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Twenty-eight
It’s ten p.m. by the time I step off the bus in my neighborhood, having ridden it all the way to the last stop on the line, only to get back on and ride it to the other end. As I round the corner, I look up toward the convenience store.
Nathaniel’s at our usual table, reading a book beneath the fluorescent lights. He’s slouched in the plastic chair, a paperback propped on his chest as one of his long fingers skims the top. His brow furrows adorably as he turns a page.
How long has he been here? I usually get home around dinnertime, four hours ago. Was he waiting for me this whole time?
I walk up the stone steps, shifting my shoulder bag higher. Catching sight of me, Nathaniel sits up, putting the book face down on the table.
I have several missed calls and unanswered texts from him, but he doesn’t ask me about them. Instead, he stands and heads into the convenience store, the bell jingling above the door as he enters. I sit in the seat across from him, glancing at the title of the book. It’s the novelization of Sun’s drama,The Sea Prince. When he returns a few minutes later, he’s carrying a plastic bag.
“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” he asks.
I shake my head.
From his bag, he draws out samgak gimbap, unwrapping the plastic from the triangle, careful to keep the seaweed over the riceintact, then hands it to me so that I can hold it from the wrapped side. I nibble at the seaweed and rice.
Reaching once more into the bag, Nathaniel takes out a plastic water bottle, uncapping it and placing it in front of me.
I’m relieved when he takes out a triangle of his own, as that means he isn’t planning on watching me eat.
I drink half the water bottle and Nathaniel readily takes out another, placing it beside the first.
“I was at Joah earlier,” he says. I look up. “I was worried when you didn’t text back,” he explains. “Sun and I went together.”
“How was it?” I ask, softly.
“Things aren’t as bad as they seem. Only one of the broadcasting stations canceled an appearance, the one the ASAP members were scheduled for today. The rest have kept them in their lineups.”
“But that doesn’t mean they might not cancel tomorrow, if the story picks up further.”
“The post was taken down.”
I feel a rush of relief. Whoever Secretary Park was speaking to on the phone must have gotten through to the original poster. The damage has already been done—during ASAP’s debut week, no less—but at least it won’t pick up more momentum than it already has.
“All of it’s true, you know,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral, without emotion. “What that anonymous poster said about the deal Hyemi’s father had with Joah.”
When my mother told me about the deal, I hadn’t thought twice about it. All I cared was that my mother’s company was introuble, thatmy motherwas in trouble, and this was a way to fix the problem. I was also distracted by my own worries about the future of my career. Though, when I had the chance to tell Nathaniel, I’d kept him in the dark.
I’d felt ashamed, like he’d think badly of my mother, ofme. Business practices and shady deals are normal in the spaces that people like my father and mother occupy. But Nathaniel has never been exposed to that part of this world, one that feels almost second nature to me.
“Did Hyemi’s father hand over any money to Joah?” Nathaniel asks. I study his face, but his expression is uncharacteristically unreadable.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“Then it’s not true,” he says simply.
“But itwillbe. That is, it has to be...”
“Why does Joah need Woo Hyemi’s father’s money?” he asks.
“I... It’s not my place to say.”
“If Joah needs money, then I can—”
“No,” I say, my heart dropping. I don’t want Nathanielanywherenear this. “It’s my mother’s responsibility.” And mine, as her daughter.
“It’s normal for idols to buy shares in their company,” Nathaniel says with a frown. “Sun already owns a few.”
