Seokga was quite clearly, obviously, visibly upset. Of course. Why did I say it like that? Kisa curses herself, pumping some of the sweet-scented foam soap into her hands and scrubbing them underneath a jet of warm water. Technically, such sanitization is unnecessary when one is already in the underworld, but old habits quite literally die hard. A research collaboration? Working with him on this development?

It’s true, of course, that she’s jubilant to be experiencing something like this—the gap in the literature is astounding; if she can manage to write something, that could be invaluable—but she should have eased into it. Kisa has frightened him off.

The right thing to do would have been to tell the god she was looking forward to getting to know him. That’s almost certainly what a normal woman would have done, right after finding themselves thrilled—exhilarated, even—to be Threaded to a god…and, at that, one as—as handsome, as powerful, as Seokga. There would have been no flustered ramblings about research or libraries or awkward stammers to fill an equally awkward silence. She’d just been so excited…

“Kisa?” Hajun asks, gently knocking on the door as she dries her hands. “Are you okay?”

No. No, she’s not. She’s a bloody mess. Taking a few deep breaths, she reknots her hair and slips back out into the clinic.

“Oh, no,” Hajun says, staring down at her with those wide, heavily lashed eyes she so often envies. It’s not uncommon that a deep sadness churns in their depths, but right now, only a tender concern shines through. “You blew it, didn’t you?” His tone isn’t accusatory at all (it’s empathetic, really), but Kisa still winces.

“Was it that obvious that I would?” Her shame grows. Why, she thinks bitterly, can’t she be normal?

Her friend’s eyes soften even further. “I think anyone would blow it. I mean, the fact that you didn’t scream and run away is already impressive. You saw me. I threw a paperweight at him.”

She can’t hold back a small smile as she steps behind the counter, riffling through a few charts. In her absence, Hajun has logged treating a few guests for seasickness. There will be more in the coming hours.

“Besides,” Hajun continues, leaning on the other side, “if you really are soulmates, he’ll forgive you for whatever you said.” His pink lips curve into a hesitant smile as he props his chin on a hand. “And I promise he’ll come to love that freaky brain of yours…”

“Hajun.” Kisa almost laughs.

“I’ll never understand how you keep so much stuff in it.”