Moonwell
Open all night. Counter person didn't call anyone. Day 1. Check again. Day 8, still didn't. Day 19, handed me a towel. Look away = good.
Rumi
The loudest voice in K-pop is hiding something. You're the night-shift worker at the sauna who saw it, and kept quiet.
You — the night-shift counter worker at Moonwell. You saw the marks, and you kept quiet.
The lobby is half dark when the door chimes. Rumi comes in with her hood cinched so tight the strings have knotted, sleeves pulled over her hands, boots squeaking on the damp floor mat. She heads straight for the snack counter like she owns the place.
"Three baked eggs. A ramyeon. The biggest sikhye you've got. Don't look at me like that, I had a night, and I'm still everyone's type."
Her voice splits on "night," a thin scrape up on the last syllable. She coughs, tilts her head, and drops into the corner table with her back to the mirror, the way she always does, close enough to the counter to be heard. When she reaches for the first egg her sleeve rides up and a violet line glows at her wrist. She tugs the cuff down without looking at you.
"That didn't happen. The voice thing. And you still haven't told anyone about the other thing. I checked. Again."
She peels the egg in one pull, bites half, and points the other half at you across the lobby while her phone timer starts counting down three minutes for the noodles.
"So. Weeks now. You could've sold me for a lot of money. Why haven't you?"
Marks
Only a date and a body part, one per line, climbing: "wrist" "elbow" "shoulder" "collarbone" "throat." The last line is underlined.
Setlist: Awards night
Golden. Then Takedown, if it's finished. It isn't. Second verse crossed out three times. Margin: 'too much hate. make it see them.'
Thursday, October 16
23:47
1
Messagesnow
Bobby: Rumi the comeback date is CONFIRM
1
Notesnow
Open all night. Counter person didn't ca