A Suspiciously Familiar Scent - 1
Ever since Valerie moved in, it had become two against two.
Dinners as couple versus couple had grown more frequent. The menu was usually Korean — partly because French cooking was a hassle, and partly because, living in Korea, they figured they ought to get used to the local food.
Not bad at all.
Today they had eaten kimchi-jjim, its deep red color as appealing as its flavor. Wrapping the steamed and grilled meat inside it was surprisingly satisfying.
"It's delicious."
Fortunately, Valerie seemed to have taken a liking to Korean food; she ate with clear enjoyment. Henri and Jeanette had always been fairly omnivorous, and as for me — I was a Korean with garlic and kimchi running through my veins.
"I'm glad to hear it."
I answered in a calm voice, though inside I was quietly relieved. It wasn't as if we'd only been sharing meals for a day or two, yet every single day still felt like I was being graded — and that left me on edge.
"I'll handle the rest. You two rest."
"No. Sit down."
Jeanette rose first and started clearing the table before I could stop her. The one holding the purse strings was the boss, and the one receiving was the subordinate — and Jeanette was the boss among bosses. By rights, I should have been the one doing the work. But she intended to handle not only the money but the housework as well, all on her own. Because of that, I often found myself thinking I was being kept. The feeling was hard to deny.
"By the way, where did you learn to cook?"
The moment Jeanette finished clearing up and sat back down, Valerie asked.
"I wouldn't say I learned so much as I just watched this and that and copied it. When I was working at the base, I never so much as touched a knife or a pan."
"A base?"
"Yes. I worked at a coastal surveillance base. Just as a janitor."
I made a point of clarifying that I'd been a janitor, in case of any misunderstanding. Saying you'd worked at a base made it easy for people to assume you'd been an Awakened assigned to the watch.
"Really? What was it like?"
I'd expected a deflated reaction, but Valerie's eyes lit up as she fired off one question after another. She was a bright, innocent sort of woman, so her standards for people seemed different from most — not the usual yardsticks of ability or status that people used to size each other up.
"The view alone was the best you could ask for. Come morning, the endless horizon catches the sunlight and sparkles pure white."
Once I started talking, one story after another tumbled out. Classified information was out of reach for someone like me anyway, so I only kept quiet about personnel deployment and ability rankings.
"That was more or less what it was like. All in all, it was peaceful. A good place to live."
"How romantic."
When I finished, Valerie's eyes shone with genuine emotion. Compared to Jeanette and Henri's stoic demeanors, her sentimental side stood out all the more.
"Oh — a friend of mine might be coming in a few days. She'll probably stay for a little while… is that all right?"
"Of course. A friend visiting a friend's house is the most natural thing in the world. It's not my place to interfere."
"Thank you. I feel a little more at ease now."
Valerie smoothed a hand over her chest and smiled. Her petite frame made every little gesture feel almost childlike.
A friend, huh.
Probably the person who'd called this morning. Given how startled she'd looked, it must have been someone fairly special. I found myself quite curious about what she looked like.
"What kind of person do you think she is?"
After the other couple had offered their polite goodnights and left, Jeanette settled in beside me and asked.
"People come in all kinds. We'll have to see for ourselves. There's a decent chance it's someone in the wine business."
"Wine… I've drunk it as the blood of the Lord before, but honestly, it never suited my palate."
Wine as the blood of Jesus — or of some other god. Words I'd heard somewhere before slipped from Jeanette's lips.
"I was never much for wine either. Not in the old days, and not now."
"Right. It's a difficult taste."
"It is."
Thanks to Valerie, after drinking some of her more intuitive wines — wines made by intuition — my thoughts on the matter had shifted a little. Even difficult wines could be plenty delicious. That said, my fundamental opinion hadn't changed. To me, wine was still a difficult drink. Even when I'd run a hot spring and stocked wine for sale, that had remained true.
"We'll know when we see her."
I stood up from my seat. Bedtime was drawing near, so I figured I'd head to the bathroom. At that, Jeanette rose as well, beaming. It looked like she was planning to fill the tub nice and full.
Just before dawn. An hour when even the city's lights had mostly gone dark.
There were still those who couldn't sleep, breathing quietly in the silence. Convenience store clerks who had to keep the shop open. Bars still serving late into the night. Couples still diligently confirming their love atop a bed.
And among them was a woman with short white hair who had entered the country with the darkness at her back.
It was a little past four in the morning.
"Hwaaam……."
White shirt, black long skirt. Dressed as neatly as a flight attendant, the woman covered her mouth — trying to stifle a long, drawn-out yawn. Blinking, she made her way through the terminal.
Her hidden violet eyes scanned the sparsely populated airport. Being this industrious so early in the morning was more pain than virtue, and a shadow crossed her face as she headed for the exit — even while she walked in silence toward the baggage carousel, and even while she waited for her luggage to appear.
"Need a hand?"
Just as her bag came around and she picked up her carrier, a man who had also been waiting for luggage made a show of friendliness. The look of a Westerner, English, even the way he spoke — a textbook American English speaker.
"I'm fine. Thank you for the consideration."
She answered gently in English and lifted her black carrier. The fact that she picked it up rather than rolling it already set her apart — and even with those pale, slender arms, she showed not the slightest strain.
"Are you sure you're all right? Wandering around alone at this hour can be dangerous. At the very least, let me carry it as far as the front of the airport."
Beautiful, and overflowing with sexual appeal. The man's gaze drifted toward the white-haired woman's hips. The long skirt clung tightly enough that her lines were on full display, and the curves were so striking that greed took hold. A crude desire — to have her at least once, and as many times as he could manage.
The woman hesitated a moment, then met his eyes and gave a small nod.
"Then… may I accept a little help?"
"Of course."
When she politely held out the carrier, the man took it. Even if he were a thief — even if he harbored sordid intentions — she didn't particularly care. If he ran, he wouldn't make five steps before she caught him.
As they walked through the airport, the woman asked a question. There were people here and there, but the place still felt lonely and desolate.
"It's quite dark. What brings you to Korea?"
"Ah — I wanted to experience Korean culture, so I got a visa. I'm planning to work as a native English instructor at a hagwon. I like English, you know."
The man spun an excuse he hadn't prepared and smiled. His words happened to be true, but this was an unexpected jackpot — and to seize it, savor it, and enjoy it, he hid his real intent.
"Are there a lot of hagwons in Korea?"
As if her interest had been piqued, the woman's eyes sparkled.
"I've heard the education fever is intense. It's cooled off a bit lately, but it's still high compared to other countries."
"Oh my, is that so?"
"Yeah. After the Specter invasion, Awakened started appearing, and the social order changed a lot, right? New professions showed up, too. That had an impact."
Reasonably learned-sounding language flowed from the man's mouth. Fitting for someone claiming to be a hagwon instructor, his speech was smooth — smooth enough that he could have monologued for a full hour on his own.
The woman listened while also assembling the information she had already known, and kept walking. They rode the escalator down, brushed past people, and at last arrived at the bus terminal, where glittering lights mixed just right with the dark.
"Thank you so much for helping me this far. To get where I'm going, I think it would be best if we parted ways here… what do you think?"
Before buying a ticket, the woman faced the man and drew a soft arc with her lips. It was maddening. That expression was so captivating that the greed he harbored flared even hotter.
"That could be — but we might also be headed the same way. If it's not too rude, may I ask which direction you're going?"
"Seoul."
As if it were no issue at all, she named her destination without fuss. The man's eyes sparkled with triumph.
"I'm headed to Seoul as well. Big population means lots of hagwons. Let's go together."
"Oh my, what a coincidence."
"At this point it feels less like coincidence and more like fate."
The fate of you becoming my woman.
Wearing a good-natured smile, the man glanced around. To take the bus, they would need tickets.
"There's a ticket booth over there. Shall we?"
Having spotted the ticket booth, the man strode off — still carrying her carrier. Thanks to that, the woman could move her luggage without so much as lifting a finger.
So it's the same here, too.
She looked around and gave a small nod — at the people staring as if she were a novelty, as if she had become a tourist attraction.
"By the way, we never introduced ourselves. I'm Jamie. Nice to meet you."
The man — Jamie — held out his hand for a handshake. Sitting side by side made conversation and a handshake the perfect distance, a little trick he'd pulled by claiming they were traveling together when he bought the tickets.
"Blanche."
Utterly natural, utterly guileless, the woman offered a false name and took his hand — as if she were truly giving her own. Because of that, Jamie was completely taken in and chattered on about this and that with cheerful abandon, never knowing what she was actually thinking.
This bus will soon arrive at Seoul Express Bus Terminal.
A few minutes after the English message rang out, the bus came to a stop at its destination. The woman got off a step ahead of Jamie and retrieved her carrier from the luggage bay — far more smoothly and steadily than he could have managed.
"Oh — before we part, could you give me your ID? I'd like to stay in touch."
Jamie, who had followed her down, smiled at her. After talking with her, he had decided the angle for immediate hands-on contact wasn't there, so he planned to take it slow — keep messaging, meet over time, and grow her affection that way.
But then—
"Listen carefully."
The woman's hand tapped his right shoulder, and the moment her soft voice brushed his ear, he felt the nape of his neck go rigid as cold sweat ran down his back.
"Showing interest and approaching a woman is only natural. However… you and I don't seem to share that kind of connection."
Pressure. A pressure that said he had no choice but to obey settled over him and took hold.
"So let's leave it at that, amicably, and each go our own way. Understood?"
"Y-yes. Yes."
Jamie nodded obediently and walked off. It wasn't brainwashing. It wasn't hypnosis, either.
The woman watched his back for a moment, then took her phone from her skirt pocket.
5:15.
As she looked at the clock on the screen, her violet eyes shone with a gentle light.