“I don’t…crochet…” Kisa mumbles. “I…knit…”

“Same thing,” he whispers, and the last thing he feels before drifting off to sleep is Kisa, kicking him half-heartedly beneath the covers and laughing sleepily into her pillow.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Kisa

One perfectly rejuvenating nap later, Kisa tips the shot glass of soju into her mouth with a small smile, relishing the sweet grape flavor that masks the edge of the alcohol astoundingly well. Deck 10 of the SRC Flatliner is empty save for the four of them—plus a babbling, floating baby Hwanin—with most guests hiding in their rooms as the clock strikes eleven, still traumatized from the day’s events. The sundeck at night is strung with fairy lights, illuminating the rushing waters of the river below, where the SRC Flatliner is firmly anchored.

Somi is giggling as she drinks straight from the source, cheeks flushed as she passes the green glass to Hajun, who Kisa can tell is already on the verge of drunk. Her friend is lying on the pool chair next to Somi, eyes glimmering as he seems to trace the contours of her moonlit face with them. “Would you be my Valentine?” he whispers, despite it being not at all close to the day of love. Kisa bites her lip, smile faltering while she watches as Somi bursts out laughing, the gumiho’s hand rising to her lips as a bit of soju sprays out. Again, she feels that twinge of envy at their newness, how Somi and Hajun are so unweighted, unanchored, by the past. They are as fresh and young as the first morning of spring, both of them.

“It’s not even February,” Somi wheezes in reply to the smitten Hajun. “It’s autumn.”

He blinks dreamily at her. “Will you be my…pumpkin, then?” Kissed by the Mafia Cowboy is spread open on his chest. Somi grabs it and playfully swats at him with the raunchy novel.

Kisa swallows hard as she turns to Seokga. Despite the festivities, the god looks exhausted, holding on to Hwanin’s foot as the child floats in the air to stare up at the fairy lights. As Seokga looks back at her, there’s a question in his eyes she’s not yet ready to answer. Here, on the highest deck of the SRC Flatliner, she’s as far away from the elevator as she can be, and she doesn’t want to think about it.

Kisa quickly pours herself another shot of soju, grabbing the bottle from the small table between Somi and Hajun before walking to Seokga. “So,” she says, studying the rim of her glass, “we solved the mystery.” The novelty of it hasn’t quite worn off. They did it.