IX.

In a kitchen of exceptional class, immaculate and sumptuously reeking of rich, a busy figure could be seen hovering over a set of granite countertops. A steel pot on an electric stove held pasta soaked in boiling water. Another pan, empty this time, was beside it, on a cooker turned off, ready for use for later. The sound of chopping echoed from vast walls. Ms. Bae’s place was massive, somewhat empty.

Gurgle, gurgle, gurgling water from being heated. Chop, chop, chop. It was too quiet, these being the only sounds heard in this royalty of a place. It didn’t help that the knife was being uncooperative. Sigh. Wendy wiped tears escaping her eyes. Damn these evil onions. The struggle was real.

Somehow, the situation had changed and the promise of a home-cooked meal from Ms. Bae was abandoned as abrupt as they had entered her home. The tyrant’s cavern.

Penthouse of grand schemes. Tall windows, marble tiles that glinted, gleamed. Pieces of modern art adorning corners and walls. Dark purple, grey and white were the colour scheme. Chic, modern, minimalistic. There was a leather couch, in front of it, a 60 summat curved television. A lavish ornament standing as high as the wall—resembling a wall, almost—made of glass with dripping water, separated the hallway from the lounge; a synthetic waterfall powered by electricity. Everything came together stylishly. A place of a fashion leader.

It was to be expected. The grandiose, the luxuriousness. Yet Wendy still couldn’t help but be in awe. The timid, shy, cry baby Joohyun had definitely gone a long way.

Ms. Bae walked towards a room that seemed like a study and Wendy followed along, her footsteps cautious, wary. Ms. Bae pointed at the desk. An instruction. Wendy scurried and placed the unfinished documents on it.

“Wendy, you know how to cook right?” Ms. Bae asked before Wendy could even put down the documents on the desk. Ms. Bae’s tone was neither cold nor condescending. It was more calm and gentle. There was a subtle hint of authority but not enough to cause unease.

“Yes, but—”

Ms. Bae’s hand rose. There it was. The signal. No buts. “You can use whatever’s in the kitchen. Just make sure to clean up after yourself.”

Wendy was confused. She was certain that she wasn’t in a state of delusion. That her ears perceived the words of Ms. Bae almost proclaiming with a degree of eagerness back at Aeris to be the chef for the evening. A change of plans? Was it all a setup? A fluke? Despite all these doubts and questions, Wendy was sure she had no other option but to concede to Ms. Bae’s demands and say, “Yes, Ms. Bae.”

Another sigh. The submissiveness became a normality, coming so naturally, coming so automatic. Acts of refute were not tolerated by Ms. Bae. ‘No’, ‘cannot’, ‘never’. These words didn’t exist in the vocabulary of Ms. Bae’s personal assistant. And truthfully, Wendy had forgotten to say them. Like a well-trained puppy, Wendy obeyed with much tolerance and patience.

So here she was preparing the ingredients for the sauce. Wendy chopped and chopped… and chopped some more. An endless amount of chopping. A chopping nightmare.

Wendy wasn’t an excellent cook. Her skills had rusted from years of living off tinned foods and cup ramen. How did one slice and dice, mince and cut with such efficient ease again? Holding the knife felt awkward, loose, and just not right. Like chopping with a spoon even though the knife Wendy held was of pristine class, straight from France.

“Are you struggling?”

The voice crept softly and it gave quite a shock to an unsuspecting Wendy. The knife slanted due to clumsy fingers, missing an onion and instead hitting flesh. Ouch.

Wendy winced. Blood. Blood on the chopping board, on her finger. Oozing. Oh so red. Just how deep was the cut?

“Are you okay?”

It was sudden. Unexpected. The concern that riddled Ms. Bae’s tone. The words that came out of Ms. Bae’s mouth. And most of all, the way Ms. Bae had swiftly, almost instinctively, grabbed Wendy’s bleeding finger, with hardly any hesitation, then putting it on her lips, in and then on it, the blood out, like a vampire just without the fangs.

Oh. Em. Gee.

Wendy felt it. The warmth of Ms. Bae’s mouth, of her lips wrapped around Wendy’s finger. Ms. Bae’s tongue lightly brushing against Wendy’s wound. It felt…good. It raised goose bumps. It tickled her tummy. It heated the tips of her ears. The blushing was totally inevitable.

What was going on? What was Ms. Bae doing? Whywhathowintheworld.

The lasted for eeeeeeeeeeeeternities, eons, millennia. Wendy was blanking out. Did Ms. Bae out her soul too? She might’ve as well. There were swirls in Wendy’s vision, steam from her overheated face. She felt as if she had imploded, her fragments scattering and then reforming themselves with each pulsating . Breathing had been momentarily forgotten as of this moment.

Wendy’s awareness had dissipated long ago. There were no more coherent thoughts in her fried out brain. She wasn’t even sure if her heart was still beating or not.

Finally, Ms. Bae had freed the hostaged finger. She inspected it with squinting eyes and once satisfied, said, “Well, the bleeding has stopped. It needs to be bandaged. Come with me.”

Ms. Bae shouldn’t even have asked because she pulled a flimsy, bowl of mush Wendy to the bathroom where the medicine cabinet was. She took out the first-aid kit and opened it. Inside were a handful of boxes of plaster bandages, choices ranging from Hello Kitty to Disney characters. Did Ms. Bae have a bandage ? She decided to go for a Minnie Mouse printed one. 

A flustered Wendy looked on at Nurse Bae, at how her face exuded extreme focus, brows knitted and lips bitten. So cute. Ms. Bae had somewhat…changed, becoming more thoughtful, more caring. And she pouted more often. Quite a lot recently. What had happened to the uptight, emotionless, cold-h