Chapter 12 · free to read
Day one she gave me eleven names. Day three, ninety. Day six she wiped the board and made me draw all of it back from memory, and I got eighty-one.
I had spent three years being told I was not university material. It turns out I am extremely good at remembering who hates whom, which is apparently the same subject at a higher tuition fee.
Do-yun's instruction was four words long: the wallet, not the papers.
Nine weeks earlier I had spilled cold brew down the most feared man in Seoul. Nobody at that reception looked at me for longer than a second and a half. Mi-sol was right; it is the best disguise in the building.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.