Go Yohan clicked his tongue. Then, as if giving a tip, he slid my coat up and shoved it into the back pocket of my pants. Was he out of his mind? Seriously, there’s no other psycho like him. Go Yohan, ignoring my shocked expression, took a small card from his wallet. He handed it to me, frowning, and when I took it, it was an international driver’s license.

"Is this good enough?"

His smug attitude made him look like a kindergarten kid bragging about his toy. Even after checking both the front and back, it really was a driver’s license. It was scratched up like it had been shoved somewhere for ages, and as I stared at it, my disbelief still hadn’t worn off, and I ended up laughing.

“If you have a driver’s license, why do you take a taxi?”

“Is it a transparent car? Where would I have a car?”

“You had a motorcycle, though.”

“Yeah, I tossed that piece of junk. I was afraid I’d die young riding that thing. And I figured if I died and you lost me, I didn’t want you to feel sad and helpless, so I just got rid of it in a hurry. I’d rather take a rickshaw. Suddenly, it’s just so scary. Two of my friends died the other day riding that thing, you know?”