ii. "The Traditions"  

 "It’s time you begun to know all of our traditions and how to blow off steam,"  

“Sir, the transaction documents still need to be sent out,” his assistant spoke, his words getting muffled from the frequency of the telephone that still needs to be fixed.

“Why hasn’t accounting gotten me those documents then?” He asked, his word spoken through slightly gritted teeth as he felt agitated. It wasn’t his fault he was behind on sending the transactions. His workers were simply too engrossed about the engagement party the day before to get their job done.

“I’ll get right on it sir,” the assistant spoke, his low voice slightly spoken in fear as he feared getting yelled at, again. Jungkook felt guilty every time he yelled at his assistant, mostly because the boy was a fresh graduate and he himself, had to admit, he could be a boss with a high temper.

“Moonbin, can you please tell them I’m going to chop heads if those transactions are incorrect. If they took this long, they might as well be right,” Jungkook spoke, his anger washing over his body as if it was a calming acid. It burned for a bit, and then it settled. He was able to breath and composed himself.

“Yes sir,” the assistant spoke, his voice slightly shaking but amused that Jungkook would sarcastically say something like that. Part of him said it in a sarcastic way, but he couldn’t help but feel this ounce of him saying it with true intension.

The office was consumed in silence, there was nothing more calming and irritating that the echo of pure nothingness. His heart raced slightly, there was a fear inside of him that warned him. That itched the inside of his hear and basically yelled that there was something wrong. It poked him constantly to remind him something wasn’t right because the office was never in peace. If there wasn’t chaos, there was something wrong.

At the same time, he felt comfortable in silence because it’s when he can be alone with his thoughts and no one can tell him not to think like that. He can’t be judged, he can’t be controlled in pure silence because there was nothing but him.

“Jungkook-ssi,” a soft and sweet voice came in like a hurricane wave and destroyed the peace. He felt his fingertips turn cold as he looked up and saw his fiancé.

“What is it?” He asked, a little too aggressive and annoyed. The girl bit her lip and cleared he throat, she felt uncomfortable being there and even more because of why she was sent there.

“Your father told me to tell you to clear your schedule tonight,” she spoke, her voice loud and clear but it still sounded small, slightly ashamed. “He’s taking you to a business outing,” she spoke even more slowly, as to throw a hint at him.

He processed the words and didn’t know why she was acting like a child who had to deliver bad news. It wasn’t until he remembered the bartender the night before. Businessmen have the connotation to use their money and power to get women and . They even have their meetings or outings in norebangs that provide more than a singing experience.

“Would it bother you if I went?” He asked, his confidence slightly deteriorating considering he didn’t want to be part of that. Any of it.

The girl simply took a seat, her childlike innocence showing through her concealer and lipstick that her mother has painted on her face since she was thirteen.

“We can’t fool each other, you don’t love me and I don’t love you. But it would still make me upset because you should not be there, neither of them should,” she spoke, her voice soft and a bit desperate. She hated when she realized what went on in those places, even more because her own father went when he was supposed to have eyes for her mother. When he was supposed to only hold her mother in a loving way.

“I know, I don’t want to go. I’ll think of something, anything else?” He asked, his eyes darting to his computer as a new email came in from the accounting department.

“Yes, your father mainly wanted me to come so that we could decide when we wanted to go house shopping. It’s up to you, it’s not like I have a busy schedule,” she chuckled at the end of her sentence, that slight innocent laugh of misery made his head snap.

Yein was never really much use in her family. She wasn’t a male who could be the heir to her company, she could do it. Jungkook knew how smart she was, how strategic her mind could get and her competitiveness. She could even run his company so much better than he could, but her father never saw that. To him, she was a pretty face that could bring in a union.

“I’ll see, you can decide the area and the style. I’m not big on real-estate, it’s one of my weak points,” he spoke, opening the email and getting an apology for the delay of the transactions with the attached documents.

He scoffed slightly, knowing that they were probably done earlier but his workers were too busy gossiping to send them.

“I’ll take my leave then,” she spoke, her words still holding onto the formality. Jungkook was a year older than her, and he has a more prestige status. But it still felt uncomfortable.

“Yein-ah, drop the formalities. We are equals, and frankly I hate it if I get called oppa,” he muttered, pushing his body away from his desk as he went to the fax machine. The transactions already sent away to their needed destination and all he had to send was the final report.

“Okay, have a good day,” she spoke, her words more confident as she could use casual speech with him. She smiled slightly, appreciating that he said they were equals, even if everyone told her she was lower than him. She knew it, and accepted it, but it’s more comforting when he himself doesn’t see the levels.

“You too,” he mumbled, busy trying to get his documents scanned.

He never hated Yein. She wasn’t like everyone else that surrounded him. She never judged him, nor told him what to do and when to do it. She understands that there is no love between them and their marriage and entire relationship was just fabricated for business. But he still hated that he had to be miserable by her side, that he could never marry a girl he truly loved and that he’d ruin Yein’s chances as love and happiness.

She was just like him, dragged inside this world of control and judgement, and she remained humbler than him. She remained more human than him, and for that, she deserved to be happy.

“Father, I thought we came for business, why are we here?” He asked, his voice whiny and in disbelief. He arrived in a separate car because Jungkook knew he would be leaving, and he wanted to make sure it was in his own car and on his own will.

“Well, once your marriage is finalized, I will retire soon after. It’s time you begun to know all of our traditions and how to blow off steam. This isn’t an easy job,” his father spoke. His words were rather high and mighty, as if his decision were ethically correct and he had no shame.

“What, is this like an initiation?” Jungkook asked annoyed. His father acted as if this was some secret only share once you are part of a frat house. He hated Greek life in the states, and his father acted as if this is what it was. Some secret only revealed once initiation took place.

“If you would like to think so,” his father spoke with amusement. The entire thing simply amused him. The man dragged his son inside, where a private singing room was set aside. The room had white leather couches, an odd choice considering people get so drunk they spill their alcohol and the leather could be stained and ruined.

The flat screen TV was the biggest source of light because the soft blue lights that were around the room were very dim. It gave the room a very uncomfortable feeling of intimacy, something Jungkook hated.

“Father, have you ever considered that I don’t want to be here?” He asked, his voice high pitch and whining. He felt rather small after his father sent him a gaze, one that seemed like he was very annoyed and hating Jungkook’s tone.

“Well, you need to find a way to relax and have fun. Now, you can pick any girl to pour you drinks,” his father spoke, feeling slightly odd that his own son was there to see his reckless actions. But part of him knew that Jungkook was going to be introduced to this atmosphere, might as well be his own father to show him.

“Father no,” Jungkook spoke with an affirmative and cold tone. He looked at the girls that walked in, their slim figures were tall and towering over the seating men. Their high heels becoming too much of a necessity to show off their freshly waxed legs.

Each one looked feign, both in emotions and in their features. They spent their money buying silicone noses and shaving the skin off their face. He felt his heart racing as he could hardly breath seeing so much misery in their eyes. They all dreaded being there, equally because they will be touched and d by these men all for money. It was always for money.

“Jungkook, don’t kill the mood. I am your father, and you will respect me,” his father spoke, his voice stern and flashing warning signs. He was threatening Jungkook with his eyes, as if telling him he was misbehaving and that he will not tolerate it.

The man pointed at the prettiest girl, her eyes were large and her eye bags were puffy. She looked so young and Jungkook felt nauseous when the girl nodded and plotted down right next to him. Her eyes creasing and showing off her pale bleached skin that has been tampered with too much makeup.

Jungkook felt his heart stop in shock and disgust when the girl placed her hand on his knee, slightly squeezing it before she reached out to grab a bottle of wine and pouring two small yet chubby glasses.

“No father, I don’t want to do this. If you have any shred of decency you would let me stay out of your indecent and ious actions,” Jungkook spoke. Having stood up so abruptly that the girl accidentally poured some whine on the white leather couch.

His voice was shaking and it sounded like he was about to cry, he was feeling so suffocated. He felt like he couldn’t breath, his chest had fallen so heavy against his heart the moment that woman touched his knee. He needed to get out, he needed to scream.

He ran out, hearing his father calling out to him in an angry voice. He didn’t care, he couldn’t feel himself breathing until he got outside. He ran past the front door, almost falling as he ran down the stairs. But once he was out, the dark night, the cold night, embraced him so warmly.

No one understood him, there was not one person who could comprehend how he felt. He felt suffocated in that room and he didn’t know why nor how. He just knew he wanted to get out of there, and now his trembling heart made him feel like crying. He bit his lip, walking towards his car.

He knew he always had a natural talent for being over dramatic. Even now, he felt like a drama king. He felt so lost at times and he felt like he was going insane. He stared at the wheel, his mind slowly telling him that he should drive off a cliff. Which only made him realize that if he ever did, they would call him crazy. He hated being called crazy or insane above all because it was a way of telling him he was no longer human, he wanted to be human and not a walking bank.

“I’m not insane,” he whispered, feeling his throat knotting just thinking of how his father would force him into such a situation. He really didn’t care to listen nor take into account what his own son wanted.

“I’m not saying you are. Sometimes you just need to talk about your ty life because we all live in a ty world.” The voice of the bartended echoed inside his head.

He felt the card inside his pocket get itchy, as if his own conscious was driving him to pay attention to it, to think about it.

A host club, like that would be any different than the room he was just in. He couldn’t even believe that he kept the card, that even in his own drunk stage he didn’t have enough common sense to leave it there.

But the more he thought about it, the angrier he got. Mostly because of his father, of the hobby he tried to force his own son into. If he was going to partake in such an indecent thing, it would be on his own terms. It would be his own willingly deciding.

“Kingdom Club, this is Minsung, how may I help you today?” the voice echoed oddly in is ear. The voice of someone nice and gentle, a type of voice he doesn’t really hear apart from Yein.

“I was recommended a host, and I wanted to know if she was available,” he spoke, his voice echoing softly in the empty car. Even in his own car, with tinted windows and locked doors he felt the need to keep it quiet.

“What would be the name of the host?”

“Cinderella,” he spoke and there was a pause, he could nearly picture the girl biting her lips unsure. That’s what it was, uncertainty. As if the host he spoke of was non-existing.

“Oh, the Ice Princess, who was the recommendation from?” She asked, a sudden realization in her voice as she continued to ask in a warm welcoming way. Jungkook felt dubious, why was she calling the host something different?

“Uh, this bartender. He works at Before The Dawn, he said to ask for Cinderella,” Jungkook spoke, his voice quiet and soft, his cheeks filled with stains of tears. He had a sudden desire to choose to be indecent in his own way, which his complicated mind and way of thinking has not thought out yet.

“She’s available right now if you want. Ice Princess is her host name but she is also known as Cinderella. You’re more than welcome to ask her why. The standard host package is three hundred and fifty thousand won. This will give you two hours with your host, if she chooses to spend more time with you, you won’t pay extra. Will you be buying the protective package?” She asked, her voice slightly fast as she was engrossed in explaining her entire script.

“What is that for?” He asked, stumbling with his words as he was too busy wondering why she would need two names.

“The club is confidential. Whatever you talk with your host will stay with your host. But if you are more high profile, we provide a secret route where no one can see you entering and a private room so that no one sees you.” She spoke, sticking with her well rehearsed script as Jungkook felt the need to sigh.

Was he really going to do this?

“I’ll take that as well,” he spoke, his voice falling heavily on his shoulders.

The girl asked for his credit card information and he shamefully spoke every digit imprinted on his plastic card. He received a map to get to the secret route and a pass to get through the garage that will eventually land him under the club.

‘We provide a safe environment for troubled men and women to talk to good company and get excellent advice. This is strictly a talk only zone.’ The black words, with a selective few in red, stared at him.

Strictly talk, meaning, no nor any type of intimacy. He wondered how true that rule held. He knew people, especially from experience, will get too tempted by money and resort to unethical and immoral actions.

The club just looked like a luxurious restaurant bar with a ball room. Well dressed men and women sat with attentive ears and soft voices, hearing out their client. Food was turning cold and it was hardly touched as they seemed to be so engrossed in conversation.

He saw this from a distance, the secret route landed him upstairs where he could only see the ballroom-restaurant-bar from what appeared to be one way mirrors. He could see them, they couldn’t see him.

He was escorted by a waiter, his dress shirt was button almost all the way up, but his collarbones were exposed. His sleeves were rolled up showing off biceps that were shaped from busting tables and lifted heavy-expensive china.

“Your host is inside Mr. Jeon, if you would like to order food, simply ring the bell at your table. Hope you have a great talk,” the man spoke, his voice very low and rough. His voice didn’t match his pale and youthful face, but did match his broad shoulders.

Jungkook forgot he was still wearing a suit from work. He must blend in more with the hosts than the actual clients.

The moment he touched the door, his heart fell again. He felt it grow heavy as his breathing was heavy and came in short. His stomach felt like it was missing and he had a deep desire to turn around and run away.