Somin asked, feeling the tension coming off her friend in waves.
“I just . . . I don’t know what to do for him. I don’t know how to get him back, and what if this is all my fault?” Miyoung’s legs shook, and she lowered herself into a crouch in front of Somin, sobbing. It tore at Somin. She’d never heard her friend sound so desperate before. So she pulled Miyoung close.
“No, you can’t think like that. You’re both victims here; this is nobody’s fault.” She stroked Miyoung’s hair, holding her gently as the girl emptied herself of all her fear and frustration.
After Miyoung had cried herself out, she was limp with exhaustion, and Somin insisted that she rest.
“Did you even sleep last night?”
“I rested . . . a bit. For a few minutes,” Miyoung admitted.
“You’re sleeping. No arguing.” Somin led Miyoung to the couch.
“But I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” Miyoung’s words were slurred with exhaustion.
“You are,” Somin said. “I’m already feeling much better.”
“Liar,” Miyoung mumbled as her eyes drooped closed. Soon her breathing evened out in sleep, and Somin draped a blanket over her.
Somin surveyed the quiet apartment. Had she ever noticed before how cold it seemed? The design made it too sleek, too artificial. Like the facade that Junu put forward. Like the overly polished, pompous jerk Somin had first thought him to be. Somin’s eyes traveled to the library involuntarily, the one space that held any personality. The one that felt like the Junu Somin was starting to know. Those glimpses that made Somin’s heart yearn. And thinking of him, worry washed through her.
She glanced back at Miyoung’s bloodstained sleeves. She should have made her friend change. But at least she’d assured herself it wasn’t Miyoung’s blood. And it wasn’t Jihoon’s.
Dokkaebi don’t bleed, Somin reminded herself. It’s not Junu’s blood, it can’t be.
“So you do care about him.”
She spun around at the voice and stared at the beautiful boy who stood behind her. Dark, close-cropped hair. Dark, almost-black eyes in a pale face. Dressed all in black. The reaper from the street.
“How did you get in here?” Her eyes moved to the bujeoks plastered around Junu’s doorway.
“Those don’t work against me,” he replied, his eyes following her gaze. “I’m not a ghost or a demon.”
“I know what you are. What I’d like to know is why you keep hanging around here,” Somin said.
“You have spirit.” He nodded. “Good. He’ll need that.”
“What are you talking about?” Somin huffed in frustration.
“But you’re not patient.” He sighed. “Which could be a problem for him.”
“I don’t have time—”
“I could stop it for a bit. Let us have our chat without it.”
Without time? Somin thought. Just exactly what could this reaper do? And how could she be sure he wasn’t here to hurt her and her friends?
“I need you to be careful with him,” the boy said. “He’s more delicate than he seems.”
“Who?” Somin asked.
“I wouldn’t have imagined a human like you would be it, but I can see that you’re what he needs now.”
She knew now that he spoke of Junu. “I don’t want to be what someone needs. I want to be what someone wants. What someone chooses. And he’s made it clear he doesn’t choose me.”
“Even he doesn’t know what his heart wants,” the reaper said. “After everything that happened with his family, Junu wasn’t able to handle the life fate gave him. He closed himself off. He lost himself for centuries in anything that would numb the pain. If he’d been human, it would have killed him. But instead, he was left to live his eternal life seeking out more and more ways to rip out the pain that wouldn’t let go of him. That’s how I found him. One who would do any job that could get him quick cash so he could buy another bottle. Every time I came to reap a soul of another he’d killed, I saw him. And came to know him. And came to care for him.”
“What happened with his family?” Somin asked. “What happened to make him hurt for so long?”
“Unfortunately, even I don’t know that whole story. He’s never told anyone as far as I know.”
Somin fisted her hands over her chest, like she sought to protect her own soul. “Why are you telling me all of this? Does Junu know you’re telling me?”
“Of course he doesn’t. He’d never want you to know this vulnerable side of him. But I think you need to know. He’ll need