[Sim Daejung and Lily Gong]

"Name?"

"Lily Gong." I'm pretty sure I've just heard the girl's first name correctly, but I'm far more dubious on the surname. Is it actually Gong? I mean, that can't be real.

"Could you repeat it, please?"

"Lily Gong," she repeats.

"Where are you from?"

"Why do you care?" She frowns at me, confused by the question. I don't flinch. I mean, that's just a simple question. I need to make my suspects clear. I'm pretty sure I'm talking to a fellow Korean. Still, I doubt she'll show any pride in being one. I mean, so-called minorities are having a really hard time here in the States.

"Just answer."

"Queens, New York. Are you okay with that?" She scoffs, annoyed at my insistance. I'm sure she thinks I'm a stalker, like the infamous sasaeng lads who pop out of nowhere to spy on other people's lives.

My lips curl in a smile. "Cool. And how old are you?"

"I don't think it's polite of yours to ask," she points out. She's wrong, though. Asking someone's age is exactly the opposite. It's the most polite form to find out how to address someone, at least in South Korea. Americans are a lot more private on age matters, unless they're talking to friends or close relatives.

"Oh, come on," I insist. "It's just a question. It doesn't do any harm to answer. Look, we might even be the same age. I'm twenty-eight. And you?"

"Same."

"Nice." I grin, much to her irritation.

"What else do you want to know? Height? Weight? Blood type?" The girl has just given me ideas, props to her! I mean, knowing someone's blood type is important in terms of compatibility. And I don't just mean it when it comes to blood donation.

She goes on. "Five feet six and a half, 169 cm according to metric system. 130 pounds, or 59 kilos as you prefer. Blood type, O."

"Blood type O, you said? Mine is A. We might not get along that much, but, hey, let's not judge a book by its cover," I say, ignoring that her face is turning beet red out of frustration and embarrassment. If I want to get to know my new neighbors better, I have to ask questions. This is how it works.

"What about you? You haven't even introduced yourself, I remind you." She's right. I should've at least told my name.

"Sim Daejung. Nice to meet you," I blurt out, before realizing I've been quite out of place. "Sorry." Not sorry. I think the girl has already taken a liking for me, at least as a neighbor.

"I've never seen you. But, hang on. Your name... Did you leave Korea recently or what?"

Okay, I think tables turned. But I deserve it. I asked questions first, now it's my turn to answer. "No, I left in 2018. I finished my goddamn military service and then left Korea. Good riddance."

"But why?"

"You wouldn't like to be in my shoes, trust me. My family got caught in tax evasion issues. I mean, they never had issues with taxes until then. But what's done is done. I couldn't stay anymore. People only saw me as a fraud coming from a family of tax evaders."

She eyes me suspiciously. She must be thinking that I've been struggling with paying my dues, as well. We can't say the USA are lax on taxes, to be fair. I reassure her. "No, I've always paid my bills, especially since coming here to the USA almost three years ago."

"Only three years ago, though?" She still doesn't trust me. I get it, I'm the new one here. "Your English is good, by the way."

"I practised a lot. Watched shows in English, listened to tons of songs in English and took advanced classes. I always knew it'd come handy," I answer.

"I'm glad you thought this way back then, since it's crucial to know English," she explains. "Immigrants have had it tougher than ever lately." Her latest sentence is an open wound for me. My stay in America depends on my ability to stay clean all the way through the damn green card. If I mess up, they send me packing.

"By the way, welcome to Haute Heights. If you have any issues, feel free to knock at my door. I'm on fourth floor, block 4B."

"Block 4B?" This time, it's my turn to be confused. What does it even mean?

"We call apartments 'blocks.' It's a convention that exists since 1956. I didn't know until, at least, three weeks ago."

"Cool."

"Now I really need to go. See you!" As soon as she leaves, I decide to go back inside as well. I have nothing to do right now, so I need a distraction. Something that keeps me from wanting to order an extralarge bucket of fried chicken and three beers.

As soon as I reach my apartment on the sixth floor, I overhear a slammed door and shouts all over the hall. What is going on?

"Amy, let us in! It's an order!"

"Screw you! All you want is grab my money because you're fucking desperate! I need it more than you, you know. Bills don't pay by themselves! Go away!"

"Don't talk to me like that!"

"Just go away!"

Okay. Time to duck in, unless I want to say hello to the grumpy couple. They don't even have their masks put on correctly. I suspect they don't believe COVID-19 exists.

All I want to do is to just lie on the couch and watch some TV. I mean, this is all I can do apart from job hunting. Well, not that I've been any successful in finding one, though. Watching TV is a lot easier and doesn't require any stress.

I sit down and pick the remote control when I realize that something is buzzing in my pocket. That fucking phone. It must be some ad, or maybe some relatives I left behind. No, it can't be.

At last, I pick up the phone from the pocket and answer. "Hello?"

"Sim Daejung-ssi, at last I found you, you idiot! Where the fuck did you go? Don't you think you can keep running away! Just man up and face reality!"

No! Not Lee Daehwa! Not now! I don't want to hear from her! She's only bringing up further trouble. She didn't take my decision of leaving Seoul very well—she's obsessed with me. Even when I clearly told her that we'd never be a thing, she insisted that she wanted me. She should seriously get a grip.

"Listen, Daehwa-ssi, I have no time for your bullshit. I'm not going back. Period." I groan, but she doesn't pay me any attention.

"You need to come back. You can't leave and expect that everything is going to be okay. You can't run away from problems all the time."

"The only problem I have right now is you. Stop calling, okay? You're pissing me off. Get a life." I hang up without even letting her blurt out any more of her bullshit. Now I can watch TV in peace, right?

I guess I've talked too early.

I'm hearing more shouts from outdoors, and no, this time it's not the hysterical girl from ten minutes ago. It's from another woman, who seems even more frustrated than the other one. What's the problem with people in this house?

"Don't come at me for that! It's not my fault if they cancelled! Blame it on that idiots! I mean, I tried to make them reason but-"

TV can wait for now. The drama in the hall is far more interesting.