followed day by day prior. This didn’t fully register into her mind until she nearly set foot in the kitchen, already taking in full view of the stranger placed in the familiar backdrop of the kitchen.

“Good morning, unni.”

Minji was leaning against the counter with a half-eaten apple in her hand. Daesung stalled at the entrance, feeling the recurring sense of awkwardness of their first meeting—well, her first meeting. She forgot about Minji living here now…

“Good morning,” she returned politely, putting on a smile. She walked past the girl and over to the fridge—sitting there was the leftover omurice that she didn’t feel like eating last night. It could hardly be called a suitable breakfast, but Daesung certainly didn’t feel like making something right now and her stomach was protesting for food.

She took the plate and placed it into the microwave. Then, after turning around, she froze. What should she say? Daesung was never much of a conversationalist, preferring her friends to take over the discussion as she would sit back and listen, but Minji was her cousin—her younger cousin.  And as odd as it was to know of that particular fact, she should at least say something.

Minji seemed to be at ease with her, Daesung mused. Could it be that she and Minji were close before the incident? If that was the case, then she herself shouldn’t be so uncomfortable; she shouldn’t let her insecurities obstruct her from getting to know Minji either. Smiling once more, she asked, “How are you?”

Minji, who didn’t appear to be expecting Daesung to instigate a conversation, blinked a couple times, but quickly recovered. “I’m alright,” she said. “Well, other than going to morning classes, but hopefully they’d end soon.”

“Is college not fun?”

“I suppose it’s fun enough, but, you know, learning isn’t any different wherever you’re at, high school or college.” She shrugged. “But I guess it’s because I’m taking general courses. By next semester, I’ll apply for music class.”

“Is that what you want to do as a career?” she inquired, curious.

“Hm?”

“Music, I mean. You want to venture a career concerning music?”

“I do. I’m hoping to be a dancer, actually. You encouraged me to go for it.”

Daesung was puzzled. “I did?”

“Sorry. Before you got amnesia.”

“Oh.” Daesung pretended to be momentarily interested in the contours of the stove and then to the countdown of the electronic numbers on the fuzzy green screen on the microwave. Some things about this house looked archaic, rusty, which was strange because she didn’t perceive them as such back then. “So, um, what did I say?”

“You told me that as long as I’m passionate about something, then work would never be like work again.” Minji took a bite of her apple. After swallowing, she continued. “You said that I could probably aim to be an idol if I tried.”

She said that? Daesung figured that the kind of advice she would impart the younger girl would be the hackneyed line of “Work hard and study diligently.” Not that she would want to say something uninspiring or dismiss the girl, but she wouldn’t really know anything outside the boundaries of “work hard” or “study diligently.” And becoming an idol? Never would she imagine encouraging someone to become an idol. It was implausible. Idols were… Idols weren’t supposed to be relatives, friends, or neighbors. Idols existed on the other side of the country or in a great metropolitan city. Idols were scouted beauties with grace and flair, dazzling smiles and money.

It wasn’t that Minji wasn’t beautiful, but the idea of her becoming an idol was rather surreal. Did her parents know about this? Did they support her like how Daesung had done? Daesung didn’t think that she would lie to her cousin, so did she really believe that Minji could become a star?

But…what did she know about her being a liar or not?

She had been lying about her gender, apparently; it was all evidenced from the way Seungri regarded her, her hairstyle, and the clothes that she pulled out of her luggage when unpacking. Hearing Minji call her unni and hearing Seungri call her hyung was perplexing. She wasn’t having a gender identity crisis, but, for a safe measure, she did a checkup last night. s, curves, , and no Adam’s apple. She was a girl—a woman. She definitely was a woman.

Why did she disguise herself as a man, though? She couldn’t have possibly found it to be more pleasing to live life as a male, did she?

“Unni? Unni, are you okay?”

Minji was looking at her with an expression full of concern.

“Y-yes, I’m fine,” Daesung managed to reply.

“Really? Because you looked like you were about to cry.”

“I was—I was just thinking is all.” She smiled—to smile, it was the easiest thing to do at the moment. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Did I surface any of your memories? The bad ones?” Minji’s face contorted into an apologetic one. “I’m sorry—“

“No, no, it’s not that,” she quickly reassured. “I still don’t remember anything.” The microwave began to beep loudly, and she pressed the button to open it. “I was just…wondering about how my life was like. I must have been someone optimistic and confident to be sure that you could become an idol.” Fantastic, she was rambling now. She probably said something offensive too.

However, much to her relief, Minji smiled. “You were. You were the first one to embrace my dreams when my parents didn’t and my friends were skeptical of them.”

Daesung supposed that was intended to bring up her spirits, but all it did was bring her discomfort (because there was a possibility that she had been lying to her cousin’s face the whole time, entertaining her the idea of aiming to be something more than she could hope to achieve, or inwardly ridiculing her). She made a noncommittal sound as she busied herself with her meal even though she suddenly wasn’t feeling as hungry as before. She tossed the plastic wrap into the trash bin and buried a spoon into the rice.

Ketchup. She needed ketchup.

She spun to her left and opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of ketchup. As she uncapped it and positioned it above her meal, her movements began to falter and she lowered the bottle. “Wait,” said Daesung, “when you said bad memories, what did they have to do with you becoming an idol?”

“Oh, that?” Minji didn’t answer for a moment. She chewed with a crease between her brows. “Um, you should forget what I said.”

Daesung didn’t know to respond other than dumbly say, “O-okay.”

“It’s probably not that big of a deal,” she said. She tossed the apple core into the trash bin. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I’m going to head out—I have plans with friends before classes start.” Minji clapped her hands against one another in imitation of dusting them before squatting down to retrieve a shoulder-bag that was lying on the floor. “Could you lock the door once I’m out?”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, and then followed her cousin to the house’s entrance. While Minji was putting her shoes on, Daesung told her, “Have fun with your friends.”

“I will, unni. Take it easy today, alright?”

She nodded. “I will.”

When Minji left, when Daesung locked the door, she released the breath that was held tight in her lungs, the confined air that she didn’t realized that she had been holding in until Minji’s departure.

//00//

Daesung wasn’t expecting to do much today until she received a call from Seungri while she was exploring the technicalities of her Smartphone. Startled, she rolled off of the edge of her bed, crashing to the floor.

“Oww,” she groaned, lying still for a second. She lifted the phone above her face, reading Seungri’s name that flashed boldly across the screen. Daesung then sighed, swiped the surface, and tucked the mobile between her shoulder and ear. “Hello?”

“I’m outside your house. Get down.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Is that disbelief in your voice? No, you sound surprised, actually. Well, if you don’t believe me anyway, come out front. I’m not totally sure if this is the neighborhood that you gave me directions to.”

“Okay…?” She sat up and glanced at the clock. It was nearing afternoon. “I’ll be…right down.”

“Call me if you don’t see me.” He hung up.

Daesung got onto her feet and shuffled towards the vanity to peer into the mirror. She never did have most attractive of bed hair and it appeared to be wilder than before now that her hair was so short; she couldn’t even brush it down to tame the unruly curls. She decided to settle on wearing the ski hat with earflaps that she found in her luggage. At the entrance, she slipped her sock-clad feet into boots and then headed out.

There was a car parked outside her house. It was shiny—the shiniest car that her eyes had ever laid on—and red. It was like one of those vehicles she would see in magazines and commercials, imported from Europe and driven by well-to-do men and women. Standing next to the car was a man—it was Seungri, she assumed.

Seungri looked…dopey. Sleepy. It was the eyes—they curved high into his brows and then sloped down, giving him that wide-eyed yet somnolent appearance, which was further emphasized by the dark circles. His short hair was messy in a stylized way, and he was garbed in a black coat, black slacks, and black shoes.

As Daesung closed the door behind her and walked forward, the man began to appraise her from top to bottom and then scoffed. “You couldn’t even get dressed properly?”

She paused mid-step. Daesung was wearing sweats and a hoodie, so as far as she was concerned she was modestly clothed. She must have worn her confusion plainly on her face because Seungri sighed and crossed his arms.

“I’m taking you out for lunch,” he informed her.

“You are?” Daesung’s eyes widened.

“It is lunchtime. I am hungry. We are going to talk about your amnesia ordeal,” he spoke to her in a slow and condescending way as though she lost common sense. His tone of voice didn’t make sense—why was he speaking to her like that when she was taken aback by the fact that he was going to take her out? She especially wasn’t aware that they were going to discuss about her amnesia.

Daesung just stood there.

“At least change into jeans,” he said.

She retreated back into the house and did as told.