Page 27

She made her way into the apartment, toeing off her shoes in the foyer. It was gleaming and spotless. The floors were cool under her feet. It felt nice and refreshing after the heat of outside.

As she walked down the hall, searching for the kitchen, a side room caught her eye. Inside was a giant, gleaming grand piano and shelves and shelves of books. She gaped at how many there were as she realized that every wall was covered in shelves.

Somin selected a book at random. It was a cookbook. The second was a collection of old European fairy tales. She flipped the pages to find elaborately illustrated pictures of fairies, mermaids, and witches.

The next book was about a boy wizard. It was written in English, so when she flipped it open, she couldn’t read it. But she recognized the cover art; any kid born in the last thirty years would know this story.

“That’s a first edition.”

She spun around, hugging the book tightly to her chest.

Junu stood in the doorway with two cups of steaming tea.

He set them on a table next to an armchair Somin hadn’t noticed. It looked well-used, like a person could spend hours in it without moving an inch.

“This room is so... cozy,” she said. “Different from what I’d imagine from you.”

“I like comfort, too,” Junu said with a shrug.

“I’ve always dreamed of having a library at home,” Somin said, glancing around at the towering shelves. “It just needs a fireplace and it would be perfect.”

“No fireplace,” Junu said firmly. “I hate fire.”

Such a strange fact. Especially for a dokkaebi. Somin remembered the stories of how a tall blue flame called dokkaebi fire heralded the arrival of some. Was that just a myth?

“I didn’t know you liked to read,” Somin said, placing the book back on the shelf.

“Who says I do?” Junu asked. “Many of these are collector’s editions, worth a lot of money.”

Somin tried to read him and failed. Then reached behind her and took out a battered secondhand edition ofHowl’s Moving Castle. “And how much is this worth?” she asked, glancing at the heavily dog-eared pages. “Five hundred won?”

Junu grinned, comfortable in being caught in his lie. “I do enjoy a good book now and then. After all, I lived in a time before television. But you’re not here to inquire about my favorite ways to pass the time, are you?” Junu took a step toward her. If he took another one, he would be entering uncomfortably close territory. She could just smell his scent, a mix of shampoo and aftershave.

Somin knew she better get talking or else she’d forget her whole reason for coming here. “I came over because—” She cut off because she couldn’t remember the rest of her carefully cultivated speech.

“Yes, please tell me what you came over for,” Junu said with a grin as he took another step toward her. She took a step back and held up a hand. It stopped him. Thank God. She didn’t know what she’d do if he touched her. She felt like a bundle of live wires, sparking at just the presence of him.

“I came over to discuss what happened.” Somin almost winced. When she wanted to sound more self-assured, she ended up sounding like a kid playing office. But it was too late now.

Junu let out an amused chuckle. “Discuss it? Is that all?”

“Yes, as it seems like we have a misunderstanding about what... transpired, I’m glad I came over.” There it was again, a child pretending to be an adult.

“I’m glad you came over, too.” Junu’s grin became a full smile, but it was too wicked to be called friendly.

“Stop it,” Somin said sternly, and Junu finally moved back.

She realized that whenever she told him she didn’t like something, he actually listened to her. As if, when it came down to it, he really did care about her comfort. It was hard to reconcile that with the contemptible flirt and con she’d labeled him as.

“That kiss was...” She trailed off again as she latched on to the memory. She didn’t want it to be so fresh in her mind. Or to have a part of her want to try the taste of him again. Like a dessert she knew she shouldn’t eat. One that she should be allergic to. That would probably give her hives.

“Yes?” Junu asked, expectantly watching her with a patient look on his face. It was just a mask, she knew. He was waiting for a good moment to break her resolve.

“It can’t happen again,” she finally said.

“And why is that?” Junu asked pleasantly. Too pleasantly.

“Because we don’t... we can’t. It’s just not going to happen... it can’t happen again.” She stumbled over words like she was just learning to talk. She couldn’t seem to string a convincing sentence together.