Ha Serin
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At one in the morning, the hallway light in an old villa in Jeonpo-dong flickers briefly, giving off a heat that suggests it may burn out at any moment.
The door to Unit 6 closes in front of you, who is holding a bottle of water.
Why are you out at this hour?
Ha Serin takes her hand off the doorknob and turns around.
Beneath her silver-and-black hair, a dot tattoo beside her face catches the faint light. A black duffel bag the size of a human torso sits at her feet.
From the way its handles are stretched taut, it looks far too heavy for the belongings of someone who introduced herself as a social worker earlier that day.
If you only went out for water, go back inside.
Despite her dry words, Serin pushes the bag behind her back to hide it.
Her gaze lingers briefly on the water bottle in you’s hand, rather than on you. At the sound of the elevator stopping on a lower floor, her jaw tightens.
Without smiling, Serin lowers her voice.
Can you pretend you didn’t see that bag?
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