It was her second time setting foot on this land.

Fortunately, the trip to Thailand had not been difficult. What had been unexpectedly hard to break through, however, was the resistance of Lee Wooshin’s backup agent.

Na Wonchang insisted she should return safely to Korea, not head to Thailand, and opposed her plan with everything he had. But when Channa showed up at just the right moment, much of the conflict dissolved. Channa asked no questions, made no fuss about why it had to be Thailand. She simply helped, silently and steadily.

“Thank you.”

Seoryeong stepped out of the airport into the heavy, sweltering air. After days of exchanging messages with the two, she knew now just how competent they both were.

With nothing more than the photo of a bracelet she’d sent, they had drawn up a startling amount of information.

That the trinket was a cheap accessory, sold mainly around tourist spots on the outskirts. That for a handful of locals living on an island, it was their only means of survival.

That not every bracelet bore a motif. And that the motifs most often used fell into five categories.

Diaspora.

When they said five types, and the five syllables Di-a-spo-ra surfaced in her mind—was that coincidence?

That strange word, muttered over and over by Ligai like a patient with anxiety disorder... Wooshin had once explained it to her on a mission. A people exiled from their homeland, living in a foreign land. At the memory, her heart clenched.

“I feel like I’ve shamelessly taken too much help.”

When she spoke with embarrassment, Na Wonchang practically leapt.

—Madam, I’ve known you for years already, how can you say something so unkind...!

Known me...? Not in the normal sense, surely. Seoryeong gave an awkward laugh.

She melted naturally into the foreign landscape, merging with the crowd. Contrary to the fear that she would never leave Russia with Wooshin behind, she felt instead an odd sense of approaching him.

Just stay alive, Instructor. I’ll handle everything else. Just keep breathing.

Her eyes hardened.

***

“Ha...”

Beneath the blazing sun, Seoryeong irritably twisted up her hair. First day, nothing. Second day, nothing again.

Led by Channa, she had sat all day in the city, waiting for the child who sold bracelets to appear. But perhaps it had been searching for a needle in a desert from the start. The child never came.

With no better plan, she simply sat and waited, sweating in streams.

By the third day, after tidying the heap of empty bottles, she pushed through the throngs and wandered the °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° alleys.

It had to be here.

It was here.

Squinting against the harsh sun, she combed every corner of the tourist quarter. She chased after passing children to check their faces, asked vendors who only frowned and said they didn’t know.

Again and again, she pleaded desperately, only to watch friendly shopkeepers stiffen when she asked. But she didn’t give up, ran until her mouth went dry.

For fear of missing the child, she didn’t eat, didn’t use the bathroom, didn’t do anything properly. When the sudden shower came drizzling down, she ducked beneath a flimsy awning.

“Haa...”

What am I doing in a place like this? She rubbed her tired eyes and looked up at the grey sky. Still, this bracelet was the only lead she had....

A couple passed by, laughing brightly, and Seoryeong hung her head. Even in the warm, damp air, a cold seeped into her chest.

I wanted to know you, and the Solzhenitsyns, properly too.... Why did my birth father say he was sorry to your family? Why?

“Miss, you’re so pretty!”

The clear, birdlike voice froze her stiff. Awkward, but unmistakably Korean. Her head snapped around.

There—there was the child she had scoured the earth for, clinging to strangers like a puppy, thrusting out a basket of bracelets.

The same tattered clothes as before, but a clean face. Her heart nearly stopped.

She stumbled from under the roof, and the pelting rain brought her back to her senses. The child beamed, hawking bracelets with practiced charm. Though his features bore traces of local blood, something in him felt achingly familiar. Seoryeong cupped her palms over his head against the rain.

“Can I see a bracelet?”

“Ah, pretty miss...! Don’t just see—buy, buy lots! Cheap, very cheap!”

The child proudly showed jade, rose, crimson bands. Pretending to browse, she sifted through until she found a pattern resembling hers. She picked it up.

“Did you make this?”

The child’s eyes went round. He shook his head.

“I only string stones.”

“Where did you learn Korean?”

“From grandma.”

“Grandma?”

“Pretty miss, will you buy?”

“Where’s your home?”

“......”

“Would I find more like this if I went there? Where’s your home?”

She thought it a natural question. But suddenly, the child clamped his mouth shut. The cheeky girl who had laughed so easily now smacked her lips with a face aged three, four years. The change, against her pure features, was stark.

“If you won’t buy, forget it. Bad. Bad.”

The child shot her a sharp glare and spun on her heel. Alarmed, Seoryeong reached out, but before she could catch the baggy clothes, the girl toppled to the ground. Seoryeong’s face twisted in disbelief.

The child let out loud fake wails, waaah, waaah, batting away Seoryeong’s hand.

*I didn’t even touch your sleeve yet.... *

She was stunned at the impudent act, but only for a moment. Swiftly, she slipped her phone into the basket.

“Wait! I really am going to buy a bracelet!”

She felt like a kidnapper bribing a child with candy, but the girl darted off like a squirrel, not once looking back.

Still, the loud splash-splash of her little feet in the puddles gave her away.

Seoryeong followed, quietly, like treading on a tail. Wiping her wet face as she turned a corner—suddenly a kick flew, and she barely twisted away. A blade glinted at her jaw.

“Who the hell are you?”

The English spat with ferocity. Seoryeong raised her head. A woman, perhaps her age, met her eyes.

With a scowl carved deep, she stood at Seoryeong’s height, her stance solid. Broad training pants, combat boots, a taut, muscular frame. Her knife didn’t waver.

“You after my kids for something?”

“......”

“What’s your business, stalking them like this?”

The woman jeered, pressing the knife closer.

“Don’t cry when you get cut. Turn back while I’m being nice.”

Seoryeong stared blankly at the face brimming with hostility. Strangely, this woman felt even more familiar than the child—a perfectly East Asian face. She couldn’t look away. Her body froze.

Black hair, black eyes. It wasn’t only the resemblance to a Korean-Russian. Her trembling hand slid behind her back.

Brother... Sister... my head hurts....

Ugh... sis, me too....

The faint voices pounded her chest.

“These past days, you’ve been chasing only our kids, haven’t you... huh?”

The girl—woman, really—frowned. She made a strange sound, as if something caught in her throat. As if she recognized her. As if startled.

Surely not recognizing me? Seoryeong stiffened, swallowing.

Surely not... no siblings besides me and Kiya should even remember that time. It couldn’t be. Yet her eyes lingered, as though on a face she knew. Their gaze locked through the rain.

“Are you... married?”

The woman tilted her head. The surprise, the unease in her eyes—Seoryeong could only nod.

“Then... besides your husband... do you have an acquaintance, strong, good-looking?”

Another odd question.

“Maybe... Instructor Maxim...?”

Who the hell is that? Seoryeong shook her head, brushing the knife away. The woman blinked, coughed, as if waking from a dream.

“Anyway! Don’t follow us again. Don’t come near the kids. If you touch a hair on their heads, your face won’t stay intact. My fists are sharp. See this?”

She shook her collar, pointing to a small badge.

“This is from the Gurkha Training Camp.”

“......”

“Get caught again, and there’ll be no mercy...!”

“I do have business.”

“...What?”

“The kid who just ran. I want to see her parents’ faces. Or her grandmother’s, that’s fine too.”

“...What?”

The woman’s face froze cold. She understood Korean perfectly. Seoryeong couldn’t help a faint laugh.

“That clever brat swiped my phone.”

“......!”

“So if you don’t want this getting bigger, just take me quietly. Where’s your home?”

She couldn’t let it slip away now. Seoryeong’s eyes shone, and she seized the woman’s wrist.