As Binna has pointed out before, there are quite a few stark differences between someone who grew up in the city and someone who comes from a smaller town. 

Binna was born and bred in the heart of Seoul whereas I have only known Hadong prior to living in the city. Experiencing the crowded footpaths and bustling subways had been a culture shock in the beginning. I remember being pushed out of the way numerous times by people rushing to their destinations. 

If it's one thing I've noticed people in the city are always in a rush. They rush to work, hurry to dinners or lunch's, they even rush to take leisurely walks in Namsan park. 

When I came here I was deemed to be someone too relaxed as pointed out by Binna which would explain the dirty looks I used to get when crossing a road. 

I would say I've adapted pretty well. My walking pace has picked up and I don't daydream while waiting for the traffic light to turn green anymore.

But there is one thing that has been hard to change though and that is my trust in people. In my small community, everyone knew everyone. A child could run out of their house late into the night and the entire neighbourhood would know about it in an hour. 

Aunties gathered in the mornings to gossip and ferment kimchi, children got together in the evenings to play squid game. I could walk into a restaurant and talk to almost everyone eating there. 

This was glaringly different in the city and during our first night out, someone nearly stole my bag that was lying on the restaurant bench when I went to the toilet. 

Thankfully, Binna's sharp eyes had spotted the perpetrator quickly and she had grabbed my bag before shouting at him to get lost. I had gotten a long lecture that night about being too careless and trusting. 

I'm more careful now that is for the sure but the trusting part definitely could use a bit more work or else I wouldn't be sitting in a train right now, on the way to meet Anonymous. 

It is already half past eight and the train is still bustling with people. I lean back, my head resting against the glass window and stare at the view outside while my earphones blast the latest songs on the Melon Chart. 

I can't stop thinking about tonight. I probably should be scared about going to meet a complete stranger who has been communicating with me through fan mail, I know Binna definitely would be. 

She would have stopped me and called me out for being so reckless. 

The thing is I don't feel reckless at all. I tap my feet to the beat in my ears and fear is a distant emotion compared to the excitement currently flooding through me. 

Someone shifts next to me and I barely even notice. I'm too busy conjuring up scenarios about how tonight will play out and if Anonymous is real. 

A smooth female voice announces that we have reached Gangbyeon Station and I quickly get up to leave - not before checking if all my belongings are in place -. Quite a few people get out with me and I weave through the crowds like an expert and head to station Exit 1. 

I've never been to this side of Han River so I had to google the directions before. Thankfully, the rows of food stalls I'm looking for are right across the street. It is almost 9pm and my nerves start to buzz like bees at the back of my neck. 

I take in the row of flimsy looking stalls, each one shielded from the streets by long plastic sheets blocking my view of it's occupants. 

I put away my earphones and the sound of car horns blaring and loud music fills the air. I cross the road carefully and make my way down the footpath. 

Large printed numbers are the only decorations adorning each Pocha and when a plastic sheet lifts with the wind, the strong smell of deep fried seasoned squid hits me, making my mouth water. 

Each stall smells better than the last but I notice the excitement I felt before starts to dwindle along with my appetite. Fear starts to creep in with each number that I pass, the anticipation of reaching Pocha 15 almost makes me stop walking. 

I suppose a normal person like Binna would have thought about this immediately but for me it is a delayed reaction. 

What if this person is turns out to be dangerous?

What if it's some crazy Dalia fan who could potentially be violent?

What if it's someone from the press goading me into a secret meet up that will get me in trouble with Firefly?

My steps grow heavier with each new doubt until I find myself stopping outside Pocha 14. What am I doing? 

I'm out alone in the middle of the city. I came all the way here by myself to meet someone I have never met before. And I just realised I didn't tell anyone about it. If I were to die tonight, no one would even know why. 

Thankfully, our phones have been given back to us for the weekend so I pull out mine and dial my sister's number. 

"Unni, I miss you!" Kina picks up on the third ring. 

"I miss you too. Listen I need you to keep this between us." My voice is urgent and low even though I doubt anyone would be able to hear me with all the street noise. 

"Always," She replies easily. If it's one person I can trust it's my younger sister. We have kept each other's secrets from childhood and will most likely carry them to our graves. It's always been an unspoken rule that we'd have each other's backs no matter what. 

"I'm out at Gangbyeon Pocha street in Gwangjin-gu. I didn't tell anyone but I guess it's better you know, just in case."

"Ooo, is it a secret date?" My sister's voice is teasing but it quickly switches to cautious within seconds. "Or are you doing something illegal?"

Illegal definitely not. Dangerous maybe. 

"No, no. It's just a short outing. Nothing to worry about but my location is on, just in case," I say. 

"Okay, will keep Find My on stand by. Get it?" Kina laughs at her own rhyme but I am too nervous to find anything funny right now. "Be safe, okay."

"Always," I lie and then we end the call. 

A small breeze hits the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine as I stare at the printed numbers that read 15. Anonymous could be inside waiting for me at this very second.

"You going in?" A male voice echoes from behind and I whirl around in shock, nearly losing my balance in the process.

A tall guy stands before me, clad in all black from his shoes, jeans, shirt and jacket. Even his mask and cap is black. He stares at me but his eyes look like two dark pools of secrets, they dart between me and Pocha 15. 

"You're Anonymous?" I blurt out stupidly. A part of me is in disbelief that an actual person showed up. 

He cocks his head to the side and his eyes slant, making me wonder if he found that amusing. "Anonymous?" 

"I mean -," I start to clarify but he interrupts me and gestures for us to head inside. 

"If by anonymous you mean the fan sending you notes in the most creative way then yes, that is me," He leans in and says softly, gesturing for me to go inside. "Let's talk in private." 

My heart beats in an unsteady rhythm and it feels like a drum and bass concert under my rib cage. I follow the tall stranger inside, sizing him up from behind. 

His build is more lanky than fit but it's hard to say under the baggy jumper. He chats up the old lady behind the counter like they are long lost friends and orders some food for us at the same time. The lady then heads to the back, giving us the privacy we came here for. 

This stall is empty unlike the ones I've passed before and I wonder if he arranged for it to be this way. 

"Please have a seat," He says politely. 

I realise I have been staring at him the whole time and mentally slap myself to get it together. I sit down across from him, my gaze sharp like a hawk's. 

He takes off his mask and cap before setting it on the table. "To be honest. I didn't think you would come. Thank you so much for being here." 

Any reply I would have made freezes in my brain when I finally get a proper look at his face. After seeing all those fancily made letters I really expected to see a girl, woman or a creepy looking misfit.

But definitely not someone this attractive. 

The guy sitting in front of me looks to be around my age or older. He has a small but sharp nose, an angular face that accentuates his cheek bones and deep set eyes that look like they could devour you with their gaze. His hair is black and wavy, some of it falling across his forehead messily and his skin has a slight tan. 

Unlike Jiho, his features aren't soft enough to look like a Kpop idol but he reminds me of a Japanese actor I used to like years ago. 

I can't imagine this person huddled over a desk decorating a post card with colourful fabric or stickers and then mailing them to me. 

He runs a hand through his hair and lets out a nervous laugh. "This entire situation is weird, I know." 

"It is," I finally speak and I notice it makes his eyes light up. 

Our food arrives, flooding the tense air between us with delicious smelling food. I glance down at the table to see spicy rice cakes, mussel soup and udon noodles. My stomach aches for food that I haven't had in months and I lick my lips. 

Thankfully, I have half an inch to gain according to Yiren. 

"I know the owner here. Trust me this is the best mussel soup in the city." He pours some soup for me into a tiny bowl and pushes it towards me. 

I nod slowly trying not to show how eager I am to devour every plate of food on our small plastic table. 

"How was your evaluation today?" He asks me casually but then he freezes before I do. 

How the hell did he know that piece of information? 

"Sorry, I should explain myself before I start sounding like a creep. I work in the biggest news network in the country and we get tips and news before anyone else does. I just so happen to have a friend who gets all the insider information."

I stare at him skeptically while I stir the soup with my spoon. "What's your name?" 

"Hyeon," He answers automatically but there is no way of knowing if he is lying. I've never been the best at catching a lie from the truth anyway. 

"Okay, I don't want to waste your time. We should get straight to the point," He quickly changes the topic and digs into his pocket. 

I don't know why but my body stiffens when he does, expecting him to take out a gun or something. Instead, he takes out a small thumb drive and places it on the table so carefully one would think it was made of glass. 

"What's this?" I ask. 

"Evidence that Dalia did not kill herself on 9th July 2019. She had just signed a new contract a week prior." He speaks so softly I have to watch his mouth closely to confirm the words. 

At hearing this my spine snaps straight and I pick up the drive curiously. "A new contract? Sweet Poison renewed their contract?" I try to keep my voice soft as well. This isn't the sort of conversation you have openly in public. 

"No, only Dalia renewed with PT. She was offered to write and produce music as well as perform. No female Kpop idol has ever received an offer like this, mind you," Hyeon says proudly like he is Dalia's personal manager.

It's true, female Kpop idols rarely have the freedom to write and produce music let alone in a company as huge as PT. As much as this news shocks me it still doesn't seem like enough and the built up anticipation before coming here begins to wane. 

"But that doesn't mean she didn't do it." I reply, frustration filling my voice. 

"It means she had no motive. Dalia always wanted to write and produce music. That was her dream before she became an idol. Plus she had no history of depression or suicidal tendencies. Just take a look at the files then you will know what I am talking about." I might be imagining it but Hyeon's tone is starting to get defensive.

He pushes the thumb drive into my palm making me pull away instinctively. 

"We can even go now if you want. There's a cyber cafe nearby," His eyes light up and it is the first time they don't look so dark and empty. 

Curiosity is a poison that currently floods my veins, filling it with adrenaline which in turn results in very poor decision making. I watch him eat the spicy rice cakes while he waits for me to respond.

I clutch the thumb drive as I run through my schedule for the upcoming week. There is no way I can sneak out again like this anytime soon. 

"Should we eat first or pack the food?" I ask.

His lips pull back into a slow and satisfied smile and I wonder if I am about to make a mistake. 

Heyy, things are picking up. We've finally met mystery man :)