“I’ve been told I'm not bad at it,” said Eunjae.
“This sounds like dangerous information. Something the enemy can torture out of me when I'm caught.”
“You seem so sure you'd get caught.”
“How many dramas do you think I've seen? Of course I'd get caught.”
Hearing a car coming up behind them, Eunjae maneuvered himself between Jiyeon and the street, nudging her to the middle of the sidewalk. There was an inevitable wave of gray water from the gutter as the car sailed by. It sloshed all over Eunjae's shoes, which were his own pair and not Denny’s, at least.
Jiyeon's eyes flashed gratitude even as she admonished him. “Don't be such a hero, Ryan Kim. Those are some nice shoes. Or they were, anyway.”
“You're dressed for work,” Eunjae pointed out. “Better me than you.”
“Ah, well,” she replied, lifting one shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. Under the raincoat, sprays of sunny yellow blossoms edged the collar of her blouse and the cuffs of each sleeve.
“Not excited?”
“Nope.”
They reached another crosswalk. On the opposite side of the street, the wet wooden railings of Ivy Lane Apartments had darkened to an even deeper green. Eunjae's phone buzzed several times in quick succession. He ignored it, knowing it was probably Max texting FAKE! YOUR! OWN! DEATH!
Jiyeon sighed. Staring straight ahead, she said, “I'm waiting for you to be surprised that I don't like my job. Or disappointed. I'm just so good at it, after all. And I’m lucky to have a job, period. I should be happy. I get paid to do something I love.” She spoke as though reading from a teleprompter, delivering lines written by others. Did she believe in what she was saying?
He opened his mouth to answer with the first thing that came to him, then thought better of it. As they crossed the street, Eunjae sped up a little, just enough to be a few steps ahead. The umbrella boasted such an enormous span that he could walk backwards, talking to her face to face, without either of them getting rained on.
“So, not Ryan,” said Eunjae, “but someone else — someone you don't know and can't be tortured for knowing. Let's say his name is Eunjae. Can I tell you what he thinks of that?”
She smiled at this. “Is he an amnesiac, a wanted fugitive, or all of the above?”
“None of those,” he assured her. “He’s just some guy from Brisbane.”
“Oh, good. Okay, go.”
“Eunjae’s really good at his job, too. That doesn’t mean he always likes it. And it doesn’t mean that he should like it and be happy doing it, just because everyone expects him to.”
It felt as if the umbrella sealed them off from the rest of the world, although Eunjae knew this was just his imagination. “He used to believe that,” he told her, “but he doesn’t anymore. And you don’t have to believe that about yourself, either.”
They picked their way down the sidewalk, the concrete slick with rain and sodden flower petals. Jiyeon looped an arm through his, saying nothing and everything all at once: that she was thankful, that she was sorry, that she knew just what he meant.
Out loud, she said, “Eunjae seems very wise.”
“He has his moments.”
“I don’t know him personally, as established,” Jiyeon added, “but I wouldn’t mind knowing him. If you could pass it along.”
“Can’t. That would just go straight to his head.”
Laughing, she said, “I see. Well, they do go on and on about how it’s important to stay humble.”
At the apartment complex, many residents had carried their potted plants onto balconies or set them on the walkways, taking advantage of the rainfall. Eunjae skirted around the tomato vines in their bright red coffee cans. “Do you ever think about quitting?” he asked Jiyeon. “Would you be happier if you did?”
“Sure, I think about it all the time. But I need to be working, you know? Bills and groceries and all that. Saving up, too.” The wind picked up, battering the umbrella, and she wrapped her fingers around the handle to help him hold on to it. “As for being happier if I quit, I don’t know. I feel like I might not be. I love what I do when I’m actually allowed to do it. The rest, I love a lot less.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I understand that.”
“Plus, what else would I do? This is what I know. I have this weirdly specific set of skills. Where else would they fit in? What could I do with them, if not this?”
The rain poured harder than ever in those last few yards they had left. They were forced to make a run for it. Eunjae angled the umbrella so Jiyeon might avoid getting drenched while she opened the door with her key. All the while, he reflected on how terrifying it was, but also oddly comforting, to hear his own thoughts coming from someone else. To ask the questions that he’d been asking himself so often lately, and be trusted with another person’s honest answers.
