ELEVEN

I’ve always found it ironic that my last name is Park, even though I was constantly on the move for most of my life. My father was, for lack of better words, a bit of a worldly man in his youth, and his wanderlust carried over into his career as a regional branch manager for Samsung. Sometimes it felt like he was never satisfied being in one place. We moved from Seattle, to Austin, to New York City, to San Jose, even across the world to Tokyo. Hell, at one point in my life, I’d accumulated more cities in my geological footprint than number of years being alive.

For the most part, we always stayed in a city for a year or two; other times even less. You’d think that I would’ve been upset by the instability, but actually, I never cared. Moving was all I ever knew, so the moment I walked into those classrooms to introduce myself, I was already prepared to forget the names and faces of every single kid before me.

All except one.

I never forgot her name. And I definitely didn’t forget her face.

When I was 11, Dad brought us all the way back to the motherland for 3 whole years, and for the first time in my life, I prayed that we didn’t have to leave.

And even though my prayers were never answered and I ended up finishing middle school in Singapore, a part of me had never left Seoul. My heart remained in Yongsan—with my first best friend, my first crush, and for the first time ever, someone who was able to teach me what home felt like.

Someone named Jang Wonyoung.

“Open,” she demanded.

I did exactly as told, and she carefully poured the wine from her glass into my mouth—not because she was worried I would choke, but because she absolutely hated when things were messy.

She stared at me impatiently, waiting for something.

I swallowed.

“How does it taste?” she asked, irritated.

“It’s good.”

“Open the next one,” she said, putting the glass down.

It was the forth bottle of the night, and she wasn’t satisfied with any of them, even though she herself had not tasted a single drop yet. I was her wine tasting guinea pig, and I was collectively a full glass in at this point. My body felt loose, but I tried my best to continue sitting upright, since she hated it when my posture wasn’t perfect like hers.

I pulled the cork out, and the soft pop caused her to look up from her phone.

“Remember to drink all of it before you pour the new one in,” she said, looking down at me.

Her ridiculously long legs were all I could see in my peripherals as I began pouring yet another glass from the floor, making use sure not to spill anything. It wasn’t a comfortable position, and even though the rug stopped hurting my knees after the third drink, it was definitely going to leave a mark or bruise the next day. It always did.

“What on Earth is always so funny to you two?”

Ms. Heathers barked from behind us, as we bit down to control our laughters.

Our knees were sore from kneeling for the past 30 minutes, but for some reason, the dirty old chalkboard gave us so many things to joke about.

Was it even the chalkboard, or was it just the fact that two eleven-year-olds could find just about anything to laugh about if they wanted to?

“Jang Wonyoung,” she said.

“Yes, teacher,” Wonyoung answered, biting her upper lip.

“What’s the word for ‘quiet’ in Korean?”

“Quiet, teacher,” she replied, in Korean.

“So you do know what it means.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And Wonbin, how do you say ‘no talking’ in Korean?”

“No talking, teacher,” I answered.

“Great, so it’s not a matter of understanding,” Ms. Heathers said. “The problem is you two just don’t want to obey orders.”

“We’re sorry,” I said, looking over at Wonyoung, whose eyes were closed at this point from silent laughter. “We won’t talk anymore during quiet time.”

“And stop talking back to me,” she said.

“Yes, I won’t talk back anymore,” I said.

“Good boy,” she said, stroking my face with her long, delicate fingers. “I only love you when you’re obedient, you know that, right?”

“Yes.”

“You want me to love you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I said, more honest than I should’ve been.

“Do you love me?” she asked, lifting my chin up.

“Yes,” I said again, pathetically.

“Even though I treat you so badly, you still love me?”

“You don’t treat me badly,” I said. “You treat me so well.”

“I do?” she said, seemingly amused. “How do I treat you well? Give me an example.”

“You care about me,” I said, looking at her glimmering round eyes.

“That’s right, I care about you so much,” she nodded. “You’re my favorite slave, you know that, right?”

I nodded.

“No matter what, we’ll always be together,” she said, sipping on her glass of cabernet. “Just continue to obey me and I’ll keep treating you like the perfect little slave that you are.”

I nodded again, my vision a little hazy, but the goddess before me made me more drunk than the alcohol ever could.

“Are you still thirsty?” she asked, taking another sip. “Come here.”

I immediately opened my mouth, and she leaned over, letting the wine fall from her mouth into mine. Some of it dripped down the side of my lips, and she carefully wiped it with her thumb.

“Good boy,” she said, licking it off. “I don’t even have to tell you what to do anymore. You’re getting so smart.”

"It’s really good," I said, savoring the bitter aftertaste on my tongue. “It’s even better when you feed it to me from your mouth.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She smirked. “You did such a great job tasting them. You’ve really got a good tongue, and you know me so well.”

“Thank you. I only did what you wanted me to do.”

She took one last sip and placed the empty glass on the coffee table.

“Such a good boy. But I think I need your tongue again,” she said, putting her index finger out, motioning me to come to her.

I crawled over closer to the edge of the sofa.

She giggled. “You’re so cute. It looks like your ears perked up, even though you don’t even have ears.”

“I do have ears,” I said, slightly confused.

“I thought I told you not to talk back to me. Are you sure you have ears?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, putting my head down.

“You even said you wouldn’t talk back, just a few minutes ago. So your ears don’t work, and your tongue tells lies?”

“No, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Give me your tongue,” she barked.

I opened my mouth, and she tugged on it with her fingers, forcing me upwards.

“Are you still thirsty? There’s no more wine left.”

I shook my head, feeling saliva sliding down the side of my mouth.

“Good,” she said, petting my hair with her other hand. “Let’s make better use of this tongue, since it wants to lie all the time. Are you hungry?”

“Umma packed this for me today, you should try it,” she said, putting a piece of kimbap on my plate. “It’s your favorite, right?”

“You should eat it,” I said, looking over at her lunchbox. “There’s only six pieces.”

She shook her head and placed a piece into my mouth with her chopsticks. “You have to try it first and tell me if it’s worth eating or not.”

I laughed, almost choking on the rice.

“Don’t laugh while you eat!” she said, covering her mouth. “You’re going to get rice all over the table if you start coughing.”

“So you’re more worried about me making a mess than dying?” I said while chewing.

“Ew, don’t talk while you chew!” she laughed, pulling my jaw up with her hand.

“It’s good,” I said, moving away. “Your mom makes the best bulgogi kimbap.”

She smiled brightly and started giving me the remaining five pieces.

“Stop,” I said, wrestling my chopsticks against hers to give them back.

“Eat them all!” she said, sending the pieces back and forth.

“They’re yours!”

“No, they’re yours now! You like them!”

“No, I hate them!”

“Liar! You just said they’re good and that my mom makes the best kimbap, so you knew they were good before you ate them, and then confirmed they were good after you ate them!”

“You need to eat too!”

“You need to eat more than me, I’m already taller than you,” she said, trying to stuff another piece into my mouth.

I dodged and moved my face away. “We’re the same height!”

“No, we’re not! I grew another centimeter last night!”

“I grew two!”

“The rice is going to get stuck in my braces, so I can’t eat kimbap!” she said.

“Isn’t that why you carry a toothbrush everywhere?”

“I’m on a diet, so you have to eat them for me!”

“What are you on a diet for? You’re only 12,” I said, trying to feed a piece to her.

“Yeah, but I’m a trainee now, so I have to watch my weight.”

“You’ve been a trainee for a week, give me a break,” I said, and we both managed to put a piece of kimbap into each other’s mouths at the same time.

“You know, I wish I was the author of your lives just so I could fast forward all this cringey rubbish and get to the part where you two get married already,” our friend Sungmin said from across the table.

“Seriously…” our other friend Sara said, in English.

“Gross, we’re only 12,” she said, while chewing.

“Gross, stop talking while you’re chewing,” I said, doing the same.

She scowled and covered her mouth.

“Plenty of people marry their middle school sweethearts, don’t they?” Sara asked.

“Middle school? These two have been at it since elementary school.”

“There’s nothing stopping you two from having fun,” I said, feeding Wonyoung another piece.

“Yes, there are.”

“Like what?”

“Self-respect, noonchi, shame, need I go on?”

“Oh, lighten up sometimes, will you?”

“Lighten up? With that exam coming up next week?” Sungmin said, flipping the page on his textbook. “No thanks, it’ll be a real dark world if I fail it.”

“It’s a dark world even if we pass it, because there’s gonna be another one right after.”

“Guys, that’s why they invented lightbulbs, the world will always be dark,” Wonyoung said. “You just have to find the light yourself. Like Wonbin’s nightlight that helps him find the bathroom at night.”

“I do not have a nightlight anymore, stop lying to people!”

“Just because you hide it in your dresser whenever I come over doesn’t mean I don’t know you still have it. Open!”

At the time, the only thing I could think of while watching her feed me the last piece of kimbap was how dark my world would be without her in it. That she was the nightlight that always guided me in the dark.

It was pitch black.

I didn’t know what time it was, or where I was, but my body was heavy, like a firetruck had just ran me over the night before. The AC started running, and I could feel the cold air brushing my skin. It was only then that I knew that I wasn’t wearing anything besides a blindfold on my face.

“Wonyoung?” I called out as I pulled it off, but she was nowhere to be found. As usual.

That’s how it always went. I would wake up alone the next morning without a trace of her from the night before besides the bruises on my knees or the scratch marks on my back. If it weren’t for the physical proof, I would’ve believed it all to be wild dreams.

I got up, trying to find my clothes that were scattered across the room. Some days, they were easy to find; others not so much.

“I don’t even wanna know how my underwear got all the way over there,” I said, walking towards a small side table where she kept her jewelry box, a couple of self-improvement books, and the one thing that always reminded me that everything was fine, even when at times nothing felt right—a photo of us from middle school.

I wasn’t sure if she always had it there, or if she only recently got it developed. That was also part of my regular routine of things to ponder about in the shower before leaving to class from her place. For some reason, I was never brave enough to ask.

“Have a nice day today. <3 ” I sent her a text before exiting her building’s garage, knowing that she wouldn’t reply anyways.

It had been officially two months since I moved back to Seoul for university, and also two months since the day that changed everything for me.

After leaving Singapore halfway through high school, relinquishing any hope I had left of leading a normal-ish life, my dad took us back to New York, where I was able to at least spend another four years in one place. It was the first time I actually felt like we were done moving, at least Dad sure made it feel that way.

And it was. He was promoted at the New York branch, my mom started a bakery, I made some great friends in school, had my first girlfriend, fell in love, went to prom, spent literal weeks on my scholarship essay, and somehow managed to even get an almost-full ride to Columbia.

Wonyoung and I stopped regularly texting each other a couple months after I left Korea in 2018. She had basically spent all her free time training, and from what I heard from Sungmin, switched to being home-schooled after getting 1st place on Produce 48 in 2019. It seemed like everyone had lost contact with her.

For a few years, we still wished each other happy birthday. There were also some texts I typed out but never sent, like the long congratulations from when she debuted in IZONE that felt a little bit too clout chase-y. Or the message that my then-girlfriend Alice wouldn’t allow me to send when she debuted with IVE in 2021.

“Adam, listen to yourself. Your childhood best friend slash first love slash soulmate is the most famous person in Korea right now—the literal ‘it girl’—and you want me to be okay with you keeping in touch with her?” she asked angrily one day.

What could I have possibly said to justify it? ‘Don’t worry, we’re just friends’?

To be honest, I was a good boyfriend. I really refrained from keeping up with Wonyoung, although it was super difficult to not see her ever, considering she was literally everywhere. Even Alice listened to IVE—although she did scowl every time Wonyoung had screen time in the music videos, which was, of course, very often.

I even pretended to stan Le Serrafim to make it seem like I was no longer thinking of Wonyoung.

“Sakura should’ve been #1,” I would lie. “This show is so rigged.”

And that was pretty much how it felt all the time. Lies after lies, pretending to be something that I wasn’t—happy.

When Alice and I ended our four year relationship during the end of my sophomore year, I was devastated, broken even, but at the same time, relieved. I didn’t have to fake it anymore.

I could finally admit to myself that I missed my best friend, and I didn’t realize how much I did until then. I had repressed my emotions for so many years that it felt like they were getting ready to retaliate.

So I did what any rational person with a healthy grasp on their mental health would do. No, I didn’t call her to confess my feelings; I went to therapy. And, well, the therapist told me to call her and confess my feelings.

And I did exactly that—kinda. It’s true that I could’ve just gave her a call or sent a text message, but that wouldn’t have been romantic enough. I decided that I was ready to make my life a kdrama.

After finishing our exams, my friends and I took a spontaneous trip to Japan, and it just so happened that IVE had a stop in Osaka during their world tour. Coincidence? No, I picked Japan for a reason, but let’s pretend it was. You know, for the sake of romance.

Needless to say, I listened to my heart (and my therapist—thanks Valerie) and decided to see her again, in person. I had to spend a bit of a fortune on the fansign tickets since scalpers are the embodiment of evil, but it was still cheaper than all those months of therapy, at least.

By the time our group was called to line up, I felt like my stomach was about to turn completely inside out. It was truly an agonizing feeling that I’d never felt before in my entire life.

“Are you ready?” my friend Julie said, almost squealing. “The moment is finally here, I’m so excited for you!”

“Remember to breathe, okay? She’s probably in high stress right now after playing a whole concert, so try to act calm, even though it’ll be hard,” my other friend Jane said.

The line moved so fast that I didn’t even have time to gather my thoughts.

Rei was first, and I tried my best to interact with her like a normal human being, even though my heart was ready to burst right out of my chest.

I made my way to Leeseo and Yujin, and by the time I was in front of Wonyoung, I felt like my ears stopped working. There was just this deafening silence, like someone threw a stun grenade or something at us.

“Your name?” she asked in Japanese without looking at me, as she was switching markers.

“Park Wonbin,” I said, as calm as I could.

“Park Wo—” she paused and looked up. Her mouth dropped open and she gasped loudly.

She covered her mouth with both of her hands, and Yujin even looked over to see if she was okay.

I smiled. “Hi.”

“Wonbin-ah…” she said, almost tearing. “Is that really you?”

“Have you been well?” I asked, opening the new marker that she had dropped on the table.

She nodded, clearly holding back tears.

“I think we’re holding up the line,” I said.

Julie and Jane noticed what was happening and purposely extended their conversations with Yujin and Liz, buying us a little bit more time.

“What are you doing here?” Wonyoung asked, her eyes locked onto mine while she signed her name.

“I came to see you, of course.”

The staff members started noticing the hold up and tried rushing Julie, who started wailing at Liz about how much she loved her, before having to pull her away.

“And your voiiiice, my God, I’m always like—yaaas queen, SLAYYY—”

“Sorry, we have to keep moving,” the staff said, bowing.

We looked at each other for what felt like forever, even though it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, given what was happening around us. Memories came flooding in like a tsunami, and it was only then that I realized how much I had forced myself to forget them.

“It was nice to see you again,” I said, my eyes starting to water. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she said softly, before hesitantly turning to Jane. “H-hi, what’s your name?”

“Hi, what’s your name?” Liz asked me in Japanese.

We both looked at each other again, but it was me who broke eye contact first.

“Hi Liz, I’m Park Wonbin. You guys were really great tonight.”

When everything was over, our group of six exited the stadium like a pack of zombies. We were so tired from standing, and the emotional roller coaster made me feel dead inside. I thought about all the conversations we could’ve had with each other in my head, knowing that it didn’t matter which one actually happened.

Just then, my phone suddenly got reception again, and I saw 4 messages from Wonyoung come through simultaneously.

“Wonbin-ah, don’t leave yet. I want to see you.”

“Come to the back of the building where all the busses are and tell the security your name. I’ll wait for you here.”

“Hurry, they’re cleaning up now.”

“Did you delete your Katalk?”

I froze, causing my friends to jump.

“She texted him,” Julie gasped. “I freakin’ knew this was gonna happen!”

“Damn, so he wasn’t lying about this whole Wonyoung childhood best friend story? I lowkey thought he was just delulu for a while, not gonna lie,” another guy named Jeff said. “That’s kinda dope actually.”

“Did you miss the part where she looked like she was about to have a heart attack when she saw him at the fansign?”

“I wasn’t at the fansign, Jane. You literally used my ticket.”

“Right.”

“I gotta go,” I said, sprinting back to the building.

“Where are you going?” they yelled from behind me.

“You guys go back to the hotel without me! I’ll meet with you after!”

“Seriously, just tell her you love her, Adam! Just do it, life’s too short to keep waiting!” Jane yelled. “You already waited 6 years!”

“I love you.”

“Do you mean it?” she asked, running her fingers through my hair.

I nodded, staring at her drop-dead gorgeous face.

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Wonyoung.”

“I like it when you say it like that,” she said, seemingly satisfied. “You sound so desperate. It’s like you’re declaring your love so that you can continue living. Like it’s breathing.”

“I can’t breathe when you’re not around.”

“You breathed just fine until this year,” she said, squeezing her hand into a fist with my hair between her fingers.

“I was suffocating for 6 years,” I said, feeling my own breaths getting heavier for some reason.

She smirked devilishly, and let go of my hair. “Poor little thing. It’s okay, we’ll be together forever now. Aren’t we?”

I nodded.

“Come here,” she said, crossing her legs before me. “Kiss me.”

I kneeled before her, and she lifted her foot closer to my face.

Without hesitation, I planted kisses on her toes softly, making sure to get every surface of her skin.

“Mmm.” She smiled with satisfaction. “Don’t forget the other one.”

I bent over to the ground and kissed her other foot, while she played with my hair with her toes.

“Do you like being my slave?” she asked. “Tell me the truth. Because if you don’t, you can leave, you know that right? No one’s forcing you to be here.”

I held onto her small feet and wrapped my lips around her toes, twirling my tongue around them gently, causing her to let out a soft moan.

“I want to be your slave,” I said. “I love being your slave.”

“Such a good boy with a magic tongue. Come here, I’m not done with it yet,” she said, slowly opening her legs.

My face drew closer like a magnet, and she pressed a finger against my forehead.

“What’s the magic word?” she teased.

“Please,” I muttered, my body moving towards her on its own.

“Again,” she said, grabbing my hair.

“Please,” I repeated. “Please, mistress.”

“God, I really love it when you beg. You really can’t breathe without me, can you?”

“I can’t—I need you to live.”

She yanked my head towards her, pressing it firmly between her legs.

“Breathe while you still can then,” she said, leaning back against the couch.

Her soft underwear brushed against my face, and the sides of her dress caressed me like a loving home. I inhaled deeply, allowing her addicting scent to fill me up.

“I can feel your nose digging into me,” she said, exhaling. “You’re breathing so hard. Do I smell that good?”

I nodded, fully savoring the warmth that comforted me like no other. “You smell so good.”

She smiled. “It feels nice when you breathe in and out against me like that.”

We stayed like that for a while. She was happy and satisfied, and that brought me so much comfort that I could have fallen asleep between her legs.

“Good boy.” She played with my hair, stroking it gently, occasionally twirling it around her fingers.

It was where I wanted to be. Where I belonged. Every breath was intoxicating and brought me life, like the opposite of drowning.

“You really love it, don’t you?” she said, tightening her grip on my hair.

I nodded, feeling her panties dampen from either my breath or her love, perhaps both.

“Your face is so nice and warm.”

Her thighs then slowly squeezed the sides of my head, and she pulled me harder towards her, forcing my face against her crotch so hard that I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Whoa, relax, breathe.”

I finally stopped to catch my breath.

“I’m—Park—Wonbin,” I struggled to say, hunched over in front of the security team.

“We know, we know. Come in.”

“Really?”

“Yes, they told us you were coming.”

“T-thanks,” I said, following one of them.

“Go straight, make a left, and there should be a staff member in a black hat.”

“Thank you,” I said, feeling my heart pounding again. Was it the unintended high intensity cardio I just did, or am I nervous to see her?

I walked around the large boxes of audio equipment, past the sound crew that were trying to finish packing, and then up a small ramp that was lit with mini floor lights.

“H-hi, I’m Park Wonbin,” I said, waving at a tall guy in a black hat.

“Ah, Park Wonbin, there you are, we have to leave soon—”

“Wonbin-ah!”

Before I could react, someone had already leaped into my arms and hugged me so tightly I thought I was going to break.

“Wonyoung,” I said.

“I missed you,” she said, quietly in my ear. “I’m really so glad to see you again.”

I held her close. “I missed you, too.”

The staff member awkwardly looked at us, and then pulled out his phone and walked away, rather confused.

“I guess you’re taller than me now,” she said, still not letting go.

“I was taller than you back then, dummy.”

“I grew 5 more centimeters since then.”

“I grew 15.”

She laughed and looked up at me. “You look different. Six years is a long time, isn’t it?”

“You look the same,” I said.

“Really?” She frowned. “I thought I got prettier.”

I smiled. “Maybe just a little.”

She scowled and let go of me. “I worked so hard to be this pretty and you think it’s just a little.”

“I didn’t say you’re only a little pretty, I said you got a little prettier. You were already pretty.”

“Liar,” she said, folding her arms.

“I’m serious!”

“Fine, you only got a little more handsome then.”

“Oh thank God. At least you don’t think I got uglier,” I said, pulling her back. “You got so thin, are you giving away all your kimbap to someone else now?”

“I haven’t had kimbap in years,” she said, resting her head against my neck.

“You smell good,” I said, putting my face against her hair.

“What’s that? I can’t hear you,” she said, pressing her panties against my face.

“You smell so good,” I said, inhaling deeply.

She smiled and scrunch them into a ball, tossing them to the side.

“Come here,” she said, wrapping her slender legs around my neck. “Since you’ve been such a good boy, you can taste me now.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved.

My lips gently pressed against hers, and I could feel her warmth instantly enveloping me.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

I kissed her bare, smooth, soft, perfect lips. Not a single blemish or stubble before me, almost as if I was looking at a human doll. Just pure utter perfection.

“Are you happy?” she asked, resting her feet on top of my back.

“I haven’t felt this happy in years.”

“Liar. You didn’t call or text me for years.”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t want to bother you.”

“Bother? How could you ever bother me?”

“I don’t know. You’re famous now. What if you don’t have time for me?”

“That’s so ridiculous.”

I looked around, and noticed a couple people watching us, only to turn away the moment they saw me.

“Are people going to gossip about us hugging each other out in the open like this?”

“Everyone’s going to gossip about me no matter what I do. I could be standing in the corner and they’ll say I think I’m good too to sit down.”

“See? You’re too popular nowadays.”

“And yet I get no attention from my best friend,” she said.

“You still think of me as your best friend?”

She stuck out her pinky. “Best friends forever. Did you forget?”

“No. I just thought you would’ve had a new best friend after all these years.”

“Best means best, and forever means forever. God, Ms. Heathers would be so disappointed in you.”

“You’re the best,” she moaned, slowly grinding against my face. “My favorite little slave is so good with his tongue.”

I couldn’t stop, my body was moving on its own. It was like I’d lost control of every part of me, from my mind, to my lips, to my tongue, even my hands that were holding her long legs back were doing it on their own.

“We’re going to be together forever,” she said, pulling my head back slightly.

I finally caught my breath, looking back at her lust filled face.

“Forever,” I said, savoring her aftertaste on my lips.

“Promise me you’ll be my slave forever,” she said, brushing my lips with her toes.

I kissed them. “Forever, I promise.”

“Don’t leave me again.”

“I won’t.”

“Do you have to go?” I asked, as she walked back from talking to her manager.

“Yeah,” she said, rolling her eyes. “They’re kicking us out of the stadium and everyone’s pretty much done here.”

“How long are you in Osaka for? Do you have time to hang out tomorrow?”

“I have to go to Tokyo tomorrow,” she said, as we walked back to her bus together.

“Oh.”

“What about tonight?”

“What?”

“Tonight. We can hang out tonight.”

I looked at my phone. “It’s almost 11.”

“Are we 20 or 200?”

“I just thought you’d be tired.”

“Why would I ask you to hang out tonight if I was tired?”

I smiled. “Alright. Tonight. What should we do?”

“We’re in Osaka,” she said, excitedly. “There’s so much to do. We can look at the restaurants and shops in Dotombori, go to Osaka Castle, or even visit the little bars. There’s so many bars here.”

I chuckled.

“What?” she sneered.

“It’s just weird that you can drink now. We’ve come a long way from banana milk, huh?”

“Can’t you?”

“Not in America. The drinking age is 21. But I’ve used a fake ID once. Maybe more than once.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“But wouldn’t you get caught by fans drinking at a bar in Osaka?”

“Fine—do you have a private bar at your hotel? There’s one at mine. You can meet the girls too.”

“You’d introduce me to them? As what?”

“Wonyoung-ah!” her manager called from the bus. “Let’s go!”

“Yes, coming!”

“Is your friend coming with us?” he asked.

She looked at me. “Well? We have to decide now.”