he wanted. He wanted to be able to leave without feeling any guilt over it.
“But it’s more than just Changwan,” Miyoung continued. “You said you kept trying to help me because you owed me a debt. Gaesori.”
Junu raised his brows. Miyoung so rarely cursed.
“You care about me,” she said. And it wasn’t a question; she sounded so sure of herself. “And I have to admit, despite myself, I guess I care about you, too. I mean, I’m at least glad you’re not dead, so that’s progress.”
Junu huffed. His throat felt tight and he coughed roughly to clear it, but it didn’t seem to help.
“And you care about Lee Somin. You care about her more than you care about yourself,” she said. “Don’t you?”
Junu smiled wryly. “You really must be confused if you think I care about anything more than I care about me. I’m my favorite thing in this world.”
Miyoung’s face scrunched with skepticism. “No, I’m not buying it. You’re talking to someone who spent her whole life lying to everyone, including herself. I know how to see through BS. And you’re full of it.”
Junu’s smile faltered. There was no getting through to her.
“What do you want me to do?” Junu finally said, pacing in frustration. “I’m not used to caring about people. Or being someone others can depend on. I’m a selfish prick who thinks of his own safety and interests first. I’m not someone worth having around.”
“Yeah, and I used to devour human energy every full moon. People change.”
“I’m not a person,” Junu said stubbornly, crossing his arms.
“Neither was I. But that can change, too.” Miyoung gave him a small smile. “Come on. You’ll never know unless you try. Think of it as a new adventure.”
Junu groaned. “I think I liked it better when you ignored me. At least then you didn’t make me face my own issues. We could just be two broken people floating around each other in blissful peace.”
“Yeah, I’m not really looking to do that anymore.” Miyoung rolled her eyes, then reached for the door. “Do you want to come with me?”
“Where are you going?” Junu asked.
68
SOMIN HUDDLED IN her room, letting the afternoon pass her by, before she persuaded herself to talk to her mother. Jihoon was right this morning; she had to say something or she’d always regret it. And if Somin was anything, she was a person who faced things head-on. It was her signature move.
If she could face a mountain god, she could face her own mother . . . she hoped.
Her mother was watching some soapy daytime drama that was more melodrama than substance. At least they always seemed that way to Somin.
She sat on the couch, pretending to watch the show for three minutes before she couldn’t fake it anymore. “Eomma?”
“Hmm?” Her mother’s eyes never left the screen.
“What would you think if I didn’t go to college in Seoul?”
“College?” Her mother’s eyes finally drifted away from the television. “Outside of Seoul? Like in Gyeonggi-do?”
Somin frowned. “No, like farther.”
Her mother finally seemed to realize Somin wanted to have a full conversation and muted the television. “You mean outside of the country?”
Somin pursed her lips. Was that disapproval she heard? Maybe she should let this go for now. Except she wasn’t sure when she’d find the courage to ask again.
Her mother stood up and walked into the kitchen, and Somin worried she’d upset her. But her mother came back with a folder. She sat, placing it between them on the couch.
Somin opened the folder and found a bunch of crinkled pamphlets for universities all over the world. She’d thrown them away at the beginning of the summer. “Why do you have these?”
“I found them a while ago when I was cleaning your room so Jihoon could stay with us. I’ve been meaning to talk to you, but you’ve seemed so distracted lately. I guess you’re not as distracted anymore.”
“I didn’t realize you knew about these.” Somin stared at the cities depicted in the pamphlets, places where things seemed so different. So new.
“Hey. I might be a bit scattered, but I’m still a mother. And mothers know what their kids are up to.”
Somin dearly hoped not. If her mother knew about what she did over summer break, Somin was sure she’d have a heart attack.
“Why did you throw these away?” her mother asked.
“I just didn’t know if I should be applying to places like this.”
“Why? Is it the money? Because I’m doing well at the office. You don’t have to worry