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“Jeong Jinsol is a dragon slayer.
“Well, it hadn’t been a dragon exactly - the correct term is sea serpent, but that is still a type of dragon, and she had killed it. Dragons from the ocean are the rarest and most dangerous kind, being the primary cause of shipwrecks and tsunamis, so when Jinsol washed up on the shore in a badly torn wetsuit with a dive knife in one hand and the horn of the beast in the other, she became an instant sensation -”
“That’s bullshit,” Jungeun says, effectively cutting off Haseul’s monologue from the news story pulled up on her laptop. “Her wetsuit was mostly fine. Although, she was bleeding from every orifice in her head.”
“Gross,” Haseul says, then continues to read the article out loud. “The dragon’s entire body is now preserved in the national museum, and the head has been on display in a special exhibit for several weeks.” She scrolls down rapidly. “Eleven thousand won admission fee? Damn!”
Jungeun decides not to mention that she’d gone to see it a week ago. She’d paid the fee to watch the watery lights cast huge reflections of the dragon head on the walls as a smoke machine had worked overtime to create an intimidating atmosphere. The head itself had been about the size of a pickup truck and covered in oily purplish-black scales, frozen in a perpetual snarl. The whiskers, thick around as steel cables, had been so long they had to wind them around on the floor. Jungeun remembers looking into the milk-white eyes and wishing she could touch the frill of opalescent fins above them.
“Oh, there was a photo op?” Haseul clicks on a thumbnail, which expands to show a picture of a cardboard cutout of Jinsol wearing full diving equipment, flippers and all, holding up a dive knife in one hand and doing a peace sign with the other. The goggles perched on her forehead are crooked. Jungeun leans in to read the caption - From the photo event, where visitors could take selfies with Jeong Jinsol’s official cardboard cutout. Unfortunately, the event was prematurely closed due to the cutout’s mysterious disappearance.
“Someone stole the fucking cardboard cutout?” Jungeun asks in disbelief.
“Resale value must be insane,” Haseul says matter-of-factly. “They should’ve gotten a security tag like they do for clothes at the mall.”
“Did someone say security tag?” Yeojin’s voice rings out from down the hall, and the diminutive girl soon appears. “Where? I figured out how to remove those with a rubber band.”
Jungeun and Haseul say in unison, “What?”
Yeojin looks back and forth between the two of them. “Never mind. What’re you reading?”
“Oh, just this piece on the dragon slayer, Jeong Jinsol,” Haseul says, turning back to her laptop.
“I can’t open any form of social media without seeing some kind of piece about Jeong Jinsol,” Yeojin complains, hopping up to sit on the table. “Is she really that pretty in real life, Jungeun? When you found her?”
“Well, when I found her it was right after she killed the sea serpent and washed up on the beach covered in blood and barely conscious,” Jungeun says. “So I don’t think it’s fair to say.”
It’s true - Jinsol had been covered in blood, some of it her own but most of it not, but when Jungeun had found her lying face down in the sand in a rapidly expanding puddle of dark red she hadn’t been able to tell. Jungeun had nudged her with her foot to see if she was dead before her lifeguard training kicked in.
“I still can’t believe you pretty much saved her life and you won’t do anything about it,” Yeojin exclaims. “Like, she’s a national hero now. You could find her, be like, hey I’m the one who found you bleeding out on the beach, give me ten billion won, and have it made for the rest of your life!”
“Okay, there’s a few problems with that plan,” Haseul laughs, and Jungeun adds, “Besides, I only gave her basic first aid and then called the paramedics. I don’t think she remembers anything that happened, especially not me.”
“Still, you kept her from dying,” Yeojin grumbles, as if personally wronged. “I don’t know why you can’t, maybe, turn it around for monetary gain.” She bangs a fist on the table. “Where is the news and the media?”
Jungeun laughs. Yeojin is a pain in the ass, and Jungeun is immeasurably fond of her. “Yeah, maybe if this college shit doesn’t work out for me. Until then, I’m gonna keep taking my runs on the beach and hoping I don’t find any more dragon slayers lying face down in the water.”
“Must’ve been quite a shock,” Haseul says. “I heard that she was trapped in an underwater cave with that thing for three hours.”
“Big whip,” Yeojin crows. “If I was her I would’ve told ‘em it was eight hours, and that the entirety of NCT was also in there trying to kill me.”
“And that’s why you’re not a celebrity,” Jungeun tells her.
“Boo,” Yeojin says, “it was one sea serpent.”
“The first one that’s been killed in over a hundred years, yeah,” Haseul says, closing her laptop. “It’ll probably never happen again in our lifetimes.”
“Either way, Jeong Jinsol has it made,” Jungeun says. “Hey, are we still on for Fuck Around And Find Out Friday?”
“Hell yeah!” Yeojin yells. “Let’s get Yerim and Chaewon and we can play Mario Party!”
“I will be expecting noise complaints,” Haseul says, and immediately gets booed out of the room.
-
Everybody knows Jinsol’s face. It’s one you’d want to get to know, too - pretty eyes, chiseled jawline, and a perpetually smiling mouth. The advertising companies and TV programs had a field day with her. Jungeun can’t turn on the TV without Jinsol appearing sooner or later, saying a generic catchphrase with some kind of corny dragon pun. The worst thing is, Jinsol genuinely looks like she enjoys saying them, too. Otherwise, she only really talks in her interviews, which are getting sparser after an interviewer implied that the whole thing was some kind of media ploy and that Jinsol hadn’t actually killed the sea serpent.
It wasn’t an unfounded notion, either. Jinsol, with her lanky frame and goofy, slightly awkward personality, does not cut an imposing figure. Jungeun, watching the interview, feels a spike of irritation - she’d been there on the beach and had seen the corrosive serpent’s blood coating Jinsol like a second skin. Jungeun had felt the muscle under Jinsol’s wetsuit while doing CPR. The interviewer’s pasty face forms a lazy, challenging smile at Jinsol seated in the chair opposite him. Jungeun wants to punch him, or, actually, punch Jinsol for not doing anything -
Jinsol turns away from the interviewer to look straight at her through the screen, and Jungeun startles before realizing that Jinsol is just looking into the camera.
Jinsol says, “You’re fucking kidding, right?” Her voice cuts like barbed wire. Faintly, off camera, someone is yelling cut, but for some reason the recording continues. Jinsol stands suddenly, making the interviewer flinch away, and pulls up the hem of her shirt to reveal four freshly closed gashes on her torso, angry red with jutting stitches.
Jungeun gasps. When she’d found her, she’d noticed the wounds on her side, but those injuries had paled in comparison to the immediate need to expel all the seawater from Jinsol’s lungs.
“Did you know that thirty-three feet under the ocean, the external pressure is twice the internal pressure, and your only protection is the strength of the bones of your ribcage? I’ve found that that’s true,”Jinsol says. The camera keeps bobbing away from her then back again. Jinsol grabs it, making it focus on her. “Did you also know that wounds from dragon claws don’t heal? I’ll get back to you on that in a couple years!”
The voice repeatedly yelling “Cut!” in the background reaches a crescendo, and the video goes black.
That clip from the interview goes massively viral overnight. Jungeun watches it more times than she would admit, fascinated by the mercury-quick look of fury on Jinsol’s face before she shows the wound. Yes, Jinsol is captivating, Jungeun can see that, but that split second is enough to really intrigue her.
Not that she’s gonna do anything about it, though. Jinsol seems to be a private person, and soon the media moves on. Jungeun is completely inundated in her studies anyway - she’s approaching the end of her second year of university, and paired with her job as a lifeguard, things aren’t getting any easier. She’s so out of the loop that when Yerim busts into her dorm room yelling, “THERE’S ANOTHER ONE,” Jungeun removes one earbud to say confusedly, “Biting the dust?”
Yerim’s already on her way out. Her voice echoes down the hall, “Check Twitter!”
Jungeun does not want to check Twitter, but the reports come rumbling her way anyway. There had been sightings of another sea serpent off the coast, not far from where the last one had been killed. In response, not only did they decide to send in Jeong Jinsol, but the President also declared a nationwide competition for a morale-boosting public date. Because apparently Jinsol’s only request before risking her life for the country was to have dinner with a pretty girl.
-
Turns out, Haseul’s idea of a hilarious prank is to fill out the application form on Jungeun’s behalf, make Jungeun chase her around their dorm for a solid half hour, and hit the submit button right before the power cuts out. Well, maybe the last bit wasn’t planned but who knows with Haseul.
Jungeun’s vaulting over the back of the couch in hot pursuit right as the lights shut off, so the fact that she sticks the landing is a small miracle. “JO FUCKING HASEUL! I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!”
“AHH YOU MAD!” Haseul’s voice comes from somewhere in the darkness to her left. The snowstorm outside is picking up, which explains the power failure. “Come on, Jungeun, lighten up! The entire female population of the country is in this shit like a Twice concert! What’s the chance you’re gonna get it, anyway?”
“It’s a stain on my reputation and dignity as an independent woman!” Jungeun yells. She charges towards Haseul’s voice, hits a wall, and bounces off.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” Haseul replies. She’s somewhere to the right, now. “Besides, there’s a scholarship attached!”
The power chooses that moment to come back, which means the dramatic change in Jungeun’s expression is perfectly illuminated. Haseul sees it and starts screeching with laughter. “Kim Jungeun, you are such a loser!”
“I’m financially responsible!” Jungeun protests.
Having decided she’s no longer in immediate mortal danger, Haseul smacks Jungeun on the back. “Well, now you got something to look forward to! And since you’ve already met Jinsol once, I doubt your luck would hold out for a second time anyway.”
“Ouch,” Jungeun says. Haseul laughs again only for it to turn into a sustained operatic screech when Jungeun suddenly wrestles her into a headlock.
-
“Jo Haseul,” Jungeun says, poking the lump underneath the pile of blankets on the couch. “I gotta ask you something.”
The lump does not reply.
Jungeun rolls her eyes. Her roommate really puts the power in power nap. She reaches an arm into the nest of blankets, finds a limb, and pulls. The limb turns out to be Haseul’s left leg and the rest of Haseul follows from underneath the blankets, blinking awake.
“What,” Haseul groans.
“Could you please drive me to the airport,” Jungeun says as nicely as she can.
Haseul opens one eye to squint at her. “Why?”
Jungeun hands her the letter she’d received in the mail.
Shaking open the sheaf of heavy paper, Haseul’s mouth falls open. “No way.”
“This is your fault completely,” Jungeun says.
“Holy shit,” Haseul says, now fully awake. She scans the letter, all the way down to Jeong Jinsol’s handwritten signature at the bottom punctuated by a lopsided heart. “What the hell.”
“After thinking about it for about five minutes, I’ve decided,” Jungeun says. “I’m gonna do it.”
Haseul slaps the letter against her chest. “Of course you’re gonna do it, you fucking menace. A new dress, free trip to the capital where you’ve never been, and a Michelin-starred dinner with Jeong Jinsol’s fine ass? This is destiny. Fate, even. If you refuse this I’ll kick your teeth in myself.”
Jungeun nods emphatically, eyeing Haseul’s tiny frame swaddled in the blankets. “Yeah, sure thing. I also need this scholarship.”
Seeing Haseul’s poorly concealed look of confusion, Jungeun fights back the urge to flick her on the forehead. “Of course you don’t remember. The winner gets a scholarship fund for any college in the country. This is gonna cover my last two years of university!”
Haseul flings the letter in the air and grabs Jungeun into a suffocating hug. “Kim Jungeun, you owe me your life!” She lets go just as quickly to spring off the couch, making a beeline for her keys on the counter. “You’re ready to go, right? Epic. I’m gonna teach you everything I know about the methods of seduction on the way there.”
Jungeun goes to grab her luggage. She’d expected nothing less.
-
Jungeun doesn’t get nervous. She makes it through the hectic arrival in the capital airport, swarming with reporters and paparazzi. She makes it through the following week of TV interviews and public shopping sprees with a cohort of nationally acclaimed fashionistas. She makes it through the countless dress fittings, from which they choose a crimson gown that shows off her shoulders and makes her look ten times sexier than she ever thought possible. She doesn’t get nervous right up until she goes up to the door of Jeong Jinsol’s hotel suite and knocks, two cameras pointed at her back making her neck tingle.
Jungeun suddenly thinks, What if she remembers me?
Too late. Jinsol opens the door, and Jungeun feels her pulse flutter in her throat.
They’d put her in a deep blue shirt that compliments Jungeun’s red dress, tucked into black pants. Jinsol’s gaze skips over her face, lingering for a second on her mouth, painted the same color as her gown. Something flickers in her eyes before her expression settles into something carefully polite. Indecipherable.
Jungeun doesn’t know if she should be relieved. She offers a slight bow. “I’m Kim Jungeun.”
Jinsol returns the bow; her earrings are tiny blue fishes, dangling. “I’m Jeong Jinsol,” she says, as if everyone in the country doesn’t know.
Jungeun catches Jinsol’s throat bobbing with a swallow before she steps out of the doorway and offers her arm, and they’re off.
-
Dinner is like a chess game, and Jungeun doesn’t know the rules. If Jinsol’s frequent deer-in-the-headlights glances around the area are to be believed, her date doesn’t know either. Jungeun suspects she had very little say in the matter.
They’re seated in the center of an enormous dining room, with all the other tables cleared out to make room for the camera crew. There’s even a priest - for what, Jungeun has no idea. The food, served in traditional six courses, is stellar, but Jinsol barely eats anything and by extension, Jungeun doesn’t feel inclined to dig in either.
The lights for the cameras are stifling. Jinsol makes small conversation about the latest TV shows, books she’s read, asks about Jungeun’s favorite music. She maintains a perfectly polite expression, when all Jungeun wants to do is ask if the scars on her stomach still hurt.
Afterwards, they walk up to Jinsol’s suite, hand in hand. Jinsol had taken her hand after dinner, and Jungeun almost reflexively pulled away before seeing Jinsol’s brief apologetic smile. Her hands are larger than Jungeun’s own, and slightly calloused. Jungeun is so enamored by the feeling that she doesn’t notice they’ve stopped outside Jinsol’s door. Jinsol raises her hand to her mouth and kisses it. Her eyes are still apologetic, and completely unreadable.
Jungeun wants to push at that barrier. “Can I come inside?” she asks.
For the first time that night, Jinsol makes a real expression. She frowns.
Someone from the camera crew steps forward. Jinsol pushes the door open, pulls Jungeun in by the hand, and slams it shut in their faces.
-
The sound of the door shutting is loud and it makes Jungeun jump, and when she turns around and finds Jinsol standing a little too close, she jumps again.
“I remember you,” Jinsol says.
Oh.
Jinsol’s eyes scan her face. Her eyebrows are scrunched together in confusion. “You’re the girl who found me on the beach and gave me the kiss of life. Aren’t you?”
Jungeun feels her ears get hot at the word kiss, like a fucking teenager, even though it’s a common term for mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. “Yes.”
“I thought I hallucinated you,” Jinsol says. She looks down, sees how little space there is between them, and all but lurches backwards. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“What were the odds,” Jungeun laughs lamely as she steps aside for Jinsol to bolt the door. Someone, presumably from the camera crew, is hammering on the other side.
“Kind of a roundabout way to see me again, huh?” Jinsol remarks. Someone rattles the doorknob from outside, and Jinsol says, “Hold on a sec,” takes off her shoe, and throws it against the door.
The noise outside stops. Jinsol stands on one foot to take off the other shoe and throws that as well, before taking a running start and flinging herself bodily against the door, making the hinges rattle.
Jungeun watches as Jinsol straightens up and brushes herself off. “There, that should do it. Fucking animals.”
“They’re gonna think we’re having a WWE match in here,” Jungeun says.
Jinsol looks her up and down. “I mean, if you want to -”
Jungeun reflexively smacks her on the arm before realizing what she’s doing. Surprise flits across Jinsol’s face before she grins and makes her way into the suite towards the kitchen, untucking her shirt as she goes. “Anyway, I’m not done questioning you, Kim Jungeun. Want a drink?”
Jungeun follows her. “God, yes.”
Jinsol sets two glasses on the counter and opens the fridge, digging around before pulling out a bottle of Calamansi. There’s muffled conversation outside the door as Jinsol pours out the soju. They could probably bust in, but would they? If this was Jeong Jinsol’s final request?
Jinsol slides Jungeun a glass. She takes the other one, makes her way to the couch, and sits on the carpet in front of it, legs stretched out in front of her. She tilts her head back onto the cushion and says, “This was not my final request.”
Jungeun lifts an eyebrow. Then she laughs. Jinsol lifts up her head to look at her, surprised, then smiles in response, the first genuine smile Jungeun has seen all evening.
Jungeun goes to sit on the couch next to Jinsol’s head. “It wasn’t?”
“You think I wanted an awkward, nationally televised date with a girl I’ve never met in a closed restaurant the night before I’m guaranteed to die?” Jinsol asks. She leans her head back to look at Jungeun. “But wait. We have met. For so long I thought I was going insane, you know, remembering a girl that no one else saw. Why didn’t you come forward?”
“I didn’t want the attention,” Jungeun says. Saying it out loud sounds pathetic. She quickly adds, “I didn’t have any proof, anyway. Besides, it doesn’t matter. I just did my job.”
“Your job?” Jinsol asks.
“I’m a lifeguard,” Jungeun explains. “Not for that particular beach, though. I was taking my morning run.”
“I mean this with all possible respect,” Jinsol says, “but who the hell takes runs on the beach at four in the morning?”
Jungeun’s jaw drops. “You’re gonna question my habits that saved your life?”
“Oh, my bad.” Jinsol leans her head to the side, and Jungeun can see her smiling. “Thank you, by the way. For saving my life.”
“It was nothing,” Jungeun says, and cringes in embarrassment. “I mean, not like that. I - I’m glad you were okay. It looked as if you lost a lot of blood.”
“That’s why I wasn’t sure if you existed or if I had just hallucinated you,” Jinsol grumbles. “I can’t fucking believe it. Especially since you’re much more beautiful than I remember.”
“Oh,” Jungeun says, flustered. “I should say I’m sorry for breaking your breastbone while doing CPR.”
“You should be apologizing for making me question my sanity for the past several months,” Jinsol says, still sounding grumpy but resting her head against Jungeun’s knee on the couch cushion.
Jungeun takes a sip from her glass. The Calamansi is smooth and tastes like Sprite. “What was it? Your… final request.”
Jinsol hums. “I told the media team, I want to find the girl on the beach who saved my life, but I think they just heard girl and ran with it.”
“How lucky we are, then,” Jungeun says.
“Lucky,” Jinsol repeats, slowly. “Two improbable events have happened twice in my life, Kim Jungeun. Having to fight a sea serpent, and meeting you. I think I’ll run out of luck soon.”
Jungeun looks at her for a moment, and feels an odd prickling sensation in her chest. “If you come back alive, Jeong Jinsol, you will see me more times than that.”
Jinsol turns her head to look directly at her. Jungeun adds lamely, “That is, if you want.”
“I’d like that,” Jinsol says, then grins. “Besides, this doesn’t count. I’ve heard there’s a pretty big scholarship attached to this whole thing.”
Jungeun thinks she’s got a decent poker face, but it doesn’t activate fast enough and Jinsol suddenly laughs. “I knew it! Hyunjin was right. Money is an excellent motivator!”
“Okay, yes,” Jungeun concedes. “Your scholarship would cover my last two years of university.”
“I’m glad,” Jinsol says, and Jungeun feels her ears flush red. “What are you studying?”
“Physical therapy,” Jungeun says, pouring all of her concentration into trying to make her blush go away. It doesn’t help that Jinsol is playing with the material of the hem of her dress.
“Ah, I am very lucky indeed,” Jinsol says with a wide grin. “Should I need to learn how to walk again after fighting this serpent, I know just who to ask.”
Jungeun is suddenly speared through with the reality of Jinsol possibly dying a horrible gruesome underwater death. “Don’t say things like that, Jeong Jinsol.”
“And why not?” The dragon slayer swirls the soju in her glass. She’d barely drank any. “It’d be an honor to die to a water dragon but I will not make it easy for him.”
“I don’t want you to die,” Jungeun says, and the blush she’d been trying to fight back reappears. Damn it.
“Don’t get attached, Kim Jungeun,” Jinsol replies. She pinches the material of Jungeun’s dress between her fingers and touches it to her cheek. “I think I’ve run out of luck already.”
Something like a sob wells up in the back of Jungeun’s throat. Jinsol merely smooths down the edge of Jungeun’s dress against her leg, then glances up at her with a tiny smile. She looks adorable.
She’s going to die. It’s not fair.
Jungeun slips down from the couch to settle in Jinsol’s lap, knees on either side of the other girl’s waist. Jinsol’s eyebrows shoot up and her lips part in surprise, but her hands come up to steady her, one on Jungeun’s waist and the other on her ankle. Jungeun looks down at her and says, “I’ll give you some of mine.”
“Jungeun,” Jinsol whispers, and Jungeun leans down to kiss her.
Jinsol’s fingers tighten around Jungeun’s ankle. She tastes sweet, and a little sharp from the alcohol, and Jungeun slides a hand under her jaw to feel her pulse hammering against her palm at the side of her neck. Jinsol hums and pushes upward, kissing her back and making her open up.
“I’d recognize your lips in any lifetime,” Jinsol mumbles against her mouth.
Jungeun’s heart feels as if it’s vibrating inside her ribs but that’s just how fast it is. Jinsol kisses her relentlessly, her other hand tangled in the ends of her hair. Trying to keep up, Jungeun runs her hands down Jinsol’s chest to her belt, but before she can work up the nerve to continue, Jinsol suddenly shudders and lets out a pained groan, making Jungeun break away.
“Oh, shit,” Jungeun breathes, remembering the wounds on her stomach. Are they still not healed? “Are you okay?”
“Fuck,” Jinsol grumbles, now sounding more annoyed than in pain. “Yeah, I’m okay. Surprised me, that’s all. Is that what you stopped kissing me for?”
“It sounded like it hurt,” Jungeun protests. She straightens Jinsol’s shirt collar. “Can I see?”
Jinsol looks at her for a moment, and blood rushes to Jungeun’s face when she notices how blown her pupils are. “Okay, but only if you let me kiss you again.”
“You can kiss me as much as you want,” Jungeun tells her earnestly, and starts undoing the buttons of her shirt.
It takes longer than it really should, because Jinsol leans in to press her lips to Jungeun’s temple, then her nose, then the knob of her jaw, and Jungeun shakes her off when it tickles. Jinsol protests, “You said -” then trails off with a pleased noise when Jungeun presses a short kiss against her mouth.
“Let me focus,” Jungeun says, then promptly gets distracted by the skin being revealed as she undoes Jinsol’s last button. Jinsol shrugs off the shirt, leaving her in a plain black bra, and Jungeun steadfastly looks past the definition of muscle to focus on the gashes marring otherwise smooth skin.
They look the same as they did in that interview, although the stitches are gone and the surrounding skin isn’t as red. There’s gauze taped over the biggest one, and Jinsol covers it with her hand. “They still bleed sometimes.”
Jungeun doesn’t know what to say. “Jesus, Jinsol.”
“It’s okay,” Jinsol says. “Now you know why I’m not going to survive another dragon.”
There’s tears in Jungeun’s eyes. She doesn’t know how they got there. “Isn’t there medicine? Technology? Couldn’t they find a way to fix this?”
“Dragons are beyond our understanding, Jungeun,” Jinsol says gently, cupping Jungeun’s face to catch her tears with her thumbs. “Why are you crying?”
“If you don’t kill that dragon and come back to me, Jeong Jinsol, I will kill you myself,” Jungeun says, leaning forward to rest her forehead against Jinsol’s and closing her eyes against the overwhelming onslaught of emotions.
Jinsol chuckles and winds her hands in her hair. “All right, Kim Jungeun. I can’t promise that I will come back, but if I do, it will be for you.”
-
Jinsol leads her to the bedroom and Jungeun really doesn’t know what to expect especially since Jinsol still hasn’t put her shirt back on, but Jinsol merely gives her a pair of pajamas and directs her to the bathroom to change.
“You look incredible in that dress but it doesn’t seem very comfortable,” Jinsol says before closing the bathroom door.
After changing, Jungeun approaches the bed with some trepidation, but Jinsol must have had an exhausting day because she only reaches up to pull Jungeun down next to her on the mattress before falling asleep.
Jungeun watches her peaceful face as she breathes softly, reaching out to flick her fish earring, and suddenly feels that pathetic lump in her throat again. This is the worst fucking time to catch feelings, but Jungeun has never been particularly coordinated. She presses one last kiss to the side of Jinsol’s neck, snuggles into her chest, and closes her eyes.
When she wakes up, it’s cold.
There’s a blanket covering her, but Jinsol is gone, which explains it. Jungeun sits up and sees a change of clothes and a note on the nightstand. The note reads, When I come back, I’d like to go on another date with you. -JJS
Jungeun fights back a ridiculous grin. Spotting the remote on the nightstand as well, she turns on the TV to see live footage of a small fishing boat cutting through the water off the coast. Jinsol stands at the bow, a harpoon in her hand. The wind blows her hair wildly, and Jungeun sees something that makes her swallow - the mark from her lipstick, crimson just above Jinsol’s neckline. Just as quickly as it had been revealed, her hair covers it again.
There’s no way Jinsol hadn’t seen it while she was getting ready. Jungeun turns off the TV and gets up. She’s going to need a second dress.