it's an emotion that has never 
touched me before

"This is probably the most random thing I've ever done," I muttered as Yeeun turned me around in front of the mirror, a pin held delicately between her teeth. "Feels like I'm playing dress-up."

"This is a lot more difficult than a game of dress-up," Jennie said, watching me with dark eyes. Her hot pink nails tapped against her lower lip as she tilted her head, a bright contrast to the bloody shade of her lipstick. "Hold still."

"It's not easy," I said as Yeeun pulled me into a standing position again, removing the pin from between her lips and using it to pull up a strand of my hair. "Ow!"

"It's not that bad." Yeeun chuckled when I reached up to massage the spot where she'd just stuck the pin, and pulled my hand back down. "Don't ruin it."

"Better it gets ruined now." I brushed my fingers against my nape, feeling the tiny scar that ran along the base of my throat. A rare one, since it had nothing to do with crime. Twenty more minutes, at most, and I'd be as ready for the auction as a plucked chicken is ready for roasting. "I would rather not have some crazy murderer rip the pins out of my hair."

"Not if you kick his ass first."

"Not likely." I looked at my reflection uncomfortably, the way the dress cut into my sides, the gossamer-light material of the skirt. Something about wearing it made me feel weary, like my bones had been rubbing against stone, and were worn out at the ends like old machinery. "This dress isn't going to allow me to kick anyone's ass—except my own, and that requires too much gymnastics."

"Well, then." Yeeun shrugged. "Rip it off when you need to."

"And walk around in what?" I retorted. "My birthday suit?"

"Don't rip it," Jennie said in a warning tone, stepping forward and surveying me critically. "It's not yours to rip."

Lightly, I touched the neckline of the dress, which ran from a little below my shoulders. It felt wrong. Like I was exposed. Vulnerable. I pushed the thought out of my mind and clenched my jaw, imagining myself pulling my knife out of the thigh holster that was hidden under the skirt. Don't think about the girl. Don't think about the blond escort. Don't think about them.

Brave words, but futile. Every time I so much as glanced at the midnight blue of the dress, I thought of the streamers in the girl's hair, the glitter around her eyes. Would I see them again, if I walked into the place like a commodity instead of a human? Probably. What did that make me feel? I didn't want to know.

Human, human, human, I repeated the word like a mantra inside my head, and caved my shoulders so the dress would make me look more intimidating. It didn't work, though. I just looked even more delicate, like a breakable little thing with hunched shoulders and too much weight to bear.

"The dress belongs to you, we get it," Yeeun spoke to Jennie, and I broke out of my thoughts unwillingly. "Would you like to rip it off yourself?"

I frowned, and Jennie looked over at me with a small, dry smile. "I might just," she said, and I looked away.

"Don't say things like that unless you want the wrath of hell upon you," Yeeun said wryly, and I rolled my eyes when I realized what she was talking about. "You never know when Vernon might be listening."

"I'm more worried about Taeyong," Jennie said, leaning against an empty chair and tucking her chin into her palm. Her hair fell over her shoulder in waves when she bent forward, like spilled hot chocolate. "Never seen him lift a gun before. Wonder what'll happen when the glass breaks."

There was a lot I wanted to say, but I kept my mouth shut.

"What do you think, Yeeun?" Jennie asked. Her eyes met mine in the mirror, and she didn't look away, not even as she asked the question. "Does he seem like a knife guy or a gun guy? Maybe it's something crude and unexpected. Maybe he'll just use his fists when the time comes."

"He's not strong enough to use his fists," Yeeun said, then glanced at me. "No offence. He's just a little...fragile."

"Funny," I muttered. Yeeun shrugged apologetically, the expression on her face not very apologetic.

"Sword, maybe. I haven't seen anyone use those in a while," Jennie continued, and I resisted the urge to rip the dress just to spite her. "Maybe he's like his brother," she said, and my blood ran cold. "Whip?"

"Whips are a pain to carry around," Yeeun said lightly, and I sensed she was trying to diffuse the tension, but I was too irritated to be thankful. Jennie's gaze had darkened, and though I had no idea why she was so bent on pissing me off. She'd always been somewhere in the shadows, following orders, only rarely interacting with me. But whatever she was trying to do, it was working.

"Do you think one of them will turn on you, when you choose?" she asked, and I stiffened. Yeeun's hands pressed down on my shoulders, trying to relax them for whatever she was about to do, but they felt as tensed as steel wires. "But you'll never get down to that, will you? Nothing like being thrown about and pulling everyone else along with you."

My irritation spiked. "I don't exactly have a choice."

"Oh, you do. You have a choice," she said, straightening and walking towards the door, pausing only to glance back for a second, "but not the will to choose."

I followed her with my eyes until she left the room, scowling. "What's up with her?"

"Don't mind her. She's just upset about Seulgi and not having anyone to blame." Yeeun picked up a clear glass bowl from the table, containing something shimmery and light, and lifted a brush from next to it. I took a deep breath when I realized what it was, feeling the roof of my mouth go dry. Glitter. "She'll come around."

"Is that necessary?" I asked, referring to the glitter.

"For an extra punch." She dipped the brush into the dust and skimmed the skin of my neck and shoulders with it, reaching just under my collarbones where the dress started. It left a sheen on my skin, like a layer of sweat—not as obvious as glitter.

I raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"A secret," she said, and stepped back when she was finished applying the powdery substance, choosing to leave out putting the stuff on my face. "Turn around."

When I did, I saw that her eyes had lost some of their calmness. She seemed lost in thought. Lost in general. I had never seen so much emotion on her face. "Don't tell me I remind you of an ex-lover in this dress."

She didn't smile, looking up at me in that unnervingly calm way she did that brought memories back from their restless grave. "What are you thinking?" she asked simply.

Standing still as I could, I felt like a porcelain doll that had been prepped for being sold, with joints that could only move in a certain direction and a face void of emotions and expressions. I entertained the thought for a while, keeping my face turned towards her, not moving an inch of my body except for my eyes. Glassy eyes following every movement my buyer made in an empty room.

"A lot of things," I said finally, trying not to lick my lips, which felt as dry as the Sahara. "Yeeun, if you had to choose—who would you choose? Not in a romantic way, but overall." A muscle twitches in my jaw. "Jennie was right. I'm pulling everyone along—those two, at least—and we'll all fall unless I cut the string. I just don't know which one to snip."

She regarded me thoughtfully, and I caught my breath, listening to the sounds of stillness outside the closed door. Her hair was the same shade of white as Baekhyun's, a little blonde, a little caramel, white chocolate. The same thoughtful pout of the lips, the tilt of the head, the probing eyes that cut my shield into ribbons.

The memories rose like a wave threatening to pull me under. I had often stood at the beach next to my house, feeling the waves rise and wash against my feet, sinking into the sand. The first few times, when I had almost felt like I would be washed away with the sand—that's what it felt like.

It wasn't just Baekhyun I longed for, but someone to lean on with absolute conviction. With absolute trust.

"There's a lot to see," Yeeun said, and I closed my eyes, imagining the it was Baekhyun standing in her place. "I don't know them very well, but there are things I see. Taeyong's as thorny and crushable as a rose, and just as passionate. But when Vernon loves, he loves forever." Baekhyun hm-ed. "Who would you choose, if this was someone else's life?"

I let out a tiny breath, which made my chest hurt. "I don't know. Both?" I chuckled, but it was humorless.

"Then there's your answer," he said.

I opened my eyes, feeling like someone had cut off the supply of blood to my heart. It took me a moment to register the fact that it was Yeeun standing before me instead of Baekhyun.

She raised an eyebrow when I didn't speak, only staring at her in confusion. "What would you rather do?" she asked. "Choose one, lose one. Think about it—really think about it. Would you be able to live through losing either of them?"

If I had been imagining that I was a doll earlier, I truly was one now. I could nothing but stare at her, frozen on all levels, so much that I could barely breathe. Did I breathe? I don't remember. My heart was pushing against my chest, pulse so rapid and erratic that for a moment I thought I was having an attack again.

It seemed unbelievable that something as seemingly inconsequential as a few words could change my understanding of my situation so drastically, but it happened. A whole new world opened up to me, and I was thinking of a thousand things at the same time—like the possibility had always been there, it was just that my mind had remained closed to it.

"But..." There was no point in countering her, but I did it anyway, trying to salvage what little remained of my previous ideals. "Three—"

"Why not?" She tilted her head to the side, and I inhaled painfully. Baekhyun, Baekhyun, baekhyunbaekhyunbaekhyun. "It's not unheard of. And it's not like you have a lot of people's opinions to worry about."

Three people. I sat down heavily, feeling like there was a second pulse throbbing in my head. Three people together. Yeeun watched me closely. Baekhyun? My thoughts were swimming.

"But if they're not okay with it?" I asked, struggling with the words. Baekhyun. Baekhyun, Baekhyun, Baekhyun, what did you do? Why did the heir mention you?

Yeeun knelt next to me. "You ask them first, of course. But I doubt that they'll disagree." She shook her head, slowly, as if savoring the movement, and I closed my eyes, trying to clear my head. "That's not what I meant, though. What else are you thinking about?"

Three. Lucky number three. I felt a spark of hope, so hot and dazzling that it obliterated everything else for a moment. "The heir, he mentioned Baekhyun. Said it was a coincidence that he was the informant, but—" My hands ghosted my head, careful not to touch my hair. "I haven't had time to think about it, but what did he have to do with this?" Who were you running from, Baekhyun? Who were you running towards?

"Look at me." I felt a hand on my knee, hot through the material of the dress. I looked at her. "I am not Baekhyun."

The seam of my chest was on fire, the stitches slowly burning away, and I was coming apart. How long could I hold myself together? "No."

"I'm not Baekhyun, and I never will be," she said grimly. "The dead don't come back, all right? The dead stay dead, and you don't want to be one of them."