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“What’s he doing here?” Jihoon asked, eyeing Junu.

“Jihoon, not now. I’ve had a really... weird morning,” Somin said.

“That’s what worries me.” Jihoon crossed his arms. “Please tell me you actually spent the night in the study room and not somewhere else.” He bit out the last words as he gave Junu an accusing glare.

“I thought you hated lies,” Somin said.

“I don’t hate them when they let me believe you weren’t alone with that dokkaebi all night.”

“Nothing happened.” Lies. “You don’t need to worry about me.” More lies. “I can handle things.” Even more lies.

“Well, as much as I love being the center of attention,” Junu said, “I’m not here to be interrogated by Ahn Jihoon.”

“What are you here for?” Miyoung walked down the hall. Suddenly, Dubu started barking so wildly her whole body shook.

“Dubu, stop it,” Somin said.

“It’s all right,” Miyoung said with a shrug. “I’m used to it by now.”

Somin moved past them to put Dubu in her mother’s room; she hoped the task would let her escape Jihoon’s scrutiny, but he just followed her down the hall.

“What happened last night? Why is Junu here?”

“He said he needs to talk to us,” Somin said, closing the door behind her to muffle the dog’s frantic barks. She hurried back to the living room before Jihoon could ask her more whispered questions.

“Where’s my mother?” Somin asked, looking around.

“She just went to the store to get some meat for miyeokguk. And we lied and told her you were still sleeping.”

“Thanks.” Somin’s gratitude was peppered with guilt.

“What are you here for?” Miyoung repeated. She’d been watching Junu since he’d stepped inside.

“I’m just here to help,” Junu said, lifting his hands in innocence.

“And how much will that cost us?” Miyoung asked.

Maybe because she was watching him, Somin saw Junu’s jerk of surprise. He let a smile spread on his face, and now Somin saw it for the mask it was. Not one of manipulation, like she’d always thought, but one to hide his hurt. How had she not seen this before?

“I’ll do it pro bono,” Junu said. “Out of the goodness of my heart.”

“You don’t have a heart,” Miyoung said before turning to plop onto the lumpy couch.

“I know what’s ailing you,” Junu said, his voice smooth as butter. But now Somin was paying attention. She saw how his fists were clutched by his sides, knuckles white from being held so tight.

“And how could you know that?” Miyoung asked.

“It’s my job to know things.”

“It’s your job to manipulate people with what you know,” Miyoung retorted.

“Let’s just hear what he has to say,” Somin found herself saying. Three pairs of eyes shot to her with varying degrees of surprise.

“I mean it can’t hurt, right?” Somin shrugged. But she couldn’t quite meet any of the eyes that followed her as she moved to sit on the other end of the couch.

“Sure,” Jihoon said, ever the easygoing one. “Let’s hear his theory.”

“It’s not a theory,” Junu said, gritting his teeth. “I have it on good authority that there is an energy lingering. Something powerful, kind of like a yeowu guseul. You know, the thing you mysteriously lost this spring.”