Jiyong stood from where he was seating as he faced South Jeolla’s Prince.

 

“But, Father, how could you speak of the enthronement so freely? You’re still here, and you’re not going anywhere.”

 

“Jiyong, anything could happen at any time,” Prince Kwon replied with a sigh, and then something sinister appeared on His Honourable’s pale face, “well, instead of this, shall we talk about your marriage plans then?”

 

He fell back on the seat with a thud, “ma-marriage,” he was caught off guard, “what do you mean by that?”

 

“Well, you can’t possibly be an unwed Prince in the future, now could you?”

 

“But, that’s so old fashioned, and we’re not of the Main Residence, Father. I’m not even going to take over the throne.”

 

After a moment of his usual hearty laugh, his Father, the King’s younger brother, said, “do you not like the girl, Jiyong?”

 

“Why are we even talking about that, Father? I’m only 23; no one needs a wife that soon.”

 

“Your cousin got married when he turned 16, mind you. I married your mother when I turned 16.”

 

“That’s you and Crown Prince Kwon. I still have so many things to do, so many things to see,” he debated.

 

“We’ll, what’s the thing that you still haven’t seen or done, my Prince? You’ve travelled to almost anywhere and everywhere, you’ve done what most common people couldn’t even dream of.”

 

“What about furthering my studies? Have you ever considered that, Father?”

 

“And send you to study overseas like some Korean melodrama?”

 

“Father, not to that extent,” he covered half of his face, “I just –”

 

“So, talking about taking over my position, I’ll have Court Lady Park –”

 

“You don’t understand, Father!”

 

“Handle that, and as for your wedding ceremony –”

 

“Father, please!”

 

“No, Jiyong, you don’t understand! Let’s face the fact that I might die at any given moment, you might not have an heir after I die.”

 

“We’re not the Main Residence’s family, Father,” he repeated, “there is no use for me to think about a position that has no effect on the Royal bloodline, carrying responsibilities that I have never took any interest in, I’ve lived all my life fulfilling everyone’s wish. Why can’t I be the one to decide for myself this one time?”

 

“I get it, son. You have no dream whatsoever for the throne or giving me grandchildren. Fine, son, fine,” his father sighed, “is this what I get for feeding you, bathing you, teaching you, son?”

 

“Really, Father?” he questioned, “they’ve all been done by the Court Ladies and Royal Guard, Father.”

 

“Tch, I hate it when you’re right, son,” his father pouted – ew, Father, you’re the Prince –, “have you decided what you’ll be studying?”

 

“Social Sciences,” Jiyong quipped.

 

“For someone who doesn’t want to be involved, you’ve chosen something pretty close to home. I thought you’d have chosen designing instead.”

 

It was true, he mentally noted, designing was more of his thing. But, in the end, Jiyong realized how truly frail the Royal family is and he has to be the person they could turn to in the future.

 

“That happens to be my second choice if I ever fail.”

 

“I really have no say in this, do I?”

 

“For all those years of me saying yes, it’s your turn, Father.”

 

“Fine,” he released a sigh, “if that’s how it is,” another deep sigh, “just remember to let your Mother and the Queen Mother know.”

 

“Yeah,” Jiyong rubbed his nape, “I’ll do that soon.”

 

“Since I’ve agreed to your request, now, shall we talk about what we should name those future grandchildren of mine?”

 

“Really now?!”

 

 

He bowed to his Grandmother in respect, as rule of the Main Residence is applied.

 

“Prince Jiyong! How I have missed you! Tell me, how was your trip to Budapest, Prince Jiyong?” She paced her sentence one word by one word, tone soft and willowy, almost lulling anyone to sleep if she were to recite a poem or sing a song.

 

Hence, Jiyong talked about his latest travel, on how he almost missed boarding the plane to Budapest, when he got stuck in a bar with people competing who is the best dancer, where he almost tripped at the popular bridge, what the girls at the thermal bath were actually saying, and how he got a funny sun tan at the Margaret Island.

 

The Queen Mother listened intently, her eyelids fluttered and she jumped a little at bits and parts of his story.

 

“Have you seen the girl, Princess Lee from South Chungcheong? What do you think of her, Prince Jiyong?”

 

It was his turn to fidget on his place, “thing is, Queen Mother, I don’t really think I’m fit for such responsibility,” but he saw the sudden change in the old lady’s face, he had to add, “yet.”

 

“Why, dear?” her wrinkles grew more prominent than ever, as if Jiyong’s unwed life is a state issue, “is she not good enough for you?”

 

“Grandmother, honestly, she seems to be a fine young lady, with Mother’s recommendation, no less. But, I’d like to pursue on my studies. Here I am, asking for your blessings, Grandmother.”

 

“Why would you ever want to further your studies, my Prince?”

 

“I’ve travelled far enough, Grandmother. Plus, I am taking Social Sciences; it could really boost our side of the family.” I’m sorry I lied, Grandmother. In reality…

 

Jiyong was just trying to run away.    

 

She nodded three times, an indicator to her approval which everyone is fully aware of, “if that is your wish then, you have my blessings, Prince Jiyong. But,” she sighed, long and low, “I’ll be lonely from this point on. My favourite Prince won’t be visiting me as much anymore.”

 

“Grandmother,” he whined, “you’re making me feel bad. How could you say that, when my cousin, the Crown Prince obviously visits you more and loves you more? He is going to be so mad at me.”

 

They laughed, his boisterous one over the Queen Mother’s covered giggle, as a certain memory of a young Crown Prince and Jiyong fighting over their Queen Mother’s love.

 

She reached over to Jiyong, her soft, fragile hand placed on his, “just promise me, you’ll bring back an awesome girl and give me a lot of cute grandchildren, okay?”

 

“I promise, Queen Mother.” He smiled at her, his sincerest ever, with his eyes turning to slit, his canine teeth obvious.   

 

-

 

The credits rolled, with its terrorizing background music from the loudspeakers installed, on all four corners of the room, just for that purpose; to feel the terrorizing sound against her skin. It was some movie she downloaded online, on some girl who was haunted by an evil entity on their neighbouring floor.

 

She didn’t know why she fell asleep, she didn’t even understand why such dream would wake her when it’s all in the past, when all hope is burnt, which ruined everything.

 

“You’re having nightmares again, Ailee. Forget it already, damn it,” she muttered to herself, fingers raking her messed up hair, feeling the unhealthy cold sweat on her temple against her palm.

 

Ailee massaged the bridge of her nose, easing herself off the bed. She got herself a mug from the kitchen, poured herself some cheap wine and ambled her way to the balcony. She rested her forearms on the railing, cradling the wine-filled white mug in her hands. She felt the tension on her shoulders, she suddenly remembered.  

 

Oh yeah, I was tired from lifting all those boxes over at the bookstore.

 

Ailee can’t really decide which part time job she should stop. She started mental-calculating them, each with more pros than cons. But above all, she needs the money. Ailee started another mental calculation on her expenditure.

 

“Ugh! My brain’s melting from all this stupid Math!”

 

“Shut your trap! It’s midnight!” A lady shouted from the south side of the building.

 

“You shut your trap, old hag!” She shouted back, wine sloshing in retaliation to her moving wildly. She paced back into her room, plopping down on her bed, not before placing the mug on her bedside table.

 

She stared at her laptop while debating with herself.

 

Then, she pressed on play and the movie started once again. Leaning on the headrest, she grabbed the mug, and relaxed into the comforts of the horror movie.

 

Ah, it’s Insidious: Chapter 3. Now I remember the title. Oh what fun awaits me?

 

 

“Ah, , that hurts!”

 

That was the least crude word she said that morning when Ailee stubbed her toe on the bathroom door. Hopping her way into her room, she grabbed for the least dirty of outfit and put them on with certain efficiency. She grabbed for her lecture notes, leaving behind her ancient scrapbook – and took a longer time than necessary to stare at it – and searched for any socks she could find.

 

She rushed for the fridge; the green paint still not chipped off despite its old age. She pulled the fridge open, only to discover that the egg carton was filled with only egg shells, the carton of milk reeked when she took a sniff, and the empty water bottles just staring at her blankly. Slamming the fridge shut, she stretched her neck to see if there were any ramen left, but again she came across empty, dust covered shelves.

 

Screw breakfast, I’m already late for my second lecture.  

 

Once she reached the university’s ground, Ailee headed for the Humanities Department and slumped down on the cafeteria seat, after texting her friend on her whereabouts. Her tummy grumbled like thunder when the clock struck 12, and there was still no sign of her best friend.

 

The spring breeze carried a certain whiff of bacon, like, loads of bacon. It’s a pretty rare occasion; one has to wonder what came into the kitchen lady’s mind to offer them such generosity. She got up, ambled her way to come across some bloody great club sandwiches and squealed in delight.

 

Lucian Oh appeared before her when Ailee was about to take the first bite off of her sandwich.

 

Beautiful, charming, witty Lucian, with a light bounce in his steps, never stopped looking like the runway model he would never be (though he dreams of it). He was perfect, and everything Ailee wasn’t. He could even flirt his way through anything, be it men or women, and Lucian is undeniably gay. It’s just that they keep it between them. But there are those who figured out as much.

 

“Ailee! You missed Dr. Yoo’s class! We received a group assignment, and Dr. Yoo asked me where you were,” Lucian dumped his bag on the table and sat on the empty seat opposite Ailee.

 

“So, what’d you say?”

 

“That you decided to stop schooling, shaved yourself bald and headed for the temple,” he replied nonchalantly while typing away on his phone.

 

“So, what did you really say to him?” she urged her friend.

 

“You got off easy with a diarrhea,” with an evil cackle, Lucian got up to get himself something to eat.

 

“You, I, what?! Hey Lucian Oh, you better get your here and tell me that’s not really what you said!”

 

Because to Ailee, Dr. Yoo was the last person she would ever want to disappoint. He is her favourite lecturer after all.

 

Lucian skipped his way back, humming to Sam Smith’s Lay Me Down as he eyed his own sandwich and the amount of bacon in it. Ailee waited for her friend to eat his sandwich. As Lucian took his first bite, Ailee finally started eating hers too.

 

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I said. He looked worried though. Why wouldn’t he? You’re his favourite disciple after all.”

 

“What are you, a monk? Who uses ‘disciple’ anyway?”

 

“Honey, if I was a monk, you’d be Mary. Anyhow, why were you late? Overtime at the bookstore?”

 

“I fell asleep early, but got up and watched a few movies after that. I managed a 30-minute nap just before 10.”

 

“Horror movies again?” Lucian probed, as if anyone needed to ask that question to Ailee.

 

She replied her friend with a grin.          

 

“Honestly, I don’t know why you love horror movies so much. Loving horror movies is like loving the wrong man.”

 

“Well, I don’t act all tough but turn out to be all fluffy and teary-eyed by a sappy John Green novel.”

 

“Oh, no you didn’t! Thou shall not bad mouth my dear Mr. Green and his amazeballs novels, they’re so unlike your hair-rising, CG-filled crap you call horror movie.”

 

“Oh, no, you. Did. Not,” with filled with bacon, Ailee cursed out loud, “why you little motherer.”

 

No one seemed to bother them; it was the usual antics those two friends pull at each other. There is always something that would tick Ailee off and Lucian is usually the reason behind it. Even then, with full, cussing every 10 seconds, the long haired girl didn’t halt her actions. Lucian must pay for his nonsensical comments.

 

She was going for the tissue in her bag when she felt like there was something, someone, watching her. Ailee looked up to spot this dude staring at her from a few tables away. Rude.

 

He realized she was looking back at him from the looks of it. Ailee glared at the other. Lee Yejin shall not be disturbed by such ogling.   

 

-

 

That day’s special at the Humanities Department cafeteria was sandwich. Oddly enough, it was an interesting, well-made, assortment of three slices of bread, the sour tang of mayo, half-slice cheese, and some greenish lettuce stack together with tomato slices, and bacon; like lots of bacon. Funny how the owner got super generous this time around, because their kimchi fried rice last week was everything but.

 

But one sight was specifically peculiar to Kwon Jiyong. Never had he ever witnessed anyone could look interesting – fascinating, even – while cursing with a mouthful of sandwich.

 

“Why you little motherer,” he could almost hear her from his table, a few distance away from the girl who looks interesting with her spit flying out, remnants of mayo smudged at the end of her lips.

 

Her wavy brown hair swayed as she kept on attacking her friend with her fists, the source of her cursing. Jiyong wonder what the victim of such hitting actually did. He wanted to look away, but Jiyong can’t seem to tear his attention from the girl, even when she has her head turned his way. If only she would look up just a little bit.

 

Ah, there we go.

 

And that was the first time Jiyong and Sandwich Girl met eye to eye.

 

And Sandwich Girl cursed at him, too. 

 

---

A/N: *welps* feedbacks pretty please?