Poster by Wallyyy

On Thursday morning, it was like Minseok had never shown up in the middle of the night.  He was completely back to normal, even cheerfully humming to himself, as he moved about the kitchen, putting things in the dishwasher away.  Semi still tried googling his dad, but the only results showed up in articles linked to Xiumin, saying that he’d killed him and that his father was believed to have been the leader of some gang.  Semi wondered if Minseok had taken the gang over.

At lunchtime on Friday, Semi saw Junhong for the first time since the occasion in the snow when Xiumin had rescued the pair of them.  He was sitting with a friend Semi vaguely recognised, though she couldn’t pin a name to the face, and she immediately shoved her tray of food aside to go and talk to them.

“Hey, where are you going?” Seulgi asked in surprise.

“I’ll be back,” Semi told her distractedly.

“Are you going to finish your food?” Tao demanded, and when she didn’t reply, he hollered after her, “Is it okay if I eat your dessert?”

Junhong looked awful close up.  He was slouching in his seat, not even looking at the food in front of him, and there were deep shadows under his eyes; his bottom lip was swelling and cut in numerous places; and there was a purple bruise somewhat hidden by makeup on his right cheek.

“Oh my God,” said Semi before she could help herself.  Junhong and his friend shot upright and Semi swore she saw a look of terror pass through Junhong’s eyes.  “What happened to you?”

Junhong’s eyes darted nervously around the cafeteria and he his bottom lip.

“I can’t talk right now,” he mumbled.  “Can you leave me alone?”

Semi hesitated.  “You weren’t at dance yesterday,” she said.  “I was going to ask if you’re okay, but you’re obviously not.”

“Well, now you know that, you can go away,” said Junhong’s friend, more than a little hostile.  Semi glanced between the two of them and then decided to take a gamble.

“Also,” she went on, turning back to Junhong, “I overheard some of that argument between you and your professor last Monday.  Does that have anything to do with your bruises?  It sounded like it got physical.”

“Look,” said Junhong’s friend, getting to his feet.  “This is none of your busi—”

“Jongup, it’s fine.”  Junhong waved him down and then glanced up at Semi.  “I wasn’t here on Monday.  I got into a fight Sunday evening, hence these….”  He gestured to his face.  “And I wasn’t at dance because I have a sh*tton of bruises and moving really hurts.”

“You could at least have responded to my texts when I asked you where you were,” Semi pointed out.  Junhong opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it and looked away.

“Hey, look,” he said in little more than a mumble.  “You should be careful about going to dance.  It’s a dangerous area and you never know what might happen while you’re walking back on your own.”

“I get that,” Semi told him.  “But Junhong—”

He swung around to face her, terror in his eyes again.  “Just go, okay?  Neither of us can afford to be seen talking to each other, so just go!”

Baffled, Semi did.

“To be honest, though, he’s been pretty weird ever since we got mugged coming back from dance before Christmas,” Semi told Wendy as they left the university and headed towards a café.  Wendy appeared to have given up on the idea that Minseok had anything to do with Semi’s arm, for which Semi was exceedingly grateful, and had even been so well behaved (Seulgi’s words due to Wendy not even mentioning Semi’s husband for the day) that Semi figured it wouldn’t hurt to have a bit of a natter while Wendy helped her catch up with work she’d missed the week before.

“Whoa, wait,” said Wendy, darting in front of Semi and walking backwards, holding up her hands.  “I didn’t hear about this.  Exactly how much of your time do you spend getting mugged?”

“I don’t do it on purpose.”  Semi yelped as a black sedan drove past and showered her in water from a puddle.  “It’s happened twice.”

“It’s really weird, though,” Wendy muttered.  “You’re like a mugger magnet.”

Semi couldn’t help snorting with laughter.  Wendy had no idea.  No idea.

“Why do you reckon that is, though?” Wendy asked, tugging Semi off the main street and into one littered with coffee shops and boutiques.  “Do you reckon it’s because of your ring?  I mean, those are real diamonds—”

“Wendy, if they were after me because of my ring, they’d be after every married woman in the country.”

“Oh yeah….”  Wendy pushed open the door to the café.  “Find us a spot?  I’ll go order.”

Two mugs of coffee later, they were in a secluded alcove poring over an assignment that Wendy had completed the previous week.

“But those figures don’t add up,” Semi said tiredly, stealing a sip from Wendy’s nearly empty mug.

“No, they do,” Wendy insisted.  “You’re looking at the annual gross income rather than the net income, that’s why.”

“But how can you have a net income of more than your gross income for the year?”

“Oh.”  Wendy took a second look.  “You’re right – that’s odd.  Ah, look, see, it says in the February column that the $5000 were supposed to be in in December of the previous year, so weren’t counted as earnings of that year, and thus not considered part of the gross income, though factored into the net income.”

“Is that legal?” Semi asked.  Wendy frowned.

“I don’t know.  It’s certainly faulty accounting.  Even if the payment was due the previous year, that counts as gross rather than net, I’m pretty sure.”

“I’m gonna ask Minseok,” Semi decided, tapping out a text on her phone.  “He’s good with that kind of thing.  Worked in fraud for a while.”

“You can’t get a job in fraud—” Wendy began.

“Fraud prevention,” Semi said with a hint of condescension.  “I need more coffee.  I’m falling asleep.”  Setting her phone down, she got to her feet.

“Get me another latte?” Wendy called after her.  Semi nodded and waved over her shoulder to acknowledge the request as she walked over to the counter.

There was a bit of a queue, leaving her idly looking around as she stood in line in front of the cake counter.  A fair few other students had had the same idea as her and Wendy and were struggling over work in groups at their tables; a young family with a screaming toddler had disturbed the make-out session of a couple next to them; a member of staff was scrubbing down one of the tables near the window, and next to the door—

Semi’s breath froze and she stared, only snapping back to herself when the teenager behind her in the queue prodded her and asked her to keep moving.  Next to the door was Heo Youngsaeng, she was certain of it.  Alarmed, she shot him a glance over her shoulder as she moved forward, reaching for her phone at the same time, and then remembered she’d put it down on the table.  She had half a mind to go back and get it, but that would potentially draw att