XV.

Seulgi crossed her legs as she sat on one of the chairs in Irene’s office. The office with the crystal glass walls and the fancy carpeting. The scent of the floral diffuser was a tad bit too strong for Seulgi’s nose but she was used to it. She looked at her friend—best friend—her bosom buddy since university, something alight on her buddy’s face as she typed away on her keyboard. For a fashion company, a lot of typing sure was involved.

Seulgi would normally sit here, in Irene’s office, as Irene tapped her fingers away, putting figures and letters onto spreadsheets and e-mails. Seulgi wasn’t good at those things. Numbers were confusing, algorithms and statistics a mystical myth in her mind. How can Seulgi properly calculate figures when she herself is still in need of singing the alphabet to know what came after the next letter?

All those things, the business-y stuff, all for Irene to sort out. Graphic designing, creating logos, webpage layouts, those things were Seulgi’s forte. Like Picasso with a splash of Andy Warhol. But this sort of work rarely comes at Aeris when stocks needed doing and contacts were in need of securing. So it wasn’t Seulgi’s fault, if most of the time, she would sit on the chair in Irene’s office and do absolutely nothing.

It wasn’t like Seulgi was of no use. When she wasn’t at Irene’s office, sitting the hours away by looking at magazines, reading mangas and comic books, she would be loitering around the work area, trying to find something interesting to do in her spare time.

Once, she had gone and watched how some of the marketing people went about in the business. All confusing things for Seulgi. Things she would rather not dwell on. Another time, she had visited one of the nearby stores in the area which sell Aeris-brand clothing from scarfs to knitwear to coats. She had spent the time talking to the staff, getting to know them slowly, trying to find out whether they themselves were a fan of Aeris. It wasn’t a difficult feat. Rather, it was something Seulgi had always liked to do: talking, smiling at people, and befriending them; much like how she had befriended a timid Irene back then in university.

It was years ago. Looking at Irene now compared to back then, there was some change, despite how both Irenes still loved to do work and persevere. Seulgi could remember their first meeting. A clumsy first meeting which Seulgi knew Irene didn’t remember, not with all that awful awareness she had.

A bump as Seulgi clutched her snacks, cradling her favourite Pringles, walking on her way to lectures. Irene said a mere whisper of a sorry and went on her way. A cold, distant apology which struck Seulgi as something more bizarre than rude. Seulgi had never been one to judge.

It was then that Seulgi had noticed Irene more frequently around campus. Rushing about to get into the library, and funnily enough, in her hands were books and not fashion magazines. Books about business studies, economics and statistics. Irene was a smart cookie. Who knew someone like her would be interested in fashion?

But Irene was interested. Despite her timidness, the lack of confidence as if something in her got taken away when she arrived in England, she was driven. Full of ambition. A burning star ready to mark itself on the face of the universe. Seulgi couldn’t resist. She had to help out this humble bunny with her dreams, with her university life, give her something to smile about, be that person she could rely on.

And now, here they both were, inside a building worth billions and billions. From a meagre abandoned garage into something like this, Seulgi still found it difficult to fathom. Their names, faces, works all created an impact. They were the ones to watch for, sought out by celebrities, millionaires, heirs. What a life.

It wasn’t all Irene and Seulgi’s efforts though. If Irene’s grandmother had not offered her hand, things would’ve been a lot different, a lot worse. When Irene and Seulgi had nothing left but thousands of debt and barely any profit, Irene’s grandmother, like a fairy godmother just without the bippity boppity boo, had appeared and had suddenly turned their lives around for the better.

Irene’s grandmother was a billionaire, known as the top Madame in the business industry. She was well-known. A name that bore weight, almost in the same league as the business magnate, Alan Sugar—well, actually, both of them were great friends. Grandmother Bae was a force to be reckoned with. She appeared in a blink, coming out of her grandiose and sleek black limousine, surrounded by men in black, as if she was the president of some country that needed much protecting. She presented documents. Adoption papers. Irene’s adoption papers.

“Joohyun Bae. That’s you, right?” Grandmother Bae looked at Irene. It was September then. A rainy day. Seulgi could remember the black umbrella the bodyguards held, the black coat Irene’s grandmother was wearing and the black skies that evening.

“Joohyun?” Seulgi had asked. She had known Irene as Irene ever since they met. That was her name on her ID, on her passport. Her grandmother calling her Joohyun… Perhaps, a name change? Irene was Korean.

“Y-Yes,” Irene answered.

“Joohyun. Name now changed to Irene, I see. That’s much better. It works for both of us.”

“E-Excuse me?”

“I’m your grandmother. Have you not heard of me? Your parents have passed away. You’re now in the care of a foster family. A friend of your father’s, isn’t that so?”

Seulgi had taken note of that tone. That voice. She wasn’t one to judge but at that moment, Seulgi had done. This woman in front of them exuded strength, power, authority. She was poised yet apathetic. She had a stance that showed that she came here for a reason. And that reason she was going to get, no matter what.

Irene’s grandmother continued not waiting for a reply, “I have no child but your mother. Your mother who had chosen to be with your father denying the responsibility I had willingly given to her. She was the heir to my company. All these money, glory…she denied them all. All for the silly thought of love.”

“My mother? An heir?”

Irene’s grandmother, with slow, careful, condemnatory steps, walked around the abandoned garage where Irene and Seulgi’s start-up fashion business was at. Seulgi could tell that Irene’s grandmother was observing, studying each little thing, from the outfits pinned onto the mannequins up to the cut-up fabrics that laid on the floor. She crossed her arms as she walked and when she spoke a sudden chill in the air took presence. “You need my help. I see potential in you and in your…friend. Be my heir. My successor. The only child of my foolish daughter. I will train you, teach you the ways in this business. In return, I will gladly help you build up your company. Doesn’t sound that bad, does it?”

Years later and Irene had changed. From a timorous introvert to an uptight, egotistical, confident CEO. Almost a clone of her grandmother, just without the wrinkles and the raspy voice. She had become difficult to talk to, more difficult than before. As if her will to trust anyone had completely disappeared. At least, back in university, she had moments where she opened up. Those moments that allowed Seulgi to be closer to Irene, to earn the title of being Irene’s best bosom buddy.

The clacking of fingers typing brought Seulgi back to the now, to an image of her best bosom buddy with something alight on her face. A glow on the features of her once emotionless, scowling friend lit by something fluttering yet not fleeting. Was this something, perhaps, love?

“Irene, do you have any plans this Christmas?” Seulgi asked after she heard a break in the clacking of a keyboard.

“Hmm?