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“Up until recently,” he answers cryptically.

Another warm breeze sweeps past us, and I shiver again.

From more than how it feels kissing my skin. From my interpretation of what’s being spoken between us. Am I deluding myself into believing…?

I play it safe, switching to the other topic on my mind. “I’m angry at you too, you know. You’ve stolen everything from me. My name. My job. My life. You’ve done exactly what Eli did and took my future.”

“You have a right to feel that way.”

I blink. “You agree?”

“I didn’t say that. I meant you lost your life. You can’t ever go back. It’s reasonable you would resent that. But maybe I’ve given you another one.”

“A new life, huh? You mean one I didn’t ask for?”

“No,” he concedes calmly. “But one you might need.”

“I don’t get what you mean.”

He shifts, turning toward me. “You said you were angry. That you need to move on. Maybe starting over this way is how you do that.”

“Maybe…”

I let the thought hang between us, returning for another bite of my Hotteok. I never thought I’d enjoy sitting on the hood of a car late at night, eating and admiring the city view as much as I do.

But I also never imagined I’d sit beside a gangster like Jin and feel so… safe and at peace either.

“You’re strangely frustrating,” I blurt out. “But also kind of therapeutic.”

He stares straight ahead, though I can make out the smirk ghosting on his lips. “I don’t understand people. I don’t like emotions. I remove myself from both. But when I’m around you… I find it impossible.”

“You’re more human than you admit.”

He contemplates what I’ve said like I’ve done his observations, admiring the dark velvet landscape and the glimmering lights that look like gemstones this far away. I can feel the tension in his body, the difficulty he experiences just opening up in this way, and I realize I do because we’ve grown close. Physically and emotionally, without even understanding that we have. Jin seems to come to the same realization, because he cuts me a glance, his dark eyes connecting with mine.

“That may be true,” he says after some deep thought. “You just may be my weakness, Tokki-ya.”

As more days pass, Jin and I come to an unspoken understanding. I spend daylight hours entertaining myself around his apartment, flipping through his books, watching old movies and K-dramas, even exercising to expend some pent-up energy. I stare out the window and admire the small fishing village below and the waterfront beyond it, all pieces of a world I’m no longer a part of.

In the evenings, Jin starts to spend more time around me. It starts slowly with dinner. Shared silence between chopsticks and rice bowls. He sits next to me at the counter, occasionally glancing my way as if wanting to talk.

So I get the ball rolling, and soon we find ourselves engaged in conversation.

One night, he confesses that he’s weighing options for getting me out of South Korea. His tone is matter-of-fact, though his eyes linger on mine.

“I haven’t yet, because it’s too risky. You are still a topic of conversation,” he explains. “The Baekho have people everywhere—customs officers, flight attendants, train conductors, captains at the ports. We deal in the business of illegal imports and exports, so it’s necessary. They monitor all movement in and out of the country. Any name I submit will be flagged. Any ID I fake, they’ll suspect. Your face has been everywhere in the news. You will be recognized even in disguise. And should they catch you…”

He doesn’t need to continue. I understand what he’s implying, another reminder that even if I am captive, he’s protecting me in his own way. He’s risking it all.

I pick at the tteokbokki in my bowl and nod glumly. “I get it. I do. It’s just… hard. Knowing I’m hiding out here while my mom’s probably out there losing her mind.”

Though Jin doesn’t say so, I sense he understands. He gets why it’s difficult for me.

On another night, we find ourselves in a passionate debate over a book I picked up from his shelves titledOur Twisted Heroby Yi Mun-yol. I’ve once again impressed him by reading a book in his native language, only to frustrate him with my opinion on its content.

“I hated the way the protagonist conformed in the end.”

“It was rooted in realism. It’s what people have to do to survive. It’s a commentary on survival instincts.”