“Lee Somin, this is Junu.” Jihoon flicked his fingers in the dokkaebi’s direction like he was shooing away a mosquito.
“No family name?” Somin asked. “You think you’re an idol like Rain or TOP?”
“No, much better-looking,” Junu said with a laugh and a wink.
Somin scowled, and for the first time Junu’s grin turned down a bit. Jihoon wondered whether it was the first time a girl had rejected his charms. He leaned forward, thoroughly entertained.
“I’m going to be late for after-school study. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jihoon-ah.” Somin grabbed her hot Cheetos off the counter and, without acknowledging Junu, she left.
Junu’s eyes tracked her exit. “Your friend is icy.” He paused, then smiled at Jihoon. “I like her.”
“Stay away from my friends,” Jihoon said.
Junu lifted his hands innocently. “That’s not why I’m here.”
Jihoon rolled his eyes. “What do you want?”
“I think the question is, what do you need?”
“Are you talking in riddles because you’re a dokkaebi? Or because you’re annoying?”
“I came to help,” Junu said. “There’s a very angry girl in my apartment. She’s been stomping around all day. It’s giving me a headache.”
“I’ve been trying to call her.” Jihoon sighed. He didn’t care that it was Junu. He needed to vent to someone. “How can I say I’m sorry if she won’t answer my calls or my texts?”
“Too bad there’s no one around supernaturally made to woo women. No chonggak dokkaebi so handsome that girls swoon at his feet.”
Jihoon glowered. Was he really thinking of doing this? Taking the advice of someone he hated? “Fine.”
“Phone.” Junu held out his hand.
Jihoon complied, glaring at the dokkaebi as he typed furiously. “What are you writing?” Jihoon asked, leaning over the counter to see the text.
Junu backed away. “Don’t worry. I won’t send it without showing you.”
Jihoon tried to be patient, but as Junu typed and considered and deleted and retyped, he started to lose patience.
Finally, Junu presented the phone.
The message was a splash of cartoon flowers, hearts, and bolded letters.
“No.” Jihoon shook his head emphatically. “I’m not sending something like this.” He jabbed the delete button.
“Ya!” Junu protested.
“It doesn’t even sound like me. She’ll know it was you.”
“Fine, then what would you type?”
Jihoon wrote out a quick note: We should talk.
Junu grimaced at the plain message like it brought him physical pain. He made to grab the phone, but Jihoon pulled it away. Junu sighed. “When you just type texts like that, they look flat. You have to add volume.”
“Add volume?” Jihoon asked, perplexed.
“Yeah, put a heart or emoji after,” Junu suggested.
“No.” Jihoon drew the line at putting a winking smiley face in a text.
“Fine, then give it a wave.” Junu grinned as he pointed to the ~ symbol.
Jihoon rolled his eyes, but he added the ~ before pressing send.
“Why are you helping me?” Jihoon asked.
“I told you. I don’t like to be around grouchy people. It puts me in a bad mood.”
“Really?” Jihoon didn’t believe a thing out of the dokkaebi’s mouth. He was too smooth, too good at lying.
Before he could prod Junu more, his phone beeped. Miyoung’s name appeared on the screen. Jihoon lifted surprised eyes to Junu. The older boy gave him an encouraging thumbs-up, and Jihoon smiled back. Then he realized how friendly he was acting toward the dokkaebi and stopped grinning.
He read the message: I’m at Namsan.
* * *
• • •
Namsan was a high mountain in the middle of the city. Though there were many restaurants that boasted well-known wang donkatsu along the way, the main attraction was Namsan Tower. A popular place for dates and somewhere Jihoon wouldn’t go if he were paid. Except he found himself crammed into one of the cable cars leading to the top. He didn’t like how crowded it was; it was giving him a headache. Or maybe that was the result of being anxious all day.
And even after reaching the end of the journey, he still had to climb stairs that led tourists and lovers past food stands. Jihoon glared at the hot dogs on a stick surrounded by fried potato and remembered promising one to Miyoung once. It had been a different Jihoon who’d promised that to a different Miyoung, he thought.
It was hard to find her in the crowd of bodies and he craned his neck back to look at the top of the tower, wondering if he’d have to go up there. He was pretty sure you needed a reservation to go into the restaurant on top.