Hyukjoon’s car and the Maserati were parked in front of the house, but the Range Rover was gone. Across the street, Dahyewas crouched beneath the painstakingly groomed bushes, her shoes sinking into the mud. Time passed slowly—a single car came looping around the cul-de-sac, and the dog Hyukjoon had never mentioned barked loudly in response. Her legs ached. At one point, she thought she heard shouting coming from inside and stiffened, listening hard. She couldn’t make out the words clearly, but she was determined to wait, even if it meant staying out there all night.
Luckily for her, it didn’t take nearly that long before the doors to Hyukjoon’s home began to slide open. Dahye peeked through the leaves as a young woman emerged, stepping carefully over the track. Her unnatural thinness was evident even from a distance. The ends of her dyed blonde hair brushed against the jutting collarbones that peeked through the top of a short-sleeved blue sweater, and a slice of her slender legs was visible under her white skirt, which was made of an airy, chiffon-type material. Even though it was late in the summer, and the temperature was still swelteringly humid, she was wearing knee-length leather boots. A cream-colored crocodile leather Birkin was cradled in the crook of her elbow.
She looked back toward the house with furrowed eyebrows, and Dahye saw the woman’s face clearly for the first time. She was beautiful in all the ways Dahye wasn’t: straight nose, full lips, high cheekbones. She looked like a movie star or a K-pop idol.
Was she Hyukjoon’s sister?
“Are you walking me out or not?” the woman called impatiently. Even her voice was lovely. It had a tinkling, delicate quality, like fine china.
Hyukjoon bounded out, and Dahye felt her heart start to beat like a hummingbird’s. By the time he reached the woman, she had already made it to the driver’s side of the Maserati and was opening the door.
“Come on,” Hyukjoon said, slinging his arm around her. He leaned in to kiss her cheek. She dodged it, turning her head at the last second. Annoyance flashed across Hyukjoon’s face, and he straightened up, crossing his arms. “You’re so grumpy all the time now.”
She huffed. “Can’t we talk about this later?”
“You’re the one who keeps bringing it up! Seoyeon-ah. Everything is okay.” He gave Seoyeon a meaningful look, and she scoffed, climbing into the car. Hyukjoon, watching her with an amused expression, felt around in his chest pocket for his cigarettes. He popped one in his mouth and flicked on his lighter as Seoyeon circled around, the engine of her car purring.
Who the hell was this woman? A while back, Hyukjoon had mentioned his sister’s name to Dahye, but she couldn’t remember what it was. Dahye bit her lip, thinking, as the Maserati stopped in front of Hyukjoon.
“I told you to stop smoking,” Seoyeon said through the open window. She no longer sounded angry but playful.
“I’ll stop smoking if you stop shopping,” Hyukjoon said, grinning. He tilted his head back and blew out a cloud of smoke.
“As if.”
The car glided down the street. Dahye peered out again and saw Hyukjoon standing at the same spot, motionless, the cigarette dangling from his lip. He looked exactly as he had that first night when they had met. Pensive. Thoughtful.
Dahye wanted to ask who Seoyeon was to him. She crawled out from the bush and lifted herself partially upright, rising above the leaves, as she considered what to do. Before she could make up her mind, he finished his cigarette, flicked it toward the open street, and began to walk.
Where was he going? Back when they had been together, Hyukjoon never walked anywhere. Once, he had called a taxi to take them from one bar to another, even though the second spot was only a single block away. It would have been faster to walk, Dahye had said, only for her words to fall on deaf ears. Swiftly, without a second thought, she followed him.
Half an hour of brisk walking later, they made it to the nearest major street. Hyukjoon, who seemed as though he had not exerted himself at all, lifted his arm lazily, flagging a taxi. He climbed into the backseat without a second look. The car pulled away from the curb. Thirsty, exhausted, and out of breath, Dahye waved her arms crazily toward another taxi, which stopped for her.
“Where do you need to go?” the driver asked.
“I need you to follow that car,” she said, pointing. Already, Hyukjoon’s car was passing through the intersection. “Please.I’ll pay you double the fare.”
The man’s eyebrows jumped. “Miss?”
She clasped her hands together, and after a moment of hesitation, the man nodded. They wove in and out of traffic, never straying more than a few car lengths behind the other taxi. Dahye’s eyes were glued to the back of Hyukjoon’s head, which was clearly visible through the rear windshield. In Itaewon, which was starting to ramp up with partygoers, Hyukjoon’s car stopped, and he got out. A large group of young men and women walked past, chattering excitedly, and Dahye paid the driver hurriedly, clambering out just as Hyukjoon disappeared into one of the clubs facing the street.
Patches of pink and blue light shimmered on the sidewalk. Music blared, overlapping with the sounds of excited chatter coming from the people clumped around in little groups. Foreigners stood and gawped. Promoters, dressed from headto toe in black, with walkie-talkies in hand, tried unsuccessfully to usher idling women into their clubs. One of the promoters looked at Dahye and half-heartedly waved. She pretended not to see him.
The sign above the club Hyukjoon had entered read MOTHER LION. A neon lion’s head blazed brightly from the door, and the bouncer, a squat, bald, broad-shouldered man with tattoos, stood in front of it. The line was at least forty people deep, and the bouncer watched her with obvious disdain as she came up to the door.
“Can I help you?” he asked icily.
“I need to get inside,” Dahye said. “My boyfriend told me to meet him here.”
The bouncer smirked. “And that matters to me why?”
“Because … because my boyfriend is Jang Hyukjoon.” She swallowed, blinking rapidly. “I saw you let him in a moment ago.”
Dahye’s skin crawled as the bouncer looked her up and down. She was wearing a pair of Bora’s old sweatpants and a hoodie that was a size too big for her, and she could tell by his sneer that he wasn’t going to let her in.
“I’m his girlfriend,” she said, gritting her teeth.
The bouncer let out a bark of laughter. “Listen. I think you’ll do much better over there.” Dahye turned to follow his outstretched arm. The club he was pointing to exuded an unmistakable aura of seediness, and it appeared to be completely empty. No line in front. No people loitering. Turning away from her, the bouncer waved to a group of women standing at the front of the line and let them in.