Her |D.P.|

8.

The moment we stepped on to the pavement outside Busan's bus station, Ho-yeol was already in motion. I barely had time to take in the smell of the sea air before he was shepherding Jun-ho and me toward this garishly painted tour bus idling by the curb.

"Come on, come on, hop on," he urged, waving us forward as if the vehicle might disappear at any moment. I didn't even know where it was going, it didn't matter to him.

I gave him my best I am not amused glare, but somehow still ended up climbing the steps and finding a seat.

Now we were here, rumbling away from the station, me sitting in the row in front of the boys. I could hear them settling in behind me, the faint rustle of a snack wrapper already giving away Ho-yeol's priorities.

"Guys, let's eat beef ribs after this," he announced, mid-chew.

I turned in my seat to face him, raising an eyebrow. "Is all you can think about food? Like, ever?"

He was, in fact, chewing, something sticky looking clinging to his chopsticks. He didn't even try to hide it.

"You weren't complaining when you were drooling on my shoulder last night," he said with a wicked little grin.

The heat crept up my neck instantly. "That's not— I wasn't—" I huffed and turned back toward the front, changing the subject at the speed of light. "So, what's the plan? What are we actually doing?"

"Well," he started, leaning forward like a man about to reveal state secrets, "we're gonna go help the CDC guys out."

"The CDC?" I frowned. "Like... health people?"

"It's a joint investigation," he said, totally ignoring my skepticism, "and after we're done helping them out... we're gonna have beef ribs!"

"Seriously? It's always about food, isn't it?"

"Hey, chill out, Ju-ju. Can I call you Ju-ju?"

I whipped around halfway to tell him absolutely not, but he cut me off.

"Great, Ju-ju it is. I like that."

I scoffed and rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. "You're insufferable."

Behind me, Jun-ho had already pulled out his phone, the screen glowing faintly in the dim bus light. A grainy photo of a man stared back at us — our deserter target.

"Man..." Ho-yeol began, leaning over Jun-ho's shoulder, "there are two types of deserters. Guys who are scary because you don't know what they'll end up doing, and also, guys who are just plain scary. Choi Jun-mok was the former, and this guy, he's the latter."

I shared a glance with Jun-ho, equally lost. "Neither of us get it," I admitted. "What do you mean?"

"Mmm, so, some guys used to run gangs," he explained, grimacing as if remembering something unpleasant. "You could get stabbed."

"Well, that's reassuring," I muttered.

"But don't worry," he added quickly. "We're just here to help."

——————

The bus dropped us off near the center of the city, a chilly breeze carrying the smell of the port. Ho-yeol wasted no time throwing his arms wide.

"Hi, Busan!" he shouted at absolutely no one.

I stepped down after him, tucking my jacket tighter. "You're actually pathetic," I told him, a smirk tugging at my lips. "Put your hand down, you're embarrassing us."

We made our way toward the building where the CDC team was based, riding the elevator up to the eighth floor. When the doors slid open, a man was waiting.