#IMAGE Lawn Lawn Dresses 2023

[magazinepk]

Spring Printkari 3 Piece Unstitched Collection 2023 By Image

[wakandas-vibranium]

Planet Earth 2023 || Part One

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, cursing, injuries, fluff, slow burn

A/N: This will be a mini series in ten parts. Semi slow burn between Din and Reader. No beta reader, but there shouldn’t be too many grammatical errors. Please like, comment and share!

Summary: The Mandalorian and his kid were ambushed by pirates in space and ended up on Earth, crashing the new and improved Razor Crest right onto your front lawn.

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

It was a shining afternoon in Florida. You were relaxing in your backyard, in a lounge chair beside your massive pool, soaking in all that the sun had to offer.

You were a renowned trauma surgeon, and this was your first vacation in four years. You considered sailing across the Atlantic Ocean for three weeks, but ultimately opted to stay in the comfort of your own home. A lot of time, effort, and money went into building your dream home, so of course you decided to bask in the ambiance for the next twenty-one days.

You lived in the middle of nothingness. Your nearest neighbor was a 6-mile drive up the road, and you couldn't be happier. It was a 12-mile trip to downtown, where there were plenty of grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants. 

You were on day two of your vacation. You took the liberty of driving into town yesterday to stock up on everything you needed. It was the first week of July, which was one of the busiest weeks in Tampa.

There were simply too many people. College and high school kids on summer break, bikers, tourists, and locals that got on your nerves every chance they got. Not to mention the buzzing flies, lizards, and deafening cicadas that were hellbent on driving everyone in Florida insane.

You leaned forward, taking one final swig from your flute glass. You made delicious mimosas. This was only your second glass, but you wanted to squeeze in a short nap before pouring a third.

You placed the empty glass on the mini table beside you and leaned all the way back, relaxing into the lounge chair. You tilted your hat down to protect your eyes from the beaming sun and drifted off to sleep. 

Out of nowhere, a sound that you could only describe as the blue sky opening jolted you awake, and you shot up out of the lounge chair, gawking up at the sky. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You snagged your cell phone from the mini table, checking the time. 

4:09pm

You had only been asleep for eleven minutes. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t in the middle of a dream. 

The foreign junk of metal barely missed the tall gate surrounding your home as it landed unceremoniously on your front lawn. You kicked off your wedge sandals and hauled ass to the front of your house, mentally preparing to rip this asshole to shreds with your venomous words. 

You stopped at the wreckage, grumbling obscenities as you assessed the damage that was done. Your tulips were tarnished and a wide section of grass was burnt to a crisp. At least the lily and chrysanthemum sections were left unharmed.

The door to the colossal heap of metal opened, revealing the culprit, who appeared to be a helmeted man dressed in metal and black. 

Wow, you thought, completely sidetracked by the man you saw before you and what appeared to be his ship. That was the spitting image of a spaceship. Living in Florida, you’ve met your fair share of cosplayers, but something about this man was different. How in the hell did he build something like that? How did he afford it? Those looked like authentic parts. 

Despite the turbulent landing, the ship was not significantly damaged. It probably needed four or five repairs, but it appeared to be functional. 

Whoever it was needed to collect their things, compensate for the damages, and get the hell off your property. You rolled your eyes at yourself for not stopping in the house to retrieve your handgun. Hopefully the man wouldn’t be violent towards you. 

You walked fiercely up the ramp onto the ship, pausing when you spotted the man slightly bent over, groaning in pain as he clutched his right thigh. 

“What in the fuck?” you yelled at the man, stopping all movement once you saw he was aiming a weapon at you. 

He’s taking this cosplayer shit a little too far, you thought. You folded your arms across your chest, tapping a bare, beautifully pedicured foot against the floor of the ship as you waited for the tin man to say something. 

He didn’t. 

“What in the hell kind of gun is that?” you cursed, squinting as you pointed at the weirdly shaped weapon in his hand. 

He tilted his head towards you, but still didn’t say anything. 

“And what the hell are you wearing?” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation. 

He looked like a complete and utter fool. Okay, that is not the case at all. He actually looked incredibly good in his costume. However, now is not the time to be ogling the man who just crashed into your front yard, destroying your favorite flowers.

“Get away from me.” he said, grunting softly, and gripping his thigh tighter as he attempted to stand up. Red drops of blood soaked a patch around the knee of his pants and trickled down his leg onto the spaceship's floor.

The smooth gruffness of his modulated voice was enough to make you standstill in your criticisms. It was almost as if he was speaking from his chest and not his mouth. You did not expect him to sound like that. How alluring. 

“Excuse me!” you gasped in dismay once you remembered the rude tone he took with you as if you were the one who crashed into his perfect day. 

The unmitigated gall this metal man had. 

You pointed a perfectly manicured nail at him, “You’re the one who landed this fugly chunk of metal in my backyard! Who are you?” 

“I am Mandalorian D—“ 

“—Is that supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” you asked, interrupting the bleeding man. 

He exhaled in your direction. You barely gave him a chance to get a word in edgewise. Something about the man seemed both vulnerable and frightening at the same time. The large tear that was on his thigh was bleeding profusely. You took a cautious step forward, eyeing the wound. Although it didn't appear to be infected, the puncture was fairly deep and would require stitches.  

“Who did this to you?”

“A pirate. We al-almost didn’t make it b—“

Who is we, you thought. You were so focused on the metal man, you didn’t even see the tiny green munchkin looking up at you with huge eyes that matched its long ears. 

Oh my god. It was a green baby E.T. 

Your heart skipped a beat and you slyly pinched yourself again to make sure you were wide awake. 

He was too cute.

“—I’m sorry, did you just say a pirate did this to you?” you squeaked, interrupting the injured man yet again. Sorry not sorry. You were definitely in shock.

Great. Now alien pirates were a thing. 

You shook your head hoping that would clear your bewildered mind. You only had two mimosas, but this newfound information was starting to give you an awful migraine. It was happening too fast. Your brain needed time to catch up. 

“I think I put in the wrong coordinates before jumping,” the helmeted man disclosed before asking, “What planet is this?” 

The space man went on about how his gravity well projector and navicomp malfunctioned due to the shootout with the pirates. 

“Planet?” you replied, “Are you high?” 

“Just tell me where I am.” the strange man grunted as he slowly rose to his feet, succeeding this time. 

“This is Planet earth. Florida to be specific. Ever been here before?” 

“This backwater—No. No, I haven’t.” 

“Well, welcome to the sunshine state Mandalorian.” you flashed him a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes. 

“Just call me Mando.” 

“Alright then, Mando,” you said, “I’m a doctor and I can stitch up that nasty gash you have there.” 

He said nothing for a few seconds as he stood there weighing his options. He took one look down at the baby before agreeing. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can’t fight like this.” 

“Who are you fightin’?” 

“The pirates who tried to shoot me and my kid down. They’ll be here soon.” 

Your second day of vacation was going to be spent fighting off alien pirates, huh? Not too shabby. 

While he went to gather what he needed, you took this opportunity to explore this section of the ship in greater detail. Wow. This ship must have cost him a pretty penny. You extended a helping hand to the Mandalorian on the path to your home, but he declined, instead picking up the child and walking alongside you. 

“You live alone?” He asked, stepping into the house after you. 

“Yes.”

“Why?” he pressed, stumbling a bit as he tried to round the corner and keep up with your long strides. 

“None of your goddamn business.” you quipped, motioning for him to come into the kitchen. He snorted softly and the baby cooed. 

Somewhat unexpectedly, Mando let you steer him into the kitchen and even accepted your assistance in guiding him to a chair at the island in the middle of your kitchen. He sat the kid on the island and they both turned, watching you reach into the upper cupboard to pull out your homemade first aid kit.

You brought two chairs closer to him, sitting in one of them while motioning for him to position his leg up on the seat of the other chair. He leaned forward slightly and made a low grunting sound as he shifted his leg to perch on the chair. 

To gain better access to the injury, you gingerly removed the metal plate that was shielding most of his thigh. Although the bleeding had stopped to some extent, the wound still needed cleaning and disinfecting before being patched up. You leaned closer as you dabbed at the laceration. Every now and then, when you applied too much pressure, he hissed softly, but he never told you to stop.

He asked, “Is that bacta?” 

“I’m not sure what bacta is,” you admitted, half shrugging as you examined the jagged edges of the laceration. It was a nasty cut on his thigh, right above his knee. You noticed that his skin was white and not green. A curiosity you’d ask about at a more appropriate time. “This is a numbing agent called lidocaine. We use it so that the stitches don’t hurt as much.” 

“Will it make me drowsy?” 

You shook your head, “It shouldn’t. Plus it only lasts about 40 minutes or so.” 

“Okay.” 

“It’ll be a quick pinch then I’ll start stitchin’ you up.” 

He just nodded. His kid cooed worriedly and you felt your heartstrings being tugged by the little one yet again. Aww, you thought, the little one was worried about his dad. 

“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t hurt him.” you promised. 

After injecting the lidocaine into his thigh with the needle, you proceeded to suture the wound closed, making sure not to pull too tightly on the ends. You went a little deeper than necessary on the next stitch, which caused Mando to jerk and grip your wrist, cursing loudly, “Dank farrik!” 

“Ooh,” you grimaced at the sound of his harsh pants, stopping to glance at him and the kid, “I didn't mean to go that deep. Sorry, Mando.” you apologized. 

To take his mind off the discomfort, you took two fingers and massaged the underside of his knee. As he relaxed, you could feel the tension ease out of his thigh muscles. Your method worked like a charm. It always did. He loosened his grip on your wrist before dropping his hand back into his lap.

“You ruined my favorite flowers, you know…” you commented as you peered up at him, attempting to find his eyes through the helmet. How was it even possible to have a tinted helmet? Exactly what were the Mandalorians so afraid of in space that they had to conceal their faces? When you failed to locate his eyes, you went back to the wound and threw another stitch. You were almost done now. Just a couple more sutures. 

It was getting harder to ignore the tiny green guy's agitated cries. He must have been getting hungry or bored. Mando didn't utter a word, so you assume he was just used to it. 

“I’m sorry about your tulips,” he expressed, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment, “I’ll see if I can salvage them once I know we’re in the clear.” 

“You know how to tend to flowers?”

“A little bit.” he said, shrugging as he turned his attention towards his upset kid. 

“Sorry,” Mando apologized for the increasing volume of the kid’s cries, “He’s probably hungry.” 

“Well, I have some leftovers from brunch. Does he have any allergies?” 

“Not that I'm aware of.” Mando replied. 

“Alright. I’ll fix him a plate once I’m done with you. Would you like to eat somethin’ too?” 

“Not really hungry at the moment.” 

“Okay.” 

After you had completed the last stitch, you took a little, red container, opened it, and used a dollop of vaseline to evenly spread it over the stitches.  As soon as you had completed that task, you got to your feet and headed over to the kitchen sink, where you washed your hands thoroughly.  

You took some oatmeal and heated it up in the microwave, sliced an apple and added a few red pieces to the bowl. You grabbed a spoon, handing it to the child as you placed the blue ceramic bowl in front of him. He cooed happily before digging in.

You asked Mando to wait some time before strapping the metallic layer of protection back on his thigh, but he refused. 

The child appeared to be in a better mood now that his belly was full. You had to resist the urge to ask Mando if you could hold him. He was just too stinkin’ cute. You’d probably never let him go. 

You lingered on the couch for an hour, staring at Mando entertaining his kid, before opting to get some fresh air in your backyard. 

“Where are you going?” Mando questioned as he put his son on the couch and hurried over to you, standing in front of the sliding glass doors, blocking you from leaving the house. 

You forced back an eye roll as you reminded yourself that he was only being cautious. There was no need to be rude to him. He merely wanted you to avoid getting killed by the pirate who had followed him to your house. From space. 

“I need to grab my phone,” you explained as you pointed to the chair you were lounging in peacefully before he arrived, “Look— it’s just right there by the pool.” 

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply after following your direction, eyeing the object, “Be quick. It isn’t safe yet.” He stepped aside after you nodded at him and you slid the door open, stepping out into your backyard. 

You're not certain why, but on your way to the swimming pool, you kept track of how many steps you took. You’re astonished that you haven't done this before now. 31 steps in total from your house to your pool.

You bent over, snagging your cell phone from the small table, checking the time.

6:42pm

Today, time was flying by. It was almost time for dinner. You could probably cook dinner while you waited for this so-called pirate extraterrestrial to arrive. Sadly, you were no longer in the mood to make dinner. You could just order a pizza. Did they even eat pizza in space?

Your phone chimed, and after tapping the green icon to check your messages, you saw that you had received a new text from your friend and colleague Jaime, who was a highly qualified cardiothoracic surgeon. Due to the fact that you two worked so closely together on various urgent cases, it was inevitable that the two of you became great pals.

An appreciative smile formed at the corner of your mouth as you read Jaime’s message which reported that there was no code blue while she was on duty. This occurred once or twice a year, but it was always a cause for celebration. You typed out a few emoji’s before pressing send. 

“Tulip, run!” Mando bellowed from inside the house. 

You glanced at him in confusion. Who was tulip, you thought sardonically until it dawned on you. Your mouth fell open in a hushed O. He never asked for your name and you never offered it. 

So, he took it upon himself to nickname you your favorite flower? Interesting.

You ignored the sudden fluttering of your heart and the warm flush that danced across your skin.

The boisterous warbling of another spaceship captured your attention. Despite being smaller than Mando’s, it was distinctly louder. Just a few feet away from Mando's, it landed, and out stepped the most outlandish space pirate you've ever seen. It was the first alien pirate you'd ever seen, so there was that, but the entrance was very lackluster. 

“Tulip, come to me now!” Mando barked, unholstering his weapon and beckoning for you to come back inside to where he and the kid were.

The space pirate spotted you immediately and made a beeline for you. Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you tucked tail and ran back inside. 

Running from a goddamn space pirate wasn’t on your 2023 bingo card.

[pieroulette]

L♡VE $CAM – part 1

2023 | 18+ | 13K | ONESHOT × 3 PARTS | DARK ROMANCE TROPE

> short teaser <

With the fancy outer cover of the book being the prince saving his damsel in distress from the cruel, harsh world; it's only wise to assume that the inner pages consists of "happily ever after". However, rip the pages off and take off your rose-coloured glasses and see that the prince was never a prince, and the damsel in distress won't always be a damsel in distress.

GENRE slow burn romance, comedy, angst, character-driven story.

WARNING scammer! heeseung, prostitute! reader, reader is a bad bitch, prostitution, degradation, manipulation, red flags idk, Heeseung has a rotten view on women in general, messed up beliefs, and more to be updated on the next parts—also just in case, since it's slow burn don't expect any smut in PT 1 lol.

The little boy drew on the surface of his blooming world with the mighty sword within his fingers, swaying it up and around with a wide big grin on his face as a low volume of the sunshower emitting outside the huge glass window right beside him—the vibrance of the sun shone on his world, furthering the beauty before his very eyes. “Pretty, pretty!” he exclaimed in utter grin.

A tiny chime echoes through the house, coming from the doorbell itself.

He turned over his shoulder to greet his mother but was taken aback by the unusual sight; his mother carried a rather solemn aura, a stark contrast of how she used to everyday. That was one thing, however the perfect picture he had always been patient to wait for everyday was ruined by the empty hollow spot beside his mother.

His mother went to the kitchen, sitting quietly after she was done with pouring herself a cup of tea. It was different but little Heeseung stayed silent, fiddling his fingers as he also sat back to his usual spot—beside the couch, pencil colours brushing the white paper emitting through the disquiet atmosphere.

A fair hour had passed within a blink of an eye, yet his mother stayed in the same spot not budging even a inch resembling a lifeless doll. It brought an uneasiness in the little boy, searching for a way to soothe such an atmosphere yet he doesn’t how. How?

His round, joy-filled eyes beamed upon a thought—picking his mighty sword back to his little fingers and started to adorn a new piece of canvas with little doodles.

“Mom! Look.. what I draw!”

A huge castle stood brave, strong and still on the hard soil ground. It carries this prestigious aura looming yet the beautiful lawns were decorated with brightly coloured and blooming flowers—yielding a perfect mixture of a strong home yet warm and gentle or more so like a pair of arms wrapped around you—strong and gentle. Peeking through the open windows with the tied up curtains flowing gracefully, through the plumpy soft bed; a princess sat in her big, giant castle all alone by herself in hopes for her prince to come and save her from the witch caging her inside that place. But to her surprise, an armour came into view standing before her eyes as she slowly looked up to the wearer; a gentle smile adorning his lips—a warrior came for her instead. It was as if the canvas came to life. Their feet begin to gently rise, fall, spin, and halt—and the whole process repeats again.

Flipping through the pages, surfaces the image of the princess grabbing the warrior's extended palms. Little Heeseung was ecstatic observing his mother, his little fingers clutching on their own along with the colours popping up on the princess' dress. Little did he know, the colours weren't doing its wonders in the reflection of his mother’s orbs.

Hollow, hollow it was.

“This is mom and dad!” the little boy explained.

His mother sighed through his nose before looking up. "Heeseung-ah. ." He didn't hear much of it or rather his surroundings was consumed by the rain overthrowing the sunny clouds—to him, mother’s voice being submerged in the growing ocean.

It was suffocating despite the fact he didn't know what was suffocating, he just couldn't reach for the air even though the air was there. What was mom saying? He forgot though, like the child he was as the next day came and he continued his next piece of drawing. Still wondering where his father was as another spiral loop of forgetfulness consumes the little boy as soon as he gets back to his new piece of drawing to show to his mother—in hopes that such expression won't surface on her face again.

His mother would never say a word of compliment yet she would turn the drawings he gave into a wooden frame—hanging it on the yellow wall of their living room. A silent love. Soon the walls were adorned with many, many frames—each consisting of mundane yet simple days of the princess and warrior’s together; the princess and the warrior eating together for dinner. Next day, a drawing of the princess's hair being brushed by the warrior. Next day, the warrior brought a pet fish for the princess and together they raised it.

How long has it been? Has it been a week? A month, or a year? Today's dinner was lacking. The plates once had a big fish on the plate yet today it is smaller in size and has a lesser portion of rice. He stayed silent though, maybe today was just a different case.

“Mom, when’s dad going to be back home?” His question was met with silence yet notices the brief pause of his mother from taking the spoonful of rice—she stretched out her hand to rub the boy’s little ones.

“Soon.” a reassuring smile surfaces amidst the solemn dining room.

Only a bowl of soup. Next day, there's only a small portion of food and it was only him who was eating, his mother was just sitting with him urging him to eat. Why? What's happening?

Today, he was starving but still had the same beaming energy to finish his drawing before the clock strikes, signifying his mother's return.

A soft chime echoes.

Bringing his piece of canvas to show to his mother with happiness, though it ceased to exist when not only did his mother appear—the empty spot beside her was consumed by an unfamiliar face. Tall, big and burly. Was that his dad?

“D-dad?”

"This, your kid?" little Heeseung twitched against the deep voice, not at all the gentle voice he remembered. This wasn’t his dad. How many months had it passed without the familiar presence he’d been yearning for?

An abashed laugh emits from his mother as her hand brushes the man's arm, "Don't mind the boy, he won't disturb us."

"Hm, boy. Why don't you go outside and have fun with your friends then?"

"I don't have friends.”

Little Heeseung stood still as he observed the enclosed white patterned door—the door in which his mother went in through with that man—a room he still remembers his father going in through once before. The boy’s attention fell upon the pit patter of rain falling outside.

Sun rose up in the sky, the door pushed open as he waited for his mother per his usual routine—he was met with the sight of his mother being with a man again, however this time it was a different face. Next day, next day, next day. Different days, different faces, yet it was vivid in his mind—the pale dusty green paper that all the men placed on his mother’s hand.

Till the day of his 15th birthday, a big fat expensive cake was presented before him on the table. Balloons, and cards of heartfelt wishes were splattered all over the table along with presents. Behind him, there stood the yellow painted wall adorned with numerous frames—a stark contrast of what was before him—an unfamiliar face on the end of the table, whose arms were tangled in his mother's.

Disgusting.

Heeseung saw nothing but red as he grabbed the guy's arm, twisting it and bending it so hard to the point he's screaming.

"S-stop! I beg of you! Please stop!" your desperate voice had him frozen for a second. Pathetic, fragile, weak, and petite. You were all those words.

A woman in a sly attire appeared with her arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in a way that she finds the entire commotion amusing, her voice heightening sparks a stark contrast from her sultry face. “What in the actual fuck is happening here?!”

Everyone halted at once, snapping their heads to the woman.

Heeseung observed from his side eye as you stuttered, being unable to form coherent words, patted your back in hopes to soothe you.

"Hm, who are you?" a question directed to Heeseung himself yet before he could answer—came out the cries of pain from the men themselves. "I bought her with my fucking money and say, why don't you tell it to this bastard, that girl—" he pointed at you with eyes shot wide open in rage, "She belongs to me now."

The woman didn’t have to hear the entire news to understand the weight of the situation before her; the battered, ragged form of the men and your shuddered form in a tall dashing man whose arms were wrapped around you, rubbing you as if you were his lover, despite the obvious trickles of blood seeping out from his cheeks—amused she was as she can't suppress her stifle laugh.

"Ah, ah. How amusing. I didn't know our dear (Name) would have a fair bunch of guys lusting after her isn't it?" she glances at you, “The name’s Yunjin in case you’re curious. We’ll have to settle this in a humane way, everyone.”

"So fucking what now?" The men spat out.

The woman spinned around her heels, motioning for you all to follow her as she let out an audible chuckle, fingers beneath her chin. "What else could be the perfect way than solving it with extra money?"

A huge manor stood tall and firm on the hard ground almost resembling of that a castle yet the overall vibe; the dusty grey walls, splattered dark stains on the pillars and corners of each wall, the extravagant colourful lights flickering around the board hanging on the main entrance— truly living up to its name—a brothel fitting for such a situation— dark windows with some of them left open for cool breeze to flow in through, several women ranging from all sorts of age had their backs leaning against the grey cold wall with their hands stretched out as if to lure men into their respective quarters—those that smells old reeking money and insatiable lust.

It was Heeseung's first time to ever be in such a place but the smell, the thick perfume, bold powders, the disgusting lewd sounds echoing throughout the space, the alcohol, women throwing themselves upon other men and so on — was all too familiar. A long, deep aisle stretched out before them which led them to another hallway with closed doors on either side—private quarters that were obvious for a reason.

They went through a vast room with its ceiling high up in the air, resembling of what seems like a ballroom yet engulfed in the same vibe as the main entrance–there stood a woman in black exquisite attire yet contrary to Yunjin, her attire was somewhat modest.

"Hm? What brings you back here again, darling?" Heeseung noticed the question was no one but for you whose heads were hanging down the entire time.

Yunjin leans closer into her ear—the woman gasped in a somewhat exaggerated manner, "Ah, ah. Then what's your name, child?"

"Lee Heeseung."

"Then may I ask why do you have to stick your nose in someone's business? I do not see where you have to do such a disrespectful thing."

“I just can’t bear to see them touch her like that.”

"So you want her?" A smirk grow on the woman's lips.

"Yes."

"But I already fucking bought her!—"

She raised her hand instantly, motioning for them to stay silent.

"Oh dear, did I hear that right? Don't you think it's a waste of money to buy a used product? They already bought her with their money. Besides, we had other girls you might find more interesting than (Name)."

"I don't care. I'll bring her with me, tell me how much they paid for her and I'll double the amount." Heeseung repeated. "Just tell me how much you want."

"Perfect." The woman's dark red lips tugged up in the slightest grin. "5,000 won. They paid 5,000 won. How much can you bargain, dear?"

"Make it 7,000 won then." a series of gasps followed.

"Fuck as if I'll let you," the man bares his teeth, "9,000 won."

"10,000 won."

"15,000 won!"

"18,000."

The commotion had the entire people round the space with eyes ogling at the never-ending uprising price.

"This is the last one, 65,000 won!"

"150,000 won." Heeseung looks at the man with contempt, “If you aren’t still satisfied then i’ll give you 500,000 won and an additional 20,000 more if you leave us the fuck alone.”

“Fuck, I wonder what you see in her.” Yunjin covered her eat-shitting grin with her hand, seemingly pleased by the entire situation.

"THE FUCK?!" downright shock etched all over their face, unable to believe the ogling amount spread before their eyes.

"So? Can I take her with me?" Heeseung asked with one eyebrow raised, as if the 6 digits weren’t a tad bit of a hassle for him.

"Sweet, it's a deal then." The woman answered, "However I prefer cash instead of a meaningless piece of card. You do know how this little organisation of ours works, right?"

A brief pause had Heeseung in a thought, looking down he did before answering, "Fine."

"Perfect, perfect! Look, the time is fairly 3:06pm. Make sure to bring it by 5pm or else we can't guarantee she would still be here. Time equals money, dear sir."

Heeseung spun his heels to face you with eyes trying to comfort you, closing the distance between you as he spoke, "I'll be back, wait for me."

You nodded, blinking in uneasiness. "P-please.."

With that, Heeseung went off. His form disappearing into the sea of crowds. Your eyes glued to the distance, wondering if he'll do as he promised.

"Wait— you can't be serious?! How about my fucking money??" The men won't shut up since then.

"There's still plenty of beauties residing in these quarters, gentlemen. Consider checking some, who knows you might have a change of heart?"

"I don't fucking care. I want her." The man pointed at you with bare teeth.

"If you still don't understand—what we have here is nothing but a business, sir. Whoever pays the highest amount of money shall get whichever and how many maiden they please to— and you obviously don’t have one."

"Do I look like I give a shit?!-"

BONK!

“Agh! Agh! Yunjin stop!”

Sighing through her nose, “Quit it will you? You’re becoming too invested in your roles for fuck’s sake, Jake.”

“We can’t help it, duh.” Jake puffed, then turned to face you in beaming eyes. “Madame! We did good right?! We could get an Oscar for this, fuck they should hire us.”

You gave him a thumbs up before looking out from the door once again and that simple gesture of yours brought a big smile on Jake's face and on the others—they bow with an immense respect for you before leaving.

“Yunjin! You could hire us to act for you next time then!—"

"Bish— for what?"

Hm? Would he come or not?

Twirling your hair round the tips of your fingers as you leaned against the doorframe, observing the sea of crowds waiting for that particular stranger. Would your plan fail or work? One, two, step forward, step backward you did as you spun around on the centre of the manor, your battered brown skirt flowing in a circular motion as your hands stretched wide open.

Would he come? You couldn’t care a bit less as you still had a fair line of men waiting to kneel before you.

Dawn painted over the once blue sky, replacing the feathery snow clouds with gold-veined ones. Sea of neon lights flickers through the stretched out line of the town—a low volume of flamboyant music spirals along with human’s desire to hide in this town—a shelter where humans shed off their outer layer of skin.

The woman in black attire approaches from behind you, “Madame, he’s here.”

“Hm?” fingers beneath your lower lip as the corners tugged up to kiss your growing smirk. Well, he had dug his own grave with his own hands. How pathetic. Meeting his dreamy eyes fixated on your form, replacing your bold fingers to fiddle the hem of your sleeves, looking down to avoid his intense ones.

You didn't expect it a tad bit that's why it gave you a fair surprise when he came in through the main entrance, his tall frame and dashing aura, with a suitcase in his tight grasp. Was he that enamoured by you? Who knows? There's still a fair amount of time to confirm such suspicions as much as you're compelled to believe it, after all you don't need him to like you—you need him to fall in love with you till he's willing to surrender his body, his soul, his heart and most importantly—his money.

“I told you I’ll come back.”

“H-ha, sir! Thank you for saving me.” Your soft ones hold onto his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. Your eyes hold utmost sincerity in it, gasping when he looks back at you with his intense ones. You gulped your throat, "Thank you for saving me. I'm really .. bad at this, I really don't know how I can repay you."

Meticulous planned lies, the same lies you uttered to people or to be exact, men — those with ogling eyes laced with lusts, hands dying to grab a woman's body, lips that won't wait for an immediate contact. Playboys, old men, nerds, boys next door, those that held an angelic appearance—you played them all. How embarrassing. This man before you was no different, he'll be at your mercy sooner and later. Likewise, a fair amount of time should be wise to take this seemingly gentleman down to his demise.

You observed as Heeseung's eyes softened against your nervous acts—almost wanted to melt before your quivering, fragile form; head hanging down, your hands trembling against his fingers as you tugged it. Of course, you'd spent years refining such petty acts designed to make men fall for it.

An audible chuckle akin to an angel's whisper, feathery and gentle hits your ears. "I'm only doing what is right to do."

"B-but why me?" You asked, "The-there's plenty of other girls inside. Why don't you save them too?"

Heeseung wondered how dense you could be to ask such a folly question, but suppressed the need to voice it out. "I’m afraid my wallet will turn dry in doing so."

Your expression screams ignorance and naivety.

Well, does he even need to wonder with your overalls? Yet, it was your fragile form that had him wanting to save you. Probably. In fact, that wasn't the only reason. “Don’t worry, someday someone will save them too.” or perhaps never, Heeseung thought to himself.

“M-may I know what’s your?..”

“Oh shit, I forgot to introduce myself didn’t I? Heeseung, Lee Heeseung. What’s yours?”

"Sr. Heeseung?.." you repeated his name under your breath—silence, silence it was that you forgot to answer back.

"H-Hey?"

"Oh? Uhm yes?" You pressed your lips in a tight manner.

"Care to give me your name?"

"(Name).."

"Pretty name, I wonder how did you even get to a place like that? It doesn't look like you're a local around here, anyways."

You look down, and he notices you fiddling your fingers between the hem of your dirty old skirt.

"It's okay, you don't have to answer."

"I was sold off."

"Oh. Thats— that's fucked up." Heeseung exhales, looking up to the sky before taking your hands in his, much to your surprise, “You don’t have to be scared anymore, you’re safe with me.”

Safe.. huh?

“W-where are we going? Sir?”

“I don’t have any idea yet but for now let’s go back to my apartment.”

You pursed your lips in a nervous manner.

A gentle giggle emits from the man, “Don’t worry, I can’t possibly let you live on the street, though.”

The conversation eventually died down as the cascading silence engulfed the entire space—silent yet serene it was with the dense greeny forests coming into view, the road filled with sorts of vehicles surfaced, the beaming green light alarming the drivers to go in through to all sorts of directions, the passing yellow vehicle with children in their little hops spilling out as an old woman guided them to a straight line, the low volume of cafes and speakers were emitting from afar, the lovely scene of the sun setting from the surface of the sky as it's deep orange hues painted the street the road, and a few minutes later a tall high buildings finally came into view.

You looked out from the window feigning amazement with your mouth hanging apart much to Heeseung’s amusement as he pulled up the car in the parking spot and a security guard approached to check his ID.

“Come.” he reached out his hands for you to take as you stepped off from the car. “This is where I stay.”

“Woah.” you exclaimed as you observed this luxury high-end apartment.

Heeseung taps a series of digits through the door’s handle—sadly, you were getting tired feigning fascination over the entire course, suppressing the need to roll your eyes when he guided you inside his apartment.

"That— That's so amazing!" your mouth gaped. “I-i’m sorry, it’s my first time.. My place is so deep in the village. I don't always have the chance to go out, it was a chance that only lucky ones had."

Heeseung couldn't suppress his chuckle, eyes crinkling in obvious amusement. "There’s no need to say sorry, I could understand why. In fact, I couldn’t guarantee I won't act the same way as you."

You gazed at all the expensive furniture, almost brushing your finger against the decorations on top of it before halting immediately.

Heeseung noticed your hesitance, "Don't worry, you can touch it."

Your eyes sparkled at his given permission and you immediately stroked your finger against the cold and exquisite material of the object, marvelling at its meticulous patterns — a masterpiece of a craftsman.

"Got a thing for this type of stuffs?"

"Hm. . Yes." You nodded somewhat ecstatic. “It’s so pretty..”

Heeseung went inside his room, pulling out a piece of shirt and pants that surely would look oversized on you—apologising in advance as he placed it on your shivering ones, "This might look big on you but I promise we'll get some for you tomorrow."

Eyes widening in fractions, you shook your head as you pulled your hands up. "T-there's no need to! you've already d-done so much for me, I.. really don't know where to keep my face already."

An audible chuckle escapes from his lips, looking down in mild amusement. "You're so adorable."

"Eh?!" you gasped.

"I mean?—"

A loud ring emits up in the air, interrupting him much to his annoyance. “I’ll take this phone first, just take a look around okay?”

You nodded in an ecstatic manner, observing his back as he disappeared into the corners of the walls. A low sigh, eyes darting around the space—softened ones growing into a menacing gaze.

In this vast spacious living room—that interior was somewhat really baffling for you. It wasn't your first time to be in such a place, even more so the place you've been in before was much bigger, marvellous and higher in status than this one.

Not that it matters now anyways.

With your expression growing disinterested in each passing second, you sighed dejectly as you halted your steps before a painting. He must have bought this a few years ago, what a great taste.

But too bad, too unfortunate — stroking the painting slowly at a delicate pace, he won't have much money in his pockets to buy anything like this anymore.

Crossing your arms as you tilted your head to one of the drawers, being aware of any hidden devices inside the apartment — you scanned the place and as expected, there's none. Truly, your experience in that place has given you a fair skill with a fair price.

Your eyes fell on an open box of a luxury watch inside it, holding the need it in between your fingers, scoffing that you'll have to take it slow and nice before even proceeding with your first move. Frightened that he might be suspicious of you real quick and you can't risk that.

Patience, patience.

Patience, patience.

After all, a human being's demise is his own impatience, an inability to bring into one's composure is an approaching deathbell.

“I told you we’re done, there’s no need to consider anything further.” Heeseung bares his teeth with the phone beneath his ears, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance despite how he tried to make his voice as civil as possible. “Fine then, one last meeting to settle everything.” hanging up, he lets out a long deep sigh before turning to the direction from where you’re from—the corners of his faint cherry lips slowly tugging up in a mischievous smirk.

“Why is there a need when I have you right here wrapped round the tip of my finger?” says Heeseung as he walks back to where you are in a leisure manner, head tilting down and eyes gleaming in sinister plans.

Baffling it was, as always, his tricks often worked. "(Name), was it?" Your name tasted sweet in his lips, on the tip of his tongue, and like that his cherry lips tugged up in a mischievous grin and his eyes squinting in amusement.

Getting the money was no hard task for him for it was years worth of cultivated money, obviously from the girls he had fooled.

He went through all that trouble only because he was fascinated by your naivety, different from most girls he fooled or encountered. You were so dumb and absolutely untainted from the dirty stains of this world that he wanted to be the first person to show you the true colours of it. Bored of the same patterns and criterions of his previous victims, he desired for a whole new different toy and it just happened when his eyes laid on you.

The moment he sees you in that pathetic form of yours, the desire to completely ruin you arises inside the depths of his rotten heart. It grows even more when the head of the brothel confirms your innocence, the fact that you were only sold up until a few days ago, that it was today you were bought. You reminded him so much of a particular someone.

He himself was never that prince nor warrior everyone wanted to be. He's fed up, fed up of being thought of as one, fed up with the way all these girls lust after him and nevertheless he still took bliss in it. Always wrecking their dreams apart and shattering it because he likes to see it. No, he just doesn’t like it. He completely loves it.

Ah, what a sweet luck he got to be bestowed with another toy to play with, another pretty toy to rip apart and show to her that the world isn't as pretty nor as colourful as she wishes to.

He's bored. He had a lot of bucks inside his pockets, a result of his scamming people or ladies to be exact, he needed something to toy around with for awhile. And you happen to be his perfect toy; an innocent lady with a fairy tale dream for this world. Heeseung doesn't think he's so evil for showing you the real canvas of this disgusting world, after all he's doing you a favour.

"Thank you for saving me?" Heeseung scoffed in amusement, "You'll thank me later."

Lies, lies, what could be more sinister than a bunch of lies woven together in a disguised form of your favourite fairy tale books?

“Hey.” The way your eyes shot up, rosy cheeks and trembling lips had him almost baffled but suppressed his grin from growing any further. It was only a few minutes that he left you here and yet he already fucking missed it, excited to his core to start his plans in ruining you but he should take it slow, he thought. For where is the fun of rushing? “So- how was it? Got any paintings that caught your sight?’

“H-hmm! They’re all particularly nice. I couldn't choose.” your head hangs down avoiding his gaze.

“I guess I can take that as a compliment then?” Heeseung smiles down at you, his hand finding its way to rub your arm as if to comfort you. “Hey, it’s okay. Wanna grab something to eat?” he said as he extended his hand out for you.

You were so painfully shy, cheeks burning red, eyes looking down to avoid his gaze, your fingers tucking your hair behind your ear every now and then, your wavering form as you can't keep your feet from shivering ever so slightly, hands interlaced in front of your tummy as if to give yourself a slight comfort. Every expression surfacing from your face is ruining Heeseung's patience that he wanted to just ruin you right now.

Taking his hand once again as you look into his eyes, not surprised that he’s going this far for this fake innocent persona you had on you. Afterall, this persona was a bait meticulously curated for such a person. Turning his back around you and a disinterested look splattered on your face—rolling your eyes up to the ceiling and eyebrows pulling up. His back holding the expression that mirrors yours as he guided you to the dining room.

Eyes that held fake affection, lips that sang flattering lies, touches that screams absolute affection and yet the heart and mind conspires in each others' demise. You two were well trained in this department, after all.

'I wonder how many days it would take to ruin you?'

“Oh shit.” Heeseung hissed after pulling the fridge’s door open, his back bent down as his head pushed inside searching for anything before fixing his posture upright.

You raised your eyebrow. “Is there–?”

He spun around brushing the back of his neck in an abashed manner, letting out an awkward laugh. “Sorry, I think I forgot to fill up my fridge.. My work had really put me through and through..” a lie, Heeseung snickered inside.

Your hands immediately shoot up as you shake your head, laughing. “It’s okay! It’s okay! I’m not that hungry anyways.. —It-it’s fine! Sir, you’ve really done so much in letting me stay the night here.”

“Uh..” Heeseung looks up to his cupboard and a bright smile adorns his face, “Would you mind a bowl of ramen then? Have you eaten it?”

Dripping raindrops hit the tall window before the dining room, gliding through and through till it hits the edges. The mixture of rain and the aroma of the boiling ramen was weirdly comforting. You rubbed your hands, pulling down your sleeves to cover your fingers.

“Here!” you turned to Heeseung as he placed the bowl of hot ramen before you, the spoon and a pair of chopsticks on both your sides. He then took his seat after placing his as well.

You took a brief sniff, eyes lighting up. “It smells so good!” taking a spoonful of soup and the twirled ramen on the tips of your chopstick onto your tongue. “The ramen tastes so good!” you exclaimed as radiant as ever. It did taste good, you thought.

“Right? Ramen is the only food I've been eating these days.” Heeseung smiled, “It’s my favourite too.”

“Isn’t th-that somewhat unhealthy?”

“Hm? It’s fine though, why bother to cook so much if you only eat alone, right?”

"I can see w-why.." you took another small sip from your spoon, indulging yourself in this tasty ramen.

Palms of his hands beneath his chin as his sparkling eyes observed you as you eat, he couldn’t help but find you endearing though. Endearing you were, as if you were going to break if you were given a cold harsh glare or a one touch would make you crumble apart in fear. How sweet, he thought—but how grateful could he be to be given such a entertaining sight—a toy—to play with and mess its contents onto the floor?

You almost choke on your food when you notice his eyes on you, wiping the corners of your mouth with the napkin from the table.

Heeseung eyes softened and muttered a small apology, telling you that it was just a tiny habit of his to observe someone while they eat or do something, that it was just.. “It’s just endearing to watch.”

Fuck. Such a cheesy line. You muttered within yourself. A coherent sentence a fool would only believe. Keeping the gentle smile on your lips as you kept on your shy demeanour. Son of a bitch thought he could fool me, you muttered on the back of your head as you smiled at him as you took a brief sip from the glass.

Heeseung had arranged the guest room for you before going off and telling you a simple goodnight much to your hidden displeasure and yet you kept the abashed smile on your face as it was simply your job afterall—to fool the living shit out of him and dig his cascading sea of money.

Through the mind of Heeseung however,

It won't take much time to make you succumb to him but he prefers to keep it slow, because where's the fun in revealing everything so quick? He wanted to see you rot in his touch, observe your innocence crumbles before his hands, fucked up expressions over your sweet dumb face, your trembling body writhing under his. Slow, fucking slow till he gets inside deep inside you.

His own personal toy, an ill-thought with a stark contrast over his gentle caress over your hair and cheek.

You weren’t asleep apparently, wondering if he’s about to do his first move but it gave you a mild surprise when the side of the bed was empty, the doors were closed and this bizarre serenity engulfing this room baffles you at most. You sighed through your nose, going through all your plans for tomorrow. Another day, another day.

Morning breathes its way through the sky once again. 8 o’clock strikes. Birds chirping in their own unique melody.

Today was the first morning. The first step of your plans in making the boy fall for you even harder than yesterday, you thought so as you stretched your arms upwards, pulling off the blankets from your body before standing up, looking around until you saw a sticky note on the table.

I’m out for groceries, i’ll be back before dawn. So don’t worry and make yourself feel like you’re home :) — Heeseung.

G-groceries? Your eyes twitched in annoyance as he would have woken you up and you’d had the chance to form a closer bond with him and yet he chose to do this? Fuck. Puffing in annoyance, you instead inspected the entire apartment.

“Home?” you inhaled the fresh scent engulfing the living room however the word tastes bitter on the tip of your tongue, though. You went around checking one and each of his belongings and to your surprise, there wasn’t that much of his things inside his room. It was fairly empty consisting of only the bed with blue sheets, and a few minor stuff. It was as if he didn't really live in this place.

As if his claims of living in this place since last year were mere lies. Weird, you thought.

Orange sunset poured over the blue rooftop. A soft chime, door creaking and faint sound of heels approaching. Ruffling his hair, there Heeseung came back in his casual fit, holding a bunch of plastic bags in his hands. His eyes fell upon your figure laying on the couch sound asleep with the TV turn on. The screen shone on the edges of your face.

You were truly a breathtaking sight as he watched you sleeping peacefully just like the precious and well taken care of you are.

He went to the kitchen, arranging the groceries he brought; one by one, to their respective categories; eggs, vegetables, meat, fish, beverages. This was the first time in awhile since he filled up the refrigerator, and even more so he couldn't help but chuckle over how insane he was for going this far — to the point he would treat you so well and good and then crush it sooner and later. Yet he couldn’t be bothered to cook for today as he wanted to test how far you were in your gullibility—lips tugged up in a small smirk as he separated the dishes he bought and placed them on the plate.

Eyes fluttering open at the sound of running water, you look over your shoulder to see him, preparing dinner. Train of memories flashes through your mind which had splattered a deep frown on your face.

"(Name)! Come here! C'mon, taste the food I made."

"Does it taste good?"

"Stop it! (Name)! Look, your lips are messy now. Cute."

Huh. What a bummer. Empty, hollow gaze quickly replaced with a beaming expression as your lips tugged up in a small grin, getting up on your feet as you strode off to the dining room to look at the dishes on the counter.

"Wah!" you sniffed in the dishes, “It smells so good.”

A low chuckle emitted from him, "Not that good, just learned it by myself. After all, I lived alone so it's only wise to learn some little life skills."

"It's still amazing.. Not all are can cook this good." you bit your lip. “Next time, c-can you let me accompany you outside for groceries, if you allow me that is.”

Heeseung looks down at you, your head hanging low makes him wonder if you’re really this painfully shy without him.

“Then let’s get you new boots and fits before we go out for groceries tomorrow.”

"R-really?"

Looking out from the window, today’s weather was calming to say the least. Placing the dishes on the table, you two sat together for dinner.

“Sr. Heeseung. Can I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a therapist.”

“Ha, I-i see..” you nodded.

“It’s a draining career, do you know my patient often racks up all the stuff after a meeting?” You feign laughter.

“How about you? What did you do before you happened to be in that place?” Heeseung asked.

Paused in mild surprise, you chuckled in an awkward manner. “I-I’m an artist.”

Munching the food in his mouth to pieces, his eyes widened slightly at your response, “Woah, an artist? That’s cool! What do you draw? Portraits? Animals?”

“Mostly portraits.” you answered, looking down to your plate. “If you want, I can draw a portrait of you, sir.”

“I would love to, but..” Heeseung pauses, lowering his spoon down to his plate. “Before that, it’s better to drop off the formals, you know? You no longer have to call me sir. Just call me Heeseung, after all we're the same age, aren’t we?”

“I-I don’t know if I can do that, sir—”

“C’mon just call me by my name.” he whined like a child.

“H-hee..”

His intense orbs looking into yours, as if hypnotising you even further. “I can’t hear you.” pouting, he pulls you closer.

“H-heeseung?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Louder.”

You had this growing smirk inside you as you could sense the atmosphere growing thicker and the tension between you was turning into a whole new different vibe—your plan doing its wonders. Closer, closer, you wanted him to get close to you.

“-Heeseung.”

“Good, try again!”

“Heeseung.” you repeated.

“Good girl,” immense satisfaction adorned his lips as he leaned in closer to your ears which made you close your eyes yet only his hand patting your head softly were what you felt before he pulled away, piling up the empty plates on the table.

Your eyebrow raises in confusion “Huh?” why didn’t he?-

“Sir— no, H-heeseung.. Why?” you couldn’t help but stutter at the bizarre outcome.

“Why? You should go back to rest soon, don’t worry I’ll do the dishes this time.”

A visible vein pops up in your neck in utter disbelief before you tugged his sleeves. “I-i..”

“Hm? Is there something wrong?”

Tightening your grip on the hem of his sleeve, you looked up with glassy eyes. “I–.. I don’t wanna sleep yet.”

“Oh, really?” Heeseung brushes his finger against your cheeks. “Alright.”

“Teng! You’re out!”

The fuck? Your eyes twitched at the barrage of chaos before you; the formed lego Thor’s hammer after year's worth of blood, sweat and tears—boards of puzzles with its pieces scattered on the floor, and the man himself pulling out a wooden block out from this piled wooden blocks on top of each other.

T-the fuck we playing Jenga for?! Your eyes widened immense disbelief.

“S-sir—”

“It’s your turn!” faint claps emitting from the friction of his palms as he beamed at you, acting like an almost different man from a few hours ago. Trying your best to keep your disguise up as you pulled out the wooden block carefully, muttering a thousand curses to yourself—this wasn’t your fucking plan.

Sniffing a huge deal of air, you reassured yourself. It’s okay, it’s okay. We still have tomorrow—

“AH! IT FELL! THE LEGO (NAME)!”

Third day. Beaming sun hiding behind the gold veined clouds, painted sea sky with tall high buildings intertwined with its glory peeking from your curtained windows. Yet as serene as it looks, you were pissed. You were consumed with utter impatience. Dried eyes gazing at the ceiling, poking your tongue inside your cheek in attempts to soothe yourself from your short temper tendencies.

That guy should’ve been snuck in between your legs by now, not play silly stupid children games till 4am in the morning. It has never happened this way before. What is he trying to plan, huh? You raised your eyebrow gathering a new wave of determination. Today he’ll succumb to your temptation afterall.

You went to the living room after freshening up, taken aback by the man standing still in the living room—wearing office attire or more something between that.

"You had work?.."

"Oh yes, I do. Got a few clients to attend to." you observed as Heeseung meticulously puts on his tie around his collar, “I’m sorry, I know I promise we’re going out to get your boots but tomorrow okay?”

Fuck what? He’s going to work .. today?! You snapped your head to the open calendar on top of the table, your eyes twitching yet softened in a swift manner when you looked up to him. “Y-you don’t have to apologise, Sr. Heeseung.”

He looks at you with concern. "Are you sure you can stay here?"

"I already appreciate it enough that you trusted me enough to let me stay here. Thank you."

Accompanying him through the door, you observed as he put on his leather shoes and at him; slicked back hair, white shirt with dotted blue tie and the black coat hanging on his arms paired with the black pants. Tall frame, dreamy eyes and faint cherry lips—a totally different image from yesterday, you snickered in the back of your head.

“By the way..”

Pulled away from your deep thought, “H-hm?”

“Uh, sorry for yesterday too. I might’ve gone overboard with those games that you didn’t get a good night's rest.” he pursed his lips in an abashed manner.

Taken aback, you shook your head. “I enjoyed it! It was fun, and nice. I— I’ve never had anyone to play with before so it’s a first time for me..” you looked down, “Thank you for that.”

Gentle caresses of his hand against your cheeks had your eyes widened, “I’m glad to hear that then.” his lips tugged up ever so slightly, seemingly satisfied with your answer. “Wait for me to come back home, okay?”

Letting out a deep, long, dejected sigh that consumes the entire living room as you put your hands on your sides, looking down in immense of what the fuck. “Who cares for those useless boots anyways, when I got your feisty watches over here?” smirking as you did so, grabbing each and one of his precious items that you could sell later for good use.

Knock! Knock!

“Huh? Is he already back?” you furrowed your eyebrows at the entrance of the apartment before taking small steps and slowly opening it.

Heeseung grabbed ahold of his coat and threw it in his car as he drove off to the city, striding along the street till he stopped by in front of a luxury high end restaurant. Elite and expensive. People with high social status spilling in and out from this place.

Brushing his slicked back hair as he puts on his usual gentleman persona, the main entrance opened for him.

"Heeseung-ah! God, where the fuck have you been? Why aren't you answering my calls?!"

The voice was enough to make him roll his eyes to the back of his head but he suppressed the need to do so as he wanted to end this as effortless as he can and as trouble-free as it can be.

"WHAT?!" the cup stumbles upon the hard slam of the girl's hand to the table, "Did I hear you right? You want to break up with me?! Gaeul? Me?"

Heeseung sighed as he wiped the edges of his lips with a wet wipe, "Yes you did. Let’s break up."

"No but why?! Our relationship was so good all this time, didn't our last date go well? So why?—"

"We don't click, Ms. Gaeul. That's all. It would be better if we end it now and just try to become good friends instead."

"H-huh?" Gaeul scoffed irritably, "After all the things I've done for you? Okay, fuck. Then give me the Rolex watch, the Gucci fucking handbag, the LV and Nike shoes—"

"Okay sure."

"Fucking what?!" Gaeul couldn't believe it, "Just what had happened to you?! Why are you so adamant in leaving me? Did you have a girl or something? Heeseung!"

A soft yawn escaped from the young man as his gaze travelled all around the patterned designs of the restaurant, how beautiful.

"Lee Heeseung!"

"Oh god, Gaeul. Do you have to embarrass yourself even further? I thought you're better than that." Heeseung couldn't help but be baffled, it's not like he's so die hard for money, even so he only did all these for pure joy. Money, women, games. All of it was a game.

Death silence consumes the two of them as a series of hiss emitted from the blonde haired girl.

"Fuck, it's not like you're the only man I got. You—" Gaeul pointed at him as her jaw gritted, "I had a lot more men lining up for me, you're not the only one."

"Then I'm happy to hear that, Ms. Gaeul."

Gaeul leans back, sniffing through her nose in attempts to cool herself down. "Still, I had a party next week. My father will be over, you're invited—"

"I don't think I can come to the party." Heeseung got up on his feet. "We are only friends right now, Ms. Gaeul-ssi."

"Fuck don't worry, will you?" Gaeul tilted her head, ruffling her blonde hair, "Bring your girl or whatever you can think of, I'll bring my man. How about we see whether we're over or not, Heeseung?"

A game. How sweet. Heeseung loves the thrill of being challenged. So why not?

"Sure, why not?"

An audible groan emitted from the young man when as soon he went back inside his exquisite car, his phone rang vigorously in his pockets. His eyebrows furrowed upon a suspicious number. "Yes, who's this?" A long deep pause, in which suddenly Heeseung's eyes widened along with furrowed eyebrows. “What?!”

“Sr. Heeseung!”

“(Name), what happened?”

“I– i’m so-sorry,” you sniffed uncontrollably, “Th-they were barging and all and I couldn’t help b-but..”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, explain it to me properly so I’ll know what to do.” Heeseung brought you closer to his embrace, patting your head.

“I- I hit them with y-your pan—”

“My pan?” Heeseung’s eyes popped out, jaw dropping.

Your teary eyes keeps spilling out tears, “Y-yeah, and–”

A series of wailing and mouthy ruckus emits from the back of the police station, “Bitch! That woman is a bitch! Don’t trust her!”

“You fucking watch your mouth.” Heeseung spat out.

“Heeseung-ah! What kind of woman had you brought into your apartment? She’s the spawn of a devil!!”

“Yeah right!” says the man, sobbing as he pressed the white towel covered in ice onto his bruised eyes, hissing in pain as he did so.

“Well, if it wasn’t you trying to barge into my apartment then she wouldn’t have to be this nervous and scared, all because of you.” Heeseung raised his eyebrow.

“S-SCARED? N-NERVOUS? T-THE T-T- FUCK? AM I HEARING YOU RIGHT?!” another man with a bulging eye whines from the back seat.

“SHE FUCKING BEAT US TO DEATH!” they all screamed in unison.

. . . rewind

“Hello?” your eyes fell on a bunch of unfamiliar faces standing in front of the door—three guys; two were drunk and another sober, with a girl whose eyes peering at you like there's no tomorrow.

“Fuck I told you I was right!” the girl whined like a child.

You were met with a barrage of nonsenses thrown at you. The girl was whiny and desperate, asking where Heeseung was or who are you and where you came from, what you were doing here and sorta all of that. From the way she acts, you concluded that she was a piece of bitch dying for Heeseung’s attention. Not only that, the men beside her seems to be her friends which reminds you of the saying; bad apples would soon consume the rest of the good apples.

Pathetic, you thought and yet you’re still keeping up your sweet persona.

Till it unfortunately hits your nerves. “Please kindly get lost.”

“I told you right, if it wasn’t— fuck what?” The girl blinks twice, “D-did i hear you right, miss girl?”

“Yeah she told you to get lost.”

“Shut up!” the girl snapped at her cousin. “Did you just really–”

“Yeah I said get lost.” nonchalantly you say, fed up with keeping up your persona in front of useless pieces of shits not even tangled with your mission so who cares if they do know the real you?

“Pfft!” the girl held her sides, bursting into laughter. “Oh god, a petite girl like you having the nerves to tell us to get lost? Look at yourself first! You’re so petite that the wind can carry you!”

Staying silent as you can as you wait for her to finish her nonsense, “Are you done?”

“Yah. Bitch—”

“Fine then, wait for a min.” you shut the door right to their face much to their protests, until a few minutes later you stepped out of the door with the round object in your tight grasp.

“F-fuck—”

“Hm.. Now you got my attention, you son of a bitch.”

Grab!

"Sir," echoes a gut wrenching scream from the man himself as you bend his arm, twisting it till his shoulder spun to an unstable joint. "It would be nice if you tone it down as," you leaned in to whisper to his ear, "It's never wise to act bold in a territory you don't belong to."

"Who are you?!" it came out as a whisper laced in downright dread as before him, "Fuck help me! Oh my god— my arm, my arm!!"

You pulled away much to the man's outburst of pain, spun your heels around and snapping your fingers up in the air, a faint click almost resembling the sound of a flicking violin, your lips tugging up in a menacing smirk. You dodged the punch and kicked them by launching your leg up to the air, snapping the guys arm in a gut-wrenching sound.

The girl's jaw dropped in utter shock and disbelief with her hands cupping her mouth, letting out a gut-wrenching scream which alerted the entire neighbourhood.

end. . .

Crows cawing from afar as they finish off their story, your quivered form suppressing the need to roll your laughter from bursting into the air behind Heeseung.

A sigh left Heeseung’s mouth, “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. She?” he gestured at you and then back at them, “Beat all of you?”

Heeseung looked up at the ceiling seemingly fed up with the entire ordeal, memories flashing back to when he first met you eventually shaking his head.

“Okay then if you won’t believe us! But there’s a CCTV on your door right, let’s check that then and you’ll see we were telling the fucking truth!”

What's the use? You sighed. They won't even find that footage anyways as your minions had settle everything effortlessly. Pouting your lips with your crossed arms as you tilted your head to look at the computer screen blank and empty.

"I think there has been a malfunction—"

"WHAT?! YOU'VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!" The ruckus had your ear bleeding into pain, not wanting to be there any longer.

Tugging his coat, “Sir.. Can we just g-go back home?”

“Okay, I'll settle this real quick so they won’t bother you anymore okay?”

It didn't took long, actually. As he finally came back with that same smile on his face after telling you that the girl and her friends will be subjected to stay in the cell for a few days. Feigning a solemn face yet inside you were giggling.

“I- greatly apologise over what happened, though! I'm putting you in so much trouble.” you bow down in which Heeseung shrugs, shaking his head in a small smile.

“Ya, ya. Don’t mind it, sometimes we just can't avoid problems.” he patted your head in a gentle manner.

“Do you know them though..?”

“They’re just my neighbour after staying here for over a year. Hm, it’s just that I rarely talk with them.” you nodded still hanging your head down to make yourself look pitiful in front of him. “Hey, I guess we got the chance then to go outside for boots and new fits?”

Your eyes glints at the chance presenting itself before you, feigning an awkward laughter. “Sr. Heeseung. I couldn’t thank you enough with all these things you’re doing for me.”

“If you appreciate it then let's go, I'm going to buy one for myself too!”

So here you are with Heeseung inside a luxury store much to your surprise. Was he flaunting his money to you? By the looks of it, it was kinda obvious and you kept the growing amusement on your face from surfacing as he strolls over the sides, pausing every now and then to show you a piece of fit and asking you which one you like.

Nevertheless, you feigned a series of Pikachu faces whenever he pulls a dress with its price tag looming over you like a tsunami—when in fact, you're dying to have it and possibly sell it after. Let's just say, you got what you wanted.

You two strode off to take cover under the gazebo in the park as soft droplets of rain fell upon the both of you and a faint clap of thunder echoed in this city and soon the street had been drenched in endless pit-patter.

The shopping bags sat upright on the bench. Faint clap of softened raindrops hit the street, round puddles arising with the accumulated rain, and a green frog hops on the way to the side of the bench. The cool breeze caresses against your skin.

“The rain is so pretty.” you breathe out. Somehow this time, your words were true. You turned to look at Heeseung whose face was rather dull as he gazed out at the street. "W-what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Rain is not really my favourite thing to see." He answered.

You didn't question any further as it seems that he was emitting desolation from such a question and instead you asked something else, "How was work?"

"Uh, quite a wreck inside there not gonna lie." Heeseung lets out a soft tsk, “There’s this girl growling like a mad dog, kinda a karen if you know what that means—” he pauses after your expression contorting into confusion, “A Karen is that overly sensitive person who tries their best to ruin everyone’s day.”

Your mouth forms an ‘o’ even when you are fully aware of what it means, just making sure you look dumb enough before his eyes when you realise you were observing him for too long; his sublime face with raindrops trailing down his rosy cheek and tan skin, his bangs sticking to his eyelids as he brushes off the remaining raindrops off his drenched black coat.

Stop looking at him, why are you doing this? Snapping your head back to the sublime scenery of the rain hitting the ground, the sound was as if someone was playing piano through the rain and the main difference was the rain was the song.

Heeseung turn his attention back on you in which his heart skipped a beat. Your drenched white shirt, which hugs your hips down with your head hanging low, fingers fiddling the hem of your old pink grandma skirt. You truly look so innocent, he thought.

“You know, just stay with me." He suddenly voice out much to your surprise. "You don’t have to go back home to that kind of people who don't deserve to be called your parents, it just doesn’t seem right.” Heeseung said, “Just let me take care of you, please?

You didn't give an answer, waiting for him to say more before you could give a fitting response to him. Waiting to see how smitten he is for you. "W-what do you mean, s-sir?"

“It just.. feels lonely nowadays, and I don’t mind having another person to stay with. You know what I mean?”

You shook your head slightly yet your heart skipped a beat in utter excitement over your plan succeeding.

“I'll be your friend, we'll take care of each other and then—"

H-huh?! You rolled your eyes at the back of your head in your imagination. Pissed off at the fact that this man still is holding himself back. Sniffing a huge deep breathe in, you turn to face him with a sweet smile on your face. "I would love to!"

Yea right.

A puppy hops in front of you two, its tail wagging and tongue pouring out as it spun multiple times. The sight of the happy puppy brought a genuine smile on your face when just then an old couple came in through.

“Maeumi! Oh, sweetheart. I thought i’d lose you.” the old lady slowly bend her knees, the puppy immediately went to her arms. An old man stood behind her and his gaze fall on you along with Heeseung.

“May we sit here?..” husky and old voice had rubbed your heart in a gentle almost like hug.

You and Heeseung nodded in unison, with a small smile urging them to sit just far right between you. Just now you and him had a fair distance from together but now you were closer to him.

Watching the old couple go about their day somehow gave you this gentle touch of breeze, especially the white puppy wagging its tail beside the old lady’s leg.

‘“Puppies..”

Heeseung notices your heart eyes towards the puppy, tilting his head at you. “It’s adorable.”

“H-hm?!”

“I said it’s adorable, the puppy.” yet his eyes never left you. Is he trying to pull the shit pull and push game?

“I-it is..” you let out an awkward laugh.

“You wanna get puppies together someday? If you want, we could have another tenant together with us in the apartment.”

You unexpectedly let out a small burst of laughter much to your surprise, immediately covering your mouth with your hand with your eyes widening.

“I mean, sure? I- n-never had a puppy before.” your gaze fell on the puppy again, “They’re just so fluffy, and huggable.”

“I can see why.”

Turning your eyes back on him, “Sr. Heeseung, have you had a puppy before?”

Heeseung took a brief pause, deep in thought before answering. “I did as a child, it was cute, noisy and often it won’t leave me alone.”

The old couple’s small gesture towards each other; the grandpa tucking his wife’s hair behind her ear, and the abashed reaction of her—the sun beaming on the edges of their face, pouring soft raindrops behind them and the greeny leaves from the bushes—everything, the scenery was truly breathtaking it had your breath caught off on the back of your throat and one small question beats inside your heart—was this love?

“Are you two, perhaps, lovers?” the grandma suddenly asked such a question resulting in your eyes widening, yet you were unsure of what was Heeseung's reaction as well.

“U-Uh.. no!” you two answered in unison, looking at each other in giggles.

Rubbing his neck as an abashed smile surfaces on his lips, “We-we’re just a friend.”

“I see, perhaps you could ignore my useless opinions but you two could make a great couple.” the grandma spoke as her hand patted the puppy’s head, its tail wagging vigorously.

The question seems to put the two of you back to reality, as this thought echos in the back of your heads—A great couple? What a joke.

A few days have passed since you stayed here and yet nothing ever happens except for some flattering lines or suggestive touches coming from the man himself. To be fair, you’d expected him to give in to you in just two or four days at minimum. You couldn’t let this stretched out this far, though.

You had your minions watched over him for the past couple days and as expected this guy wasn't as innocent as you expected which made you chuckle mischievously.

"Fuck, I knew you weren't that innocent. Men are all the same." A somewhat rather solemn flashes through your eyes but you squint your eyes in return.

You heard Heeseung on the phone, his words trailing to your ears one by one and each of them confirming your suspicion for him. A scoff emits from you, somewhat disappointed but something you got rid of once you took notice of it as if this was even necessary? A lingering hope that is, foolish you. At least the truth unravels itself before you, at least it did. It’s time to get on with the plan, after all—it’s the very reason why you’re even here in the first place.

You just needed this guy to fall for you and make him spend all his money on you, that's all. Money. You need it for the brothel to keep going on. For the girls you promised to protect. You couldn't care any less whether or not he's innocent as an angel or as mischievous as a snake.

Of course, truly he looks dashing and charming for you yet he reminds you of someone else—nevertheless, you could compare him of a perfect man in disguise of an old, reeking money of a playboy, with plenty of girls queuing up in a stretched out line ready to begged on their knees just for a glimpse of his eyes on them.

The sun rose high up in the air when you followed behind Heeseung, to see which kind of girl was he meeting with so you had an idea of what to do with your plan.

"Huh? So he got another chick? Tsk, no wonder." You thought as you followed a few metres away from him. The sight of him having a sweet interaction with the tailor.

You sat on one of the tables in your disguised form; a brown hat, dark sunglasses on the tip of your nose, black coat hugging the sides of your knees as you sit upright, taking a long sip from your freshly made juice as you poured your ear into their conversation.

“You know we can do it together in the changing room—”

Your lungs burst into the juices flowing through your esopaghus, shooting it back up to the tip of your tongue much to your amusement over the bold words chosen–shaking your head in a low audible laughter as you wipe the spilled contents on your coat while muttering a thousand worth of disappointment.

“Well that can wait, love. However, I had a formal party to attend by the end of this week. Would you give me the honour to be the lady standing beside me?”

Huh, party? You raised your eyebrow at those words. Haa.. an idea beams up in your mind upon processing the newly received information—a smirk grew on your face, why not you instead? You had to he the one he’ll take to the event instead and you'll make sure of it.

Well dear, did it take a long time before the pair had finally finished their chit-chat and you hurried back faster to the apartment before Heeseung could. You almost stumble upon the stairs much to your attempt on getting to the front door, tapping the codes all over again and immediately snucking yourself inside.

"The fuck is wrong with them??" Heeseung's eyes widened in such an immense disbelief, scoffing every now here and then with the phone on his hands, unaware of your suppressed cackle as you sat watching the TV.

"...pfft." an audible laughter left your mouth which had Heeseung's attention on yours. You hastily let out another laughter, pointing your finger at the running TV show which had a pair of ducks hopping along the street.

Heeseung having the thought of whether you're that innocent or just dense in the slightest bit.

Of course, you literally hunt down every single chick on his list by ordering your minions from the brothel to handle them.

Oblivious he was to the fact that you went to the shop the other day wearing an attire tremendously different to when you were in Heeseung’s presence; a tight fitting socks, heels turning downwards to the sense it can digs its claws deep inside pervert’s throat, your tight fitting corset hugging your white dress flowing downwards your hips. Nonchalantly you walked through each section of dress, your finger trailing onto all of them as if you didn't know what to pick.

As expected, the tailor lady had her face constantly powdered with the makeup palette on her hand as she stood still in the reception counter, perfectly unaware of her surroundings. Ah, what a perfect day to put out a useless obstacle out of your way.

Your knuckles come into contact on the counter forming a few faint knocks, in which her attention falls on you with eyebrows raised.

“Y'know, take these few bucks and leave." you pushed the check paper to her hands much to her confusion.

"Huh? What are you—"

"Aw, sweetheart. Don't be so dense that you aren't aware that the man you often had inside your pretty little changing room belongs to someone else."

Her eyes widened in fractions, "What? Are you saying Heeseung?—" a fit of scoff escaped her thick red lips, "Miss, who do you think you are, huh? Going around to make up a ridiculous lie? Look at this."

She raises her hand up to your eye level showing you her index finger wrapped in a gleaming diamond ring along with her expression making out a mockery at you.

"Hm, guess I'll have to put you in your place then." You were about to burst into a fit of laughter when her eyeballs were about to pop out upon seeing the picture you had in your phone's lock screen; Heeseung in his deep slumber on his bed. "If I was you, I wouldn't stay with someone like him any longer."

"Then?!" Her voice heightened in rage, "How about you? Obviously he's cheating on you as well!"

"Nuh uh, we'll see about that." you spun around your heel as you lowered down your glasses, taking one last look at her over your shoulder—giving her a smug look.

Let’s just say the woman had her rage thrown at Heeseung; wailing like a hyena and screaming at him through the phone much to his displeasure and the cost of an ear injury. Telling him how horrible he was for making out a fool of her and on and on—yet Heeseung could only roll his eyes, not at all interested at the woman's rage as afterall she was only another toy for him.

Yet, it had his mind going through the vast space as his face were consumed with utter confusion, “Which one of them?..” he couldn’t remember which girl though, and couldn’t be bothered really. He had too many girls wrapped round her finger that he somehow forgot who is who, only paying attention to those who had more benefits to him.

"(Name)."

"Yes?"

"Is it okay if I can ask for your help?" Heeseung's doe eyes pleaded with the utmost affection.

Ah finally, the sweet words you were dying to hear. You couldn't contain your grin as you watered the flowers with your back before him, spinning your heels to met his pleading eyes.

"Of course! Tell me, I would be happy to help!"

There he broke the news of him going to the grand formal party and you of course, pretended with putting your best interest regard to his problems.

Heeseung swore he's about to yawn over the thousand times he said this among the plenty of girls he went to.

"It's okay, you can bring me to the party!" you sighed in complete bliss. “But– i don’t really know much of the basic things..” you pursed your lips in an abashed manner, or actually, you lied.

Heeseung exhaled a deep thought before assuring you with a warm rub against your clasped hands, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you.”

It apparently baffles you that Heeseung went all the way in teaching you the basic etiquettes, unaware that you were actually well knowledgeable in all these stuffs—just fooling the shit out of him by messing it up intentionally—dropping the spoon on the ground, using the fork in a peasant mode, barbaric munching on the 5 star food much to his cringe expression and displeasure and yet he still tried to be as polite as possible.

You had a great time messing up with him, to be honest.

“Still, still.” his arms around your waist as he guided you through the dancing session. Teaching you the basics of waltz and all.

“You’re doing good.” yea sike. You purposely tugged at his sleeve so he can fall on you and your lips brushed against him in a millisecond, feigning utter surprise as you cupped your lips.

“I-I’m sorry!”

A deep chuckle emits from him, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Let's we try again?” his hand extended before you as he helped you on your feet. Your faces so dangerously close to his. You couldn't wait for the day of the party.

To have him beg for your touches, or possibly fall even more for you as you help him through his meetings. What and whatnots, it baffles you that the boy was keeping it slow and steady, a stark contrast from what you heard and saw before you that day. Was his plan to keep you beside him for a fairly long time? Who knows but it does seem to look like it. At first you had this rush flowing through your veins, intending to end all of it at once but now, your plan somehow change–who cares if he wants it slow? You could take all the time in the world as long as he spend his money on you.

Your plan was going entirely well as here you are trying a new fit one after another as Heeseung sat on the couch, eyes fixated on you while you choose which dress suits you the best.

“Which one?” you asked him with a big grin on your lips.

“Hm.. it looks good, try another one though.”

“This one might look good on her, sir.” the tailor pulls out another dress.

Well boy, did it goes on for an eternity before Heeseung and you finally agreed on the dress you wore right now.

“You’re so beautiful.” Heeseung breathe out in downright amazement, eyes refusing to falter from you. “Almost as if.. You were like a different person.”

Heeseung’s eyebrow furrowed, eyes beaming yet laced with confusion as he observed all of you; your rosy cheeks and your shy eyes fluttering away from his intense ones—your finger fiddling the hems of your dresses per your usual habit, licking your lips every now and often. He had to admit you were truly breathtaking as of this very moment.

“Have you decided sir?”

“-O-oh, yes of course.” Heeseung's eyes refuse to leave yours even when the staff talks to him.

He later comes back and approaches with you stars sparkling in his dreamy orbs, reaching his hand out for you to take. "Are you ready?"

Slipping your fingers into his hands, of course you're ready than ever—for him to give in to you tonight, "I'm ready!"

Moonlight embracing the sky, hiding behind the grey veined clouds, illuminating its proof of living onto this tenants of the world.

“Still remember what I taught you? Spoon, fork, the handkerchief—” you nodded with every word coming out from his mouth, going through all of them like a military drill. “You sure you’re okay?” Heeseung squeezed your trembling hands, worried eyes.

Nodding in an apparent smile, “Hm! I can do this.”

“You don’t need to talk much, though. Just stand still, with me. I’ll do the rest of the job. Easy, right?” He rubs your hand.

You look out from the window where the grand party was centred at. The scent of elite class and old money all gathered in this high end hotel.

Nothing new, apparently for you—it was another routine, a specific situation you were trained in. These little etiquettes and manners, you’ve mastered them so well. After this night, you’ll take the first move. You won’t let this day pass without achieving the grandeur of your plan—make him lust for you and kneel before you.

With your arms laced around his, the insides of the hotel unravel it’s magnificent scene as you and him went inside. Men and women in expensive attire, those with social status alike—the elite ones—gathered in this event. Low volume of waltz, an enormous choir and a whole orchestra playing in the background. Clink clanks of champagne glasses, red wine pouring onto the fountain of glasses, waitresses and waiters striding all over the space to deliver and attend to each guest. The bright glowing chandelier, emitting its orange hues—a sublime mood of fantasia.

Yet it brought your heart a fit of pang. All too familiar it was, isnt?

"Oh, so this is your new girl?" A blonde haired girl presents herself before you when you turn around—her fit consisting of a dark blue dress, hugging her fairly thin waist, the collars drooped down to show her bare collarbones yet the big fat diamond necklace round her neck adorned her overalls. Her fingers twirling the glass of half filled champagne, thick red lips adorning her face.

“Gaeul.” Heeseung confirms her presence, his hand wrapping your waist. Ah so Gaeul was her name?

"Wow, she looks so damn off, like ugh I get the villager type." Another girl appeared alongside Gaeul. Her aura exudes immense elegance as her flowy dark brown hair hugs down to her arms.

"I know right?"

"Just stop it. Gaeul, Yujin." Heeseung spat out, but then the father of the girl came and he excused himself to have a talk with the father. “She’s just–”

An old man appeared at sight with his hands on his back, an intimidating aura emitting from him as he observed each and one of you. “Dad. Look, can you believe that Heeseung will replace me with this girl? Can you talk him back to his senses, please?”

Gaeul’s father observes you meticulously before nodding and telling Heeseung to follow him.

There's an obvious hesitance in Heeseung's eyes yet whispers into your ears, “I’ll be back, okay? Just ignore them.” before disappearing into the spilling crowd, they must’ve gone inside the building you thought.

"So? How does it feel to have your feet on an elite party? Happy?" You turn to look at Gaeul's mockery eyes at you and Yujin's chuckling behind her.

Honestly, years of staying in the brothel had given you immunity to such people as you were subjected to horrors people couldn't even fathom—as all sorts of men and women had done unspeakable things either on you or on someone—they were cunning, rude, loud, physically abusive, they drained you out of your mind like a bloodsucker and all sorts of thing to the point you could say that these two are what you would call—

"Pathetic." You breathed out and it's safe to say that they heard you as expected from their exaggerated reaction.

"W-what?" Gaeul scoffed as she blinked in an abnormal pace, "What did you just say?"

"Pathetic, bitch, pathetic." You repeated before her, amused you were as her jaw dropped even further.

"Fuck? Watch your mouth, please! Who do you think you are?!" She tugged down your dress resulting in a huge slit almost revealing your thighs causing you to let out a yelp. "Now it suits you better, slutty bitch."

"Everyone!" Yujin clapped her hands up in the air—a series of gasps and murmurs emitted from the spectators themselves. The spotlight of the party was now on you. Fuck, you thought.

"You know..—" you were interrupted by a familiar silhouette grabs your attention from your side eye, your heart dropped upon laying your eyes on the particular person approaching.

“Huh, what's with the commotion, ladies? Chill abit, will you?” Familiar voice that sent chills down your spine, his slicked back hair, exquisite suit, that same smile you adore and grown to despise, his sparkling eyes under the lights. His whole being holding a pure weight of your past.

“Jay!” Yujin called out with a big wide smile on her face, a stark contrast from her intimidating aura a few minutes ago. You spun around without much hesitation wanting to leave as soon as you can before Gaeul tugs your arm.

"Where the fuck you think you're going? We're not done yet!"

"(Name)!" Heeseung appeared, surprise etched all over his face as he sees the entire commotion. "Fuck, let her go! Why are you so desperate like this!"

"Ugh!" Gaeul stumbled a few steps backwards as Heeseung pry off her hands from yours.

"(Name)? (Name)?" Snapped out from your oblivion of despair, you looked into Heeseung's eyes with your teary ones. "A-are?— What's wrong?"

Your eyes begin to burn in a sea of tears, gathering your entire strength to pull it in. Don’t fall. Don’t fall. It’s okay. It's okay you tell yourself however your trembling lips show otherwise, your clenched fist shivering not in freezing weather but the burning heat in your heart strings.

“Are you okay? Is it too cold for you? You know we can go back home if you want to, right?” Heeseung rubs his hands on your bare arms to provide a sense of warmth.

“N-no, i’m fine, i’m f-fine..” choking on your tears you did, don’t cry. No fuck, you can’t. “I w-want to go home. I really want to go home—”

“Wait?" as if a strong force pulled you back, “Am I seeing this right?” his familiar voice had you frozen much to Heeseung’s surprise. ”Is that you, (Name)?"

Yeah, it's me. You want to spin around and shout this at his face. The man who you gave your whole trust and love. The man who you wish for his loving touches, his familiar voice and affectionate words. The man who sold you off to the brothel. Your eyes began to tear up, darting relentlessly to prevent it from falling, you trembled under Heeseung’s arms.

The man who you’d thought to be the prince in your once fairy tale book. The man who sold you off to the brothel—Park Jay.

You and Heeseung turned to face them, and just like you—his nonchalant expression mirrored yours but brewed in an immense surprise. His mouth open, eyebrows furrowed as he scanned you up and down. "(Name)? I-Is that you?"

"Heh? You know her?!" others asked in utter surprise.

"I—I d-don't know what you're talking about?" You feigned a composed smile, yet deep inside you are crumbling into tiny pieces of shards with every passing minute of your eyes on him.

"Wait, you're not (Name)? That's weird. You really do look like her. You two had the same name though, except.." Jay chuckled, shaking his head.

"Why? Is there something about her?" Yujin asked with curiosity gleaming in her eyes.

A low cackle emits from him, "No idea. Just a random girl I met in a brothel. A prostitute, that is."

"What the fuck, you went into a brothel??"

"C'mon babe, it's almost 10 years ago. You can't be jealous." His amused face irks you, ripping your heartstrings apart as you observe him leaning down pressing a soft kiss against the young lady’s lips.

A random girl. A prostitute. You bit your lip in attempts to suppress your sobs. Crumbling you were in this hellhole of a reeking betrayal, a betrayal made up of lies.

“Then where are you from then? It’s just amusing, really—that I could meet two separate people with the same identical face. So I was wondering, who are you then?” his eyebrows raised in a comical way, waiting for your response.

Answer something. Something.

A firm squeeze on your bare arms had you looking up to the person in question, his eyes looking down to you in a comforting one, almost like home.

"I'd prefer you not compare her to such a vulgar term, Jay. Watch the way you speak to my future wife."

“Future wife?!”

© SWEETPIECEOFNIGHTMAREZ [2. 20. 2022]

🐾AUTHOR'S NOTE — thank you for reading my story and have a nice day :))

[shortstoriesbycarynnicole]

Zoan and the Balcom Family

Caryn Nicole Wells (South Carolina, 2023)

“The world is indeed comic, but the joke is on mankind.”- H.P. Lovecraft

Prologue

"Miss White, 

Thank you for your request to join our compelling pool of applicants. 

As a reminder, your signature on the at-will submission confirms your voluntary participation and the agreed upon code of absolute silence and discretion concerning all matters and correspondences, including this letter. 

A car will arrive at your place of dwelling at 10am, Saturday. Do not keep the driver waiting as tardiness will be noted. A dress will arrive this afternoon in the size you notated on the request form. All applicants will wear identical clothings that will be provided, as we strive to enforce equity and eliminate impartiality throughout the process. 

Please pull your hair into a neat bun with no bangs or loose strands to frame the face. Shorter lengths of hair will need to be straightened and tucked behind the ears. Makeup is your choice, but know that your styling will be noted. Please refrain from obscene perfumes or lotions. Light and barely noticeable scents are preferred. 

We expect most interviews to last an hour. Please clear your afternoon to avoid disruption, just in case.

When you arrive at our home, please make your way to the side entrance. You will be met by a family representative and provided further instruction. 

Again, confidentiality and discretion are mandatory and will be enforced. 

We look forward to your arrival,

Elaine Balcom

Secretary to the Balcom Family"

Part One

As life before a newborn unfolds more darkly and unknown than our bright and patronizing celebrations, so did the winding road Zoan traveled to the Balcom Family residence. The trees were towers that did so over its uninvited guests, marking their territory with fallen leaves as a gentle warning to turn back.

The gate was no less daunting, standing black and vast. The bushes blew gently beneath the dark grey skies as the driver entered the code. The iron parted to reveal another pathway, this one longer than the one before; like a long and twisted truth follows a theatrical and dimly lit lie.

The path then stopped at the foot of a concrete driveway. Wider than the sea, it seemed, it gave way to rolling lawn on both sides. The green went on for miles each way and ombréd as it went; first of springtime green made dark by the skies into summer’s slightly darker shade, and onward to autumn’s emerald before turning black beneath the shadows.

The car crept past the topiary spirals; arrogant and fluffed, they pointed upward to they sky. The flowerbeds kneeling at their feet weren’t any less haughty than their masters. They played the sun with persuasive conviction, and the topiaries played God commanding the hue.

The house that sat in the midst of it all followed suit and kept the theme. Being both of heaven and of man, it stood a mirror facing a mirror, reflecting its own image.

Three stories of red brick wet with dew were topped by grayish roofing. The water droplets were kept in place by the lukewarm autumn air. Zoan had expected columns, but the Balcom’s had gone with earth. Mint green vines grabbed the building at the base and slithered up the front with great audacity, choking the ten windows in their rows. The overgrown cottage knew its history well, and kept the secrets to itself by way of a modern door.

The stark white fixture was guarded by cameras peeking out from the doorbell and down onto the knob. Three short steps were both a welcome and a smirk; proving no barrier to entry but holding one side-mouth’s corner upturned.

The door at the side looked much like the first, only one step shorter but just as smug. The driver opened the passenger door and Zoan stepped into the gravel. The grey had given way to the ground after the houses’s introduction, and the driver walked her gingerly to a second.

He knocked on the door three times and took a strong step back, wrapping his right, closed fist in his palm and resting the gesture at his belt. A thin black woman with skin the color of undisturbed sleep opened the door and surveyed Zoan from head to toe. Her lipstick had a hint of orange while remaining otherwise neutral. Her lips parted to reveal her perfect teeth as she smiled at Zoan in approval. The smile made sparkles in her deep brown eyes just above her thin nose and overly sharpened cupid’s bow.

The severity was matched by her solid French bun. She’d twisted her hair and pinned it there, and it gleamed by way of its Abyssinian color.

She thanked the driver who nodded and turned heel. She watched the vehicle drive away and turned her gaze to Zoan. And without expression of any kind, she introduced herself.

“Good morning, Miss White. I’m Elaine Balcom.”

She stepped into the home and stretched her arm into the foyer; the contents of which were shrouded in darkness from the point where Zoan was standing.

“Welcome.”

Part Two

Zoan followed Elaine Balcom through the home's side entrance; a crow's feather on storm winds overwhelmed by the display of divine supremacy; supremacy which was echoed in the way Elaine walked. Her short swift strides and perfectly upright position prevented her overly tight dress from conveying emotions besides severity. 

The floors were wooden, aged, and worn and anchored the decor with sage humility. The door led to a hallway that seemed to narrow as it went. Chandeliers hung above the two as they ventured onward to their date. Much like the outside of the house, the bare walls and antique floors were pristinely juxtaposed to the grandeur of the light fixtures. 

The hallway led to another door that answered to the gatekeeper's brass key. Elaine Balcom stretched her arm into the room. "Someone will be with you shortly", she said before backing away with her unblinking eyes still fixed into Zoan's; her head turned to one side as she pulled the knob with her right hand and guided the wooden barricade with her left to prevent it from speaking as it shut.

Zoan turned from the door to find herself standing in a library. Tens of thousands of books covered every inch of the walls; an astute display of oppression by the shelves that were walls themselves but housing something much more important. The library was lit by lanterns and with the room having no windows, the amber hue was warm in its intent. But, the Balcom's had been certain to assert their ownership over the manmade sources of light; succumbing to their entrapment, the light bulbs gave spotlight to the room's decor. 

Rustic lamps of six feet tall lit an inviting leather couch and matching armchair. The desk in the corner laid bare save for a sculpted iron crow and a single pen. A small wooden table sat alone in the adjacent corner holding an antique record player spinning a circle of wax that sounded Grace Bumbry’s rendition of "Habañera", filling the otherwise frigid room with stirring romance and glistening technique. 

Zoan walked to the sofa and took a seat, straightening the skirt of her dress as she sat. The tea length assignment was fitted at the neck, bust, and waist before flaring outward from her midline to her calves. The dress' length and long sleeves that covered her wrists kept the imagination from traveling past her hands and ankles. She stared at her reflection at the top of a crystal decanter on the table before her. She'd pulled her hair back into a bun and opted to forgo foundation to let her chestnut colored skin glimmer on its own. She had, however, concealed her dark circles from a lack of sleep the night before. Wonder had gotten the best of dreams and she'd erased all signs of restlessness with the product and a beauty sponge. 

She wore mascara and a thin line of black, and swiped a bit of gold onto her cheekbones. In a bold and unexpected move, she'd painted her lips in red. She'd surprised herself with the choice and was fearful of the response with a hint of curiosity. The decanter was filled with red wine and sat before an empty crystal glass. A silver tray held grapes, meats, and speciality cheeses. On the side of the tray, a vase filled with water stood behind a glass Zoan believed was meant for her. She sat there for the next thirty minutes, looking over her shoulder at the door as Jessye Norman bended earth elements to her will and Kathleen Battle made daring ascent to the heavens. 

She stared at the food but resisted the urge. She'd steer clear of the wine, but poured the water and took a few sips. Another fifteen minutes passed, and another as she stood to stretch her legs; glancing at the door once more before reclaiming her seat. A knock on the door made her jump as Elaine Balcom reentered the room. "Miss White.....", she spoke again without expression. "Your queuer is busy this afternoon and cannot see you today."

Zoan tried to hide her disappointment and frustration and offered understanding as Elaine Balcom ushered her from the room. The driver waited where he'd dropped her off, opened the door, climbed into the car himself, and drove back down the drive away from Elaine Balcom who stood watch over the exit.

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The driver pulled to the front of Zoan's building. He turned to her silently and presented her with an envelope before opening her door to let her out. Zoan watched the driver creep away as she opened the eggshell papers sealed with a waxen melt branded with a "B". 

"Miss White,

Congratulations on your advancement beyond the observation portion of the process. The driver will fetch you at the same time tomorrow. He will wait for ten minutes before leaving your residence. Should you not wish to continue, simply stay indoors. 

Please wash the dress in cold water, machine dry the same with light spin, and present in identical fashion tomorrow.

A gentle reminder of the confidentiality agreement and warm regards,

Elaine Balcom

Secretary to the Balcom Family"

Part Three

The hallway seemed larger than it had the day before as Zoan followed Elaine through the corridor. Suffocating at the tail end, it seemed to crack and give as they passed through. It laid lifeless and discarded as the sentient beings emerged with curiosity into the now familiar library. 

The room smelled of wisdom with the base note being bourbon. There were stains on the Persian that had been lifted with lye and spilled again, and lifted twice more before settling in to be heard but not seen as the amber lanterns mocked the whiskey’s forgotten hue. The leather smelled of stories equally read, recollected, and retold. Each one a secret or lesson exposed before melding into the hide.

Zoan took a seat in the midst of the memories as Elaine Balcom headed for the door and closed it silently behind. The inticing charcuterie had been replaced with a single notebook; the wine with two pencils sharpened fiercely to their points. The sterility of the scene gave Zoan’s breath a quicker pace. Desperate for comfort, she turned her ears to yesterday’s soaring sounds, but the turntable lay still and unmoving; Debussy resting at the side of the dormant needle. 

Zoan found solace in the thought that the library’s last inhabitant may have shared her anxiety, given the selection. She leaned diagonally toward the machine in search of wear, hoping to learn more about her unlisted hosts; ‘Nocturne in E Minor’ for the wounded soul, ‘Reverie’ for the hopeful and yearning heart, and ‘Suite pour le piano’ for the erudite mind in search of cerebral stimuli in the highly adventurous and lesser known piece. Her curiosity was cured by the abrupt entrance of a short, stout woman dressed in grey. 

Her brown eyes were sunken into her mahogany skin. Her eyebrows had been plucked to obscurity, leaving her mostly expressionless; her exaggerated jawline forced to overcompensate for the otherwise lack of facial character. The frock she wore was designer but ill-fitting, serving more as a prison than a home with the overwhelming lack of tailoring drowning any semblance of a shape in threads that cost a fortune by the yard. 

Zoan thought ‘Stravinsky’ as the woman hurried past and took a seat at the desk. She’d considered other composers before deciding on the one, but the woman was drab and far too sexless to be moved by Puccini’s heroines. It seemed she hadn’t been kissed in years with even the smartest Debussy carrying wishes of romance in its winds. 

Without looking up at Zoan, the woman curtly introduced herself as Regina Balcom. Her voice crackled like campfire sat in front of a lonely woman gone outside in search of warmth that had evaded her, and love the same. She pointed at the notebook and Zoan promptly picked it up; the woman’s eyes still fixed on the proctor’s pages before her. 

“First question.”

The woman waited without looking up, and Zoan took the cue to grab a pencil; cracking the spiral to find the pages already numbered. “Applicant #27” was the header; each horizontally listed index followed by enough lines to fit a paragraph’s response.

First question: Toni Morrison refers to this novel and its main character in her famed essay “God’s Language” included in her award-winning anthology “The Source of Self Regard.”

Zoan stared at Regina Balcom who still stared at the page before her. A beat went by as the second query went forth asking of peaks, molecules, and carbons before the inquiry switched to calculus. The test carried on for two hours with each ask harder than the last; the climates of places rarely mentioned and the politics of countries not allied with the West.

She found a bit of reprieve in art, but the respite was temporary; having been forced beyond the museum walls to the buildings themselves, their architectural histories, and the men commissioned with the task. Archeological findings of the 17th century, a recounting of European rulers, and the death circumstances of sages and prophets. 

Regina Balcom slammed her notebook shut and the snap bounced from book to book; catching the laughter of the authors, running them down the wooden sleeves of the shelves, and cascading towards hell but stopping at the floor to bury Zoan’s feet in embarrassment.

Part Four

Zoan stared through the window of the Lincoln at her brownstone as the car pulled in front of the flat. She'd spent the entire ride fighting with her tears; playing the dam that'd seen its fair share of storms, with the maintenance being pushed back and back before a hurricane exposed the folly of procrastination. 

She looked for the driver to pass the next envelope of instructions, but he stared firmly onward through the shield with two hands resting on the steering wheel. Zoan bolted from the car and up the stairs as the driver pulled slowly away; like sugar added to a Cajun rout, her petulance was in stark contrast to the behavior of the Balcom's employ. 

She hurried to her unit and closed her door as calmly as she could. She'd prove to herself that she was better than today, if to nobody but herself. She stared at the walls that had been painted two weeks prior. There'd been a waiting list for "Rockies White" and she'd waited two months for the arrival. The shade was meant to mimic mountain winters and it carried out the quest with enviable precision. 

It matched the white of the snow while capturing the nuance of glistening boulders; finished with whimpering grey of January skies and the barely blue runoff from midday warmth. It was well worth the wait, and calmed her as she entered. She'd left the walls bare save for a canvas that wanted to be a Pollock. 

The steel appliances only intensified the theme as she passed by the kitchen to the right. She journeyed past the black countertops and grey furniture in the living room, straight onward to her bedroom where everything was beige. She thought of throwing herself into the comforter, but decided to be more mature. She walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer; pulling a satin nightgown from the chest.

She disrobed to nothing and slipped the comfort over her head. She stared at herself in the vanity mirror before heading to her nightstand at the side of the bed. She removed a pack of makeup wipes from the top drawer and walked back to the mirror; removing a wipe and dissolving each unanswered question in her melting eyeliner and bleeding lip. Zoan considered checking her emails and glanced in the direction of her laptop, but there'd only be more questions for her coworkers and boss; ones she'd have the answers to, which would only plummet her further into feelings of insurmountable inadequacy. 

She still had cooking to do for the week, so she'd uplift herself in the kitchen and sear her futility in a non-stick pan. When she arrived at the room where'd she'd redeem herself, she opened the fridge to find she'd not done her shopping. The Balcom's had stolen her time along with her pride. She turned back to her bedroom to change; straightening her posture in mustered agency and feigned annoyance. 

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She'd chosen a pair of jeans and an oversized t-shirt for her trip to the market. She'd be one of many; not making any fuss, but wore her red lipstick to avoid complete obscurity. The crowds of people parted like fresh waters at river forks; meandering down grocery aisles in search of sustenance or emotional suppressants, depending on the day. At the entrance of the store, a man approached a purposefully abandoned piano. He sat a triangular case on the lid and removed an aged violin. His skin was brown and bursting with depth as the flamed tops of evening ends; set to candlelight and Schubert's Lizst transcriptions. He wore black denims and a white t-shirt, with a pair of brown Timberland boots and black leather cuffs at the ankles. 

His hair was locked and fell down his back as he placed his chin on the rest. Zoan thought of walking past as she hadn't come to linger, but curiosity stopped her at the feet of the street musician. He played Satie, which was odd for violin, but embellished arpeggios between the breaths of slumber and despair. He drew a crowd of consumers who dropped crumbled dollar bills into his case. 

Zoan stood as long as she could and secretly hoped that she'd be seen; yearning for some form of acknowledgement from a most unreasonable source. But the violinist was transported by his own sounds, and rightfully; never opening his eyes to his bustling surroundings, and Zoan being one in the number.

She gathered her senses and hurried into the store; grabbing a forrest green basket at the door. She made her way quickly though the produce plots; grabbing two bags of cherries, a cup of chopped coconut, four champagne mangoes, and 32 ounces of pomegranate flavored kombucha. Fresh green beans with an assortment of herbs were chosen to pair with the rice and fresh Atlantic salmon she'd prepare. She made her way to the seafood counter, placed her order, and waited for the cut. The station was filling quickly and the people filed in; the noise level growing to a low volume roar, with some customers being less patient than others and some a bit more picky.

A woman with a crying child on her hip bumped Zoan as she pushed through to the front, bumping into Zoan and sending her crashing into another; a domino top that continued to the very end of the line. Zoan's elbow was caught by the man behind her, which she knew by the width of his grasp. He helped her adjust and she turned to thank him, finding herself staring into the eyes of the Balcom family's driver.

She stood with her eyebrows lifted as he grinned at her in recognition. Unshaken by the encounter, he offered a polite greeting; one that did very little to curb Zoan's flushing and sudden anxiety. She'd not paid much attention and felt ashamed at her entitlement. She reminded herself that discretion was part of his job description, and that seeing him in this way, in a plaid shirt, jeans, and loafers was a more humanizing form. 

He was beautiful, this man she'd hardly seen with his coffee colored skin and perfect fade. He smelled of bergamot and fresh rainfall in deep woods. His eyes were the color of sandpaper and sparkled with severity. She nodded, smiled, and offered a polite response as she turned away from him and back to the counter, desperate for some form of distraction. But the driver wouldn't leave her be, and tapped her on the shoulder. She turned and stared back into his eyes; forcing a second smile to conceal her hopelessness. 

"How'd it go?" he asked. Zoan's blood turned to frost as she realized the depth of the Balcom bench. Who were these people that even the driver knew more than he seemed; with him cracking a sinister smile at the acknowledgement of her own. Her number was called and she turned from the man, hurrying to collect her purchase. 

"I failed", she said, turning back to the man as the seafood sommelier stepped from around the corner to hand deliver packages of freshly wrapped fish to her conversation partner. 

He smiled at Zoan as the clerk walked away.

"The proctored test, maybe", he said. "But the true test....no."

He turned heel for the door, putting his AirPods into his ear. As he did, Zoan saw his song selection on his iPhone screen.

"Clair de lune" by Claude Debussy. 

Part Five

Zoan carried the paper grocery bag with two arms at her front. It was light enough to use the handles without fearing they would give, but her encounter with the Balcom's chauffeur left her feeling as an incandescent beam of light in search of a lantern's home. As if the lanterns were a clan of aristocrats born and bound in predetermined privilege; and despite their tempting brilliance, it seemed safer to stay lost and not want for home than to seek one there. And safer still, though her limbs could only move so fast to carry her to her home.

She shuffled through the crowd as quickly as she could with each smiling face seeming more Hyde-esque than jovial; as if they we're all sharing a joke of her tortuous day and her naivety in considering reengagement with the Balcom's. It was a teacup spinning without restraint; this sea of careless people in the architect's circular plan. She hurried past the violinist, whose lightning ascents of chromatic tones only heightened her disorientation. She heaved as she hastened away from his anxious revelry, purposefully selected to impress. 

Zoan's heartbeat warned of an encore performance from her tears. They had played the matinee, taking their own lives at the sight of Zoan's proverbial death; now knowing what it meant to plummet to hell from what once was a tale of unbridled innocence and blissful rebellion. 

The music stopped midstring with such silence that Zoan's feet stopped at the command. The violinist placed the instrument on top of the piano when Zoan turned in the direction of her path's betrayal. He took a seat on the bench and begun a slow but tedious melody, with both hands working with and against each other to inspire her recovered regality. 

Ravel.

The violinist moved through the piece written for a buried princess with unmatched sensitivity. He glanced up from the piano at Zoan and offered the only genuine smile she’d seen since switching her satin for polyester and venturing from her home.  

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"Ms. Elaine Balcom,

I humbly request to continue with the application process, despite my proctored test scores leaving much to be desired. If this correspondence is to go unanswered, it has been my distinct honor to have been invited into your magnificent home.

Regards,

Zoan White"

Zoan placed the letter in the her mailbox and lifted the red flag to alert the mailman of outgoing envelopes. She returned to her unit, climbed into bed, and pulled the metal string to steal the light from the lamp on her nightstand. 

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The driver waited outside Zoan's home at 10am exactly. 

He opened his door as she journeyed down the steps; walking around to the side. He opened her car door; both hands placed on the chrome in an overt show of professionalism. Zoan smiled and offered a chipper 'hello', but the driver stared past her and down the street, not saying a word. He closed the door in such a way that made Zoan jump at the sound. She fastened her seatbelt as safety and ceremony required; with safety filling most of the intent as the driver's departure from his grocery store demeanor made her feel less at ease than she had the first day they met. 

He adjusted his mirror, still refusing to acknowledge Zoan in the reflective glass as he turned the key and into the road. Zoan followed his lead and sat back into the seat; folding her hands in her lap and straightening her posture to the moment. To make matters worse, the sky was clear; brilliantly blue with one cloud sat beside the sun and a few others trailing behind in a game of celestial tag that'd last for hours. It seemed a message from the heavens that it had no hand in what would transpire this day. It only had room to care for itself and needed a day of leisure to recover from its toil. 

The trees were no different as they whipped by, green and effervescent and blowing in the wind. The Balcom mansion was more beautiful than Zoan remembered; her second chance beaming over the lawn and melting the driver's steel display into liquid mercury.

Elaine Balcom greeted Zoan at the door in her brown skin and black. She nodded to the driver who sped from the home in such a manner that made Zoan's heart fling backwards into her spine, beating rapidly to claw its way out and escape with the Lincoln. But, Elaine Balcom's eyes were still and her smile spread across her face, reaching for both ears as she waved Zoan into the library.

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Zoan waited in the library as she had before; this time wandering the ornate rugs instead of taking a seat. She'd very little pride, and felt that she would lose her remaining gall in the cushion of a chair; sinking with it beneath the unknown, both of the day and the questions she'd not answered. The library was silent like before, only adding to the suspense; with the browns in their decorative majority being nearly dark enough to be black, forming a line just above the abyss and finding the suspension more terrifying than the darkness itself. 

She walked to the side table that house the record player. Maintaining her posture, she tilted her chin downward to discover the last scholar's source of inspiration. Squaring her shoulders and lifting her brow, she raised the other in response to the collection of pieces by American composers; Bernstein, Barber, and Copeland to name a few. Someone had a sense of adventure; musings of wild explorations, undiscovered lands, and threats of unabashed exploits stemming from untamed manish wonder. 

A mirror hung on the wall and Zoan raised her eyes to meet her own gaze. She looked at her oxblood lipstick shade and felt she shared the listener's propensity for danger; not the dark and senseless sort, more the greying of clouds before a lightning strike or a single red bird in a magnolia orchard, perched amongst the emerald and white and warning that everything wasn't as perfect as it seemed. 

The door opened in the mirror and sat in mystery for a moment, with Zoan straightening herself in expectation of another judgemental woman's gaze. She turned and faced the door, clasping her hands together at her waist. She looked to her shoes, aligned her feet, and refocused her attention to the door as a man in khakis pants, a black buttoned down shirt, and a black belt, with his black locks flowing down his back as they had the first day she saw him; violin in hand and under the spell of the music that poured from his soul.

He closed the door and stood at the opposite end of the room; he introduced himself as Alastair Balcom and offered praise of Zoan's persistence, despite the assist from "the family".

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

He was magnificent as Zoan's feet disallowed her movement in his presence once again. She resisted the urge to adjust her hair and regretted not doing so in the mirror, having wasted time admiring her perfectly bloody lip instead; the secret to the shade was not at all the framed red, but the many layers of jet black liner that made her kiss resemble the spill from a dagger's betrayal.

Zoan's attention returned to her host as he took a few steps forward. He explained that he would be the proctor for the day, as this was his home, he'd inherited it from his father, and the final say was his. He walked to the table in the center of the room where Zoan had already been observed, and had failed the daunting exam. He motioned to the floor on the opposite side of the table. Zoan made her way to the spot as commanded.

His eyes glistening with petrifying intensity; like standing before an ocean at tide, being mesmerized by the beauty and humbled by the might. He spoke in a kind but metal-toned voice, one that put her at ease and turned her blood to ice; as his eyes had, and his music. 

He smelled of oak and evergreen, and it was clear that he was freshly bathed. He'd topped the morning routine with a scent that resembled midnight; brooding with night and pregnant with day, it teetered on the line between past and present, familiar and foreign. He pointed at the books on the table; a count of five hard bound efforts were stacked on top of one another between the room's two occupants. 

Her task was to simply put them back where they belonged; and a single misplaced book would disqualify her definitively. This was her redemption and there would be no second salvation. Zoan stared into the library and wished she'd spent less thought on the music. She picked up the copies of 'Moby Dick', 'Things Fall Apart', 'Pride and Prejudice', 'Wuthering Heights', and 'Othello'; feeling Master Balcom's eyes embedded into her spine as she journeyed to the shelves. 

Naturally, she found herself towards the end of the shelves from where she stood. Her eyes came to a copy of 'Romeo and Juliet' that was wedged between Chaucer and Hughes. Alphabetical was not the order, as she hadn't thought it would be. Nothing was simple with this family that lived their lives at the edge of the true and the fantastic. She considered the syllabic rhythms of the titles and the count of letters in the author's last names, but no pattern was evident. She determined that the shelves were organized to reflect Alastair Balcom's preference, but that seemed unlikely; with a copy of the Kama Sutra wedged between Pablo Neruda and a history of Ancient Greek architecture; a biography of Lewis Carroll between 'The Scarlet Letter' and a music theory textbook. 

An hour went by with Balcom standing by the table with his arms folded at his chest. At one point, Elaine Balcom brought him a cup of coffee and ran her hand down his bicep as she walked away, her eyes forming an expression of which Zoan hadn't thought she was capable; somewhere between lust and pleading with them being far from the same, but related. 

Alastair Balcom kept a darkened eye fixed on Elaine as she walked out of the room. He slowly turned his head back to Zoan, took a sip of coffee and raised his arm, pretending to check his watch before looking back at Zoan. Deciding there was reason, but not one she understood, she placed the books anywhere they fit, returned back to the table, and folded her arms to mimic Master Balcom's former stance. He smirked at her petulance and asked if her decision was final. She forgot herself and fussed that it hadn't made sense; that if he wanted to find the books he'd have to search for them. 

He sat, placing the coffee on the table and motioning to the space beside him. Zoan stiffened her shoulders and took the seat, sending her host into a chuckle at her demeanor. He offered Zoan a cup of coffee, but she'd had enough of the games. She stood and marched towards the door, and Alastair called after her that she'd passed the final exam. Zoan slowly turned, embarrassed at her tantrum and offered profuse apologies. In a stunning gesture, he offered apologies of his own; knowing the tests were trying and tiresome, but of the utmost importance. Zoan took a seat with her host.

The library had no reason. 

It was designed that way for the reader to go searching for what he or she wanted, but be forced to settle beyond their favorites and reach for something else mid-search; a labyrinth created as each book was read and placed somewhere else, with some placements being remembered but the room otherwise forcing curiosity upon settled, erudite minds. Most applicants came in and tried to assign rhyme where there wasn't any. But all the knowledge in the world lays dormant and without purpose in a mind that cannot see beauty in chaos; one so filled with fact and fixed that it is no longer receptive to the world and its mysteries. 

All members of the Balcom Family were blood, save for Elaine. She was the first of their efforts to find new minds to mold. Master Balcom made clear that he liked Zoan because she was responsive; not overthinking or under, somewhat fluid but far from stupid. Zoan softened at the compliment; accepting her position amongst the elitists and speaking with Master Balcom about her upcoming lessons, their shared taste in music, and their appreciate of African-American influences on modern innovations. They leaned closer to one another with their noses inches apart as Elaine Balcom served a two course lunch and a three course dinner and desert. 

They shared a bottle of decades old wine, and Zoan was sent home the same way she came; in the backseat, behind a driver who now smiled and nodded in welcome. 

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Zoan emerged from her shower and swapped her towel for a pink, silk nightgown with lace trim. She switched off the lights with only the flame of a vanilla scented candle forming a restless spotlight on the ceiling as she settled into the bedding's warmth. Every inch of her skin crawled with current as she turned to eye the envelope containing a welcome letter, a lesson schedule, a notice that she'd be issued a key to her new home, directions for the dry cleaning and pressing of her new wardrobe, and a trajectory for her studies which would culminate in a doctoral degree from the institution of Balcom legacy. 

She passed a stream of air threw her lips to kill the light from the candle. She then drifted into sleeplessness as she'd seen Alastair Balcom had worn no ring.

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The driver dropped Zoan at the home's side entrance as always. He sped off and Zoan stood there alone; a departure from what had been, with Elaine Balcom nowhere in sight. She knocked on the door, but no one came. She walked to the front and repeated the request for entry. Her second attempt remained unanswered. 

She ventured to the backyard in search of a doorway, and as expected was met by rolling lawns of various greens interrupted by tedious rose bushes and a fountain in mid-celebration as she made her way to the door. 

A clicking sound happened behind her before she had a chance to knock. Elaine Balcom stood with a revolver in her hand, the barrel pointed at Zoan's nose. Her eyes were lit and animalistic as she seethed between her teeth; her blonde hair now seeming more a false halo and her immaculate brown skin, an awful trick. She heaved that she had worked too hard, studied too long, and done everything she could to earn an official change of last name. Alastair was beginning to notice her and Zoan would not get in the way. 

She took another breath and Zoan closed her eyes; regretting her curiosity and not following her senses away from these people. 

The gun went off and rang through the trees; first a lightning strike before the thunder that echoed through the acres. 

Zoan opened her eyes to Elaine Balcom's lifeless limbs strewn across the green, with Zoan's own lipstick shade pouring from the open wound in her head. Zoan gasped and covered her mouth as she turned to see Regina Balcom standing in the trees with gun smoke circling her face. She stepped from the woods and over to Elaine's body; the gravel drive crackling in mourning beneath her flats as she crept. She looked at Elaine with unmatched severity. 

"Stupid girl", she said before jerking her head to Zoan. "You're not here for that, yes?"

Zoan nodded fiercely with her hands in the air before entering the home at Regina Balcom's direction. Zoan struggled to catch her breath as she made her way to the library. She shook her head several times and entered the room; holding one hand in the other to prevent them from shaking. 

She was met by the strange chords of a composer she didn't recognized as Alastair Balcom conducted the music that poured from the speakers around the room; the sound clearly preventing him from hearing the outside goings on. 

And there he was; perfectly bathed in amber light wearing brown loafers, a pair of jeans, and a white buttoned down shirt with the first two undone.

He lifted a geography textbook and smiled at Zoan. 

The music stopped as he sipped a perfect cup of coffee from the perfect mug in his perfect hands.

He grinned to reveal his perfect teeth.

"Right....shall we begin?"

[jonathankatwhatever]

It’s 5 June 2023 and I feel lost, like I don’t know who I am. I’ve spent the last days away from work, away from engaging with the part of me that is me deep inside. I feel distant. I even stopped trying to bend my hurt fingers. Not sure if I’m letting them heal or letting them stiffen. We shall find out.

Every place I was yesterday I’d seen in a dream. A Chinese restaurant, a car parked directly in front turned out to be the one I was in. The man in a uniform carrying a bad looking at a man in a wheelchair was a doorman holding a food delivery waiting for Jared’s grandfather, who is 98 today, to be pushed out the door.

Much of the day was previously seen. The entire scene at the restaurant, including the baby shower I walked past, with the expectant mom’s dress. The room. The chair outside. The trains going by on the elevated tracks.

I’ve had many ideas why this can happen. The math shows how it’s possible, though I now see that we’ve connected to it from two sides now rather than one. That is - and note the we in the last sentence - the prior idea was one-sided, that there are multiple pathways and those can be seen from your perspective in a dream form under a few conditions. This requires understanding dream visuals, which consist of images taken from these pathways, often cobbled together, so they fit a narrative. As in, my repeated dreams which used images from my childhood home: they were easily accessible and thus could be inserted as background without rendering the actual background. I noticed this many, many years ago when I’d be in a scene, in a conversation, and it appeared to take place in front of our house on Woodbank and yet a car would drive up what would be lawn. Or something else would happen that said this is not really that place.

Given that, I noticed the images often didn’t fit at all. I had a series of violent dreams which persisted until I realized the setting appeared to be a hotel lobby or the like with people in it and nothing actually happened in those images even though a battle was the storyline. I assumed then that meant I had no war images to fit, so what did fit was a scene that filled the space, that could take being overwritten with whatever that dream was about. I had this kind of experience countless times and the idea has stood up.

Now we can connect this to the conception of a Thing - the first time I feel like I’m actually thinking - within D-structure, so we can say with 100% certainty that our Things do indeed pull together imagery, that these Things have access to D4-3 constructs. So that makes a 2nd side: the process which affects me, which exists in Togs form, meaning the DC&R process operates ‘externally’ or on the Boundary of my Thing, and in Tigs form, meaning it meets what wells up from me.

One effect of ‘being away’ is that I spent time looking at you from outside my perspective. I ended up back at the same place I was when I gave up on you because I couldn’t get past the surface identification of you. I’m not sure that came out well. I mean the identification of you as being inverted and twisted versus the identification of you as a good looking talented ordinary person with a gift for manipulation. I remember that very well because it capped a long period of anguished and often angry arguments in which I would swear to not think about you again, that you were glittering surfaces built around something whose core was either unknowable or somehow diseased, meaning you showed all the signs I was attuned to pick up on but as a false representation of the forces driving me, as felt by you, as responded to by you. I think that is the core of my doubt, when you get into it.

That period ended when I was standing in the gym and decided to give it one last shot. I remember the image: looking at my phone, being very focused, seeing the song IDWLF, listening to maybe 30 seconds, stopping, looking up the song, listening, thinking ‘there’s real in that’.

I’ve gone through those same emotions over the last few days.

It was especially acute because the ‘event’ brought together so many human threads. His parents are very old and in poor health. His father is essentially blind and can barely walk. He isn’t able to hold conversations for long. His mother is in a lot of physical pain and that plus her meds make it difficult for her. So we had them and us in the middle and my daughter in a beautiful dress at the other end. All things pass.

That isn’t really true. I had this argument when George’s album came out: it’s not that all Things pass but that corporeal Things pass, while the eternal does not. That is the work in a nutshell: join your incorporeal Thing to the eternal or die.

It’s a subject I visit often. Walking around after the ceremony and lunch, I heard a guy playing his electric chair. Hendrix. A song that came out before 1970, over 50 years ago. When that song came out, I thought, if I went back 50 years, I’d be somewhere between Irving Berlin’s first hit, Alexander’s Ragtime Bank from 1915 and the Gershwin’s I Got Rhythm. No one listened to those when I was young. Most people today don’t even know those songs exist, outside perhaps the idea of them.

That music will fade too. And I thought: what is more ephemeral than music? Than a concert? You can’t even lift a note in your hand. Images on screens that change and then go dark at the show’s end. And yet creating the highest ephemeral moment gets you closer to that peak, which raised another problem in my mind. No easy way to say this but I was walking through the gay section of Toronto and was struck by how old-fashioned it is because, on the one hand, you had all these people with their families, with their dogs, with their regular lives, and on the other you had those who were treating this as a way of, as we used to say, letting their freak flag fly. That culture to me seems really dated: you don’t need to assert who you are by acting out like that, by being overtly sexual in public in front of kids because you are letting you out. The idea that you somehow need to ‘let you out’ is of course correct, but that you is also supposed to be a normal human being who happens to have these sexual and gender identifications. That layer of kink really fits better with other layers of kink, not with pride in family, friends, and community. I think the barrier there is that people clearly are bound or constrained by the way their acceptance of themselves occurred through a process of opposition. That’s a huge topic.

This society seems to have accepted as true that struggle can be eliminated if only people were 100% tolerant of anything that this society at that time deems ‘best’. That is untrue. The math says it is not possible.

I have to go now. Driving back.

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