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writeonwhiskey · 1 day ago

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Summer in Seoul: Ch 4

a/n: last rapid fire chapter. the next chapters will come out weekly on saturday's.

***This takes place in June 2023, between 5-STAR and ROCK STAR releases***

Word Count: 3442

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4 - Soju River

You know who’s good at their job? You are.

You’ve just made it back to the hotel room after your meeting and you’re on cloud nine. While you do not have a signed contract in hand, you have an extremely intrigued author after giving your pitch and proposal. A lot of agents have been trying to get her to sign, but she has steadily turned them down.

You have this one week in Korea to meet with her and comb over some specific details before she’ll even consider agreeing to anything. Knowing her history with other agents, your strategy is to take a more personal approach with her and so far, it’s working.

You go straight to your laptop and start sending out emails to get some updated information you’ll need for the second meeting with her. You become a little too absorbed in work and before you know it, it’s 8:30pm. You shut your laptop, rubbing at your strained eyes.

Your phone rings—it’s your mom. Your first thought is what she’s doing up so late, but you remember it’s only 2:00pm for her.

“Hey Ma.”

“How did it go?” She cuts straight to the chase.

“All things considered…I’d say it went well. She wants to finalize a few details into the contract before signing, so I’ll probably be here a little while longer,” you tell her.

“That’s my girl.” she says, “You should go have a nice meal to treat yourself.”

“Not until her signature is on that contract.”

“Well at least get out of your room and explore. Live a little.”

She launches into the same pep talk she always gives you. She talks about how your father essentially worked himself to death and never got to reap the rewards of his hard work.

“I will, Ma.”

“I mean it, y/n. You’re young, you’re traveling around the world for work—you need to enjoy it more. I know your work means a lot to you, but please for the love of God, have some fun!”

You smile as her voices gets a little shrill at the end. She’s always been your number one supporter and encouraged you to live life to the fullest. The stories she’s told you from her youth are some of your favorites—backpacking in Europe during a gap year with friends, sharing a kiss with a Parisian man she’d known for 18 hours at the top of the Eiffel tower. She’s done so much, and you’ve always admired her for it.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go find something to do tonight.” You say to appease her.

“You better,” she lightly threatens. “Take pictures and keep me posted. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you reply before hanging up.

You glance at the room service menu on the table and sigh. You could at least go out to eat. Although, that’s definitely not what your mom had in mind when she said have some fun, you are not about to try to find some club to get into by yourself. Not to mention you’ve heard some Korean establishments aren’t that welcoming to foreigners.

On your way out of the hotel, you ask the front desk receptionist for recommendations on somewhere simple and quiet to eat. She suggests making the short walk to the Han River and finding a place there.

With your phone back in working order, you use your map to guide you. As you walk around the streets of Seoul, you find yourself smiling, allowing yourself really take in the surroundings since you first arrived. It’s noisy. It’s bustling. There are people everywhere. It kind of reminds you of home.

On your way to the Han river, you end up stopping at a corndog stand, order one, and eat it as you walk, oblivious to the strange looks it garners. You make another stop at a convenience store to grab soju and snacks—deciding on a whim that you’ll sit down by the river.

When you finally make it, it’s relatively quiet, but there are plenty of people around. It’s dark, which only makes the bright lights of the city stand out even more. It’s a beautiful sight. You snap an obligatory photo of the view and some selfies to send your mother and friends back home.

You walk around for a bit before finding a grassy spot on the hill to sit. It’s kind of secluded, yet still well-lit enough to feel safe and be aware of your surroundings. You sit down, crack open the soju, take a drink, and appreciate the view in front of you.

Being out here makes what your mother said sink in. You often take for granted how much you travel for work, because you’re always in a race to get things done and there is never a guarantee you will have time to go sightseeing. After the productive day you had, this night was earned. Your mom was right. As usual.

You have no idea what percentage of alcohol the soju has, but you start to feel a buzz going by the time you’re halfway done with it.

You start in on the snacks as you people watch. You always find it entertaining to imagine how people know each other and what they're talking about. Scanning the sea of strangers for someone new to assign a made-up life to, you spot a familiar figure walking not too far away.

He’s dressed in all black, again, face mask intact and hat pulled low. He appears focused, looking straight ahead. There is a good distance between you and it’s dark, so maybe you could be wrong about who it is.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, his head turns in the direction of the hill you’re on and almost immediately he locks eyes with you. Being in Korea and looking quite foreign, his gaze finding you doesn’t feel like a moment of fate. If anything, it just reminds you how much you stand out in this country.

He stops in his tracks, looking straight at you, and places his hands on his hips, head cocked slightly to the side. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

He saunters over and perhaps it’s the soju, but your laughter continues. You have to place your hand over your mouth to prevent yourself from being too loud.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls.

You can’t see his expression due to the face mask, but you can just hear the smirk. You take a deep breath to contain yourself. It’s just your luck though—telling someone you'll never see them again, then running into them the very next day.

“Alright, maybe I spoke too soon.” You immediately concede, holding your hands up in defense.

“I’d say.” he replies with a chuckle. “What you doin’ out here?”

“Enjoying the view...having a drink. It’s a mini celebration.”

“Oh, yeah? What you celebrating? And why are you doing it alone?” He looks at the empty space around you.

“A job well done with work today,” you shrug, “and because I don’t know anyone here.”

He is silent for a moment before he sits down next to you. He gestures towards the bag from the convenience store where another bottle of soju is sticking out.

“May I?”

“Sure,” you reply, opening the bag so he can easily grab it.

He twists the cap off and waits to cheers yours. You clink your bottle to his. You expect (and hope) for him to remove the face mask, but he simply lifts the bottom and puts the bottle to his lips. As he takes a drink, you turn your gaze back to the view.

“Do you wanna share the accomplishment?” he asks.

“I don’t want to jinx it, it’s still not a done deal yet.”

“Gotcha,” he nods in understanding. “So, y/n...”

Your eyes snap to him. It takes you a moment to remember putting your name in his phone. “Yes?”

“Is this your first time in Korea?” He asks.

“Yeah, just passing through on business. You?”

“I’ve lived here since I was pretty young.”

“Australia before that, I presume?”

“Good on ya.” He replies, thickening his accent for emphasis.

He's only been here for a few minutes, but you already feel less alone. It's comforting, being so far from home and having someone to converse with in your native tongue. It also doesn’t hurt that you’re becoming more intrigued by him as each second passes. You want to see what’s under the mask so badly.

“So, are you gonna tell me your name or do I have to guess?”

“I like guessing games.”

“Hmmm...well, if it's a Korean name I'm shit out of luck at guessing that,” you shrug.

He chuckles. You like the sound of his laugh.

“There's an English and Korean version, both start with a 'C',” he hints.

You take a moment to look over what you’re able to see of his features. It's dark around you and the hat he's wearing doesn't help at all. His skin is fair and his eyes have a bit of darkness surrounding them, as if he's missed out on a few nights of sleep. Dark strands of hair jut out from beneath the hat and you see he has ear piercings with no jewelry in—but everything else remains a mystery. You can’t even make a guess at how old he is.

“Can you remove the mask? If you're comfortable with that.” You ask tentatively. You know it's common here to wear if you're feeling unwell to prevent anything from spreading, but you don’t know if that’s why he’s wearing it. “It’ll be easier to see what name suits your face.”

If you’re being honest, though, you’re just dying to see what's under there. If he isn’t ill, he is totally taking this masked Hwarang thing to the extreme. He seems to contemplate your request for a while. You start to worry that it's not a simple request for him. Maybe he's hiding an insecurity. You’re about to renege the offer when he finally speaks.

“You get ten seconds,” he says to your surprise.

You smile and nod, excited. You bring the bottle to your lips and take another drink.

He reaches up and unhooks the mask from one ear.

When the mask drops, you have to remind yourself to swallow the liquid in your mouth. The guy is drop dead fucking gorgeous—well defined jawline, alluring and plump pink lips, and a broad nose that fits his masculine face perfectly.

He seems to tense up as you stare at him, as if fearing he’s made a mistake. Maybe it’s your reaction, but he seems to relax after a moment.

“Five seconds left,” he teases with a smile, showing a set of nearly perfect white teeth.

When he smiles, his lips curve up and the deepest set of dimples appear on either side of his face. You nearly lose it. It's not that you were expecting a horrible disfigurement, but you simply hadn't accounted for him being this attractive. That combined with the fact that the owner of this face is coming off as the sincerest stranger on the planet. Your brain is literally unable to compute.

“Times up.” He says as he hooks the string of the mask back over his ear.

“Well…my theory of matching your face to a name is shot to hell,” you reply. “Unless your name is literally 'Captivating'.”

He laughs and the sound is magical.

“Do you have any other guesses?”

You shrug and shake your head, defeated.

“It's Chris. Chan is my Korean name,” he informs you, extending a hand.

“Wait, I practiced this!” You exclaim, reaching your hand out to put in his. “Annyeonghaseyo. Jeonuen y/n-imnida.”

“Oooh, she’s bilingual,” he says teasingly.

“I know a thing or two.” You bite your lip and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear which makes him laugh even louder.

You drop his hand and consider his name. He seems more deserving of a strong and profound name derived from the ancient Gods, but Chris suits him well enough. You raise your bottle out to him, and he clinks it with his again.

You take a drink and finish off what's left.

You are far from drunk, but you are, however, tipsy enough to contemplate what your mom said about having a little fun. Would he be inclined to accept a strangers offer to come to her hotel room? You certainly wouldn’t mind the company after your recent dry spell. You don’t think about being alone too much as you’re preoccupied with work and can take care of yourself better than most men in that department. But as you gaze into his warm, brown eyes, you start to wonder if this mystery man would be better than others in the past. Realizing you’ve been staring for too long, you avert your gaze and change the subject.

“And what do you do here, Chris? For work, I mean.”

“Well...” he clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side, contemplating his answer. “I do a lot of different things, really. Let's just say I'm a jack of all trades.”

“Hmmm,” you purse your lips. “Jack of all trades? Do you know that full saying? Jack of all trades, master of none.”

You banter back and forth for what only seems a short while but before you know it, you've opened the last bottle of soju and a persistent buzz from his cellphone has drawn his attention. You pick up yours to check the time and realize you’ve been talking for over an hour.

“Shit,” he mutters, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “I gotta go. Are you staying near here?”

“Sorry, I didn't realize I kept you for so long.”

“I don't mind being kept,” he says with a playful wink.

You’re left temporarily stunned at the flirtatious action, but don't have much time to process it. He grabs the bag from the convenience store and stands, offering his hand out to you. You accept it and he pulls you up with ease.

The sudden movement causes a moment of vertigo, the Han River is swaying behind him, or perhaps you’re swaying from the soju. You close your eyes and lean towards him, placing your hands on his waist to steady yourself.

“Let me walk you back.”

His voice, a low whisper near your ear, catches you off guard. The familiar, clean scent of his cologne wafts through your nose. His hand moves to the small of your back, pressing you closer to him. A shiver runs down your spine.

You open your eyes and tilt your head back—much like your first encounter. He's staring down at you, waiting for a response. You find yourself unable to speak as your train of thought drifts back to having this stranger in your bed, so you just nod.

You take another moment to gather yourself and then step away from him. The retraction from the heat of your connection makes you suddenly feel cold on this warm summer night. You attempt to reach the convenience store bag, but he shakes his head and moves it out of your reach.

“Just walk,” he commands.

You do as you’re told and start walking in the direction of the hotel. He stays in stride next to you. You make some small talk before stopping at a convenience store near the hotel.

“Wait here a sec,” he says.

You nod, watching as he enters the store. While you wait, you hear music and applause. Without thinking much of it, you walk down the short, dark alley between the buildings and stop on the other side. There’s a group of performers dancing, and a crowd has gathered to watch them. You send Chris a quick text about where you went and watch the show. They’re good, and the crowd is loving them.

You’re not there for long when you hear a faint whistle. It’s Chris, in the alley. He’s leaning against the wall, still in the shadows all mysterious-like. You walk over to him and he holds out a water bottle.

You realize how lonely this night could have felt without his company. You’re thankful he spotted you and not only took the time to talk but insisted on walking you back to your hotel. Now he’s taking care of you and making sure you’re hydrated? A small act of kindness but it speaks volumes.

“Drink.”

The darkness you’re enshrouded in gives you the courage to step closer to him. It feels romantic and sneaky all at the same time. You gently move his hand with the water bottle to the side and stand on your tiptoes. With your other hand, you lower his mask slightly and without thinking twice about it, press your lips against his.

He’s still for a moment, perhaps in shock. But then his other hand is on your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you back. A rush of euphoria courses through you at the excitement of it all—kissing a stranger under the moonlight in a foreign country.

You lick at his bottom lip and he opens his mouth, allowing you to slip your tongue inside. Feeling bold, you slip a hand under his shirt, slowly making your way up as you deepen the kiss. You’re pleasantly surprised at the feel of his toned abs beneath your fingertips.

Just as suddenly as the kiss started though, it stops. He pulls back, breaking apart your lips and rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, dropping your hands and looking down at the ground.

“Don’t be,” he reassures you as he pulls his mask back up. “If I didn’t have somewhere to be right now…” he trails off and squeezes your waist, pushing his hips against yours.

You take a deep breath and accept your unfortunate fate for the evening.

You take the previously offered bottle of water he’s still holding and take a long drink from it. Feeling literally and figuratively thirsty and needing something to cool you down.

“Thank you,” you say.

He twists the cap back on to the bottle and you walk out of the alley.

When you arrive in front of the hotel, you both stop and stand facing each other.

“Thank you, again, Chris. It was nice not to spend such a good day alone,” you tell him.

“No worries,” he replies with a shrug. “Thank you for sharing your soju with me. Next round is on me.”

You nod and take the convenience store bag from his hand.

“Text me when you make it to your room, yeah?”

“I will,” you say as you start to turn towards the hotel room. After taking a few steps, you stop and turn back to face him. “I will definitely text you when I make it up to room 804.”

His eyes crinkle up at the sides and you smile too. You turn around and walk towards the hotel door for real this time. Once inside, you steal a glance back through the glass doors and see him still there waiting. You walk straight to the elevator doors and as you wait for it, he's still there. The elevator dings and the doors open, you offer a final wave before stepping inside.

On the elevator ride up, you’re all giggles and smiles and oh so happy you went out tonight. Even though you have work to do in the morning, you would have gladly carried on talking to him for hours.

Once back in your room, you open WhatsApp and send him a message letting him know you made it. You go to edit his contact name, first typing in Chris, but end up swapping it out for Hwarang—given the all black attire, the face mask he wears, his strikingly handsome features and the way he exudes humility and ambition—Hwarang fits better, for now.

As you’re placing the contents of the convenience store bag into the mini fridge, there’s a knock at the door. You freeze; your eyes wide open.

He wouldn’t have…would he? You’d been joking, for the most part. You wouldn’t want to keep him from whatever he had to do…but you’re also already walking towards the door. You look through the peephole and it feels like your heart stalls. Your new favorite masked figure is standing on the other side.

a/n: YOLO.

[ read chapter five here ] (coming 5/24)

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