Elizabeth didn't know what to do for the best. She had checked into a hotel after leaving Young-il's apartment. She'd dropped the folder back onto the bed, but had taken pictures of the paperwork. She had packed quickly, needing to get out of the apartment before he came home. She'd taken most things, but she knew she'd forgotten a few dresses and toiletries, but she could replace them. She'd seen him try to call her as she sat on the bed in her hotel room. She had looked down as his name flashed up on her screen. She hadn't answered, but she hadn't declined the calls either. She'd just let the phone ring.

She couldn't understand it. Why did he have those files on her? Why did he know everything about her personal life? There were newspaper articles of her husband and the events he had been to. There had been photos of her at numerous events as well. She knew all of that information was publicly accessible, but her hotel records weren't. How had he even got those? And why did he have them?

A part of Elizabeth wanted to find out, but a part of her knew that she didn't know who Young-il was, not really. Then again, she hadn't really known Robert until they'd gotten married. Was it actually possible to know someone entirely? But a part of her knew that Young-il was dangerous. She knew that he wasn't a man she should mess with. She knew that he'd been a police officer before his wife had died. She knew that he'd taken money from a questionable character. She also knew that he had knocked Robert to the floor without breaking a sweat. Elizabeth guessed that she should keep her distance now. She couldn't trust anyone, not really.

But she knew she'd have to go to work. She was thankful that her bruises on her face had pretty much healed and her lip had healed. She'd stayed in the hotel until Monday morning, but she knew that wasn't a long-term solution. She didn't have the money. She got dressed for work, tugging on her tights and white blouse, tucking it into her plum pencil skirt and grabbing the matching blazer. She blow-dried her hair and did her makeup before picking up her bag with her laptop and phone. She took the subway to work, blending in with everyone else making their morning commute.

Coming to the office, she should've known that he would find her. She walked up to the building across the concrete plaza where people were sat having coffees and breakfast before heading into work. There were some people with miserable faces, but others were laughing and joking. Elizabeth wondered if he'd seen her and so she tried to keep her head down, but it was too late. He intercepted her before she could get to the revolving doors of the office.

"We need to talk," he told her, standing in front of her. She looked over his shoulder and tried to move around him.

"I need to go to work," she said, voice firm.

"Elizabeth, it isn't what you think," he promised her and he blocked her again, hands going to her upper arms and holding her in place. "I promise you that it isn't what you think. Just let me explain."

"And if I don't want you to explain?" she wondered from him, voice still harsh. This time she was looking him in the eye, but her glare was intense. "What if I don't want to know why you had a folder on me? What if I just want you to walk away and leave me alone?"

"Is that what you really want?" he questioned from her. "Because I don't think it is. I know what that folder looked like. I understand why you freaked out."

"It looks like you've been stalking me," Elizabeth hissed at him. "Is that what's been happening? You've been stalking me?"

"No," he told her, his voice firm and then he shook his head, hair moving around the top of it. "I don't know…maybe…maybe it was stalking, but not like that, not like you see in the movies. I just…we spent all of that time together and I knew what your husband was doing. I knew what he was doing, but I didn't know how to talk to you about it. You were my lawyer and it was hardly professional for you to bring up personal matters."

"So you hacked into my medical files?" she said, tone still terse and he knew that he had a lot of making up to do if he wanted to get her back on side. "And you're right. I was your lawyer. My private life had nothing to do with you."

"And that is exactly why I didn't say anything," he said. "But the more time we spent together, the more I got to see you and you…I haven't let myself get close to anyone since my wife, Elizabeth. I told myself that it would be for the best and I lost my way. I lost any semblance of thinking that I could care for someone again. I see suffering every day. Look around you, there are people down and out on their luck. There are people in horrible positions and I never cared about them. I never felt a shred of sympathy, but then I spent time with you and I got to know you. Granted, I know it was just a version of yourself because you were working and you were nothing but professional, but you were kind. You were funny. You were so confident. And then when I heard you on the phone…saw the bruises you tried to hide under your shirt sleeves and makeup…and I wanted to talk to you about it. I did. I wanted to tell you that you could leave and get out, make a new life for yourself."

Elizabeth listened to him intently, wondering if she could trust anything that was coming out of his mouth. She didn't tell anyone about the bruises. If anyone asked then she just told them that she'd fallen. She suspected that most people could see straight through that, but they never did anything. No one ever took her into a room and asked her if she was telling them the truth. No one ever pushed her. Then again, if they did, she doubted that she'd tell them the truth.

"But I didn't say any of that to you because I worried about how you'd react," he told her and Elizabeth looked him in the eye again. He kept his hands on her arms, almost like he was making sure she couldn't leave. People walked around the two of them, but no one said anything. They clearly just assumed that they were in the middle of an argument and people hated public confrontation.

"I would've probably told you that it was none of your business," Elizabeth confessed that much to him.

"And that was why I did what I did," he said to her. "That was why I kept tabs on you because I was worried it might escalate. I was worried about what he might do to you. I have friends in high up places who helped, but there was no sinister motive, Elizabeth. Bumping into you in that bar had been purely coincidental. I swear to you."

Elizabeth looked away from him then, wondering if she should believe him. It seemed almost like an unlikely story, but she wasn't past believing it. He could see that she was still hesitant and so he let her go. He knew that he had to give her space and time to see that he wasn't some crazed psychopath who was obsessed with her.

"I was there for a drink because I needed a break from work," he said. "Before then, yes, I would check-in on you occasionally because I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'd grown fond of you, Elizabeth, but I never knew it would develop into this…into how I feel right now…the flirting during meetings…I thought that it had just been harmless and your way of working. I never anticipated actually seeing myself falling for you as quickly as I have done."

He knew that he'd taken her by surprise then. Her lips parted and she shifted from one foot to the other. She closed her eyes for a moment and just turned her head to the side, taking a deep breath. She could feel the breeze in her hair and she raised a hand, tucking it behind her ear and then looking back at him. Her face seemed to soften at hearing him say that, but he knew that she didn't know how to respond or what to say to him, not really.

"Look, I know you have to go to work," he told her. "Just…have dinner with me tonight…in a restaurant…and we can talk some more, okay? You can ask me any questions you have and I will be truthful with you"

"I don't know," Elizabeth whispered.

"I know that you're scared and I get that," Young-il promised her. "But I never want to hurt you, Elizabeth. That has never been and never will be my intention."

She wanted to believe him. She longed to believe what he was telling her. She'd trusted him before and then she'd found that folder. It had changed things, but had he actually done anything but keep tabs on her because he was concerned? She could see why he wouldn't want her to find it, of course. But even if he was worried for her, that felt too much. He knew she was hesitating with what to say to him.

"I'll book a table somewhere and text you the place and time," he said. "If you come then you come, if you don't then you don't and I will leave you alone. You can forget I ever existed."

Elizabeth looked him in the eye. What did she want to say to him? What should she do? She had no idea. "I need to go to work," she told him and he let her walk away without another word. Spinning on his heel, he turned to watch her go, seeing her push through the revolving doors and press her pass against the turnstiles. She didn't turn back around, but he did see the way she moved a hand to her forehead as she waited for the elevator and closed her eyes. She didn't know what to do and he could tell. He could only hope that she did come and it had been a long time since he'd hoped for something.

…

Elizabeth sat in her office, a brief open in front of her. She knew that she had to file for the other lawyers to complete, but her mind was elsewhere. She was struggling to know what to do for the best. She figured that she should try and work to take her mind off of Young-il, but she couldn't. Instead, she sat back and tossed her pen down onto the desk. He'd text her the restaurant name he'd booked, saying that he'd made a reservation for seven p.m. Elizabeth scrolled through her phone, looking at the photos she'd taken from the folder. She hadn't gone through them again, almost too scared in case she found something more incriminating that would ruin things even more.

She frowned when she spotted what looked like a phone number on top of a piece of paper. Pinching the screen of her phone, she zoomed in. It looked like he'd tried to rub it out. She managed to make out the numbers though and she jotted them down in her notebook. Who was he calling? Was this the person who had gotten her details? Could they confirm what he'd told her? Or would it be something else? Elizabeth didn't know, but she wanted to find out. She pressed the buttons into the phone and clicked the call button.

Putting the phone to her ear, she let it ring and tried to calm her nerves. She was scared of who might be on the other end of the phone. She didn't want to give away who she was, not just yet. She didn't want to tip Young-il off.

"Yes?" the voice on the other end answered. It was a man. Elizabeth felt her mouth dry out. "Who is this?" he asked her.

"Who are you?" Elizabeth retorted and she wondered if he was about to hang up on her. But then she heard a chuckle come from him and she wondered if he'd sussed her out.

"It seems we're both at a disadvantage here," he told her.

"I don't know who you are, but I need to talk to you."

Silence again. "Consider me intrigued," he retorted.

"One o'clock. I'll text you an address," Elizabeth said and she hung up, tossing the phone to the desk like it had burned her. Shaking her head, she knew this was reckless. She knew that she was getting into something, but she just didn't know what. But she still picked her phone back up and sent the message.

…

No one had that number except for a few select people. He had no idea who the woman on the other end of the line had been. How had she gotten his number? And what did she want? He wasn't entirely sure, but he was intrigued and he liked a bit of intrigue. His job could become monotonous sometimes. He dealt with the same types of people day in and day out. He watched them make poor choices and then just blame life like they had no control over it. He found it almost comical at times.

And then his phone had rung and he'd picked up. He wasn't going to answer because the number had been unrecognisable, but he had. And then the same number had text him to meet her in a park at lunchtime. He had walked towards the park, briefcase in hand and swinging by his side. He wondered just who he was looking for considering the park was busy. Most benches were taken with people on their lunch break and getting some fresh air. He wandered through it, eyes flickering around and seeing if anyone stood out.

And then he spotted her. She easily stood out in a crowd. Even without her looking up, he noticed her. Then again, he had spent enough of his time doing his research on her. He knew that she was someone important and he had been sworn to secrecy not to mention his search into her.

But here she was. She had to be the one who had called him. He moved towards her, but she didn't look at him. She was on her phone, glancing down at the screen and then her eyes flickering upwards to see if anyone was approaching. He sat down on the bench next to her, briefcase on the floor next to him. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and clasped his hands on his lap.

"I have to confess, I never thought I'd hear from you, Mrs Jacobs."

Elizabeth dropped her phone into her bag and looked at the man who had just sat down. He was here. He'd actually shown up. And now Elizabeth had to find out just who he was and what he knew. She put her bag next to her on the bench and turned her upper body to face him. "You know who I am," she commented.

His lips curved upwards and his head tilted to the side. "Everyone knows who you are, Mrs Jacobs. You're one of the most well-known Americans in this city and, may I say, even more beautiful in person."

"Cut the bullshit," Elizabeth demanded and he chuckled at her, moving his hands to his hair and slicking it back on top of his head. He folded one leg over the other and draped his arm over the back of the bench. Elizabeth couldn't help but see that he was well dressed in an expensive grey suit. She spotted calluses on his hands as he moved one to sit on the bench by her shoulder.

"I knew you'd be brash based on my research. You don't make partner track without ruffling a few feathers," he said and Elizabeth felt her stomach churn at that comment. "Then again, that dream came crashing down when you got married, didn't it? Moving around the world with a husband who abuses you…I suspect that's enough to break even the toughest of women," he continued and she noticed how his eyes flickered over her, moving up and down almost like he was appraising her. "Then again, you still seem to keep going."

"Who are you?" Elizabeth asked him.

He just shrugged at that. "No one of importance to you," he promised her that much.

"But you have been looking into me," Elizabeth said to him. "He asked you to look into me."

"Who?"

"You know who," Elizabeth said and he didn't tell her that he did know who. However, he never spoke his name, not really. He only knew him as the Front Man. He didn't know anything else about him, except that he seemed completely besotted with the woman sat in front of him. "I found the folder he was keeping on me and your number was on it."

"Well, when he asks, I provide," the man told her and the annoying smirk remained on his face. "I don't question why he wants the information. I just give it to him and he does with it what he will. That is none of my business. All I know is that you, well, you seem important to him."

"How do I know what you're saying is anything remotely resembling the truth?" Elizabeth said. "All I know is that you're the one who collected information on me. I don't know who you got my medical records. I don't know who you are or why you'd do this for him…find the information…I don't understand."

"Unfortunately, it is not my place to tell you any of that," he said, putting his bottom lip over his top lip, almost like he was mocking her and he noted the way her glare increased on him and her jaw clenched. He almost found it adorable. He kept quiet for a few seconds, just laughing softly at her and then moving a hand to her shoulder, laying it there for a second. "But, if you want some friendly advice, then I'd tell you to stop digging. This world isn't meant for girls like you."

Elizabeth grabbed hold of his wrist and pushed it from her. "You think because you've done some digging into my life, you know all about me? You don't. You don't know anything about me."

He saw the glaze in her eye, the determination evident in the way she looked at him and he almost wondered if perhaps there was more to her than he thought. He kept on smirking though, finding the entire exchange amusing. "I know enough to know that you might put on a tough exterior, but you're broken underneath that. Maybe that's why he wants you…a shiny, pretty toy for him to put back together."

"I don't need him to put me back together," Elizabeth said. "I can sort my own life out."

"We'll see about that, I suppose," he just said back to her and he stood up. He flattened his tie against his chest and did his suit jacket button back up. Elizabeth stood up as well and craned her neck to look at him. He had to be over six foot at least.

"You can't go," Elizabeth said to him. "I need to know who he is. I need to know."

"People often claim that they need to know things, but sometimes I find that they'd have preferred never to have known," he said to her. "I think you might find that too. Either way, it is not my place to tell you anything. Good luck with everything, Mrs Jacobs," he moved a hand to hers, picking it up in his and bending down, kissing the back of it charmingly. "Perhaps our paths may cross again."

Elizabeth watched him take hold of his briefcase and walk away. She kept her eyes fixed on his back, but she didn't chase after him. There was something in her gut that told her not to. She just stood there and let him leave. The only problem was that she now had more questions than answers and she felt in an even worse position than when she'd started.

He didn't turn back round to look at her. He knew that she wasn't following him and he was grateful for that at least. The last thing he needed was to knock her unconscious and leave her in some alleyway. Yet, a small part of him hoped that she might follow him. It had been a long time since someone had challenged him like that. He almost found her amusing.

Pulling his phone from his jacket pocket, he dialled one of the three numbers stored in it. The phone rang five times before the man on the other end answered.

"What is it?"

There were never any formalities. "Elizabeth Jacobs," he spoke her name. "She got my number. I didn't know it was her when I met her in the park."

Silence for a few moments. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing," he said. "But I suspect she'll have more questions for you."

"I'll handle it."

"Good luck. She's a real spitfire."

A scoff from the other end of the line. "I'm aware of that," he said and hung up.

Placing his phone back into his pocket once the call had ended, he kept on walking and glanced to the sky, wondering if his path would ever cross with Elizabeth's again.

…

Young-il was convinced that she wasn't going to show. He had requested private dining in the restaurant, knowing that what they were going to discuss wasn't for prying ears. The private dining room had a table for twenty, but only two places were set, one at the head of the table and the other to the right. The lights hung low over the wooden table and were dimmed. The walls were covered in expensive artwork, curtains shut over the windows and making the space seem even more enclosed. He looked at the watch on his wrist. It was ten past seven already. He knew that the waiter had checked the clock and he wondered if it was a matter of time before they asked him to leave.

He adjusted the tie against his chest and then reached for the glass of scotch he'd ordered. He took a sip of it and then placed it back down. Looking at his watch again, it was twenty-past. He would give it until half-past and then he would go. He would admit defeat and admit that she wanted nothing to do with him. The minutes ticked by slowly and each one felt like at least five. But then the door opened at twenty-eight minutes past. She came walking in, still dressed in the outfit she'd been to work in. He looked at her, eyes widening and his heart seeming to skip a beat. Standing up, he moved to the chair next to his and pulled it out. Elizabeth walked towards him, waiter following.

"I didn't think you were coming," he told her.

"I didn't know if I was going to," Elizabeth confessed and the waiter took her jacket and bag from her. She thanked him and then glanced to Young-il, avoiding his eye but letting him push her chair in for her as she sat down.

He let her order a glass of white wine and waited for the door to close again before speaking to her.

"I know that there's a lot of explaining that I need to do," he said.

"More than I'd originally thought," Elizabeth told him. "I don't know what you're involved in, Young-il…what business you actually conduct, but a part of me doesn't think it's legitimate. I met the man you'd hired to dig dirt on me and he…he freaked me out."

"I know that he can be quite intense," Young-il assured her. He did know that. Oh Il-nam had warned him about that. "But he has his worth."

"Like for spying on people?" Elizabeth checked.

"Amongst other things," he retorted. "But I never meant for you to meet him."

"You never meant for me to find the file, but I did," Elizabeth said. "And I just don't know what to think about any of this because the more I think about it, the more I get a sense that whatever this is…whoever you are…you're dangerous and I've had more than my fair share of danger."

"Yet you're here," he said to her. "You came to me, Elizabeth. You came back to me. That must tell you something."

"That I'm an idiot?" she asked.

They went quiet then as the waiter came in with Elizabeth's glass of wine. He left a moment later after Young-il said that they were fine. He'd already ordered them the five course tasting menu, although he wondered if Elizabeth would even make it through the first course. He just needed time along with her to get to the bottom of everything.

"You're anything but an idiot and we both know that," he said to her, voice firmer than he'd intended. "There are things about me that you don't know, Elizabeth, because I haven't been sure how best to tell you them. There are things about my life that have happened that have led me here…led me to work with men like the one you met today…and I never thought that this would happen. You need to understand that when my wife got ill, I became a desperate man."

Elizabeth nodded. "I know," she said to him, unable to stop herself from feeling for him. Whatever had happened, she knew that losing his wife had impacted him more than he probably let on. "And I know that was why you took that money."

Young-il shook his head then. "That money hadn't been enough," he said to her. "And as soon as I took it, I knew it. I needed more. I needed more because I'd lost my job and I was desperate. What did a disgraced former police officer do in life? I didn't know, but I knew that I just needed to make money quickly."

Elizabeth kept quiet, her pulse racing. She could hear it in her ears, echoing loudly. "You told me that you worked in hospitality," she said.

"I know what I told you," he replied. "I know what I've said, Elizabeth, and that's because the truth…well…I never knew how you would take it and I needed to be sure that I could trust you. And I know that I can. I know that I can trust you because I've seen that I can and that's why I want to tell you the whole story. You can listen to me and then, if you want to leave, you can go. I will help you get set up with a new life away from your husband…make sure you're safe…but you'll never see my face again."

Elizabeth had felt fear before. Living with Robert, she had been in constant fear, but this was a different type of fear. She didn't know how to explain it, but what he was saying to her was terrifying her. She felt her mouth dry out and she reached for her glass of wine. She took a big gulp and then set her glass back down.

"And you mean that?" she asked him.

"I mean it," he swore to her. "Because you…I care too much about you."

"I don't know if I want to hear this," Elizabeth confessed to him.

"I understand," he assured her. "But you have to, Elizabeth, because I don't want to keep hiding things from you."

And so she nodded. He watched her anxiously tuck her hair behind her ears before he sat up straight. He finished his drink, hoping it might give him some courage. And then he began his tale.

"Have you ever heard of squid game?"