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"Ohh, you look so pretty."
Irene had made Seulgi look away while she changed her clothes. Now Irene was wearing a pair of blue shorts that reached just below her thighs and a red sweatshirt, which was a little too large for her.
Now, she showed herself. She had found it hard to dress up comfortably because of the moving taxi, but she got it done.
"Thank you," she said, blushing like a lovestruck sixth-grader. "You look beautiful too." Her hand instinctively covered her own face.
Many people, most of them being young men, had told her all her life she was pretty due to her connection with the goddess of beauty. Irene hated that because they only wanted her for either her beauty or sex. None of them succeeded in finding out that Irene was more than a pretty face. And Irene never succeeded in falling for the many compliments either.
But if Seulgi said that to her, she just wanted to hear them even more.
Why?
Seulgi grinned. She placed her right hand on Irene's arm and pushed it down to remove the older girl's hand from her face. "Don't cover your face, 'Hyun," she said, laughing. "Let the world know you're pretty."
"No, thank you---"
"Pretty pretty pretty pretty!" Seulgi chanted cheerfully. She repeated those words as if she were a member of some dangerous cult. She looped her arms around Irene's neck and pulled her down to her lap so she could tickle her.
Irene squirmed and giggled while Seulgi tickled her. She tried to wriggle out of Seulgi's arms but Seulgi was stronger; Seulgi was tickling her like a maniac.
"Please, Seulgi! Stop!" begged Irene between laughs.
"Say that you're cute and I'll let you go!"
"Oh? Pfft, I won't!"
Seulgi drove her tickling fingers into Irene's neck a little harder, but she made sure it did not hurt. Irene giggled more and squirmed.
"F-Fine!" Irene gave in. "I'm cute!"
Only when she said that did Seulgi's hands stop tickling her crazily.
"Fuck you, Seul," swore Irene. She was unable to sit up; she was too exhausted. But she was glad that she was unable to talk; she wouldn't need to tell about what Apollo said to her.
She suddenly was prompted to look at the new cut on her arm. It was still red, but Irene knew it wouldn't hurt when the following days came and went.
She lay there on Seulgi's lap, studying the wound. She wished that finally, the day would come when she would look back on the wound and laugh at what she was troubled about in the past.
But that wasn't the life of a half-blood. That day would only happen when she was on the brink of death.
