A line of worry formed between Jihoon’s brows. “What’s going on? Please tell me.”
“Nothing.” She crossed her arms and sank back into the couch cushions. “I guess you aren’t in the mood.”
Jihoon sighed. “Well, I’m always in the mood for that. I just . . . are you sure you’re okay?”
He knew her so well. Too well at times. And in this moment, Miyoung hated him for that.
“I’m fine. I’m just tired.”
“Okay, maybe you should rest before dinner.” He stood, and without his body heat beside her, she was suddenly cold. “Miyoung-ah.”
She didn’t reply, just stared resolutely at the blank television screen in front of her.
“I love you,” he whispered. There was a beat of silence where she knew he was waiting for her to reply. It was a strange routine, Jihoon saying those words that made her heart swell and soar, but Miyoung unable to return them. He left, and she heard the clatter of dishes in the kitchen as he joined Somin.
Miyoung didn’t mean to close her eyes, but she felt completely drained. And soon she fell into sleep and dreams, where her mother waited for her.
12
DUSK WAS FALLING when Somin walked down the road. She shouldn’t have come here, Somin thought for maybe the hundredth time. But still she made her way down the narrow alleyway that led to Junu’s apartment. Somin practiced what she wanted to say in her head again. It was silly, this need to figure out her words first. She never had a problem telling people exactly what she was thinking. But Junu flustered her. It was annoying.
Somin had stewed over that kiss all evening. Well . . . stewed might be the wrong word. Worried over. Stressed over. But Miyoung had said that Junu had more layers than they knew. That maybe, underneath it all, he was something . . . more. What it was, Somin wasn’t sure. But knowing about the supernatural world had shown Somin that there was so much more that she couldn’t understand on this earth. So perhaps there was more about Junu that she didn’t know. Still, she did know that she should nip this—whatever this was—in the bud before it grew out of control.
So, after dinner, she’d told her mother that she wanted to go to the study room where most seniors rented a cubicle. During the short summer break, it would be packed with third-year high school students preparing for the suneung exam in November. Somin had claimed that she’d fallen behind on her study schedule after everything that had happened today, carefully omitting the fact that she’d set aside the whole day long ago to help Jihoon move. Her mother didn’t need to know that. And if Miyoung had sent Somin a curious look when she’d left, she could take solace in the fact that Miyoung was not one to gossip about other people’s business.
Somin’s shoulder banged into a pipe bolted to the stained concrete wall beside her. She hissed in pain, rubbing her arm and cursing herself for being distracted. She hated this narrow alley. It seemed like a deterrent, telling people that nothing worthwhile was down this way. Which, Somin supposed, was the point. Junu lived in a world that hid in plain sight. Beings that lived in legends, ones that no one truly believed in anymore. Except those superstitious enough to be wary.
A whisper of wind blew down the alley. Strange, as it always felt like the air down here was so stagnant. Any good breeze was shut away by the tall, narrow buildings. But her hair fluttered against her ears, and with it she could hear something. A whisper. It slowly formed syllables until she was almost certain it was her name. A soft hiss of sound that called to her.
She picked up the faint scent of licorice.
There was a tickle along her neck. A feeling like she was being watched.
Don’t turn around, she told herself. Just keep walking. You’re almost at the door.
But like a girl in a horror film, she ignored her inner voice and turned her head slowly to the side. Out of the corner of her eye she could make out a form. It was less than two steps behind her. Its face so pale it was almost translucent. Dark hair peppered with silver. Cheeks sunken in. And a cap low over its eyes.
“Who—?” she started to say, but before the words were free, the figure was gone. And so was the wind.