I am required to report to HQ the next day.

Jungkook is absent today, too. His friends are getting uneasier.

Marge simply hands me another folder. “Erasing,” she says. I want to ask why I’m doing this, but Marge is totally tight-lipped on the reasons behind our actions.

This time, it’s a single man. John Rogers. He is an accountant, and a runner, and has a healthy living blog. It takes me 4 hours to wipe him away.

It is nearly midnight when I am finished. I sneak a glance at Marge. She is staring at her computer with great intensity, wearing large headphones. Her fingers are moving at an unimaginable speed over the keyboard.

“She won’t notice me doing this,” I murmur, typing “Camille Rosenquist” into Google. Nothing relevant comes up. Just as I expected.

Camille Rosenquist has been erased. But why?

I tap out a series of prompts, and then type in “Extended Database”. The screen goes black. Finally, a single white textbox loads onto the page.

Camille Rosenquist, I type in.

Only 2 results come up. The first link is to a research paper, titled “Model-Based Engineering for Weapons Systems”, by Camille Rosenquist, Computer Engineering student at Stanford University. It’s 50 pages of information about “Integrated WaveTrain Processes” and “The Federated Approach” and- yeah, no.

From behind me, Marge abruptly exhales. I whirl around, quickly blocking my computer screen with my body. “Alright, I’m going to sleep,” she yawns. “Jeez, this is the first time in forever that I’m going to sleep before 1 AM. Night.”

I sigh in relief. “Night. And remember to eat breakfast tomorrow morning!” I call after her.

I proceed to the second link: an article titled, 7 Interns Tasked to Work on Project Cotton.

“Project Cotton?” I wrinkle my nose. “Is Yohan suddenly developing a designer clothing line?”

    I click on the article. Suddenly, an angry red popup flashes on the screen. ACCESS DENIED.

    What?! Access denied? I have access to everything! I bite my lip. Think, Ami, think. The only person who could restrict a part of a computer field from me is Marge. Maybe I could try to intercept the traffic from her computer through the network and redirect it to my laptop? No, that wouldn’t necessarily work. What are the chances that she’s going to search someone who was erased ages ago? But maybe she has some sort of access level that gets her to all information in the Yohan database.

I rub my temples. Looks like I’ll have to rely on Annabelle’s actions on Saturday to find out anything-

    The elevator dings.

My eyes dart up in surprise. It’s 12:43 AM. Who the hell would be coming up here?

Oh my god, what if someone found out that I was researching an erased person? What if they know that I’m working with the Anime Club, and I’m a spy?

I slowly rise, my hand grasping the sides of my chair.

    The door slides opens.

 Jungkook steps out.

    I swallow.

    His black hair is matted to his face with sweat. The shirt he is wearing is almost completely torn apart, revealing his defined torso. Scratches cover his cheeks, his neck, his arms; a large gash is visible on his leg. But his expression is what truly alarms me. Soulless, blank... his eyes are hollow and devoid of emotion.

    “Jungkook,” I murmur, stepping out from behind my desk. He lurches unsteadily towards me, his gaze staring straight through me.

    “Hey.” I place a hand on his arm- and immediately jerk back. A sticky red substance covers my palm. Blood.

    “Oh my god,” I exhale. “What-,”

    He wraps his arms around me and tightly pulls me towards him.

    I freeze.

A moment passes. I gently detach myself from Jungkook, search his face.

“Come on,” I say softly, taking his arm. I lead him to my room, take him to the bathroom, draw him a bath. He doesn’t say a word.

    “I’ll be right back,” I say, rushing back into my room. What the hell is he supposed to change into? All my clothes are three sizes too small for him. After extensive searching, I find several sizes of fluffy white bathrobes and plain cotton shorts folded in a closet in the bathroom.

    “Look, you can change into those. Towels are in there. Take a bath.” I snap my fingers. “Jungkook. Go.”

    As I throw a pack of ramen in a boiling pot of water, I try to suppress the questions and, most importantly, the feelings that are rising up in my chest... the feelings of fear. This is the first time I have seen Jungkook- have seen anyone- look like that.

    Like death itself.

    He emerges 10 minutes later, looking noticeably cleaner but still listless and unresponsive. I hand him a bowl of ramen and a tall glass of water.

    “Eat.”

    He hungrily devours his food, and then gulps down his water. “More, please,” he rasps. I immediately push over my bowl of ramen and go refill his glass.

    “Come on. You need to sleep.” He can take my bed. He lays down, and his robe loosens a bit, revealing the bruises all over his chest.

    What in the world? Isn’t there a medical unit at Yohan? They need to take care of Jungkook immediately!

I tiptoe to Marge’s room and shake her awake.

    “Is it morning already?” she mumbles groggily.

    “No. Marge, wake up. Jungkook just came in, and he’s all bloody and bruised and he has this look in his eyes and I don’t know what to do.”

    Marge’s eyes blink open. “Jungkook’s here now?” She rolls out of bed and stumbles towards my room, where Jungkook is lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling.

    “Hey, Jungkook.” Marge takes his hands. “Why’re you here? You should be down at the Med Center. Did you already give your debrief to Command-,”

    “I don’t want to,” he utters monotonously. “Marge... it’s coming back.”

    Her eyes widen. “What?"

"I can feel it."

"I’ll be right back,” she says, her voice trembling. She races out of the room, leaving me staring at Jungkook in confusion.

    “What’s coming back?” I ask agitatedly. “Can you please explain what’s happening? I haven’t seen you for days, and no one will tell me what’s going on, and then you walk in here looking like you’ve been through hell, and- dammit, Jungkook!”

    My voice has gotten louder and louder as I’m speaking, finally culminating in a full-out yell. Jungkook simply stares at me. A few moments later, I realize that his lips are quirking up in the faintest smile.

    “You look tired,” he remarks. “Get more sleep.”

    “So you’re just going to avoid the question.” I grit my teeth. “Fine. I don’t care.” I turn around, about to leave- before he grabs me by the hand.

    “I’ve been put out on more missions than usual,” he says quietly. “I’m just stressed. Don’t worry about it.”

    “What kind of missions leave you in this kind of condition?”

    “You know what I do.” Jungkook lets out a deep sigh. “I need a break. Actually, I think that’s what Marge is working on right now.”

    The faint sound of screaming is audible through the door. “Dammit, he’s 17 years old!” Marge hollers. “He’s not some kind of robot that can just- oh, cut the bull, Kim, we all know how much you’re capable of-,”

    “Wow,” I whistle. Marge is truly a force to be reckoned with.

    “Thanks for letting me use your bed. Where are you going to sleep?”

    “The sofa.”

    “You could always sleep with me.”

“In your dreams.”

    He smirks. “You’d be lucky.”

    “Who do you think I am, Emma Carter?”

    Jungkook reddens. “Emma was just a one-time thing. Stop bringing her up.”

    “‘One-time thing’? Please, you two hooked up for months. Tell me, how does it feel to have a demon-,”

    “Okay.” Jungkook smashes a pillow into my face. “Stop talking.”

    “Mmph!” I protest, batting the pillow away. “You ! Or, more accurately, Emma -,”

Jungkook yanks me down until my face is only a few centimeters away from his. My voice trails off in shock.

“Hey, Ami,” he murmurs, his warm breath causing my skin to tingle.

“W-What?”

“I know how to get you to shut up now.”

“I hate you!” I screech, shoving him away.

He cackles with laughter as I attempt to beat him with a pillow. Suddenly, the door opens, and Marge stomps in.

“Well, it took a while, but I finally got those s to lay off you, Jungkook- what the hell’s going on here?”

“Jungkook’s being a moron,” I mutter, crossing my arms.

“I’m seducing Ami,” he informs Marge nonchalantly.

A wide smile slides across Marge’s lips. “I see. Well, Jungkook, I’m happy to say that Command is cutting your number of missions in half for 2 weeks. In exchange, though, you’ll have to assist with Training.”

Jungkook grins. “Marge, you’re the best.” His eyes shift over to me. “Hey, Ami, you haven’t done Training yet, have you?”

I tilt my head. “What's Training?”

He exchanges a grin with Marge. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

“Every member of Yohan, whether they be a techie or a delivery boy, has to undergo physical training,” Marge explains. “It’s kind of important, especially considering who our real employer is.”

“So I’m going to learn how to fight like a gang member,” I say.

“Yes.”

I narrow my eyes at Jungkook. “Then why does he look so happy?”

Marge sighs. “Because, quite frankly, Training is hell. And Jungkook is going to be one of your instructors.”

The full magnitude of this situation slowly sinks into me. I turn to Marge in horror. “Marge, no. Please don’t make me do this. Please, please, please!”

“Sorry, Ami,” she shrugs, chuckling. “My hands are tied. Actually, I should go sign you up for that right now. Good night, you two!” Marge ambles out of the room, beaming like there’s no pleasure more than dooming me to death at the hands of Jungkook Jeon.

“I do all this for you, and this is how you thank me?” I grumble.

Jungkook’s smile fades. “No,” he says, his expression completely genuine, “this is how I thank you.”

He wraps his arms around me and tugs me down in a hug. My breath catches in my throat. As a fake couple, we have held hands and hugged and given each other goopy-eyed looks for weeks. But this is the first time one of our gestures has been sincere. I slowly place my arms around him and hug him back. It’s a little awkward, seeing how he’s lying down and practically wearing nothing, and I’m clumsily bending over him.

“Okay, let go,” I mumble a few moments later. “Jungkook, you’re squeezing the life out of me!”

“Calm down,” he says, finally releasing me. “Alright, well, go to sleep. We have school tomorrow.”

“You’re seriously going to go to school?”

“I’ve missed too many days already.”

“We’re only going to get about 4 hours of sleep.”

“More than usual.

“Good point. Well, good night.”

I can't sleep that night. My mind is filled with too many questions.