Nana POV

"Alright, I'll do it! Just don't hurt my little dongsaeng," I hear Yoona beg from the kitchen as I'm coming down the stairs. I stop in place, my foot hovering above the last step. Who is she talking to?

"You still don't listen, Im Yoona. I have a soft spot for pretty girls," a male voice replies. Whoever he is, he has a nice voice; light, but with a seductive, masculine undertone to it. However, I can't listen anymore, because there's the sound of footsteps and the back door closing. I take it as my cue to enter the kitchen. As I stealthily inch further, I can see my unnie on the floor with a Wet Wipe, cleaning up mud.

She doesn't notice me at first, but when she turns to wash her hands, her tired expression changes to that of a wary one. "How long have you been standing there?" she asks nervously, glancing around. It seems like she's on high alert or something. Despite the amount of questions I have, I lie instead.

"I only just got down here." I don't mention that I'd just witnessed her scrubbing the dirty floor.

Yoona's doe eyes seem to pierce right through me before she sighs and puts the towel back down on the counter. It's obvious my sister doesn't believe me, but she lets it go anyway.

"Weren't you in a rush earlier, Nana? Why are we just standing here then?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. I don't move right away, so Yoona just grabs her belongings and brushes past me, towards the front door. I follow in suit quietly.

The drive isn't long, but I figure it's enough time to ask my sister, "Who were you talking to earlier?" Yoona automatically tenses, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly, her knuckles turn white.

She tries to dodge my question. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Im Jinah." I know she's lying since she only ever calls me by my real name at times like this.

I continue to press on. "You were talking with a man. I heard you two in the kitchen, Unnie. What were you agreeing to?" Yoona is literally sweating in her seat. Nonetheless, she is still attempting to veer my attention off the subject.

"I talk to myself a lot, so you're probably imagining things," she suggests, waving a hand.

"Ugh, who's the guy, Unnie?! Is he your boyfriend? Tell me, I want to know!" I'm growing impatient now. My sister is not an expert liar at all, but this trait just makes her more genuine and likable by people; they appreciate honesty. I wouldn't know the feeling of being acknowledged, because no one's ever bothered to get to know me. It's always been Yoona, Yoona, Yoona. Never Jinah.

We pull up to the office building where my supposed new job is. After full