Page 70 of Heart and Seoul (Seoul 1)

“I know it’s you,” I insist. “Listen, I’m your kid. This is my dad. Or, not my dad, but the sperm donor. I know it is.” I’m shaking now, the words coming out of my mouth so fast they’re tripping over one another.

Kwon Hyeun continues to deny it. “I’m sorry,” she says in her Korean-accented English. “I do not know this man.” She slides behind the gate. “And I do not know you.”

The gate is shut quietly, but it rings loud in my ears.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I stare at the closed gate, my hands balled into fists at my sides.

“You look like you’re about to Hulk out on the door and knock it down.”

“Do you think I could?” The woman behind the gate is in the picture, and the fact that Kwon Hyeun’s denying it makes the whole thing suspicious. She stared at me like she knew me, like she’d been expecting me.

“No.” Jules clamps a hand around my wrist and starts dragging me down the street. “Besides, she’s going to call the police and then you’ll be put in a Korean jail and will either get deported or you’ll have to stay there forever.”

“Are you serious?”

“I mean, I don’t have personal knowledge or experience, but I’ve watched dramas, and unless you’re a sports star or celebrity, it’s the lockup for you.”

“Noted.” I uncurl my fingers one by one, forcing myself to calm down, and not because Jules is telling me I’m going to go to prison for breaking and entering but because I’m not getting behind that gate unless Kwon Hyeun lets me in. So I have to figure out a way to get inside. It’s time to retreat and recalibrate. I need a plan.

“Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

I jiggle my bag. “I’ve ten thousand won. What will that buy us?”

“Not much.” Jules shrugs. “I’ve got some won.”

“Some won” is enough for a bowl of instant ramen and a six-pack of beers at a small store at the edge of a park not too far from the walled-in house. I take everything up to the counter to pay while Jules fills our bowls with hot water from a convenient dispenser along the wall. The clerk says something to me and I can’t make it out. We end up staring at each other until Jules arrives and pushes me out of the way. She pays with her phone and then motions for me to grab the beer and chopsticks. I follow her out to the small table situated on the curb outside the convenience store. Jules sets the two bowls down and places the paper-wrapped chopsticks across the top.

“You’re too stiff with your Korean. You pronounce every syllable like you’re a translation app. Koreans slur their words, swallow half the syllables. You don’t say annyeonghaseyo, you say haseyo. The annyeong part is said in the back of your throat and you don’t even move your lips. Try it.” She reaches over and squeezes my lips together. I mumble it.

“Good. And then when you’re leaving you say gyeseyo. Say it like this and you can impress the hell out of your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Nah, he is. The one thing about guys in Korea is that they get romantic real quick. They lose interest real quick, too, but while it lasts, you’ll be showered in gifts. You know they celebrate the first day they started dating. Day one, they call it.”

This isn’t about me, I realize. This is about Jules’s hurt and longing. The breakup is still fresh for her.

“You miss him, don’t you?” I pop open a beer and slide it across the table.

Jules winces. “I fucking do.” She drains the beer and opens another one. “I plan to get good and drunk. Sorry. You’ll have to call a taxi to take us home.”

“I feel like I’m wearing half the dust of the city.”

“Same.” Jules takes a long draw. “Tomorrow’s flight will be a breeze after today.”

Despite not being a fan of random physical contact, gratitude has me itching to hug Jules. Without her, I wouldn’t have gotten this far. I’d still be stuck at home waiting for a text from Boyoung. Whether Jules is here for the entertainment of seeing me unravel or for the mystery or for some reason only my flatmate knows, she’s still here. She could’ve bailed hours ago. “Thanks for coming.”

“Eh. It was better than sitting at home.” She’s not big on warm moments. I get it. They make me uncomfortable, too. Jules peels off the paper cover of her ramen.

I follow suit, unwrapping the chopsticks, breaking them apart, and then digging in before the noodles become too swollen with water to eat. For a while, there’s nothing but the sound of two girls slurping down noodles. When my stomach is full, I push the bowl away and take a sip of my beer. Korean beer tastes about the same as American beer.

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