“The beach is a good place to pick up girls. Because you can really see what you are getting into.”

Yu-jin had heard her sister’s boyfriend say that once.

She didn’t fully understand it. But she remembered the way Eun-seo had looked when she heard it — like she knew something the rest of the world didn’t.

They were in Eun-seo’s room.

The curtains were half drawn, letting in a thin strip of late afternoon light. The air smelled like perfume, hairspray, and something faintly sweet and chemical Yu-jin couldn’t name. Clothes were scattered everywhere — on the chair, on the floor, on the bed. Half of them inside out.

Eun-seo stood in front of her mirror.

“Why do you worry so much about your makeup? You already look pretty,” Yu-jin asked, sitting cross-legged on the carpet.

She meant it.

Her sister was always stunning. Five years older. Long black hair falling down her back, thick and silky. Big brown eyes that didn’t need help but were always being “fixed” anyway — darker lashes, sharper liner, something glittering at the corners.

Yu-jin didn’t know the names of the products. She just knew the order. Foundation. Powder. Mascara. Lip gloss. Again. And again.

Eun-seo leaned closer to the mirror, tilting her chin, studying herself like she was a project that still wasn’t finished.

Yu-jin watched quietly.

Even with a killer body — slim, petite, soft in the right places — it was never enough. Even with a boyfriend who always picked her up two streets away so their mom wouldn’t see. Even with the way boys’ heads turned at school.

Never enough.

Yu-jin noticed the small things.

The way Eun-seo sucked in her stomach when she turned sideways. The way she wiped off lipstick just to reapply it darker. The way her jaw tightened if the eyeliner wing didn’t match perfectly.

There were five-dollar bills tucked inside Yu-jin’s pencil case. Payment for silence. For not telling mom when the window slid open at midnight. For not mentioning the smell that sometimes clung to Eun-seo’s hoodie when she came back.

Yu-jin would’ve kept the secret anyway.

The money just made it official.

Made her part of it.

She leaned back on her hands, watching her sister move like she was performing for an invisible audience.

So confident outside.

So restless inside.

Yu-jin wished she could be like her when she grew up.