“You’re not improving quickly enough for the next test,” Mr. Yunho brings up when I hand in my homework. He clicks his tongue in disapproval as he skims through my homework. “You need to have after-school classes.”

I gasp in shock. I cannot have extra classes after school!

“I’ve got a job, teacher,” I tell him, exasperated. I wave my arms around recklessly and hit a student passing by. “I can’t be held back after hours.”

“We’ll find a way to compromise,” Mr. Yunho replies calmly. He gestures for me to sit down but I refuse. “Look, it is school rules. If you do badly, you have to attend extra classes.”

“Is that supposed to be new? I failed throughout last semester and there was no such thing.” When am I supposed to be catching my beauty sleep now if have to attend those classes? I sigh heavily and slump down to sit on the chair. “I’m too tired to do this.”

“It’s always been in place. I thought you’d improve on your own but I was wrong. Now I have to strictly enforce it on you or you could receive disciplinary action from the school.” Mr. Yunho watches me with a guilty expression on his face. It’s compulsory for him to do this. He would bend over backwards to help lessen my burden but there’s nothing he can do this time.

“I’ll try to find a way around this,” he promises with a strained voice when I turn around to leave.

----

I’m inside my room, resting and finishing up on my school work. After school classes? Can my body survive through physical as well as mental torment? I don’t even know. I fold my book close, distracted by the unwelcomed thoughts of hardship that looms over the horizon.

I’m working hard to improve my grades but progress is too slow for the impact to actually show. In all honesty, I am a slow and steady kind of person. That’s my style.

 Someone slams my bedroom door opens and in stumbles Da Eun.

“Hey!” She waves excitedly. “We’re having dinner at Yang CEO’s restaurant tonight.” Twirling a few strands of her hair around her index finger, she gives me a flirty smirk. “Do I look pretty?”

She appears more than pretty. She seems drunk to me.

She takes a seat on table and almost falls over backwards off it.

“Maybe you should sit on a chair,” I suggest, pulling a chair out for her. Obediently, she follows my suggestion. “Why are you drunk?”

“I’m not drunk,” she states with sudden alertness.

I watch her as she wobbles back and forth while sitting on a completely stable chair.

“You look drunk to me,” I insist stubbornly.

“I’m not,” she snaps, glaring. She stands up harshly, letting the chair fall onto the floor. Standing on the doorway, she mumbles something incoherent.

“I’m sorry?”

“I had an argument with my husband,” she mutters under her breath without looking at me. She stares at the floor, shifting on her heels. She rests her head against the door frame.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I offer her a comforting shoulder.

She slides down on to the floor and hugs her knees like a little girl.

“I’ve just been so busy with work…and him too…I don’t know…” Her muffled sobbing can be heard. I put my arm around, rubbing it to keep her warm. “It’s an adult thing. Why am I even confessing it to a child?” She laughs at what she deemed as her own stupidity.

“This child has problems too,” I point out. She snuggles into my chest and we keep in that position until she has to leave for dinner. I might not be able to give her amazing advices but let my body comfort her if she needs it.

“Will you come with me?” Da Eun invites me. “I can’t stand corporate dinners. Not with all the fancy celebrities…and there’s me, the secretary.” She laughs at herself in a mocking manner.

“Hey!” I nudge her with my shoulder. “You’re an amazingly loyal and hardworking secretary. You’re a treasure to any CEO.” She delivers a faint but warm smile my way.

“Won’t you come with me?” This time she asks with a desperate, pleading tone.

“I’m not invited,” I remind her.

She exhales, disappointed. “Then send me there. A drunk woman will never arrive safely at her destination.”

“Fair enough,” I say, pulling her up to her feet.

We walk together to the elevator. The elevator door slides open to reveal Jiyong, standing there with a very unusual outfit that requires me to squint to even look at him properly. It’s reflects light waaaay too strongly.

I bow to him and stand beside him. Da Eun stands in front of both of us.

“Isn’t it strange that we always end up meeting in the elevator?” he tells me quietly.

“Even when I use the stairs, I end up meeting you.” It’s true. He pops up whenever I don’t need him to be around. “Are you going to dinner at Yang CEO’s restaurant?”

“Yeah, actually, I am,” he replies, fixing his jacket and wiping dust off with his hands. “Are you going there like that?” He shows a look of distaste, staring at me from head to toe. Does he really have to point out how terrible I am dressing myself every time we meet each other?

“Jiyong…” I put my palm up, trying to contain my patience. “Really? Do you have to put me down?”

“I’m just saying.”

The door opens and I walk out, pulling Da Eun with me.

“You know, I can help you dress up for dinner if you need help,” Jiyong offers, catching up by quickening his pace.

I just roll my eyes. Who does he think he is – my fairy godmother?

Da Eun halts to a stop so I get pulled backwards.

“I think that’s a good idea!” she exclaims, extremely excited by Jiyong’s suggestion. She raises her eyebrow at me but I can’t understand where she is going with this.

“I don’t think so,” I tell her, giving a death stare.

Jiyong glances at me and Da Eun alternatively.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

----

“What are we doing here, Da Eun???” I ask while waiting for Jiyong who is busy browsing for a dress that might suit me. “I’m not going to the dinner. Why would I need to dress up?”

“Let’s skip dinner and go clubbing!” she says, jumping in her heels. She is completely exhilarated.

“I’m not legal yet,” I mutter to her, eyeing her drunken behaviour. How is she getting increasingly drunk without even consuming any alcohol?

“You aren’t??” She looks more shocked about this news than any other thing I’ve ever told her.

Jiyong comes back to us with a bunch of dresses.

“Do you feel y tonight?” he asks, filtering through the dresses he is carrying once more.

“Yes,” Da Eun replies while I give a firm “No.”

“Well then…” Jiyong throws away dresses with low cuts and s. Did he really think I would even consider those?

He pulls out a beautiful emerald green dress from the pile. Wow, that looks gorgeous. It’s long sleeved and –

He unceremoniously throws it onto the unwanted pile.

“Wait, this would look amazing on me,” I argue, picking it up as if it is the most important item I’ve ever touched. It’s made out of a material I’ve never even touched. That’s how exquisite it is.

“I think that’s too flashy for just a dinner,” Jiyong comments. Well, he is one to say that! He is wearing the flashiest outfit compared to everyone else on Earth right now, I swear.

“Can you accompany Da Eun to the dinner? I’m not going because I’m not invited,” I tell him bluntly to save him the trouble looking for the perfect dress.

“Yang CEO’s favourite girl wasn’t invited?” he asks, doubtful.

“I’m just a lowly worker,” I mutter, restraining myself from kicking him in his crotch. He is so irritable.

A muffle of sounds come from one of the storage rooms and we both glance in the direction of the noise. Da Eun’s standing on the opposite end of the room so it can’t be her.

I approach the door without hesitance while Jiyong remained in his previous position.

Opening the door, I come face to face with my sister, carrying a bunch of folded dresses in her arms. She signals me to keep quiet, attempting to pull the door back close.

What is she doing?

Is she stealing?

I’m about to yell at her before realizing that Jiyong’s wary eyes are watching me from behind. From this angle, I can safely assume that he can’t see what I’m seeing in this storage closet.

“Is anything inside there?” he asks, confirming my suspicions. He can’t see Jang Hanna from where he is standing.

Hanna looks up at me with pleading eyes.

“Probably just rats…” I reply, closing the door to the closet. She sighs quietly in relief.

I want to turn around and pretend everything is alright but I’m completely overwhelmed with negative emotions from the sight of my sister hiding in the closet like a thief.

What does she think she’s doing?

“I’ve got a headache,” I lie, cradling my head in my arms. I hear him walking towards me. “You guys should go. I think I’m just going to rest for a bit.”

His phone rings right on time. It is Seungri calling him to ask him regarding his estimated time of arrival there. “I’m on my way,” he says before hanging up. He calls Da Eun out and they both prepare to leave. “You sure you’re alright?”

“A quick nap would do me good,” I continue my white lie, taking a comfortable position on a small couch in the corner. “Have fun.”

The moment they leave the room, Jang Hanna sneaks out her closet with her arms still wrapped around expensive clothing that I’m pretty sure she doesn’t own.

“Where do you think you’re going with those?!” I hiss, pulling it out of her grasp. Branded clothings! She didn’t even spare a moment before claiming them into her reach again.

“I need these, Youngmi.” She tries to stuff it into her bag.

 I grab her bag in anger and throw it onto the floor.

“Why are you so rude?!” she yells. Tempers are flaring now.

“And you? Am I supposed to pretend that you’re not a criminal?!” Does she think I’m stupid? I haven’t survived this long just to be easily tricked by her poor acting.

“I’m just borrowing.” She swiftly slides the bag onto her shoulder and starts walking out.

“Hanna!” I stop her by grabbing her blouse.

“Look, I have to go to the dinner and I’m late!” she replies as if it justifies her shameful actions.

I shake my head in disbelief. “Wear a regular dress. Return those now!”

“I can’t! I’m a superstar!” What is she spewing out of now? “I’m debuting soon!”

“So why are you resorting to crime?!”

“I can’t afford a pretty dress!” she shouts, exasperated. “I need to make a good impression to Yang CEO. To anybody. I need people to notice me. This is the only way.”

“You think they won’t find out?” I reason with her. Maybe if I can get her to think, then it will be able to fix things. “Do you think that, for a second, they won’t realize what you borrowed belongs to them?” This time, I speak to her much more gently. All this anger will lead us nowhere. We need to have a calm conversation together.

Surprised by my new tactic, she drops her guard as well as the bag.

I see her walls falling apart and sense is starting to re-enter her. Finally.

“I’m pregnant,” she states before falling onto the floor limply.

I blink. My mind goes completely blank.

“I think I am,” she continues to tell me weakly. “I’ve been nauseous. Hormonal. Impulsive.”

My eyes observe her carefully now, taking in all her details.

Has she filled out? She doesn’t seem to gain any considerable amount of weight.

I don’t know about her diet pattern and whether it has changed.

Is she behaving strangely? I can’t tell. I haven’t spent enough amount of time with her in the last six months to be able to differentiate between normal and unusual (& possibly pregnant) Hanna.

“Have you tested for pregnancy?” I inquire, frowning like there’s no tomorrow.

“I’m too scared…”

If she’s pregnant… “Are you dating someone?” The question pops out of my mouth.

She doesn’t respond immediately, which is already a sign that whoever she suspects to have impregnated her might not even consider her a girlfriend.

“A single mother, huh.” I can’t help being mean to her. Her life choices are screwed! Why do I have to bother with her problems? I’m dying here just to feed myself. She can go find work to feed two if she can’t even keep her legs closed. “Good luck with that.”

I stride past her mercilessly and jab the elevator button repeatedly in irritation.

Seriously, Hanna? What kind of sister are you?

I see her standing behind me through the reflection in the elevator door. She is looking down at the floor, obviously ashamed at herself.

“Why do you have to tell me out of the blue?” I mutter under my breath, gravely upset by this sudden news.

“Tomorrow’s my doctor appointment…” she mumbles, unsure whether she should finish her sentence.

I touch my belly and think about having my own child. I can’t wait when that day comes. I’ll shower my child with so much love.

Glancing at her non-existent belly, I feel sorry for the child that she’s carrying. What type of mother can Hanna be? I’ve never seen an ounce of mother instinct in her. She’s always about the fame.

I might be strangely dissociated with the world at time but I know how to love. I just refrain myself.

Hanna, on the other hand, goes around throwing love around but never seem to show any signs of true loving.

Those are purely guesswork though, I admit I know nothing much about her.

“I’ll meet you in front of your apartment then,” I tell her before leaving her alone with her misery.