When the next train arrived, Junyoung jumped in and began heading in the direction of the office.
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It was quick work. Thirteen minutes in total, and all the cameras were gone. Junyoung returned to the empty basement,looking around. The one good thing was that the guys in the IT department never stayed late unless they had to. They were lazy as a matter of principle, and Kangmin was no exception. Junyoung stopped at his coworker’s cubicle.
Kangmin was a complete slob. There were opened bags of chips, plastic wrappers, and empty water bottles strewn across his desk. Crumpled balls of paper littered the floor. He opened the first drawer and peeked inside. There was an unopened croissant wrapped in plastic that was covered in a fuzzy layer of green mold. Junyoung shuddered and moved on to the next drawer. This one had a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste, the bristles of the toothbrush frayed and worn. Underneath them was a stack of manila file folders. Junyoung opened the first one and saw that they were meeting notes, handwritten in Kangmin’s childish scrawl. There was a doodle that looked suspiciously like breasts, and Junyoung closed the drawer with a snap.
The third and final drawer was filled with all sorts of junk. Cables and cords, a Samsung Galaxy with a shattered screen, business cards, tissue boxes, even a random ceramic plate. He carefully placed the cameras under the mess and dug in his pocket to find the flash drive. It was his ticket to freedom. Lifting it up to the light, Junyoung gave it a little kiss.
Dahye knew that Inspector Kang would not call her. By now, he was probably recounting the conversation to all the officers in the station. She could imagine what he might be saying: “Crazy must run in their blood,” or “She must be after Jang Hyukjoon’s money.”
In the back seat of the taxi, Dahye turned her knees toward the window, her shoulders hunched. Bora sat on the other side. Right before they got in the car, Bora had tried to ask Dahye what the secrecy had been about. She had asked in a lighthearted way, as if to prove her feelings weren’t hurt—but Dahye could see the hurt in her eyes.
“Nothing,” Dahye had stammered. “I just had a question.”
“Okay.”
They didn’t say a word to each other for the duration of the ride. When they returned home, Bora sat on her bed and stared. It made Dahye squirm. When she could no longer stand it, she grabbed her hoodie from the hook on the wall and, tucking herphone and her wallet inside her pocket, went to the door. She still hadn’t said anything to Bora.
“Where are you going?” Bora asked. There was an edge of desperation in her voice.
Dahye stopped, her hand on the doorknob. She didn’t look at Bora. “I’m going out,” she said.
“Out where?” Bora called. The last syllable hit the door as Dahye pulled it shut behind her. She didn’t wait to see if Bora would chase after her and hurried down to the street.
She had no idea where she wanted to go or what she wanted to do. All she wanted was to escape. Closing her eyes, she felt a gust of hot air caress her cheeks, rustling through the bright leaves on the surrounding trees. The sidewalk was damp, and it smelled like rain. When she opened her eyes again, it was as though her body had snapped into autopilot. She began to walk toward the nearest subway station and, upon reaching it, darted down the steps.
The smell of bread filled the corridor. The bakery stands, with their displays of individually wrapped, glossy pastries, tempted Dahye. She’d had almost no appetite since arriving at Bora’s door, but suddenly she found she was ravenous. Her mouth flooded with saliva. She picked up the one nearest to her, pressed her thumbs gently down in the center. She could tell that it was filled with red bean. A memory came to her: Eunhye leaving out red bean rice cakes for the so-called dokkaebi the night before a big exam, all because she thought it would bring her good luck.
Dahye glanced at the digital display and saw that her train was arriving. She placed the pastry back in the tray and rushed down the platform for the circle line heading in the direction of Sadang Station. It was past the evening rush hour, and therewas only a small group of people lingering at the platform. Dahye looked up to see a camera pointing directly at her. Sick with unease, she pulled the hood over her head, tightening the drawstrings with one hand. She bowed her head as she stepped onto the train, shuttling herself into a corner.
It wasn’t until Dahye reached Sadang Station that she realized where she was headed. If she transferred to the Light Blue Line, it would take her in the direction of Hyukjoon’s home. She knew it was insane—psycho behavior, Bora would have said—but Dahye had nothing to lose.
The train arrived as she made it down the steps onto the platform. She leaped through the doors and felt another person flying in behind her, barely making it on. It was a sign: She was doing the right thing. Better yet, she quickly spotted an empty seat in between two elderly women and sat, brushing off the sensation of being watched. She knew why they were looking. Very few people were wearing hoodies in this heat, and certainly none of them were wearing their hoods. Feigning ignorance, Dahye pulled out her phone out from her pocket. She had five missed calls from Bora and several new messages on KakaoTalk. She opened up the app and was disappointed to see that they were all from Bora.
Bora:where are you?
Bora:please come back. I’m so sorry.
Bora:I’m getting worried. Please call me
Please don’t worry about me, she started typing. The train screeched as it rounded a curve, and Dahye looked up to see a man standing across from her. He was dressed in all black, and though his head was turned, offering her only a small glimpse of his profile, he seemed familiar. Placing the phone in her lap,Dahye squinted, trying to place him. A horrifying thought: What if he was one of Hyukjoon’s friends? Heat rushed to her cheeks as the memory of the night in Itaewon came back to her. As if reading her mind, the man turned his back on her. Overhead, the speakers began their familiar jingle. They were seconds away from the next stop. She got up unsteadily, building the courage to confront him, and as a rush of adrenaline overtook her, leaving her lightheaded, the train slowed and the doors slid open.
“Excuse me?” She reached out a hand to tap the man on the shoulder. But before she could, he exited the train, bounding out into a sea of people.
Trembling, she sat back down. There were over nine million people living in Seoul. The likelihood that she had encountered one of Hyukjoon’s rich friends on a subway train was infinitesimal. Psycho behavior, indeed. Shaking her head, she finished her message to Bora, then turned off her phone.
Near Seongbuk, Hyukjoon’s neighborhood, Dahye got out. She looked at the hills above her, the beautiful houses nestled amid the greenery. Night was falling fast. Sighing, she pulled the drawstrings again and began to walk.
What did she want out of this?
Clarity, she thought numbly.
And what about Eunhye? What did she want for her sister?
Revenge, Dahye thought, clenching her fists. Her nails dug into her palms. There was a puddle on the side of the street, and when she leaned over it, Eunhye’s darkened figure peered up at her.
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