“You use it to mean you want to own a person. That’s a pretty selfish sentiment,” Somin said, thanking the gods that her voice came out smooth and calm. “You love what a girl has, not what she is.”
A silent beat passed before Junu threw his head back and let out a loud, guffawing laugh. “Oh, Lee Somin, you are definitely an opponent to be reckoned with.” Junu spoke in such an antiquated way. And worse, he sounded good doing it.
“Is it any wonder I look forward to our little sparring matches?”
“They’re not sparring matches. I genuinely hate you,” Somin said.
“Hate to love,” Junu said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Whatever Somin would have said in retort was interrupted by a gruff voice behind them. “This where Nam Soonboon lives?”
“Not anymore,” Somin said, turning around.
“Where’s my good-for-nothing son?” the man said, and Somin lifted a brow, surprised.
She only had a vague memory of Jihoon’s father. But she could tell the years hadn’t been kind to him. He was tall—it must be where Jihoon had gotten his height—but he hunched over like he hadn’t the energy to hold his frame up. He had thinning gray hair, a pockmarked face, and lines radiating from his squinting eyes. A cigarette hung from his fingers, still lit, as if he’d just pulled it from between his lips.
This was the last person Jihoon needed to see today.
“Not sure who you’re referring to, sir,” Junu said, his voice pleasant, but there was a spark in his eye. A sharpness that Somin had never seen in the dokkaebi before.
“Who the hell do you think my son is? That good-for-nothing ingrate who doesn’t even have the courtesy to pay any respects to his father in fifteen years.”
That was it. Somin couldn’t hold her tongue anymore. “Maybe he would have if he’d even known where you were.”
“Do I know you?” Mr. Ahn drawled as he glared at her.
“I’m Jihoon’s friend, and I’ve been in his life for the past fifteen years.”
“Why, you little brat,” Mr. Ahn said, clenching his yellowed teeth.
Somin started forward, but Junu’s hand stopped her. It wasn’t restraining, but it served to get her to pause, to take a beat. For the first time ever, Somin was grateful that he was here or else she didn’t know what she’d say (or do) to Jihoon’s father.
“Well, seeing as this is the first time we’re meeting, I believe introductions are in order.” Junu held out a hand. “I’m Junu, and you are . . . ?”
Mr. Ahn ignored him and turned to shout, “Ya, Ahn Jihoon! You come out and greet your father, you ungrateful boy.”
The door opened, and Jihoon stepped out. His expression was blank and cold. Except Somin knew him well enough to notice the tic in his jaw. Miyoung stepped out as well, her eyes hard, like she was ready for a fight.
“What are you doing here?” Jihoon’s voice was low and clipped.
“A few months ago, a private investigator came sniffing around. Said he was hired by some big-shot Seoul cop to find me. Said it had to do with my son. So I thought it was about time to come see how you were doing.” Jihoon’s father puffed on his cigarette, blowing out smoke in lazy clouds.
Big-shot Seoul cop. That could only mean one person. Hae Taewoo. Miyoung’s fists clenched. She must have been thinking the same thing Somin was. That her father, a man who had gotten close to Jihoon in order to find Miyoung, was still messing with their lives from beyond the grave. He’d tried to kill Miyoung this past spring, and now his actions had brought Jihoon’s father back to town.
It also wasn’t lost on Somin that the private investigator had found Jihoon’s father a few months ago, but he’d still waited to come. Probably because he needed something now.
“You guys, can I have a minute alone?” Jihoon asked.
Somin wanted to say no, and from Miyoung’s silence, she seemed to feel the same way.
Jihoon must have sensed it as well, because he said to his father, “Can we go downstairs to talk in private?”
Instead of replying, the man gestured for Jihoon to lead the way.
When Somin moved to follow them down the stairs, Junu held her back. “He wants to handle this alone.”
Somin wanted to object. She wanted to shout that this was unfair. That Jihoon didn’t deserve this. But she’d learned that what was right and fair was rarely what happened in this world. Her friends’ broken