You are a 40-year old man who has been lounging in your private music studio in Gangnam when it hits.

Hwasa reportedly dating a businessman 12 years her senior for 5 years.

All you can see is a picture of the full two-page spread of a newspaper. You have always felt more assured with the feel of paper than with an online news portal that hurts your eyes nowadays. After sending someone, the newspaper in question is finally in your hand, and you take your time reading it. Your brow quirks upward curiously. It’s been a while since you were this intrigued to read a newspaper, of all media. Yet your eyes didn’t really cooperate as everything blurred and went dark, and there you are, dozing off on an ergonomic chair in front of the glass separator of your recording studio.

It’s still Friday.

THE MORNING BEFORE THE BULGARI SERPENTI EXHIBITION

"Oppaaa~"

The whiny, husky voice that you've gotten so used to hearing in the morning is approaching from behind, and tanned arms slither to your front, grasping your hand that is still in the middle of tying a complicated knot on a really simple full Windsor. You let out a short sigh of good intention. "We have talked about this. I have a sudden meeting near Busan, and you also have your event tonight." When she drowns her face into your back (the sight of her barely reaching your shoulder is almost hilarious), you turn around and she grabs both sides of your waist, blowing her cheeks in a pout. You put your hands on her shoulders to create distance.

"I want to go with you."

"It’s going to be a long, tedious meeting." You added, not pulling any punches or letting her get your soft part. "I will come to your apartment later tonight when everything has been sorted out, both yours and mine." The It woman of South Korea, who is still wearing a frown around , is difficult to ignore. A truly difficult task, but you’re always up for a challenge.

"But it’s been a long, long time since we met!"

"I know." You said it for the umpteenth time with the patience of explaining basic math to a struggling baby. "Today is your day too, isn't it? So it will be good if you can finally brush your teeth and change your pajamas." You cast a look at the Homer Simpson printed yellow pants with an equal amount of affection and disgust. She has been in them for a week. "And prepare yourself on time until they come to pick you up. Your stylist did ask you to arrive earlier, right?"

There is something about a set of jewelry worth hundreds of dollars that, if they were to lose it, dishonor their families, dishonor on their cows, including being left to rot in prison and their children being put out for adoption. Your girlfriend’s stylist does have a flair for dramatics, and it made you chuckle.

Silence ensues until you notice a pair of eyes bore into you, analyzing.

"You're thinking of someone else." She nodded. "Another woman."

You decide to entertain her with rolled eyes just for fun. ..."Technically, yes…" and manage to step aside in her way before she storm off with a huff. "I was just thinking about your stylists’ comment about the jewelries…"

Now your woman is wearing a sullen look. It is not a good look, and the fact that you’re standing before a performer who never fails to rob hearts across the country like a mad heart surgeon is simply surreal.

"I don’t want to leave…"

Finally, the fortress of firmness corroded, and you resigned with a shake of the head. "Should I carry you to the bathroom?" When her eyes sparkled, the thought of how you keep falling into the same trap many times left your mind as you crouch in front of her.

**

The procedure is simple.

One arm circling her waist and the other coiling around the bend of her knees. You are obviously more buff to lift her in one try; if not, it’s like she’s the one who has been losing weight. She literally weighs like a feather in your arms. You make a mental note to bring samgyetang tonight. The princess-style carry is easy enough; what’s difficult is this woman’s obvious attempt to turn it into something else.

"Stop tickling my wrist."

"Don't rub my chest."

"One more time, and I swear I will let go this instant."

Ahn Hyejin finally returns to her previous position: arms around your neck, pouting again. You thought it was cute, but you couldn't let it show on your face until her fingers absentmindedly traced your chin.

"There’s still stubble…"

You reminded her that the shaving was done in a hurry this morning.

Another long stare at the top of your head, and you knew. "I was going to dye it yesterday."

"Don’t."

You scoffed.

"Maybe I should, seeing how much you like it."

True to your prediction, Hyejin whined.

"You never listen to what I say, oppa."

"Really…" You push the bathroom door with an elbow. "Like…?"

"Every time I ask for a kiss—"

You cast a kiss on the crown of her head and quickly went out. "Just go and take a shower. A real shower."

A shriek can be heard from a distance.

"Not enough!"

SOMEWHERE BETWEEN FEBRUARY AND MARCH 2022

NEAR PLACE DU TERTRE

PARIS

The Paris air seeps into the bones this time of year. Full clad with a trench coat and layers of fabrics and sweaters inside, you stroll around the brick tiles near an old building, a little dazed and jet lagged, but it’s all worth it. After her nonstop nagging about being unable to slip a time between another and the incoming Louis Vuitton Summer Exhibition, she made you promise to come if you could finish your job ahead of time. Surprise, surprise, her prediction was accurate. Taking the earliest flight and spending hours watching movies and slouching around on the plane, you went to the point where they gathered.

Ahn Hyejin appeared in a leather jacket and high boots. You wonder if they didn’t get swept away in this freezing weather, but she’s never the type to care about this sort of thing. "Where are the others?"

"They