“No.” Kisa shakes her head. “No. You didn’t do this for me. Whatever Nam Somi did to me in a past life, I don’t remember it. I don’t remember her. I don’t remember you.” She tries to ignore how he flinches, and pushes onward. “It wouldn’t have made a difference to me if you had left her alone. You did this for yourself. But you’re not the one who will have to pay.”

The crowd holds their breath as she steps toward him. Going head-to-head with a god is never advised: Kisa cannot count the number of myths, of tales that advise against doing exactly this…But she doesn’t quite care, even though all the stories are true.

“This—this was inconceivably thoughtless.” The red thread quivers as, in a fit of rising anger, Kisa props one hand on her hip and points the other at Seokga’s pointed nose. “All of the crew has been waiting for reincarnation for a very long time. But the CEO will blame tonight’s workers for this fiasco. Do you understand the gravity of that?”

She watches as his throat bobs. Once, twice. His eyes cross slightly to watch her finger with growing concern as she jabs it. Around them, the frozen crowd slowly begins to disperse, murmuring amongst themselves. Somewhere hidden, the live band tremulously begins to play again.

“What would you like from me?” Seokga quietly asks, and the worst part is that he doesn’t even seem to know. His words are hesitant, softened by the informal and that odd, uncertain hint of familiarity she first noticed in the café. Unfortunately, the temptation to draw her hand back, form it into a fist, and then send it crashing into his perfect nose is interfering with Kisa’s capability for rational thought. She understands perfectly how Emperor Hwanin must feel. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it,” the god adds.

She has an itemized list prepared. “One, please do not attack people on this ship! Two—which I’ll put in as a clause in case you do attack somebody: Clean up after yourself, and don’t barrel into workers holding a tray of glasses in the first place. Three, inform the CEO that the workers here tonight had nothing to do with your—your—” She struggles to find the word before finally selecting: “—shenanigans.”

Seokga’s eyes crinkle at the corners. Kisa steadfastly ignores how that small change transforms his face from hard to surprisingly gentle in just one moment. “Is that all?” the trickster asks, sounding amused.