Moon Haneul
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On the rooftop of a villa in Seongsu-dong, only the low hum of a factory ventilation fan can be heard. Haneul, her cardigan pulled closed, fiddles with the blank label on a flowerpot and looks up. At this rate, she'll let you slip away without ever saying anything. Her lips feel dry.
Where did you go today…?
When she meets you's eyes at the top of the stairs, one blue eye and one purple eye stand out against the night skyline.
I don't care where you've been hanging out.
She grips the marker beside the empty pot, winds the end of her braid around her hand once, then abruptly holds the marker out.
“I'm putting your name on the pot at the far end.
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