"Follow Your Bliss"

Entwined 🧡

Currently: while Mira, Rumi, and Zoey have wandered off to have gay breakdowns—er, put Rumi’s sword away, Minji, Miyeong, and Celine are working on lunch and continuing to plan how they’ll be getting rid of the wraiths. In Seoul, a grieving Bobby meets a nurse…

She looks over at her designated sous chef, but Minji-nim has slumped over her arms on the table, eyes closed at last.

Celine is glad. It's meant to be part of her duties, in carrying on the great Rumi-nim's work, to give comfort to those who she helps; Rumi-nim healed hearts and spirits, as well as protecting bodies from harm. Celine has always been much better at the practical side of things. She can offer food, a safe place to go, she can repair torn stuffed animals and glue together broken heirlooms like they were never damaged, but she's never known what to say to people, when they hurt. In the face of what Minji-nim has lost, any mere words Celine could think to offer feel dismissive and trite. But a nap will do her good.

Celine turns to Miyeong-nim instead. "Can you be trusted to chop kimchi?"

"Let's find out." The reporter's eyes sparkle as she takes the jar. "You can come over here and supervise, if you're worried."

Miyeong-nim really is a flirt. Celine should probably roll her eyes, but she finds herself smiling, just a little, instead, as she turns back to the skillet. It's been a while since anyone cared to flatter her that way. And despite first impressions, she's beginning to think Miyeong-nim's good opinion is more discerning than she likes to act.

Certainly, she has decent taste in women. Celine glances over at the table again. "Will she be alright there?" she asks Miyeong-nim. "She needs sleep, but I doubt she needs back problems."

The reporter stops squinting suspiciously at the kimchi and takes a look of her own. "She'll be okay, I've caught her napping in much worse positions than that. You wouldn't think a human could bend the way a nurse can bend when the only available flat surface is the top of a mini-fridge."

Her face has gone soft and warm, and her voice is so fond that it makes the words sound like something earthshaking and precious, instead of the off-hand anecdote to a near-stranger that it is.

Celine looks back at her, blushing slightly and says, voice stiff with embarrassment, “I hadn’t meant to presume. I apologize.”

“No, no, it’s just…” Miyeong stares at her, attempting to come up with something, anything beyond repeating, “…Minji? She’s so… and I’m…”

Why would someone like Minji, who is as selfless and competent and together as she could be, possibly get involved with Miyeong? (…Beyond getting dragged along with her in extenuating circumstances such as the ones they were under. Where it was the right thing to do.)

Celine frowns slightly. “You’re…?”

Miyeong’s face goes hot, feeling ridiculously adolescent at having Celine look at her as if she‘a more than just some worn out idiot who’d sold her soul for consistent employment years ago.

“I—I don’t even know if she—“ likes women. Miyeong takes a breath before she finishes that sentence in the stupidest way possible. “We’d known each other through work before now. Separate works. Wherein she did not like me very much.”

Celine just looks at her for another moment, still frowning, and nods. “…What sort of stories have you working at the hospital, then?”

Miyeong cringes at the thought of explaining about Yeonggi, though she knows Celine hadn’t meant it that way, and then it makes Celine wince and— “No, no! You didn’t—no, I was only—please, Celine-nim, forgive me, there’s just a bit of a story there, and one that involves me being a bit of an idiot.”

Matched with a smile, that, at least, finally has Celine loosening up instead of looking like she wants out of this conversation, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

So Miyeong deftly avoids the subject of how everything with Yeonggi ended, and gets into how it started—a tale involving missing IV bags, a caffeine allergy, and a source who exclusively spoke Spanish.

It makes Celine laugh, as she explains how she’d tried to bribe the handsome male nurse with coffee and he’d looked at her like he wanted to die.

She skips the part where he was so enthusiastic about helping her because the new operation was cutting in on his own illegal activities. Maybe once they’ve known each other more than a week… and she’s had a conversation with Celine where she doesn’t have to fight the urge to melt into the ground from embarrassment.

It’s funny, though. She’d never noticed that Minji was in the story so much too, exhaustedly trying to kick Miyeong out even then. “Since I still had the coffee, I tried the trick on the next nurse I saw.”

Celine, set up at her own cutting board next to Miyeong, follows her nod to Minji. “And I take it she refused?”

“Oh, no, she took it,” Miyeong says, feeling a fond smile tug at her lips. “It just meant that she smiled at me while directing me to the exit that day.”

Celine’s laughter feels distant, almost, as Miyeong puts down the knife.

Does she… have feelings for Minji?

But as soon as Rumi puts the sword away, she turns and all but marches out, a woman on a mission. Zoey turns to Mira, a silent question, but Mira just raises her eyebrows and shrugs a little, and then gestures broadly toward the door with a tiny little bow of her head, after you.

Fortunately, from behind, Mira won't be able to see the absurd blush that overtakes Zoey's entire face over such a completely normal gesture.

When they get to the kitchen, Minji is slumped asleep on the table, and the sweet smell of sauteed veggies fills the air. Celine and Miyeong are standing very close together at the counter; over the sizzling of oil, Zoey can just hear Celine walking Miyeong patiently through every step of holding her fingers curled, rocking the knife along its curve, letting the blade do the work. From her angle at the door, Zoey can just make out the edge of Miyeong's expression, serious and focused, and the tip of one ear, a brilliant red.

"Honorable shaman," says Rumi, keeping her voice low to not wake Minji and doing something really unfair to Zoey's guts as a bonus. Both women look up, Celine like a normal person and Miyeong with a little startled jump. "Can I assist in any way?"

Celine looks around thoughtfully. "There's not much else to do until it's time to fry the eggs. You three should get something to drink, though. Especially Rumi-nim. I'm sure you're dehydrated after that swordwork."

While Rumi is thanking Celine with more of that formal, archaic graciousness that should be goofy and awkward but is actually just really sweet and hot, Zoey starts digging in the fridge, Mira right behind her. "What do we think they drank to cool off in Rumi's day?" Mira murmurs, and from right over her shoulder that is also doing something really unfair to Zoey's guts, and this is the worst day. "Just water?"

There is bottled water in the fridge, but, "All that sweat," says Zoey, very cool and very calm and totally a medical professional about it, "we should give her something with some electrolytes."

They dig out a few choices for her, bokbunja and banana milk and a bottle of Bacchus that seems like an odd thing for Celine to keep on hand, considering her vibe. Zoey's usually pretty uncomfortable about sharing her drinks, but for some reason it feels totally normal when they sit down at the table, a respectful distance from the lump of unconscious nurse, and make Rumi try all three before deciding who gets what.

Her eyes go bright and she says, "An age of wonders," again, at the banana milk, and Zoey ends up with the energy drink. Probably for the best; her ADHD makes her functionally immune to caffeine, Mira should probably be avoiding it post-surgery, and Zoey's not sure she's ready for the Rumi On Red Bull experience.

"So not to in any way imply that we should be left here, because we are absolutely not doing that," says Zoey, once they're settled, "but, what's the plan for those of us without sacred weapons? I know we're looking for the wraiths, but what should Mira and I and our home invaders do when we find them?"

Miyeong just smiles shamelessly at the dig, and Celine looks over her shoulder at Mira. "Did you learn any rituals of control or banishment, from your family?"

Mira grimaces. "I tried to know as little about it as I could. Kinda wish I'd payed more attention, now."

"Well, I can teach you all a simple exorcism. Strong rituals take time we won't have to perform and even more to learn, but wraiths are only so powerful once their summoner is gone. The right words and a little mugwort can be enough to break their control on a person, particularly if any of you happen to be decent singers. And provided you can keep your own minds barred against the pain they feed on."

It takes a few minutes for the world to kick back into focus. She’d love to say that the vegetables suddenly taste like ash in her mouth, that everything turns blackened and sick, but… the world just keeps existing, same as it ever has. That’s the worst part.

The food tastes good. She just can’t let herself enjoy it.

They talk, and plan, and somehow it’s decided that they’ll be trying to make the last ferry out and staying the night in a hotel on the mainland, so they’ll have a whole day for Rumi and Celine-nim to take on the wraiths.

At least no one has much packing to do.

“Both of our cars only seat five,” Miyeong says, as if it wouldn’t be reasonable to at least pretend she hadn’t tracked them by car. “Do we want to split back according to how we came?”

“I should probably stick with you three,” Minji says, gesturing to younger group—or, wait, Rumi’s five hundred. Ugh. “No offense, but if anyone’s going to be needing medical attention, it’ll be one of you.”

Rumi looks mildly offended (as if the skin of her torso isn’t half-shredded), while Mira nods, conceding the point, and Zoey laughs a little, awkwardly.

“Yeah,” she says, “probably. But we shouldn’t have anyone riding solo, so do we want to have someone double-buckle, or…?”

“Celine-nim and I can ride together,” Miyeong volunteers.

A second later, she blushes vibrantly, turning to Celine-nim. “If—if you want, I mean! You don’t have to, I didn’t mean to speak for you—“

“I would be happy to,” Celine-nim says smoothly, which is nice. Miyeong deserves a win—getting to spend a few hours in a car with a beautiful woman before they all drive to their deaths is the least that could happen for her.

And then she gets another when Rumi volunteers to take Mira and Zoey out for knife practice.

“Go on,” Minji says, nodding after the not-actually-younger trio. “I know how much you like distance weaponry.”

“I’m offended by this,” Miyeong declares, but she marches after them to go find Celine-nim’s shinkal nonethless.

Minji smiles after her. She hopes Miyeong enjoys it—properly enjoys it, in the way that Minji wouldn’t be able to right now, even when she doesn’t think about Miyeong and Yeonggi soundly beating Seulgi at darts, the way she would always laugh about it.

“You don’t have to help with the dishes,” Celine says gently, but Minji shakes her head.

She's fairly sure Zoey would melt otherwise.

She doesn’t get too upset about it.

“Never really been great at throwing things,” Mira admits, as the knives run out and they pause to go get them back.

“You cannot curse yourself to failure before you begin,” Rumi says, all warmth and good intentions. “You merely need a bit of practice.”

But Zoey sees the way Mira’s jaw tightens (and then quickly loosens again as she loses some color, clearly regretting that move) and she knows the feeling. When you really just know something’s fucking hard and always will be and someone oh-so-sweetly denies it, like you’re just being mean to yourself and not able to accurately assess the situation… it sucks.

So she bites her tongue against the “You got this!” that she wants to chirp out—especially when Miyeong says exactly that and Mira’s jaw does that thing again—and, instead, just watches how Mira throws.

…Which is ridiculously badly. Because she just throws with her arm.

“Um,” Zoey says, carefully, “are you okay with constructive criticism or do you just want me to stand over to the side and not say anything? Because I’m totally good with not saying anything! I promise!”

Mira huffs before she can get any further. “Advice is fine.”

“Well, uh, I’m sure you know what you’re doing, but… you kinda gotta roll with it? Like, twist your hips and put all of you into it!” She offers her goofiest smile, exaggerating the shift of her body until it’s more of a joking bounce than an actual mock-throw as she mimes it for Mira—and then having to do it for real, however awkward that is.

But Mira’s smiling, nodding—though that might have something to do with Rumi coming over to try to help guide her through it with those calloused-but-still-so-gentle hands of hers. You know. If Zoey had to guess.

Just from the way Mira starts getting that really pretty blush, not any of her own thoughts on the matter, obviously.

At least she’s too distracted to be paying attention to Zoey as she throws again. Her lips tilt in a tiny smile as the knife clips the edge of the bag and she turns to high five Rumi.

And then she keeps turning and offers her hand to Zoey. To high five.

Right, because they should show Rumi, that was only invented in, like, the 1950s.

So Zoey grins and slaps her palm against Mira’s, and Mira—her voice is always kinda quiet, with the wires and all, but she tilts her head back and laughs and it’s so pretty and Zoey is so, so doomed.

And then! And then!!!!

She looks at Zoey and she smiles and she says, “Thanks. I always forget not to isolate everything when I’m not dancing.”

Or maybe it's Celine-nim, who has a warm steadiness to her presence, despite her silence. There's something in the way she holds herself, the way she seems so centered and in control, as though demon apocalypses are just another day. It makes the pressure seem a little lighter, just for her standing there.

She's also very hospitable, rewarding Minji for her assistance by leading them to the sitting room and producing a bottle of soju, then pouring out two shots. "I don't often have the occasion," she says, her smile small and wry, "but if there's ever been a situation that warrants a drink..."

Minji doesn't need to be told twice. She grabs a glass, says a dry, ironic "wihayeo," and throws it back without blinking. Celine-nim shows more restraint, and simply holds hers, maybe swirling it a little, contemplatively, while Minji pours herself another.

"The 'situation'," Minji repeats, as the second shot burns down her throat. "That's one word for it. We've got the impossible ancient hero. The murder of all my friends. The kid who got kidnapped for a sacrifice. The thing where we're setting a bunch of random civilians against fantasy monsters." She waves a hand, still wrapped around the glass, at Celine-nim. "You said you were part of an order, right? Aren't there other people who are, I don't know. Trained in this kind of stuff? How is this Miyeong's job, or those poor kids?"

The shaman takes her bitterness in stride, watching her calmly like she has every right to it, but makes no apologies.

"We've been spread very thin, over the years," she answers instead, matter-of-fact, "and we were never a large order to begin with. Anyone I called for help would have to travel too far to be timely, and would have to leave their own home defenseless."

Celine-nim finally takes her shot, the long column of her throat flexing elegantly as she swallows. Minji blinks and drops her eyes, pouring herself another.

"Still," she says, filling Celine's glass again too, once she puts it down, "you have Rumi, right? Shouldn't you two just... do your thing, and the rest of us just stay out of the way?"

For a moment, Celine-nim just watches Minji, a careful regard that seems to peel right into the heart of her. Minji has seen Miyeong strip informants of their layers with a look, leaving them cut open and exposed, but this feels different, somehow; like Minji's being understood, her deepest self handled with the care of a surgeon, everything closed up properly afterward and left healthier than she started.

"... when I first met Zoey," Celine-nim says, once her keen gaze has finished its search, "I knew she and I would someday do something important together. I understand why, now. She and Mira withstood the voice of no mere wraith, but of Gwi-Ma himself, for days, and remained steadfast enough despite it to bring Rumi-nim back up from the hells."

She drinks again, and this time Minji doesn't look away.

Celine smiles and shakes her head instead of answering, not knowing either way. She hopes so, at least, given how shortly post-surgery Mira had been when the two of them arrived at her office.

Minji-nim waits with that for a moment before she says, quietly, “One of the wraiths looked like a photographer Miyeong liked. We didn’t even know he was dead until…”

Until we explained what they were. Celine grimaces.

“And—fucking Yeonggi turned up, apparently—did—“ Minji-nim breathes, sharply. “Becoming a wraith. Does it mean something about you?”

She wishes she could say no. Wishes she had decent words, comforting hands, anything. She tells the truth. “Gwi-Ma can only take a person’s image to use as a wraith if they gave themself to him in life.”

Minji-nim covers her face with her hands for a long moment before making a sound, the kind that might be a sob and might be a laugh. “Miyeong always thought there was something about the way Yeonggi died. We all figured it was just—“

Celine thinks back to the way Miyeong-nim had been so startled by Celine’s mistake, earlier, hadn’t even thought to be offended as she looked down at Minji-nim as if she were somehow worth impossibly more. And she thinks she understands a little.

“He actually sold his soul to a demon?” Minji-nim asks, peering up at her. She doesn’t wait for an answer before she laughs again. “That son of a bitch, of course he did.”

“Many do,” Celine says. “Gwi-Ma is… clever. And it might not have been…”

Minji-nim shakes her head again. “I don’t need hope for Yeonggi’s memory.”

“But I need you to understand,” Celine replies, thinking, terribly, of Rumi-nim on the other side of that portal, bloody and resigned and smiling as she gave herself up. She thinks of— “I need you to understand that it is not a weakness of—he will not only take what is offered. Gwi-Ma is called the Devourer for a reason. He will take anything he can touch, freely given or otherwise.”

Her hand has found its way to Minji-nim’s shoulder, somehow, as she is very close to her face.

Celine jumps back against the arm of the couch.

Minji-nim’s mouth opens.

“We must hold onto each other,” Celine says, before she can hear some platitude. “We must.”

"Very good," is Rumi's assessment, as Zoey sinks one just a few centimeters off a bullseye and does a little whoop of glee. "You all show great promise. But in a true battle, your enemies will seldom remain still. I would like to advance to practice on moving targets, if you are amenable."

Zoey shoots a sly look at Miyeong, and then beams at Rumi, wide and innocent. "Sounds great, let's do it!"

Mira demurs, preferring to keep trying to consistently hit the stationary bags, but Miyeong rolls her shoulders competitively and agrees. Rumi has a little pile of squash that she's managed to collect from somewhere, green and round and overripe, and she lobs one slowly across the field of fire. Zoey whips a shinkal after it, a long clean release, and it sails just behind the vegetable, nearly clipping it.

Miyeong's lead might be in trouble.

One more round, and Miyeong's lead is definitely in trouble. She nicks a squash here and there, but mostly she goes wide in every direction, and Zoey, still hitting blunt-first a lot but still consistently hitting, is steadily closing the point gap. Rumi puts forward a valiant attempt to pretend she's impartial about it, but Mira makes no such pretense. She's entirely given up on her own practice to cheer Zoey on and trash-talk Miyeong, and Miyeong can't find it anything but charming. Watching the three of them fall all over each other in a fit of youthful hormones is almost more fun than the knife-throwing itself.

Though perhaps she shouldn't judge. At least they know what they're feeling. She lets her eyes flick over to the main building. Behind those walls is a woman who has somehow become the most stable presence in Miyeong's life for the better part of a decade, a reliable constant in all her rootless chaos, an irreplaceable comfort against her loneliness, and Miyeong never even noticed.

Honestly, she sort of wishes she still hadn't. It's not like there's anything to do with the information. Miyeong had her one shot, and it literally ended with a body count. Minji, who is in such terrible pain but still sent her out here to flex her projectile skills on undergrads for fun, deserves better from Miyeong than to hope to drag her down.

Even Mira is more like to hit the target than not, and she showed much promise when they went over how to stab an attacker, despite being quite stiff during Rumi’s explanation.

“I am very proud of you,” she tells them all, the same as she tells everyone she teaches, whether they be five years old or sixty-five.

“You’re a really good teacher,” Miyeong-nim says, warmly, and Mira and Zoey agree, and Zoey comes up to loop an arm over Rumi’s shoulder and pull her close in thanks.

And all of this is good, like the sun and the grass and the feeling of an overripe squash in her hand. Rumi holds it tight, tries to burn it into herself, because she knows from experience that weak words would not stop Gwi-Ma.

They use the washroom to quickly wipe off the worst of the sweat and, going last, Rumi has opportunity to see that Mira has, indeed, changed her clothes, which is presumably simply what is done when one sweats in this time. The amount of washing must be ridiculous, and Rumi has a million questions about how they prevent things from falling apart, but—

For now, she just jerks her head away, flushing, because Mira has walked out wearing what cannot qualify as a full garment in this day and age.

It covers barely more than the undergarments. It doesn’t even reach her knees.

It doesn’t even reach halfway to her knees!

You’ve spent how much time in brothels? Rumi scolds herself, angry and embarrassed. Get a hold of yourself; her body is nothing to do with you.

It's a logical division. Sensible. Minji's familiar enough with Miyeong's car to drive it without being distracted searching for the turn signal, and Celine's car is, well, Celine's. Plus if Rumi or Mira needs sudden medical aid, having Minji able to provide immediate guidance without needing to be flagged down from the other car is beneficial.

And Miyeong's not heartless; she has no intention to get in the way of young love and suggest Zoey ride with her and Celine.

So this is the most logical way to split up.

If the thought of being alone with Celine for a couple of hours ties a knot in her stomach, that's just...pre-wraith-hunting nerves. Yeah.

Celine nods, the motion more elegant than it has a right to be. "I'm fine with it."

Miyeong's heart jumps. The hot gorgeous TALL shaman's fine with it! She's fine with alone time with her! She is-

Lightheaded.

Maybe she should drive her own car with the girls. They have cellphones; Minji's only a call away-

But Minji's already holding her hand out for Miyeong's keys, and they're going to miss the ferry if they're not careful.

"I can drive!" Zoey's hand shoots up in the air. "Please? Rumi hasn't seen me drive yet and I'm really good! Mira! Tell them how good I am!"

"She didn't get us towed," Mira shrugs. "I think."

Miyeong blanches, thoughts of Celine momentarily suspended by thoughts of her car in the impound lot. Or worse.

Not that Zoey didn't seem responsible, but...she'd been that age once. She'd been that eager to drive to impress a crush once. She'd turned a car into an off-roader more than once.

But Minji- thank god for Minji- pockets the keys. "I'm giving you the aux."

"A role of great importance," Rumi nods seriously, perking Zoey up from the deflated slump she'd fallen into. "And you did exemplary with it yesterday.”

Miyeong mouths a ‘thank you’ to Minji as the girls pile in to the car, Mira and Zoey bouncing songs that Rumi just had to hear between them like juggling balls, and watches them crunch out of the gravel drive. She’d have a lot to worry about in the next few hours, but at least her car wasn’t one of them.

The sound of a car door opening pulls her attention back to her side.

“Ready?” Celine asks, one hand gripping the open door. There’s an inviting little smile on her lips, and her eyes catch the sun in such a way that they sparkle, igniting something in Miyeong’s chest.

Yes, a lot to worry about…

But: nope. They pile in (Minji driving, Rumi and Zoey in back, and Mira sitting shotgun to have some room for her legs) and get on the road and Rumi shows absolutely no signs of discomfort.

Zoey might be a bad person for being disappointed about that.

After a while, the conversation shifts back from music to demons. Minji missed Celine’s earlier advice about mugwort, after all.

“The first rule of wraith-hunting is,” Rumi says (and Zoey’s brain unhelpfully fills in to have fun and be yourself and we don’t talk about wraith-hunting), “that they are hollow. There is nothing in them, and any promises they make to you are false. Do not listen. Hold on to what is solid.”

She looks at Zoey while she says it, because Zoey’s the only one looking at her, and so Zoey is left with the intensity of Rumi’s gaze, the impossible, out-of-time person that she is, and the softness of her smile.

“You,” she says. “Music. The sun on the grass. Anything you have.”

And Zoey’s brain plays it again: You. You. You. She has you.

But before she can say something stupid—something like I have you—Minji says, fingers tapping against the steering wheel, “Celine mentioned—she mentioned that Gwi-Ma would… take people, earlier. Like… like they didn’t have to make a deal with him or anything?”

Rumi’s expression twists with a horrible kind of hope, and she doesn’t answer for a long moment before, finally, her voice thick with something Zoey can’t interpret, she says, “The knowledge that I have is different, but it has been many years.”

(Zoey thinks of the way she talked about her dad. Wonders if maybe…)

(But maybe not. They haven’t even known each other a week, after all.)

“No, she—she wasn’t clear,” Minji says. “I might have misunderstood.”

Rumi bites her lip. Hesitates, before adding, in a way that’s clearly meant to be reassuring, “You must fail for him to take you. But it does not mean you cannot be brought back. Fear is his hand. Do not play it.”

Perhaps the danger is finally hitting her, now that there aren't any distractions. Miyeong-nim strikes Celine as someone with disconcertingly little fear of risk, but her whole worldview has also just been upended. In Celine's experience, both the most brave and the most foolhardy come to that attitude largely through experience, and demons are well outside the experience of most.

But when Miyeong-nim finally speaks, it's to say, "So," drawing it out, and glancing toward the back of the car. "Do you happen to have permits? For the ancient magic sword, and pile of deadly sacred knives? More specifically, do you have permits on hand, in the car with us right now?"

She does, for the sword, actually, although she certainly doesn't keep it in the car. And the shinkal are another matter entirely.

Still, "I've never found the ferry staff particularly concerned with the contents of people's trunks during crossing."

Her reassurance is met only with a skeptical little hum. "If they do check it out, for whatever reason, go ahead and let me do the talking. I've got some ideas already, I'll loop you in when I decide on one."

Apparently Miyeong-nim is not, in fact, nervous about getting caught with weapons. Celine glances over, bemused, and finds a gleam in the reporter's eyes, even brighter than the anticipation in her voice.

"Fighting wraiths isn't enough excitement for you, you have to be maneuvering around the law, too?"

"I try to always be getting away with something. Keeps my skills sharp."

Celine can't help her smile. "And what skills are those?"

For some reason that makes Miyeong-nim start stumbling again, stuttering out an awkward, "Well, ah—I—you know—reporter things. …Talking. Persuasion, and such."

Celine considers that. She will admit that Miyeong-nim is actually quite a skilled storyteller, when she's not tripping over her tongue, but it was not her clumsy charm offensive at their first meeting that brought her into this adventure. It was so obviously a mask, and Celine hadn't liked that she couldn't see what was underneath. But Miyeong-nim's dogged persistence, her willingness to try anything other than turning away, had gotten them past it; had brought her all the way here, to the passenger seat of Celine's car.

Which is a recurring theme in the stories she's told so far, as well. Miyeong-nim simply does not give up on a story, no matter the expense to her time or dignity. It's an admirable trait, albeit a vexing one to be on the wrong side of. More admirable than mere persuasive charm, in Celine's opinion. Stubbornness has saved many souls from Gwi-Ma, and Miyeong-nim's may yet save more.

Which is why it's meant to be a compliment when she says, "Persistence seems to be a more reliable tool, for you."

But Miyeong folds her arms in Celine's peripheral vision and plays at being affronted. "I'll have you know," she huffs, "I am in fact incredibly charismatic, and regularly talk my way out of situations that would bewilder and terrify a lesser woman."

It's still a distraction, and Celine finds she still wants to know what's underneath it.

But she'd rather take the softer path to get there, now.

So she just says, dry, "And how often did you talk yourself into these situations, in the first place?"