“I did bring one for him,” Somi admits, and the look of horror on Seokga’s face is incomparable. It only grows as Somi hands a book to Kisa, who snorts at the cover and title before passing it on to Seokga. He leans his cane against the sick bay counter to take it, holding it disdainfully between two fingers, as if afraid to catch germs.

Married to the Sexy Space Pirate.

—where is she—getting—all of these—what the fuck—

Kisa fixes Seokga with a warning look when it seems like he’s about to hurl the novel across the room. Grimacing, he passes it back to her. She places both of their books with gentle reverence in her tote bag behind the counter for later reading. When she emerges, Seokga has turned on Somi.

“You’re awfully cheerful,” the trickster god mutters in disgust, “for an investigator with no leads.”

“No leads, you say?” Somi asks, blinking faux-innocent eyes. “I beg to differ. Last night, I decided to take matters into my own little paws. I went back to the I-95 and poked around some more. And then somebody came.”

Kisa’s heart has begun to pound in her chest and she nervously sips at her coffee. “Who?”

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” Seokga snaps with all the sharpness of a honed blade.

“I ducked into a janitorial closet. It was a woman. I couldn’t see her, but I heard her voice. She was speaking on the phone to somebody, and she explicitly said: ‘They don’t know it was me who killed your father. They’re chasing their tails like dogs.’ ”

Kisa nearly chokes on her flat white. If this is true, it explains why nobody fell for their Hwanin-bait yesterday—the murderer must have known it was really Seokga underneath the silver hair and starry eyes. “You’re certain?” she rasps. This is confirmation that Hwanung is involved. Her head aches with excitement and nerves. “Please, Somi, tell me that you managed to record that. If we send it to Yeomra, it will be the solid evidence he needs…”

Somi hesitates, nibbling on her thumbnail. “The bad news is—”

“Great,” mutters Seokga acerbically.

“—that I…didn’t record it.” She winces, averting her eyes. Blue stains her cheeks and she suddenly reminds Kisa of a young, uncertain, and anxious girl instead of a notorious Unruly. It’s as if she’s constantly catching glimpses of the Somi that Hani might have known so many years ago, as if Somi’s confidence and swagger are more of an act than anything else and this is the real Somi. “I’m sorry.”

Kisa’s heart falls. Hajun places a gentle hand on her shoulder, and she fights the urge to shrug it off like a petulant child. It’s fine, she tells herself. We have more leads than we did an hour ago. It will be fine.