viii. "The Feeling"

“But nothing, there was this inevitable sinking feeling in his stomach where he felt no sense of joy.”

Jungkook cleared his throat, feeling trapped since he never had the time nor the opportunity to think about it. And he nearly wanted to cheer as there was a soft knock on the door that kept him from answering the question right away, at all for that matter.

The server came back, a large plater balanced in his two hands as he approached them with a lingering smile. He seemed to go back to his professional façade but his lingering flirtation was still in the air.

“I was asked to remind you, the order is charged into your card, which you provide every time you book a session. Hope you enjoy,” he spoke, his voice soft and low that it almost felt comforting.

Jungkook nodded, remembering that is how he was told the food worked. The platter looked beautiful, the club has a garden out back to provide fresh ingredients. Also, they had their own aquarium to provide fresh sea food every night, which he could tell since last week, was prepared by a star chef.

“I’m getting a little sick of this question and answer,” Jungkook spoke as soon as the door closed and the two were left alone again.

She froze for a moment, but ended up nodding, understanding that she may be asking too many questions for tonight. She just needed to understand everything before she knew exactly how to help him. He was rather interesting, how his mind worked was fascinating to her, but it was also alarming that someone could have such ideas.

He sat back, crossing his legs as he noticed how deep in thought she was. He didn’t stump her with a question, but she was still thinking. That is all she seemed to be doing tonight, thinking. He found his body gaining goosebumps at the fresh taste of the raw sea food and he never felt his stomach more satisfied than at that moment.

“If you answer this, I’ll answer the first question you had about me,” she spoke, her voice rather quiet as if she was saying something secretive.

Jungkook peered at her, wondering why she shrunk back onto her seat. She held the glass of water so tightly as her teeth dug onto her lower lip, then he realized why. She can only reveal so much about her life, and she was willing to say a little bit more if he simply answered.

Why she was doing that was out of the blue, was plainly odd. What did he want to be? What did he want to see every morning when he looks at the mirror? He was never given the opportunity to think nor chose, but here it is.

“I want to be normal,” he paused, not realizing the answer forming so easily, “a person who simply works, comes home to a family who accepts me for me and doesn’t put any standards on me. I want to be a person, not the walking bank I’m expected to be,” he spoke, the answer somehow hollowing his chest.  

He wanted to be normal. He wanted to stop living up to expectations and standards placed against his will. He wanted to feel like a normal person and not be driven by greed. He wanted to have a heart but he knew he will end up like everyone else.

No matter how much he desired it, he needed to be what everyone told him to be. The more time passed by, the more he begun to feel himself grow colder and begin to be coating in gold, he was meant to be a walking bank.

“You have earnest and pure thoughts, I admire that,” she spoke, her voice soft as a smile lingered in her words.

The answer was rather interesting to hear, he seemed rather conflicted at who he needed to be and who he wanted to be. He completely got rid of his own desire, but that didn’t simplify it, he was still conflicted.    

Truth be told, he never felt like people are satisfied with him. Hearing her say she admires this about him, almost makes it seem like she is happy and satisfied with this thought of his. Or she accepts it, and no one has ever accepted his idea and his decision.  

“You’re not getting out of this one. What was the first question I had about you?” He spoke, his tongue nearly tripping on his lips as he refused tried to quickly change the subject.

“Why I have two names,” she spoke, her voice still low but more confident.

She took a big gulp of water as she was trying hard to build an answer that won’t break any club rules. Her thoughts casted a silent spell on the room as Jungkook begun to fee impatient and the feeling of being cheater was slowly creeping in. If she was going to refuse to answer that, she tricked him and he did not like being made a fool.

“Are you going to answer that?” He snapped, his voice very snippy that the hostess jumped back.

She nodded and opened , ready to start saying it but paused right when she let out the first letter. She tilted her head and closed her eyes, she was trying to just get the words to roll of her lips without much thought because she knew if she stops, she cannot fulfil her side of the deal.

“I am known as Cinderella, but my official host name is Ice Princess. The reason is, when I was first hired, I was simply a server who had to stall for another host. The woman who was waiting said I looked rather cold at first, like I was made of ice. But since I had to stall and talk to her, she said I was anything but cold, she said I carried myself like royalty,” she spoke, her mind forming ripples of memory to that moment and it almost made it easier to speak, she sounded much softer.

“You are everything but royalty,” he scoffed, a mocking laughter almost leaving his lips.

She nodded, a smile, a very shy and delicate smile forming on her face as she looked down and took no offense. The light glimmered against her earrings and with that shy-flustered smile, for a second, a fraction of a second, she looked royal.

“True, but she talked to the manager, and recommended I become her new host and that I should be called Ice Princess. The manager took the advice, after interviews and rule learning, I became a host known as Ice Princess,” she spoke, a triumphing glimmer in her eyes an echoing in her voice made her look taller, more confident.

“Okay, but what about the Cinderella ?” Jungkook spoke, feeling lightly annoyed that she wasn’t getting to the point.

This feeling of being cheated, of being made a fool was being feed with every waking second. He felt rather angry and it only kept getting build up.  

“You’re so impatient. You’re ruining my golden story,” she spoke, sarcasm filling her words as they left her cured lips.

“Whoever gave you gold needs to be fired from judging,” he snapped a little too fast for his own comfort.

She was trying to make light and fun of the moment and he completely destroyed that. He didn’t feel so good once his mind caught onto that, but she didn’t let it tear down her mood.

“Fine, I’ll settle for tin," she paused, amusement tinting her words as she continued, "the club has special events, days of the month that have a theme. Last week was Alice In Wonderland. My very first theme was the Cinderella theme, at the end of the night, a hostess was named Cinderella and a host will be the Prince. I was chosen by popular vote, so the nickname stuck to some people, but it is a code,” she stopped, the words slowly fading as she realized she needed to stop.

She can’t say the truth of the code, she can’t reveal it but she did promise. She looked up and saw the man waiting, he looked rather anxious to know what it was. But she can’t tell the full truth, she can only reveal so much.

She bit her lip, thinking of the right way to say it.

“It’s a code only to be used by people who really need someone to talk to. Cinderella was rather lonely, she only had animals to talk to, the person who contacts me by that name means they might be in the same situation,” she spoke, trying hard to reveal only he top and opaque coat of the truth.

She waited anxiously, her teeth making a meal out of her lips as she tried to read what he man was thinking. He didn’t move, nor made a significant gesture that will reveal his thoughts or mood. He looked rather neutral, which was new and the fact that it was new meant she didn’t know what it truly meant.

“I have a dog named Sky, I happen to have a step-mother and step-sibling. What were the odd of our friend being so dead on?” He spoke coldly, but at the same time, neutrally.

It was as if he was an intellectual spilling facts rather than words moved my empathy. She didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, it was almost like a whole new attitude took over him.

“Junhong, he complains about being a bartended but he stays because he likes hearing stories people spill when they are drunk,” she spoke, trying hard to change the subject to something else.

She felt a chill up her spine and she didn’t know where this sensation was coming from. Jungkook didn’t have a shift in facial expression, her simply stared at her with cold eyes and an unwavering mouth.

“What do you take me was?” He asked, leaning back and crossing his arms across his chest.

The mentioning of the bartended made him realize that he was being looked down upon. One of the main things about the fairytale character is that she is looked down upon and treated like dirt. She’s essentially made a prisoner in her own home and if that stupid bartended saw him in that way, who is to say she didn’t either.

“Pardon?” She asked, feeling startled at the sudden question.

“Do you think I’m some fairytale character who is hopeless and is looked down upon?” He nearly yelled, but he felt his throat knotting and preventing him from raising his voice even further.

She looked at him, her brows were arched and her lips were parted. She was trying to figure out where the conversation went wrong, what set off that mine field of anger but she couldn’t quite understand.

“No, I think you are rather strong and have big ideas. You gave that engineer an opportunity because you saw an outcome, I don’t think you are hopeless,” she spoke, her voice earnest and desperately trying to subdue the situation.

The man sighed heavily, feeling like there was this huge judgmental and degrading attitude towards him by someone who is lower in society than him. He was not some hopeless princess waiting to be rescued, he was just a man who had to grow tough skin since he was a child.

He was someone who has grown tough for whatever society threw at him.

“Then what?” He spoke more calmly but still annoyed, still very insulted.

She wondered why he was asking when he should already know the answer. She’s told him that he is lonely, that he needs to let out his frustration, that he needs to talk to someone. He should know that she sees him as someone who just needs to talk to someone.

“I think you just need a way to let out all your thoughts. You need to realize you’re not as alone as you may feel at times,” she spoke, her voice soft as she tried to ease in her answer again, even if she felt she’s said it before, even if it was in a different way.

He scrunched his eyes, his jaw clenching slightly as he looked at the food and felt he no longer had an appetite. He no longer had an appetite for wine, for alcohol for that matter and he no longer wanted to be there.

“Well, I like being alone,” he spoke, his voice firm and confident as he stood up and took his leave without a second glance.

He felt rather empty leaving the club. He didn’t feel cold passing through the hall that had the air conditioner blasting. He didn’t feel pain when he stumbled on his feet and his ankle twisted oddly, nor when his hand, his wounded hand, scrapped against the concrete wall when he kept his bod from tumbling over.

He was driven home, and he didn’t even know what was going on. He could hear the music from the radio, he could see the bustling and busy streets of Gangnam on a Saturday night. He could see colors flashing, lights glimmering in the distance and he couldn’t even feel an ounce of happiness.

He usually gets a sense of satisfaction watching the lights, seeing how many drunken people fall as they got out of clubs or smelling the rich street food. But nothing, there was this inevitable sinking feeling in his stomach where he felt no sense of joy.

“Mr. Jeon, Ms. Jung is here, she was invited to stay the night,” he was greeted by a full bow by the head housekeeper as his driver drove away in his car.

It took a second for him to realize what she had just said, but seeing the light of the kitchen on, everything sunk in like an iceberg.

Yein had paid the deposit, meaning, they were to move in as soon as possible because just like him, she couldn’t wait to get out of the house. That only means that his father invited her over to talk to her, pick out the staff that will be leaving with them to the new house and the furniture and all that. He wouldn’t be surprised if his father mentioned children.

“Where is she?” he asked, sounding monotone as he had no sort of emotion on his face.

“The kitchen, she sent your father to bed not too long ago. We’re preparing the guest room, we assumed she will not be spending the night in yours,”

“She will, there is an extra bed there. Father will make a fuss in the morning if she sleeps in the guest room,” he spoke, his voice sinking low as the housekeeper was rather taken off guard that he would say that.

She’s helped raise him and she was certain the original arrangements were optimum. Opening the door, she quickly ordered one of the maids to move Yein’s things to Jungkook’s room and prepare the extra bed.

“You may go rest when that is done, thank you,” he spoke as the housekeeper nodded, confused at the calm and disconnected Jungkook that she hardly ever sees.

He walked into the kitchen, seeing Yein sitting in the counter with a mug between her hands as she was writing on a text book.

“Yein-ah,” he spoke, his feet dragging slightly as he approached the other end of the counter, where a baby blue mug sat on a small round plate.

“Hi, sorry I didn’t warn you. Your father kind of caught me after work and brought me home, by the time he stopped talking about grandchildren, it was late and he invited me to stay,” she spoke, her eyes rather dropping but her smile was soft and delicate.

She felt guilty for not warning him ahead of time, she could have messaged him or called him when she excused herself to the bathroom. But she didn’t, and she didn’t want him to be mad.  

“It’s fine, I don’t want my father to give me in the morning so you’ll be staying in my room with me. Why don’t we head up, you can do your work up there if you want,” he spoke, his voice losing energy as he just wanted to lie down and sleep.

He felt like he had no energy. His usual taste buds for hot chocolate were not there and he had no motivation in getting angry his father was already talking about grandchildren. He’s never even kissed anyone, he never even wanted to, let alone try and make a child.

Yein looked down at her book, it was a microeconomics book that had a couple of sticky notes plastered all over, that’s how she annotates. But she felt her eyes fall heavy and the lack of sleep was also getting to her.

“Yeah, lead on,” she spoke, her pen falling in between the pages of the book as she closed it ang grabbed her bag.

She noticed that Jungkook begun to walk away from his hot chocolate. And simply took the full mug into her hand and dumped the content into the sink. She placed her empty mug in there and filled them with water, to keep the chocolate from turning hard and sticky.

Jungkook was rather amazed that she did that, mostly because they were raised with housekeepers, they never had to lift a finger. Yet she didn’t even hesitate lifting them.

They walked to the upstairs floor in silence, Yein mostly trying to get it through her head that she was going to be sleeping in the same room. She didn’t mid the guest room, but Jungkook didn’t want his father from getting angry. There was a moment she had to remember they were engaged, and it was expected of them to be close enough to share a room.

But they weren’t like that, not at all. So it as odd how quiet Jungkook was about the entire thing. He looked unbothered, like he didn’t care about anything anymore. He looked drained and after coming out of the bathroom, he fell onto bed and didn’t speak a word at all.

He didn’t talk after asking her to go up into the room, he looked like he was awaiting a terrible death. But she didn’t think much of it because she was so tired herself, she fell onto the spare bed and the blankets hugged her so tightly, she fell asleep instantly.

The night wasn’t cold, but it was quiet. Nothing happened in the room but two engaged people sleeping in separate beds on opposite sides of each other. Nothing happed in the room but two people being in silence with their own questions about the future.

The only noise emitted was that of a restless body tossing in bed and the occasional limbs crashing onto the wall.

It was a soothing and quiet night, that when the alarm went off Yein was on her feet, ready to get the bathroom first but was startled to see Jungkook buried in his bed, not even trying to shut off the alarm.

He didn’t even flinch, nor released any groans of annoyance like a typical Jungkook move, he simply pulled his covers further up and acted like the noise will go away.

With her clothes in her grasp, Yein simply turned off the alarms and continued her journey to the bathroom. She wondered many things, she wondered why Jungkook as acting so abnormal. She knew he was the type to wake up annoyed at the alarm crying in the morning.

Just last night, she was told by a housekeeper how much he loves hot chocolate, yet he didn’t dare touch the drink last night. Just last night, she was told how Jungkook showers every night, never missing a midnight session with a warm shower, yet he didn’t take one last night.

She was told how much Jungkook loves his dog, that he cannot even go to be without seeing the small dog curled in his bed and making sure the pet was warm. But he never left to check on Sky.

She walked out of the bathroom, she didn’t even notice she spent nearly an hour there because she was so lost in thought. And the fact that Jungkook’s alarm went off three more times and he hasn’t banged on the door to get her out, was surprising.

She noted that the head housemother left some pills in the bedside table as Jungkook had made no effort to get out of bed. He was stilled rolled in his covers, his arm squeezing his pillow tightly, as if he was afraid to let go and it was only worrisome to look at.

Yein read over the label that housed the pills, intrigued that they were left there, and noted that they were prescribed to Jungkook directly. How long and how often he took the medication was unsure, but it was clear he as prescribed anti-depressant medication.