As soon as I am certain no one from the party has followed me, the first place I go is up five stories to the top of my tower - where I live in the suites I call home.  Once upon a time, Tiffany shared them with me; now, they're mine alone.

As I walk through the darkened halls, I am surprised by how few people are left in my father's tower - normally his offices would be working late into the night, and at least a few employees must be curious enough to come up here, with all the hubbub that must be happening in the lobby a hundred floors below me, where partygoers are still arriving.  But the only person I see is Kyungsoo, one of father's newer interns - a promising young man who I am certain will rise through the ranks of my father's company quickly.  He gives me a politely brief nod and continues on toward the place I have just left - my own birthday party.  Could he be invited, too?

I shake that thought off quickly.  It is not my concern whether my father has invited any employees to tonight's reception.  In any case, it's not uncommon for him to receive business reports while he's supposed to be relaxing at a party like this; he's a busy man, and wasting time when there is business to be done simply does not fit into his principles.  I try to be understanding; without him, after all, my family would be nothing.  Sometimes, though, having to substitute father-daughter time with expensive gifts and birthsay parties gets a little lonely.

As soon as I get to my rooms, I shut the door and collapse onto the nearest couch.  Damn these shoes.  I rip the straps open with vehemence and toss them onto the ground, then lean back and wiggle my toes with a long sigh.  I have to admit - after spending so long in these torture instruments, it feels good to take them off.  Even if Tiffany would have a heart attack.

"Look who's back," says a low voice from behind me.  I shriek, then turn and scowl at Yonghwa, who's leaning against the wall behind me, arms crossed.  In the twilight gloom of the windows behind him, the white gleam of his smirk is unmistakable.  "Any luck?  Did you get her number?"

"Shut up," I growl.  At his low chuckle, I bend down and throw one of my shoes at him.  "Why can't you ever be serious about these things?"

Truth be told, I'm being a little unfair to him right now.  I don't care.  The vodka has made me dizzy, and all I want to do right now is lie down.  And get my questions answered.

"Come now," says Yonghwa cajolingly.  "I saw the way you looked at her, you know."  I feel my cheeks heat up as he says it - his knowing gaze burns into mine - but I say nothing.  "Don't you at least want to see her again?"

Of course I do, but I'm not about to tell him just how much I wanted to follow her.  Instead, I sigh and curl up on the couch.  "Sure.  If you want to.  Right now, I'm just tired."

"Such a party pooper," Yonghwa sighs.  Then grins.  "Lucky for you, I know where she's going to be tonight."

I sit up straight - then realize he's watching me smugly.  He knows I would want to know this.  My cheeks grow hotter, and I lean back against the couch and do my best to say as casually as possible, "Where?"

"You want to know?" says Yonghwa, sounding surprised.  "I thought you were too tired to go out."

Ugh.  Damn Yonghwa and his knowing smirk.  "I...guess I'm not too tired," I admit.  "Not for this."

Yonghwa beams at me.  "Attagirl," he says.  "Now.  What are you going to wear, princess?  Your dear sister bought you some new pumps, and I think they'd look adorable with some cutoffs and - "

"No."  I sit up straighter.  "Slow down.  Yonghwa, how do you know this is the right thing to do?"

Yonghwa snorts.  Spreads his hands.  "Because you like her," he says, "and you want to kiss her and bring her back to your apartment and - "  At my expression, he stops.  "No, seriously," he says.  "She's hot.  Isn't that all the reason you need?"

I frown.  "How do I even know she'll like me?"

Yonghwa chuckles.  "Sweetheart, you don't," he says, and gets to his feets, easy as a cat, and begins pacing around me, slinking along the edge of the couch.  "But that's the point.  Would it be any fun if you knew she wanted to you?  Of course not."

My cheeks burn at that - I would never just bring a girl home to have with her, or would I? - but that isn't the point.  "No," I say, "I mean - what if she isn't gay?  What if she tells the world that I am?"

Yonghwa stops pacing.  His expression becomes serious.

"She won't," he says.

I narrow my eyes.  "How do you know?"

"I know.  She won't," he says simply, and resumes pacing.  "Besides, honey, I promise you, it's not all that bad.  I was just as scared as you are, back when I first came out - and now look where I am.  The king of all my es, girls and boys.  Oh, believe me - I've had plenty of scandals in my time," he says, and stops before me with a leering smile.  "But do you think I let that stop me?  Of course not."

I'm not like Yonghwa.  Maybe he can be cavalier about this, but I'm - well, I'm Park Seohyun, supposedly the jewel of my father's legacy, destined to marry some young man when my father deems me ready for it.  "Yonghwa - "

"But," he continues, "if you're so worried about it, don't worry.  I can pull some strings for you.  Anyone who wants to squeal on you, I'll raise enough dirt on them that they will wish they'd never been born - and that's before they get to the presses."  He raises his eyebrows pointedly at me.  "So, will you go out and look for your mysterious beauty if I do this for you?"

I scowl at him.  "I thought you told me she was a gang member."

Yonghwa chews his lip.  "She is," he says after a moment.  "But does that affect how attractive she is?"

I sigh.  Sometimes, he's utterly incorrigible.

He apparently takes my silence as a grin, because his smirk becomes triumphant.  He claps his hands together and says, "Excellent.  Now, as I was saying, the important question: cutoffs?  Or a skirt?"

I cross my arms.  "I didn't say I was going."

"But you want to," says Yonghwa, "don't you?"

Yes.  Yes, I do.

I huff another sigh, and this time I know there's no escape.  Yonghwa watches me expectantly.

"Fine," I say, ignoring the thrill that runs through me at the prospect of finding Yuri again.  "Let's get this over with."

--

One cold shower and an aspirin later, I stand before the full-length mirror in my private bedroom, fully sober, and regretting it.  Yonghwa has managed to bully me into a loose, sleeveless shirt covered in silver sequins and a short black skirt.  I hate to admit it, but the pumps Tiffany found - platform sandals in understated earth tones - do look good with the other pieces.  I shift from side to side and try to work out a position where the skirt doesn't make me feel like I'm turning into a mermaid, to no avail.

Yonghwa comes silently up behind me.  I jump when he touches my shoulder, and he grins, then looks me up and down and gives a long, low wolf-whistle.  "You do clean up nicely," he says, then gives my hair a tug.  "What are we going to do about this?"

I shrug his hand off.  "Just don't bother with it," I mutter.  In truth, I'm aware my hair is a mess - a witch's tangle of half-washed-out shampoo and spray.  It looks awful.  But I'm not ready yet to go through the long process of untangling it with a comb, not sober.

Yonghwa shakes his head slowly, once to each side.  "No, no," he says.  "You must fix this."  He reaches over suddenly and grabs a pair of decorative chopsticks from my cluttered dresser and holds them up, piling my hair into a messy knot.  "How about this?"

I brush his hand away.  "Are you stupid?" I snap.  "That just makes it look messier."

Yonghwa smiles.  "Sometimes messy can be beautiful, my dear," he says, and pushes my protesting fingers away.  "Now, now, just let me try this.  Try and be a little less obstinate for once, won't you?  I'm not going to cut off your hair, I promise."

Five minutes later, my hair is miraculously untangled - and Yonghwa has draped it into a casual, yet elegant, loose bun, held together with nothing but the chopsticks.  I have to admit - with grudging admiration - he's done a good job.  Especially on such short notice.  Well, I guess this is why my dad pays for him in the first place, though I'm inclined to believe Yonghwa would stick around anyway, if only for the free treats and lavish attention he gets here.

"Thanks," I mumble, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

"You're welcome," says Yonghwa.  I can tell - even he is proud of his work.  "Shall we go?"

I turn to face him.  "Go where?"

Yonghwa spreads his arms dramatically.  "To find your dream girl, of course.  Where else?"

Helpful.  I sigh and cross my arms.  "You know what I mean, Yonghwa.  Where specifically?  How do you even know where she is?"  Assuming he's telling the truth about that.

Yonghwa drops his arms.  He smiles conspiratorially at me.  "Trade secret, princess," he says.  "You must know that by now, surely."

Infuriating - but I need his help right now.  There's no time to get into an argument.  "Fine.  But at least tell me what we're doing."

Yonghwa's grin grows wider.

"We're going clubbing," he says.

Which is, of course, my least favorite thing to do.  Which Yonghwa knows.

Yonghwa chuckles at my look of horror.  "Come now, darling," he says, "it won't be all bad.  You do look beautiful, after all.  I'm sure plenty of people will like you tonight."  He hushes my protests with one finger, takes my hand.  "Listen," he says, looking me seriously in the eyes for once.  "Do you want to do this, or not?"

I roll my eyes.  If we're really going to do what he says, I'm about to be trapped in a dark, noisy room with hundreds of other people, probably drunk, probably sweaty and careless, and if Yonghwa's right about knowing where this girl is, the night will almost certainly end in heartbreak for me.  And more vodka.

"I'm certain," I say.

Yonghwa smirks - a smirk of triumph.  He knew I'd say that.

"I'm so glad to hear you've come around on this," he says, and steps away.  Rummages on my nightstand for a moment.  Pulls out a key - car keys.  He jangles them in one hand.

"Now, princess," he says, his catlike smile gleaming in the light of a thousand Seoul windows, "we dance."

I sigh and offer him a smile in return.  I'm going to need a lot of vodka when I get back.

--

A/N: Hello my dears!  I'm sorry it's been a bit long since I last updated, I've been totally flooded with college applications, aaaaah (my parents are mad at me for doing it this late, too X.X ).  Anyway, thank you so so much to everyone who commented below for all your lovely kind words!  I squee'd a little inside when I read them, your support really warms my heart *makes heart with hands because it won't show up as a text heart, stupid text box with a crappy editor* *but it's a really big heart* *cause I love you guys! So much asdhkkddj*

As you can see, I went with Seohyunnie's POV for this chapter - it felt more natural, but I promise I'll give Yuri her fair share of the spotlight next chapter!  (I keep thinking about this, but Yuri means lesbian love in Japanese culture, I like that, heh heh)  Also I'm going to actually specify all the cars Seohyun uses throughout the story because I'm a huge car nerd, I mean I'm so nerdy I'm sorry.  Any guesses as to what it might be?  (If you guess something I might end up taking that as a suggestion so go go guess away~ this is totally not an excuse to be lazy and crowdsource elements of my story, noooo)

I think that's a wrap for now!  Stay warm my lovelies (wear some socks)!  Until next time!