I got home. I took off my shoes. I walked into the living room.
And then I just... stopped functioning.
My brain was trying to process the sheer magnitude of the treason I had just committed. I hadn't just found a drummer. I had recruited a spy. I had shaken hands with a guy in a crimson blazer. I had invited the enemy into the castle.
If Jun-seo found out, he would kill me. If Myung-Dae found out, he would kill me and the drummer.
I started walking in circles around the coffee table, trying to come up with a solution to what I should or not do.
Left foot, right foot. Left foot, right foot. I am going to be deported.
I didn't hear the front door open. I didn't hear the click of heels on the marble floor.
"San-gun?"
Mrs. Lee's voice floated through the fog. She was standing in the foyer, looking elegant and tired, her coat draped over her arm. Mr. Lee was behind her, loosening his tie.
Circle. Circle. Circle.
"San-gun?" she asked again, stepping into the living room. "What is with him?"
She looked at me, concerned. I was staring at the floor, muttering something about "red blazers" and "silver hair" in Ukrainian.
"Did something happen at school?" she asked, looking around the room for answers.
Ha-neul walked out of the kitchen, holding a massive bag of honey butter chips. She was wearing her comfortable home clothes—oversized t-shirt and glasses. She crunched a chip loudly.
"He brought about trouble again," she stated, chewing. "It's his new hobby. He started a war."
She wasn't far off.
"A war?" Mrs. Lee looked alarmed. "San?"
I walked right past her, my eyes unfocused. "The rhythm section... is a spy..."
"Leave him, Omma," Ha-neul said, dismissing my existential crisis with a wave of her chip bag. "He's rebooting. Look! It's 9:00 PM!"
She pointed at the massive flat-screen TV.
"Your special interview is starting!"
Mrs. Lee's face lit up, her concern for my sanity instantly replaced by professional pride.
"Ah! The segment on cultural heritage! I thought they bumped it to next week!"
"Come on!" Ha-neul grabbed Mrs. Lee's hand with her free hand (the non-chip one). "Abeoji! Come on! Mom is on TV!"
Mr. Lee beamed. "My superstar wife. I'll get the fruit."
Ha-neul dragged Mrs. Lee to the sofa. They sat down. The TV blared the familiar KBS news intro.
I was still walking in circles behind the sofa. Circle. Circle. Doom.
Ha-neul sighed. She stood up. She walked over to me.
I didn't even see her coming.
SLAP.
Her hand connected with my upper back—right between the shoulder blades—with a stinging, resonant thwack.
"AISH!" I yelped, jumping a foot in the air. The pain snapped me instantly back to reality.
"There was a fly," Ha-neul said calmly, dusting off her hands. "A big one. Sit down."
"You... you hit me!"
She pointed to the sofa.
I rubbed my stinging back. I looked at Mrs. Lee and Mr. Lee, who were already glued to the screen, where a perfectly poised Mrs. Lee was interviewing a historian.
I looked at Ha-neul. She held out the bag of chips.
"Honey butter?" she offered.
I sighed. The treason could wait until tomorrow.
"Fine," I grumbled, grabbing a handful.
I sat down next to them. For an hour, we were just a normal family watching the news.
But in my pocket, my phone buzzed. A text from a number I didn't save.
Unknown: Rehearsal. Tomorrow. 5 PM. Min-ah told me your period ends at 4:50, don't tell the President I'm coming. - Jin-hyun
I swallowed the chip. It tasted like fear.