Chapter 86

NINI’S RANDOM QUESTION (MINI SERIES)

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A week later, Lisa had started to believe in peace again.

A dangerous mistake.

She was sitting on the floor this time, folding laundry with the kind of focus usually reserved for emergency situations. One pile was “Jennie’s clothes,” another pile was “Lisa’s clothes,” and a third mysterious pile was “How did we own this much black clothing?”

Jennie appeared in the doorway again.

Lisa didn’t even look up.

“No,” Lisa said immediately.

Jennie paused. “You didn’t hear my question.”

Lisa folded a shirt with precision. “I didn’t need to.”

Jennie walked closer anyway and sat down across from her, very composed. “Baby…”

Lisa pointed a sock at her. “Last time you asked if I would eat you. The time before that you were a mosquito. And before that you emotionally accused me of cheating over capybaras.”

Jennie blinked. “That was weeks ago.”

Lisa stared at her. “Time means nothing anymore. I live in emotional hazard now.”

Jennie stayed silent for a second, then asked anyway, softer:

“What if I had a twin… exactly like me. Same face. Same voice. Same everything.”

Lisa finally looked up.

Slowly.

Like she was preparing for impact.

Jennie continued, completely serious. “Would you even court me?”

Lisa froze.

“…Court you,” she repeated.

Jennie nodded. “Or would you get confused.”

Lisa dropped the shirt she was folding.

It landed perfectly folded anyway, like even gravity gave up on this conversation.

Lisa leaned back, rubbing her face. “Jennie Kim…”

Jennie tilted her head. “Yes?”

Lisa pointed at her. “Are you trying to replace yourself or stress-test my loyalty like a psychological experiment?”

Jennie frowned slightly. “It’s a question.”

Lisa exhaled dramatically. “Okay. Hypothetically.”

Jennie nodded, attentive.

Lisa continued, slowly. “If you had a twin who was exactly you…”

Jennie leaned in a little.

Lisa squinted. “…I would immediately be confused.”

Jennie nodded like that was fair.

Lisa went on. “Because first of all, you already confuse me on a daily basis when you stand silently in doorways asking if I would eat you as a dumpling.”

Jennie looked away briefly, unbothered.

Lisa pointed again. “So now there are two of you doing that?”

Jennie: “Maybe.”

Lisa groaned into her hands. “I would lose my mind in approximately three seconds.”

Jennie stayed quiet, waiting.

Lisa peeked through her fingers. “But if you’re asking if I would still choose you…”

Jennie softened slightly.

Lisa lowered her hands and looked at her properly now.

“Yeah,” Lisa said simply. “I would.”

Jennie blinked. “Even if she’s exactly me?”

Lisa nodded. “Even then.”

Jennie asked quietly, “How would you know which one is me?”

Lisa leaned forward a little. “I wouldn’t.”

Jennie’s eyes widened slightly.

Lisa shrugged. “But I’d figure it out.”

Jennie: “How?”

Lisa thought for a moment, then pointed gently at Jennie’s chest. “You’re not a copyable thing.”

Jennie didn’t respond immediately.

Lisa continued more softly, “Same face, same voice, same everything… still wouldn’t be the same you. Because you’re annoying in a very specific, irreplaceable way.”

Jennie blinked once.

“…Annoying?”

Lisa nodded. “Lovingly annoying.”

Jennie narrowed her eyes slightly. “That doesn’t sound like a compliment.”

Lisa smirked. “It is. It means I know you.”

Jennie’s expression softened.

Lisa leaned back again, picking up the folded shirt. “Also, your twin would probably give me less emotionally chaotic questions. That alone would expose her instantly.”

Jennie: “…I don’t ask that many questions.”

Lisa immediately looked at her.

Jennie paused.

“…Okay, maybe a few.”

Lisa nodded. “A few is generous.”

Jennie shifted closer, leaning her shoulder lightly against Lisa’s arm now. “So you would still choose me.”

Lisa gently bumped her shoulder back. “I already said yes.”

Jennie stayed quiet for a moment, then asked one last thing, quieter:

“Even if I tried to confuse you on purpose?”

Lisa sighed, but her voice was warm. “Especially then.”

Jennie finally relaxed, letting out a small satisfied hum.

Lisa looked down at her and muttered, “I’m starting to think your imagination is just bored.”

Jennie: “Maybe.”

Lisa: “Please find it a hobby that doesn’t involve identity crises.”

Jennie smiled faintly. “No promises.”

Lisa groaned again—but she was smiling too.

And for once, she didn’t feel ambushed.

Just loved in the strangest, most Jennie way possible.