Quicker than a flash of lightning, her hand darts into the back pocket in the jeans of a middle-aged man and withdraws a bulky wallet from it. The pickpocket smiles and slips back into the crowd, strolling past nonchalantly as the man whips around, having realised that his wallet is missing. A frown turns his lips as he finds that the culprit is nowhere to be seen. Distraught, he has no choice but to direct his steps to the nearby police station in the hopes that they can help him get it back. But he's resigned to the fact that he'll probably never see his wallet again.

From the alley she slipped into when she turned the corner, she can see him walk towards the police station. A grin stretches her thin lips, and she runs down the alley, turning left and right in a dizzying sequence only she knows, to burn off the adrenaline. She doesn't stop until she reaches her apartment. She unlocks the door and walks in, heading straight for her room, where she tosses the wallet and the wads of cash she found inside onto her bed. Her body follows suit, and her head thumps as it makes contact with the pillow. Bored, she picks out the money and counts it.

Her dark eyes widen as she sees the notes. Each denomination is fifty-thousand won and there are stacks of it crushed into the wallet. It seems like the man was in a hurry and just emptied his bank account to dump into the wallet. It seems silly to her, though, that he was so careless with so much money. The wallet had been bulging out of his jeans pocket - a clear signal to potential thieves - it was literally begging her to steal it. Her short chestnut hair swings in front of her face, and she brushes it impatiently away as she rummages through the wallet.

Credit cards, pictures, phone cards, club cards and bus cards join the mess on her bed as Hana empties the contents of the wallet. She discards the credit cards, knowing that it's too risky to use them - the police would definitely be tracking transactions by them. With one last shake, a little charm drops out of a hidden pocket in the wallet. Hana picks it up, studying the curvature of the metal. It looks like a simple teardrop, made fully of a stromy grey metal. She decides to keep it, and loops it into her phone. Finally satisfied that she's found everything there is to find in the wallet, she dumps it into the trash bin underneath her desk and walks over to the curtained window, slipping the wads of cash into a hidden panel under her lap. 

It's self-constructed, which means that nobody knows about its existence except her. To open it, you needed a powerful magnet, which would be run along the barely visible groove on the wood. This would slide the metal mechanism open and the compartment would pop open. Even if one knows exactly where the compartment is, it'll be extremely hard to figure out how to open it. 

A knock sounds on her front door, startling Hana. She pops the loot into her compartment and closes it firmly, shoving the lamp into place on top of it and walking out. Opening the door, she comes face to face with another girl. Tall and fair, with tumbling locks of wavy brown hair and eyes to match, her best friend Jin Mie has the figure of a model. 

Flashing her a bright smile, Jin Mie saunters into Hana's house. "Hey, she has something fun for us to do. Something that involves -"

"No!" Hana interrupts, her eyes narrowed at the girl. "I'm not going to go for another of your crazy schemes!"

Jin Mie raises an eyebrow at her, chocolate eyes darkening. "I thought you said you're bored?"

Hana snorts. "Not bored enough for anything like that."

"You don't even know what it is," Jin Mie retorts. She's rich, and often throws money around like nobody's business. Anything she wants - she gets, with the loss of a few thousand won. But even that doesn't make a dent in her fortune. Hana often envied her friend for being born into such a wealthy family and having the best things flung into her lap from a very small age. She, on the other hand, has to make do with stealing to make a decent living. 

Even then, she'd been caught before. Thank goodness it was for something small, like shoplifting - if the police had evidence of her three bank hoists, she'd be rotting in prison for the rest of her life. As it is, they have a sharp eye constantly trained on her. The police already have their suspicions about her and the bank robberies, but with an infuriating lack of evidence it was impossible to pin the blame on Hana. 

Hana goes through all this, just to get to the stuff that Jin Mie has in abundance. Money is what makes man, these days. 

"Go on, then," Hana says resignedly, preparing herself for a long rant from Jin Mie. 

Her friend rolls her eyes exaggeratedly. "Come on, Hana, don't be so dull! Have a little fun, loosen up, and it's way more exciting than your - usual - hobbies..."

"I can't see what could beat the thrill of stealing."

"What about hanging out with hot guys?" Jin Mie asks, smirking.

Hana stares at her. "We've been through this," she groans.

"No, listen! You want some adrenaline, don't you? And you are a girl - straight, right?"

The girl doesn't answer.

"Come on, it'll be the best! You know she always delivers on her promises!" Jin Mie ploughs on.

"And if we get caught?" Hana asks, feeling that familiar flip of her stomach as she considers the proposal.

Jin Mie rolls her eyes again. "I just say good-bye to some won, that's all."

"For you, yes. For me?"

"Simple," she shrugs. "Give him all your savings -" Hana's eyes widen, "- and pick his pockets after!"

Hana blows out a puff of air and turns away from her friend. Jin Mie's heels clack on the tiled floor as she follows her. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I knew you'd come around!" Jin Mie squeals, hugging Hana, who pushes her away with disgust.



Sofia spins around at the sound of Miyu's gasp - only to find her friend has disappeared. Before she can do anything to remedy the problem, Jiyong touches her arm and drags her back a few steps.

"We have a clear picture of her face, and evidence of what she's done. Let's just take it straight to the police, explain everything, and get this over with."

She gazes up into his deep brown eyes, meeting his intense gaze with one of her own. "Ji oppa, it might not be that simple. It's -"

"What's not simple about that?"

"You don't get it, I can't just -"

Sofia is cut off again as Miyu shows up beside the couple, an unusually serious expression on her face. "I think I know who that is," she says quietly.

Jiyong almost laughs, but his girlfriend nudges him, stopping him with a glare. He quietens and waits for an explanation from the younger girl, but she and Sofia just stare at each other, seemingly exchanging information through their glances. Eventually they seem to reach an understanding.

"So I can trust you on this one, right?" Sofia asks.

Miyu nods firmly, a determined look in her chocolate eyes. "I'll pull through for you, don't worry."

"Just go to the police already!" Jiyong intervenes, flaring up. He can't understand why they refuse to choose the most obvious option.

Sofia's lips twitch, and Jiyong knows that he's about to sway her. But then Miyu dashes all his hopes. "No, we can't do that!"

"Why not?" her friend asks calmly, grabbing her boyfriend's hand and squeezing it to calm him down before he explodes with the frustration he's bottled up.

Miyu's face droops into an uncharacteristic mask of stillness as she explains, "It's someone I know, and I don't want her to get hurt."

"You'd rather Sofia get dumped with the blame then?!" Jiyong roars. Arie turns to look, her eyes widening with shock as she stares at the two facing off - one tall and imposing, the other smaller and more weary-looking.

"Look, I don't want to hurt Sofia any more than you do, but this is something else - trust me on this, please?" Miyu begs, her eyes pleading.

Jiyong's taken aback for a minute. He's never seen the normally so cheerful and bubbly Miyu so upset about anything. She actually looks like she's about to cry. His girlfriend squeezes his hand once again before loosening her grip to go and put her arms around her friend. But Miyu firmly pulls away, still staring imploringly at him. Speechless with shock, Sofia also glares at him, which convinces him to nod silently. She forces a tight smile in return, before turning to look at her younger friend, who's collapsed on the couch.

Arie also sits next to her. "This girl means a lot to you, huh?"

Miyu only shakes her head, her face buried in her hands. Sofia walks over and gasps, pulling off one of her hands.

"You're crying?!"



Joon bites his lip in an effort to distract himself from the pain as he strains against the bonds of rope tying him to the table. He's been trying to wriggle his hand out of the tight knots for about fifteen minutes already - having already tried lifting the table up ten minutes before that. It was just too heavy, however, and the knot is just too intricate and tight, that he has been unable to move all the while. Frustrated, he runs his free hand through his sweaty hair and leans back, panting slightly from the exertion. Just then, he hears a scraping noise from the distance.

It's not long before the door to his basement prison opens and he has to suppress a groan at the thought of seeing more of his captor. The same hair, the same creepy smile, and the same adoring eyes greet him, and he turns his gaze to his feet. Her lavender perfume floats over and the scent fills his nose, the strong smell after the prolonged exposure to the dusty atmosphere of the basement making his eyes water a little. 

"Joonie-ah, why won't you look at me?" her sickeningly sweet voice asks, piercing the silence.

He refuses to answer again, irked out. 

"Will you please look at me?" she requests again, sinking down to her knees and gazing pleadingly at him. Unintentionally, his eyes flicker over to meet hers, and she breaks out into a huge smile. Joon feels more than a little awkward now. 

"Thank you," she says softly, her eyes filling with tears. "I've got you your lunch."

He nods, finally deciding that she'll be nicer to him and go away sooner if he just cooperates with her. The thud of the tray hitting the table, although soft, reverberates around the room. The lady stands up with a satisfied smile on her face. Then her eyes narrow and a thoughtful expression replaces her previous one.

"Will you hurt me?" she demands suddenly, turning to Joon with fire in her eyes.

He's actually shocked into speaking, "I can't exactly do that when I'm chained to a table."

She gets a faint trace of a smile on her face when she hears his voice, but then she snaps back to attention on hearing his answer. Her reactions are so abrupt and surprising that Joon feels intimidated. He's not sure where he stands with people like her. She eyes the ropes and walks over to his position next to the table. Crouching down, she fingers the rope and it's tight knots, and sees the red marks on his wrists from straining against them.

"You're bleeding," she comments, poking one particularly sore spot and making him cringe. "I didn't want to hurt you..."

Joon finds that hard to believe. His cheek is still sore from the brutal slap she gave him yesterday. Seeming as if she's read his thoughts, she says, "The slap yesterday? I didn't want to do that either. You have to believe me!" she says in desperation, making him wonder why this could be so important to her. "I would never, ever hurt you! In fact, I want the best for you!" Having finished her rant, she bites her lip and sighs, looking back at the rope, and the small splash of blood on the floor underneath Joon's hand. She nods, and sweeps out of the room before he can say anything.

He glances hopefully after her, wondering if she's gone to get a knife to cut off his shackle. Leaning his head back, he decides to just stay still and try to cool down in the still, unmoving air of the basement. Relaxing, he takes the time to survey his surroundings for the millionth time. The walls are a dark brown, the colour of wood. He's not close enough to any of them to actually see if they are made of wood or not. The floor is simply made out of smoothened cement, and the cold from it seeps into his shoes through the thick rubber soles. He usually sits indian-style, cross-legged on the chair when he gets too cold. There's nearly nothing else in the room apart from that, except a small, empty niche meant for a painting of some sort in the corner. It's also too far away for him to investigate. He's beside the attached bathroom, so he's been able to use the toilet when he needed as long as he stretched a little. But even the toilet is plain. As far as he can see, there's nothing at all in the room that he can use to help him escape.

Joon doesn't want to stay there forever, after all.

Footsteps echo down the corridor outside once again, and the woman slips in through the door, looking apologetic and holding a first-aid kit in one hand. He can't help but let his spirits be buoyed up - it looks like she really is going to cut him free. She smiles at him, and sets the kit on the floor, arranging herself beside it. She grabs his hand and turns it slightly, studying his wrist. He has to bite his lip again to prevent himself from screaming out in pain as the rope cuts through more of his already abused skin. A coppery taste coats his tongue, and he realises that he's bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. 

"Hold still," she orders, and opens the kit. Drawing out a small but obviously sharp knife, she slits through the bonds of the rope and saws away at the knot, the tip of her tongue appearing at the side of her lip as she focuses on doing so without hurting him. The way she does it tells Joon that she's obviously not used to doing this, and he bites his lip harder, hoping against hope that she doesn't slip due to inexperience and wound him further. His left fist clenches, and his fingernails dig into his skin.

Thankfully, though, a few agonising minutes pass without any further incident, and what remains of the rope are shreds on the floor. The girl has a victorious smirk on her face, and she tucks the knife back into the kit before taking out some cotton swabs and ointment. With a calm expression and smooth movements, she puts ointment onto the cotton swabs and gently dabs it onto the torn skin on Joon's wrists. His fist clenches tighter, so hard that the knuckles are white. It burns, but there's no way he's going to let her know that.

Suddenly the line of fire on his wrist stops, and Joon opens his eyes to see the woman staring fearfully at him. "Am I hurting you?" she questions, looking pained.

He slowly shakes his head in response..

"I am, aren't I? I'm so sorry, but this is for your own good," she says. "All of this is."

Joon can't help but wonder what she means by that as she resumes her job. Pretty soon though, it's over, and he can breathe again. She pulls out a rolls of gauze, which she wraps around his wrist to protect the wounds. When she's done, she stands up and pushes the hair out of her face. He studies it, silently questioning if she will tie his other hand to the table. Briefly, he considers standing up and punching her, but he has no idea how he'll get out of there, so he decides against it. Maybe if he displays good behaviour, she'll let down her guard and he'll have more chance of escape.

"I'm not going to tie you to the table anymore. I don't want you to get any more hurt," she tells him then, trying to smile. "I'll be going now."

He stares at her retreating figure. "Thank you," he murmurs softly, just loud enough for her to hear. She nods, giving him one last sad look before she disappears through the door she came through. A loud "click" tells him that there door is locked. As soon as she's gone, Joon stands up and walks around the room. He touches the walls, which are actually made of wood, and he investigates all parts of the room, trying in vain to knock on random parts of the wall to check if secret passageways like those in the books spring up. But he does all that, to no avail.



Isabella collapses on her couch as soon as she's free of the basement. Her heart is beating at triple it's normal pace, and has constricted. She feels like crying. The plan didn't work - nothing had gone right. Rather than rejoicing at finally being able to meet her, Joon is depressed and detached from the world. She blames herself for the mistake. Obviously he feels lonely down there. But he doesn't understand - she has to make him live there, and there alone, because there's no way he can live up here with her and not attract attention. He's the safest in the basement, and that's why she keeps him there. But she expected him to be happy about being trapped with her after so long of being apart, not sad. It breaks her heart to see him react like that to her.

She wonders why he would be like that. Could it be that he doesn't understand what's going on? She immediately disregards the concept, though. If he didn't understand, he would be trying to escape, or he would demand to know. Rather, he's silent and calm - so that shows that he knows what is happening. No, it must be something else.

Maybe he just found this too sudden. He could be so surprised that the plan actually worked that he's gone into shock, and that's why he's acting so weird. After the shock passes, he'll go back to what she expected him to be.

Or maybe... Isabella's eyes widen as she realises what could be making him so depressed. A smile graces her lips once more, and she pushes the tears away insistently. Things will be all right. They will work out.



Arie throws her arm around Miyu's waist as Sofia does the same to her shoulder. Miyu's eyes are red and the tears have evidently been streaming down for a while now, but it hadn't looked like she was crying. She even tried to deny that she was crying, but the tear tracks on her face were clear proof. 

"I'm fine, really," she insists now, wiping her tears away. "I'm just being silly."

"Why are you so affected?" Arie asks quietly, rubbing her hand over her friend's back to calm her down. "Just tell us, it'll help, I promise."

Miyu forces a smile. "I'm seriously fine, Arinini."

"Don't lie, and tell us what's really wrong," Sofia demands, squeezing her shoulders.

Miyu takes a deep breath and looks at her feet. "I just think I'm being silly, that's all," she says, and she stands up abruptly. 

Arie directs a confused glance at Sofia, who lets out a breath of air. Jiyong has considerately moved to the next couch, and is sitting there with a bewildered yet concerned expression. The young girl walks towards the door, picking up her coat. 

"I just need to do something, alright?" she informs us, slipping on her jacket and shoes at the same time. "Don't follow me, please."

From the worried look on Sofia's face, Arie can tell she's about to protest. But she nods to Miyu to signal her to go, while she turns to her friend and places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She's sensible - most of the time anyway, and I'm sure she'll be fine," she assures.

Jiyong comes up and puts his arms around her from behind. "She'll really be okay, now come on and lighten up. I haven't seen you in ages, and this is too much drama for a shallow guy like me to handle."

Arie nods. "I guess I'll leave you two in peace then. Call me if she comes back, Sofia. Catch you later, Sofia. See you, GD."

"See you," he replies, Sofia nods, and she walks out the door. Worries about Miyu occupy her mind, but she knows that she has to just let the girl have some time on her own to cool down. Shrugging off her anxiety, she heads home.



Miyu's feet beat down silently on the pavement as she heads steadily in a familiar direction. At one point, this was her route home every day from school. She knew every crack in the pavement like the back of her hand. Familiar sights greeted her everywhere, from neighbours houses to stray pets in alleyways. She'd never go near them because she has a fear of being attacked by them, but she still recognised some of them. An orange tabby who looks a little worse for wear is one she remembers was pregnant at one point, and surely enough, a smaller, healthier version of the cat bounds up a few minutes later. It's been so long since she's been here that the kitten has grown. Another girl who's not so little anymore chases after a soccer ball across the street, and her older brother snatches her back before she runs into the road. He glances over, catches sight of Miyu, and smiles widely. She notices that he's changed alot too. Grinning, she waves back, their usual exchange. But then he gets distracted by his sister again and she continues on. A lot can change in the course of three years.

Seeing these random sights actually comforts her, and she calms down so that her thoughts start flowing in a way that makes more sense than her confused jumble from a while before. When she saw the face of the girl in the surveilance clip, especially when she looked straight at her, it hadn't taken long for her to place it. That day, a few streets down from her apartment, when she'd turned and seen that same face staring back at her... It's a memory still fresh in her mind. And she'd caught sight of the person with her too. Which is why she was so worked up just now.

How could one person have been so deluded as to do what she did? And get innocent others involved as well? Miyu actually feels sorry for her. But even then, this kind of thing is too big a situation not to ignore. She'd kept quiet for so long, just to protect her loved ones. There was no way she could deserve that. Just a small slip, a small mistake, once in her life, couldn't make any person deserve a fate like that. Miyu understands that, and that's the reason why she kept mum for her all these years and why she'll do anything to protect that secret - even if the person who she's doing this for doesn't care for her at all anymore. Miyu owes it to her as payment for old times, and that's the mentality that keeps Miyu going on with it. It's the only thing that guarantees her even a little bit of sanity.

Miyu sighs once again that day as her feet draw to a stop outside a block of apartments. She runs a hand through her hair, hoping that all this will either turn out to be a huge bad dream, or that it's not her fault. But there's only one way to make sure of that. Grimly, she directs her next steps across the road and into the building through the open door.