The Passengers (Book #2)

𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔚𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

The hum of the ocean at night relaxes me. I grip the banister and look fifty feet below at the white foam kicked u from the bow. Brightly lit portholes extend down the length of the large ship, twinkling like Christmas lights on the endless water.

I scan the deck behind me. A beautifully dressed young couple chat quietly a ways down the railing. And three men in suits and top hats walk toward a door, smoking cigars and talking loudly. A butler opens it for them. I follow, but the door closes just as I reach it.

I peer in the window and my mouth drops. The walls are adorned with elaborate molding, and chandeliers dot the ceiling. Men and women play cards and drink out of crystal glasses. The women's dresses remind me of the lady in the painting I was looking at with appa, but without the hanbok element.

I take a quick step away from the door. There's something I don't like about this place, something I want to remember but can't. It's like trying to stick a pin in a drop of mercury. Everything's foggy.

I walk toward the railing. In my path, on the deck, lies the painting from my hallway. Next to it is a green silk evening gown and a silver book the size of a playing card. These definitely weren't here a second ago. I step around them and move toward the water. The wind whips my hair. I have this strong urge to leave. I lift my leg to climb up the railing, but my ankle feels like it's tethered by a fifty-pound weight.

My eyes open, and I'm gripping the air in front of me. My right leg's raised high, straining against my thick blankets.

Someone laughs, and I sit bolt upright, blinking at the bright light streaming through my window.

Sehun stands just inside my door, wearing a blue plaid pajama pants and a navy-blue hoodie. "Sorry, I did knock before I came in." He laughs again. "I didn't know you slept with all your arms and legs in the air like that."

"Sehun?" I take a deep breath. I'm back in my bedroom.

"Yes, Suzy. You're late. Breakfast's ready. The parents sent me up to get you."

"Your house or mines?"

"Yours." He hesitates. "You okay? You look a little, I don't know, upset?"

"Yeah." I rub the corners of my eyes. "Bad dream."

He nods. "Want me to stay? I'll tell you funny stories and make you forget all about it."

I look at Sehun, with his messy hair and inviting smile. I shake my head. "Thanks, though. Ill be down in a minute."

Sehun lingers for a second and walks out of my room.

I slide out of bed and slip my feet into black fuzzy slippers. My Titanic history homework sits on my vanity, where I left it last night. I freeze. The luxurious ship, the old-fashioned people. I grab my phone and type "Titanic lounge" into the search bar.

One of the first pictures to pop up is an exact match for the room I saw through the window. But I've never seen this room before. How could I get it right in my dream if I didn't know what it looked like? I flip through my Titanic homework just to be sure. There's no lounge picture. Dreaming about it makes sense, but exactly replicating it is just . . . strange. Unless . . .

I throw my phone onto my bed and back step. Unless, it's like those other dreams, the ones I had of Changbin. Only those weren't really dreams at all; they were warning that started right after I saw Joohyuk for the first time and everything spiraled out of control. I push my palms against my eyebrows.

And it was only yesterday that I saw that spirit girl. Could Mrs. Oh have been right? Was seeing a spirit a sign of bad things to come?

"No. And no. And also no."