Sol's heels reverberated on the staircase as the two descended to the ground floor. The burned-out light from the night Hector got drunk had already been replaced; however, it was the daylight that illuminated the gray steps through the small window covering the walls.

“Did you have a good night?” The blonde suddenly turned to face him, stopping on the stairs between the first floor and the ground floor. “Did it make up for the burnt jacket and the embarrassment you went through?”

“Amélie is a good person. And she apologized by giving me a new jacket. Way more expensive than the one that got burned.

“Hmm…”

Na-moo scratched his neck and cleared his throat, but he maintained eye contact with Sol, who had her arms crossed, and her eyes narrowed to tiny slits.

“If I didn't know you, I'd say you're jealous of me,” he teased, flashing a crooked smile.

“And I am. If you start dating, we won't be able to fool around anymore. Unless she doesn't mind sharing your sweet body,” Sol moved closer and ran her hand over his chest, a half-smile quirking the corners of her mouth.

“You know I'd never do something like that. I don't stand cheating”

The woman let out a deep breath, her ruby lips forming a downturned pout.

“That wasn't the answer I was expecting. Are you really considering dating her?”

Na-moo widened his eyes, his face turning redder.

“ What?” he squeaked. “That's not what I said!”

“You also didn't outright reject the idea. I'm upset, but I get it. She's a cutie…” The blonde looked up and tapped her painted nails against her chin. “Give me a call if she can't meet your needs, or if she needs some tips on how to handle you.”

“Sol…”

“Alright, alright,” she laughed at Na-moo's tone of admonishment. “So call me only when you're going out for drinks. We have to repaint our friendship in shades of gray. We're still friends, after all. And maybe I'll need Detective Brown's number when I can't find anyone else to have fun with… or… What's the name of that cute redhead who works with you?”

Na-moo pressed his eyes with his index finger and thumb, suppressing a laugh.

“I think Gina's secretly dating someone” he remarked, recalling the times when the redhead didn't show up for post-work gatherings, supposedly waiting for 'someone' none of their colleagues supposedly knew.

“Too bad.” She sighed. “Well, I'm off. You don't have to walk me to my car, it's raining, and you have company.” Sol winked, then turned her back to him.

She was almost at the exit when she heard Na-moo calling out to her:

“How did you get my key?” The detective asked. He had found her sitting on the couch when he came out of the shower; the spare apartment key laid out on the kitchen counter.

Despite being very close, he had never given her a copy of his apartment key—not even Yvone Hwang had such a privilege.

“No man can resist me,” she replied, flashing a sly smile before walking through the fire doors.

Na-moo shook his head, still laughing, as he returned to the third floor.

He didn't need to think too hard to conclude that Sol was referring to the janitor, as he was the only one who had a copy of all the building keys. He would need to have a serious talk with that man.

✛✛

Amélie was seated on one of the stools under the counter when Na-moo returned. In her left hand, she held a spoon, and in her right, her phone, where she typed a message. She lifted her whiskey-colored eyes as she heard him come in.

The detective smiled, grabbing a cup from the cabinet and a bag of bread before sitting next to her.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, pouring coffee into the cup.

She halted with the spoon inches from her mouth and glanced at him, her cheeks blushing.

“Yes, and you?”

“My couch is comfortable, even if it's not my size.”

Amélie pressed her lips together.

“About yesterday… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…”

“Relax, Zhou. You don't need to be so uneasy around me.”

“Are you not upset about what I did?”

Na-moo leaned on the counter, resting his face in his hands as he gazed at her.

“Is it because I had to sleep on the couch, or… because you kissed me?”

“For the second option…” replied Amélie, her lips forming an adorable pout.

Na-moo wanted to laugh, but he restrained himself, keeping his expression neutral. It was a good sign that she remembered trying to kiss him last night before passing out. Although she wasn't entirely in control of her actions, Amélie wasn't completely out of it. Perhaps a part of her really did want to kiss him, and the alcohol just made it easier for her to act on it.

“On the day I get upset because a beautiful woman tried to kiss me, even if she's drunk, one of two things has happened: either I've gone crazy, or I'm committed. And right now, neither of those options is valid.”

The corners of his full lips lifted in a closed, endearing smile, revealing the dimples in his cheeks. Amélie laughed and finally brought the spoon she was holding to her mouth, by this point with the soup already cold.

A comfortable silence settled between them as they ate. Sporadic conversations arose now and then, between sips of coffee and spoonfuls of soup, like when she praised the dish Detective Hwang had prepared for her. He revealed that he had used one of his mother's special recipes, which she used to make when his father and brother drank too much on fishing nights.

The detective took the opportunity to check his phone. Seung had informed him that Yvone's flight would depart at eleven-thirty in the morning from the airport in the neighboring city, and it would be Na-moo who would take her there. His mother had even sent a message while he was in the shower, asking him to pick her up earlier, so they could share a meal together, since her youngest son wouldn't be present for her birthday celebration with the rest of the family.

“Is Sol your 'sex friend'?” 

The piece of bread that the detective was chewing lodged in his throat at Amélie's sudden question. He coughed, choking, which made Amélie widen her eyes.

“I'm sorry, I know I sounded impolite and nosy… It's just that… she seemed bothered when she saw me. She gave me a bit of a hostile look, and you just said you're not committed,” she explained, patting his back. “So, I got curious.”

Na-moo took a long sip of the hot coffee, trying to ease the itch left in his throat by the bread crust.

“We're just good friends and nothing more.”

“Uh-huh. Friends like you and Hector, or you and me? I mean, we're friends now, or something like that,” she chuckled awkwardly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at him, “right?”

“I've never taken Sol on a date. I've also never hung out with Hector with ulterior motives.”

“Hmm, I can totally relate to that.”

“Do you have friends like that?”

“Friends that show up at my apartment at eight in the morning on a Saturday, and would give a dirty look at a tall, handsome dark-haired coming out of my room?”

“Yeah. Do you have someone like that?”

“Would you answer the same question if the situation were reversed? If I had asked you before seeing Sol here?” Amélie retorted.

Na-moo scratched his head and cleared his throat.

“Probably not.”

“Then I guess you'll have to find out the answer by experiencing the situation.”

“For that, I'd have to sleep in your room and—” he furrowed his brow and turned his neck, shifting his gaze from the coffee to look at her. “Wait, is that an invitation?”

Amélie laughed, toying with a strand of her hair as she looked at him through her lashes.

“Maybe the next Friday of snacks and booze should happen at my apartment.”

Na-moo smiled. The same flutter he felt in his stomach last night when Amélie pressed her body against his to touch his lips, whipped through him once again.

“What are you doing today? I want to take you somewhere,” he asked.

“Your name is the only one in my schedule so far.”

His smile widened.

“Then we have a date this afternoon, Amélie Zhou.”

✛✛

The thick rain streamed down the windows. The day was gray, yet the stifling heat made droplets of sweat trickle down the man's forehead as he watched the storm. Perhaps it was the simmering anger in his core that was making him perspire, for he couldn't focus on the exercise he was attempting to finish.

The man turned off the treadmill and wiped his face with the towel. Swearing, he spun around abruptly and punched the wall with his right hand. One, two, three. He repeated the motion until the white turned to red, then stopped, feeling the wave of pain spreading through his tense muscles—if he continued, he'd tear the ligaments, and that wasn't what he wanted.

The sweat mixed with the blood running from his injured fingers as he yanked at his own hair and roared furiously before dropping to his knees to pick up the photo strewn across the recently polished linoleum floor. The woman in the photo held a glass in her left hand and smiled at another woman sitting beside her, her hair dyed blue.

He clenched his jaw, the lines of his face contorting in fury. That bitch. Why had he let her live? Why did she have to be the chosen one to live?

Darned.

The man closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed to vent his frustration, and he wouldn't be able to do that by working out.

He opened his eyes and stared at the photo again.

He knew he was cursed from the day he was born, and although it wasn't because of her that his curse existed, looking at that photo heightened the rage he felt.

Everyone carried a curse within them.

And perhaps… perhaps, perspicacity was her curse.

A sardonic smile tugged at his cheeks. The wave of anger he felt was quickly replaced by a strange euphoria.

“It might be fun to make them choose… Life is all about choices… what's it going to be? Amélie Zhou… or Na-moo Hwang?”