He shakes his head, trying to steady himself. Trying to breathe.

It’s not working.

“It’s a thought experiment. Is Theseus’s wooden ship, which has all of its parts gradually replaced by stronger timber, the same ship?” Kisa chews on her bottom lip. “Some philosophers say no. How could it be? A ship of pine isn’t the same thing as a ship of, say, oak. A gumiho isn’t the same as a shaman…”

It’s as if the floor has dropped beneath Seokga’s feet, and he grips the edges of the table as Kisa muses on. Collect yourself. She’s right.

“But some philosophers say that there are two Ships of Theseus. One oak, one pine. Both the same, yet compositely different. It’s fascinating, really. What do you think?”

“I think,” rasps Seokga, “that I’d need something stronger than coffee to answer that question.”

She’s so different from Hani. There are no quick jokes, no mischievous grins, no strawberry egg buns on the table in front of them. Hani was always quick, but Kisa’s mind is working at such a speed that Seokga feels he cannot hope to ever possibly keep up. And this thought experiment…It is sending him into a state of panic. Has he lost Hani completely, after all?

Stop, he orders his spiraling mind as he watches Kisa’s eyes dance over his expression. Stop—

But it’s too late. She’s seen his ragged edges peeking out from underneath his façade, the bitter disappointment and confusion. Kisa’s own face falls, then blushes blue.

“I’m sorry,” she says, clearing her throat. “I didn’t think…” He watches, momentarily frozen as she scratches awkwardly at the tabletop, seemingly struggling to find words. “You use banmal with me,” Kisa finally continues, and Seokga feels a rush of hot embarrassment. He’s been using the informal with her, and even though this is not uncommon—he generally speaks banmal with everyone, due to his advanced age and overall superiority—it humiliates him to know that his motive for using banmal, a friendship and love that don’t exist for Kisa, is so glaringly obvious. “I shouldn’t have brought up the ship.”

“No,” Seokga says after a long moment, in which he slowly and painstakingly glues himself back together. “Thank you for sharing it with me. It’s…” Horrifying. Depressing. Going to keep him up at night. “…relevant. I hadn’t heard of it before.” You can use banmal with me if you’d like, he wants to add, but somehow cannot find the courage.

Kisa nods, blush receding, back to business. “Perhaps we can solve it,” she offers and smooths down her light blue scrubs. “I really am quite excited to be working with you on this development. I think our collaboration will be beneficial to so many parties.”