Panting with the effort of carrying Yeung-Sung’s new purchases, the Debaters complained.

“I don’t think you know where you’re going,” the head woman said, “The apartment’s back the other way.”

Her associate grunted, holding up the other end poorly. “How did an idiot like you beat the Gauntlet –" He sucked in a breath, repositioning his hands under the rim. “-And not have to divvy up the reward?”

The debater holding the chair put it down to itch at his arms under his ill-fitting grey blazer.

“Stop!” shouted Yeung-Sung ahead of them. He shook the wrapped gift that he got last minute and said, “Wait here. I’m going to go drop this off.”

The female Debater looked up at where they were. “The grocery store? I heard about this place, but never been myself.”

“I own it.”

Dropping the end of the table in relief, this Debater laughed as he heaved the breath back into his lungs. “Ha -ah- Ha, I don’t think so,” he said, “No coloners owns anything here. Not even the Finers. GLI owns everything, including us.”

“Well it is mine,” Yeung-Sung re-iterated as he walked to the entrance, “However you want to justify that.”

The front of the desk slipped down and he heard head Debater spat out a thick white glob. “No wonder you’re so buddy-buddy with the Finers,” she said, “You’re one of them.” She gurgled her throat clear. “I could think of no worse person to be in control of our destiny than a fucking Finer with links to PM,” she said, gesturing to his clothes.”

Yeung-Sung stopped. He had to close his eyes to ignore the idiot behind him. After a nice sigh, he shrugged and said, “Lucky I’m not one of those, then,” walking through the screen doors of his store.

Inside, Yeung-Sung was greeted by a pleasant surprise:

Though the shelves he walked by were often depleted -and he could already tell that the advertisements on the walls were getting far too excessive- the floor was delightfully clean, and what’s more, a trail of people sprayed down and around the middle aisles, happily waiting to check out.

Grabbing a basket to put Woo-Yi’s gift in, he tucked himself in under the bread bins and snuck through the vegetable tables. My hair could be showing, he thought, kneeling down further and coming face to face with parsnips, potatoes, carrots and green beans lying seductively.

Customers began to take notice of Yeung-Sung’s creeping posture and sly grin, so they edged away from him, pretending not to notice. Licking his lips and flicking his tongue, Yeung-Sung waddled low, at the same time unable to help himself from running three fingertips over the glistening wrappings. He chuckled at the coloner’s lack of reaction.

We’ve all been here too long; nothing surprises anybody any more.

The pumping music helped him with his stealthy run; it’s melancholy synths and wet vocals drenched in the reverb of an empty room meant for two.

He looked to the tills, column of idling bodies keeping him out of Woo-Yi’s line of sight.

One of your songs?

Yeung-Sung closed his eyes, imagining her behind the microphone as he zipped down along the shelves, popping his shoulders and snapping his knees forward in time with the pulse of the bass.

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He leaned back flat against the end of the shelf. A giddy smile broke out of him. A hopping breath and a skip and Yeung-Sung was at the end of the next aisle, grappling against the flat boards like they were climbing handholds.

She’ll never see me coming. This is going to be so good.

Near the end of the next aisle, he peered out, past the cereals and teas and sachets of seasoning mix and saw the butt end of the veering queue, but not the till entirely, and not Woo-Yi.

C’mon…Almost there.

A shopper with a coat too thick for the Korean spring put back a packet of pasta only to see a deranged Yeung-Sung, who gave her a wink, sliding out from one aisle to the next.

The short, greying woman was not in the least bit intimidated -and only raised her eyebrows and scowled at him, her cheeks begging to show a kaleidoscope of tiny wrinkles.

Another Debater, I would wager. Yeung-Sung quickly passed the disagreeable woman, tucking the handle of his basket into the gap in his elbow, joining the queue.

He waited in a wide stance, tapping his feet to the next song -more upbeat and groovier. As the person in line shuffled forward, Yeung-Sung sparked all over with nervous energy. Just a little more and Woo-Yi would be in view.

Yeung-Sung patted down his hair and shook out his pullover. He was close enough now to hear the beep of confirmation from the tills as the coloners inputted their fingers on the wriggling iron filaments. With an impatient look, he caught the customer gathering their bought goods and waving goodbye, leaving a gap as they left. And in that gap, Woo-Yi straightened up and blinked twice, before gasping like a window shutter. However, the next shopper quickly filled in his view, so Yeung-Sung didn’t get to see her surprise for long. Still, he snorted out a laugh.

The customer in front of him turned. “Are you alright?”

He nodded while clutching his nose, and heard the flap of the till door.

Woo-Yi’s voice lay like a sweet icing over the noise of the crowd. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Yeung-Sung slid back in his stance. Wait, was this a good idea? She just might break down here…

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” her voice went again, gliding closer.

I should not have done this. Why didn’t I tell her I was coming? That I was okay and that-

The line parted, bewildered as Woo-Yi emerged, still muttering her apologies. Her shoulders poking out of her shirt like barbs at Yeung-Sung. Her hands, curled into fists, rubbed against her jean-covered thighs as she propelled herself towards him.

“Woo-Yi…” Yeung-Sung said, half-swallowing, “I brought you –”

But he didn’t get to finish the sentence as she slammed herself against his chest, emptying the breath from his lungs. Yeung-Sung raised his arms defensively as she squeezed, clasping around him after winding up, hugging him tight.

“Hi,” he whispered, gaze pinballing around the coloners in the store. They were in his head as he staggered back with the impact of her on top of him, but eventually had to wrap his hands around her, completing the embrace. He closed his eyes and everyone else but Woo-Yi disappeared.

“You’re okay,” she said, in her exaggerated English syllables. “I was so worried,” she followed in their natural tongue.

She separated herself from him, but held him by the fingers at arm’s length, looking over him, at the odd-clothes he was wearing nod doubt, and at his haggard state.

“I thought,” she said, “Jordan took you. I was sure it was going to be like last time -maybe worse.” She sniffed. “But I knew it, knew you’d be back.”

Yeung-Sung smiled with his eyes still closed, feeling her grip on his fingers. He knew that if he saw the coloners drawing their eyes, clapping their hands to their face, he wouldn’t be able to trust himself not to run away.

Feeling her push to the left, Woo-Yi came close to his ear and said, “They can wait.”

Yeung-Sung opened his eyes to find the two of them in hidden in the snack aisle.

Woo-Yi asked, “What happened? Where have you been?”

“P -M,” he replied. Yeung-Sung raised the basket in the crutch of his arm. “I did it, here look, I got you something.”

Woo-Yi lay her hand flat against the top of the gift box and pushed it firmly out of the way.

“What do you mean, ‘you did it’?”

The old woman from the cereals coughed, coming up behind them. “He means the Gauntlet, dear. He beat it. ‘Bout ruddy time, I tell you.”

Woo-Yi stepped back, bumping into her own queue. “You?”

Yeung-Sung nodded.

The customer she stumbled into dodged forward, saying, “Are you two going to serve us? If this is true then I have places to be.”

Woo-Yi bowed and made a smoothing motion -even though she was wearing charcoal jeans.

“Of course.”

She shot a glance at Yeung-Sung.

He smiled. “I’ll help, of course.”

A knocking sound alerted everyone towards the screen windows that fronted the store. The queue lurched back.

“-Debaters…”

“Oh, great…”

Yeung-Sung waved to his delivery crew outside, the smile fading from his lips. “Just give me a moment to get rid of these idiots.”