Chapter 5 - Commission

Ian's lips curved into a straight line beneath her sunglasses. The noise of the amusement park felt distant. The only thing reaching Harin's ears right now was Ian's voice.

"…My cousin brother."

"Cousin?"

"Yeah. He lent me the passes and the card. Said he had no use for them."

The words left her mouth, and Harin etched the setting into her mind. Cousin brother. Male. Close enough to lend a card.

Ian gazed at Harin from behind her sunglasses.

It was a long look.

"…I see."

Harin turned her head away.

She let out a quiet breath inside.

Did she buy it?

"Aren't you hungry? Let's go eat."

Ian's voice brightened again.

Harin nodded and stood beside her.

---

Inside the amusement park restaurant. Outdoor terrace seating.

Ian had pulled her mask down below her chin and was twirling pasta onto her fork. She still wore her sunglasses.

Harin sat across from her, slicing into the pork cutlet set. It wasn't bad for amusement park food. Back in her Yoo Hajoon days, she'd have sighed at the price tag first, but Ian had beaten her to it with "I'll pay," leaving no room to protest.

"Harin."

"Yeah?"

"Is the pork cutlet good?"

"Yeah. The sauce is nice."

"Give me some."

Ian held out her fork. Harin cut a piece and pushed it toward Ian's plate.

Ian popped it into her mouth, chewed, and nodded.

"It's really good. I should've gotten this."

"Your pasta looks tasty too."

"Wanna try?"

Ian twirled some pasta onto her fork—her own fork—and held it out to Harin.

…Isn't this an indirect kiss?

Back when she was a guy, if someone offered food from their own fork, she'd have said, "Yo, swap forks."

But between girls, this is normal, right?

Yeah, probably.

"Thanks."

She ate it.

Ian twirled another strand, eyes on her plate as she spoke.

"That cousin brother."

Harin's knife paused over her plate.

"Do you see him often?"

Her tone was casual, like commenting on the weather over lunch.

Is she probing?

Maybe not. Maybe she was just genuinely curious.

Yoo Hajoon is the cousin brother. Close family. If I say we meet often, she'll ask why I never mentioned him in three months of chatting. Never brought up a cousin once.

"Sometimes" is safe.

"Sometimes. Holidays and stuff."

"Ah, family gatherings?"

"Yeah, something like that."

Ian ate her pasta, swallowed, took a sip of water.

"Does he live nearby?"

"No. Pretty far."

"Then why do you have his card?"

The question flew at her.

Why the card? Cousin lives far, but lent it. What's a natural reason?

Wait. I said he gave me the passes because he had no use for them, so maybe he lent the card too? Need money for transport and food to use the passes?

Yeah, go with that.

"He lent it when he gave me the passes. Said I'd need spending money at the park."

"Ah, so you're close then. Lending a card and all."

"Yeah, he's always looked out for me since we were kids."

Ian said, "I see."

Her fork traced a circle on the plate. The twirling slowed.

"Having a cousin who looks out for you must feel secure."

"…Yeah."

"It's good that someone takes care of you, Harin."

"You take care of me too, Ian."

"That's different."

"How so?"

Ian lifted her water glass and looked at Harin.

"A cousin is family."

So?

"I'm not family."

The glass hit the table.

Harin sensed something hidden behind those words. She felt it, but couldn't pinpoint what.

Why say "not family" in that tone?

She was picking up on these subtle shifts in Ian's words more often lately.

Don't overthink. Just eat.

She cut a piece of pork and ate it.

---

Ian finished her pasta and, while Harin looked away, read her expression with the eyes beneath her sunglasses.

Cousin brother.

Sees him sometimes. Holidays. Lives far. Looks out for her since childhood.

Close enough for a card, but no mention in three months of chats.

A checklist spun in Ian's mind.

Harin barely talked family in three months.

Sudden cousin appearance.

…But why would Harin lie?

She set down her fork.

Only reasonable owner for Yoo Hajoon's card was a cousin?

Could be a real cousin.

…Or not.

Ask again next time.

Ian twirled the last strand of pasta and folded her thoughts away.

---

After lunch, they rode the roller coaster.

Harin was fine. She'd liked them even pre-TS.

The difference was Ian screaming beside her.

"Kyaaahhh!!!"

Ian clutched Harin's arm, screaming. Her hand gripped Harin's forearm over the safety bar.

Steep drop.

Ian's grip tightened.

"Ian, you okay?!"

"Nooo!!!"

As the descent ended and the track leveled, her grip loosened. But she didn't let go.

"…Scary."

"Why'd you ride then?"

"You wanted to."

"I had fun."

Ian looked up at Harin from behind her sunglasses. Her eyes, visible above the mask, were a bit wet.

"…Ian, are you crying?"

"No."

Your eyes are wet though.

Harin held back a laugh and patted Ian's back. Naturally, thoughtlessly.

Since this body change, her threshold for skinship felt lower.

Is it the body or me?

Pat pat.

Harin didn't notice Ian's ears turning red.

---

Souvenir shop.

Ian picked something off the display.

Two rabbit keychains. One pink, one sky blue. A pair. The package said 'Best Friends'.

"Harin, let's get these."

"Keychains?"

"Yeah. Friendship keychains."

"Which ones?"

"You pick."

"Sky blue then."

Ian attached the pink one to her bag and handed the sky blue to Harin.

Harin clipped it to her wallet. Ian stared at it for a while. Alternating between the pink on her bag and the sky blue on Harin's wallet.

Ian pulled out her phone, snapped a photo of the keychain on her bag. Then pointed at Harin's wallet.

"Harin, can I take a pic of that one too?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, sure."

Ian snapped the photo and fiddled with her phone for a bit.

Harin watched, muttering inwardly.

She takes a ton of photos.

---

The sun was setting. Amusement park lights flickered on one by one.

"Ian, let's ride the Ferris wheel before we go."

"Ferris wheel?"

"Yeah. Last one."

Ian's eyes sparkled. Even through the sunglasses.

The line was short.

They boarded the gondola. The door closed, and it slowly rose.

Sealed glass space. Two people facing each other on narrow seats.

Ian removed her sunglasses. Then her hat. Then her mask.

Her full face was revealed.

Harin saw Ian's bare face properly for the first time inside the Ferris wheel.

In the narrow space, under the slanting afternoon light, Ian's face was fully visible.

Black hair cascading over her shoulders. Sharp jawline, clear double eyelids framing dark pupils.

…Pretty.

Was it Yoo Hajoon's taste or Yoo Harin's? Didn't matter. She was pretty.

"Why stare like that?"

Ian tilted her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠head slightly.

"Oh, no. First time seeing your bare face properly."

"You saw it at the cafe."

"Too nervous then, didn't ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠look well."

"Now?"

"Now I can see fine."

Harin smiled.

Color rose to Ian's cheeks. She turned to the window.

The gondola neared the top, overlooking the park. Lit rides sparkled like jewels.

---

Front gate.

Harin waved and turned away.

Ian stood at the gate until Harin vanished. Mask and sunglasses hiding as she memorized Harin's retreating figure.

Harin's silver hair disappeared into the crowd. Ian pulled out her phone.

Memo app.

'Harin' entry.

The cursor dropped below the last note.

She typed it, then turned off the screen.

---

Seoul.

Manager Yoon Chae-ah sat on the sofa, scrolling her phone. No weekend schedule, but monitoring mentions of Ian on SNS was routine, even on days off.

Twitter search: Seo Ian.

Fan accounts' usual posts flowed by. Photoshoot retweets, drama caps. Reviews of last night's episode.

Her thumb stopped.

Chae-ah read the post twice.

Everland. Yesterday. Saturday.

Ian's Saturday schedule was empty. She remembered asking, "What're you doing this weekend?" and Ian replying, "Resting at home."

Resting at home, huh.

Gate mistake, Ian handled it herself. Meaning, she had to remove her mask.

Chae-ah took a screenshot.

She opened contacts.

Jung Sia, CEO.

She hated work calls on Sunday afternoons. But this wasn't the kind to wait until Monday.

Connected on the second ring.

Call ended.

Chae-ah set ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her phone on her lap and sat still for a while.

She opened a contact saved as number only.

She sent it and flipped her phone face down.

---

Jung Sia's office. Gangnam high-rise.

After hanging up, Sia set her phone on the desk and leaned back.

Her monitor showed Seo Ian's monthly schedule. Empty days highlighted in fluorescent pen—and she'd noticed them increasing lately.

She opened Chae-ah's screenshot and reread the post.

Gate issue, Ian stepped in.

Situation requiring mask and sunglasses off.

Ian revealed herself voluntarily.

Sia knew Ian's personality. Hated exposing her face.

Yet she showed it at a park gate. Problem arose. She smoothed it with her identity. For that person's time.

"Ian's found someone."

Muttered to herself. Office empty.

She'd known since signing Ian. Kid had almost no private ties. Child actor life: no peers, outsider at school. Isolated 18-year-old, only managers and staff.

Now she'd made someone precious enough to expose her face.

Good thing.

But happening out of my sight? Not pleased.

She stood, walked to the window.

Gangnam skyline spread beyond the glass. Sunday afternoon sun glinted off buildings.