1
BythetimeEunjaefound the door, his brothers were already piling into a van outside their hotel. A plain black van with windows like portholes reflecting the abyss of deep space. No one could see inside its dim interior, where it was widely assumed that all were accounted for: their manager, a stylist, three members of the global K-pop juggernaut known as Apollo. But, as the travelers would realize shortly after reaching the airport, one person was missing. That person was Eunjae.
Eunjae didn’t care about any of this, though. Not then. Dusk had fallen in strokes of blue violet that seeped across the sky and down the sides of buildings. The city seemed different, now — softer, kinder. In the glow of the streetlights, he noticed things he’d somehow missed in the glaring illumination of day. The number of people walking hand in hand, for example, and a popsicle tumbled to the sidewalk, bleeding out on the concrete in a glorious shade of magenta. He had a disposable camera and an unfounded certainty that the others were somewhere just around the next bend. Eunjae was beyond all his usual concerns.
Besides, he’d found the door.
It was an orange door set with four panes of stained glass. The paint was almost a perfect match for the fancy orange and almond gelato he’d chosen for dessert, which had to be a good omen.
In Eunjae’s favorite book, there was a door that looked a lot like this one. Long before he left Australia for Korea, and even before his existence became a blur of voice lessons and dance classes, he’d been searching for that door. A gateway to magic.
Some part of Eunjae had continued to believe that such a threshold existed, that it could be found if he only remained faithful to his quest. It was a part of him that had been sleeping for a decade or more. Now, coming upon that door on a balmy summer evening, Eunjae suddenly felt wide awake.
He hadn’t felt that way in a long time. The quest returned to him, tart and vibrant as a burst of citrus, and Eunjae wondered where his copy ofThe Brass Keyhad gone.
That battered mass market paperback used to be his most constant companion. He could see it in his mind’s eye even as light hewed through the stained glass, casting a miniature aurora onto his clothes. When was the last time he held the book in his hands? There was never any time, and when he had the time, there wasn’t energy to spare. He made a mental note to look for it anyway, once he got back to Seoul. The door in the story would still be there, waiting for him to turn the knob and step through.
In the meantime, the door he’d discovered in real life had flown open. Eunjae breathed in a gust of sugar-scented air, warm despite the roaring AC, tinged with top notes of fried dough. And on the threshold, staring expectantly at him, was a girl brandishing the most gigantic waffle Eunjae had ever seen.
This place is magic, he thought to himself then. It wouldn’t be the last time.
The girl in the doorway smiled at Eunjae. “Coming in? You’ll never guess, but we’ve got waffles.”
She pointed to the sign mounted above the orange door. He took a step back, craning his neck to read. Hanging slightly crooked, it featured two words in looping electric blue script: WANNA WAFFLE. Not a question, but a fact. For emphasis, the period at the end was styled to look like a waffle, perfectly round and graced with a pat of butter.
“It’s Waffle Wednesday for another twenty-ish minutes. Here, I’ve got that.” She propped the door open with her foot and Eunjae went inside. Why not? They didn’t need to be back at the hotel until 8:00. At least, that’s what Eunjae remembered from their manager’s speech that morning. In any case, wasn’t the hotel just a few blocks away? Surely he didn’t have to rush anywhere just yet. Surely he could stop to see what was behind this door.
“Waffle Wednesday,” he mused, tugging his mask more securely over the bottom half of his face. Turning to the girl who had welcomed him, Eunjae asked the first question that rolled into his head, quickly translating it from Korean to English. “What’s Waffle Wednesday?”
2
“Oh,well.Ifyouwant the full marketing speech, I’ll have to go get my brother. Long story short, it’s free waffles for two hours every Wednesday night.” The girl offered Eunjae the waffle she’d been carrying around. “Our signature waffle,” she clarified. “As many as you want before time’s up. Everything else on the menu is discounted, too.”
Eunjae realized at this moment that his new acquaintance was not at all dressed like the other employees behind the counter. For one thing, her orange apron was layered on top of a blazer patterned in bright red poppies. The red and orange clashed with such exuberant cheer that it had the air of something deliberate. And there were the tiny flowers somehow suspended amid the strands of her dark hair, which fell in waves over both shoulders. Who was she? The owner, maybe? Someone who wandered in from a movie set?
He took the waffle and allowed himself to be settled at a table in the corner, far from any windows or the main entrance. Before she swiveled to answer a question from another customer, Eunjae caught sight of the nameEmmaembroidered on the orange apron. And underneath this, another name in Hangeul:Han Jiyeon.
Despite having eaten dinner plus dessert less than an hour ago, Eunjae went to work on that signature waffle with a vengeance. No one was around to stop him. The waffle was delicious, in part because he wasn’t supposed to eat it. His manager would be aghast, but she wasn’t here, and stepping through the orange door had roused some long dormant spirit of rebellion. It was Waffle Wednesday and Eunjae was going to enjoy this waffle, which had the perfect combination of slightly crisp edges and fluffy texture. Just the barest hint of lemon came through, bright as a drop of sunlight. More magic.
Perhaps ten minutes before Waffle Wednesday came to a close, Eunjae got up to order another free waffle at the counter. He still had a bit of cash in his pocket from splitting that gelato with Jungwoo earlier, so he added a scoop of vanilla ice cream too. He might not be back in this area for a while, if ever. He might as well.
It was Jiyeon who brought it over, along with a glass of water. She sat down in the empty chair across from Eunjae, opened her mouth as if to make small talk, then suddenly paused to study his face. The mask dangled from his right ear. He’d taken it off to eat.
Eunjae’s heart clawed right out of his ribcage and up into his throat. Had she guessed already?
He took this opportunity to stuff a giant bite of signature waffle into his mouth. He was determined to chew forever. As long as it took for her scrutiny to break, for something else to snag her attention. Eunjae wasn’t about to give his identity away, not when he’d gone the whole trip without being recognized. If only it was possible to devour his second helping with the face mask still on. Would that be weird?
That would be extremely weird, scolded a voice in his head.Don’t you dare do that. Be normal!Eunjae shuddered reflexively even though this rebuke was a fabrication of his mind. Did the voice of his conscience have to sound so much like his eldest brother?
Really, it wasn’t fair. In cartoons they had pudgy angels and miniature devils perched on their shoulders, whispering advice in characters’ ears. Eunjae got to have an echo of Jeon Jaehwan that lived inside his head and occasionally berated him just like he did at dance practice.
What would the most terrifying of his brothers say right now? How would Jaehwan handle this question?
I wouldn’t have wandered off in the first place, supplied the invisible Jaehwan in tones of deep disappointment.You could get caught. You know what would happen then.
Eunjae lowered his head a little. At least his hair was longer now, and it had been mostly restored to its original color at last, no longer dyed deep purple all over. Maybe this would help him avoid being recognized right away. The borrowed bucket hat further obscured Eunjae’s looks from immediate view. He chewed some more. Then, deciding it would be suspicious otherwise, he made himself glance up at Jiyeon and shrug.
She tapped a fingernail on the plastic tumbler she’d set down in front of him. “Hmm.”
