Bo-Ra eased her white Ferrari beneath the wide awning framing the front entrance of the Seocho district high-rise. The building’s doorman, a middle aged man just a tad too plump for his silver-buttoned coat tails, slouched on his heels near the lobby door. His cell phone was pressed to one ear and a cigarette dangled from his lips. He straightened as she shifted the Ferrari into park. Bo-Ra watched in her side mirror as the cigarette disappeared behind a concrete planter of wilting petunias, and the doorman quickly pivoted, held his phone up at arm’s length and took a selca of himself grinning lecherously while the tail end of the white sports car. Bo-Ra rolled her eyes.

She checked her GPS a second time, but the result was unchanged. This was indeed the place where her Seung-Bae lived. The building itself seemed adequate, but the staff left much to be desired. To leave Seung-Bae in the hands of such incompetence was a travesty, but the poor boy’s mother had died, and men really understood so little about such things.  She was, when she stopped to think about it, doing him a favor in more ways than one. Bo-Ra let the engine idle as she eyed the lobby entrance and gathered herself.

Showing up unannounced at Seung-Bae’s home was brazen, but Bo-Ra was certain this was the approach she needed to take with him. She would offer her apologizes for her father’s  tactless behavior at dinner the evening before, and then she would assert herself into his life, as a friend of course – an old school friend who had only his best interests in mind. Then, she would cleverly expose the foreign girl’s true intentions. And in the end, when Seung-Bae finally saw the ugly truth and fell into despair, Bo-Ra would be there to catch him.

She flipped the visor down and checked her reflection in the mirror. Her long hair was curled into a gentle wave, and her makeup was soft and natural giving her an air of innocence. As always, she looked perfect.

Beside her, on the soft, tan leather of the Ferrai’s passenger seat was a bag of sandwiches and pastries she’d picked up at a popular French café in east Gangnam. She would introduce herself to Seung-Bae’s friends along with the bribe of free gourmet food, and then offer to take them for a drive through the city in the white Ferrari. She ran her fingertips over the black molded-leather steering wheel. If she could get Seung-Bae in the driver’s seat and let him taste the thrill of car’s powerful engine, she knew she could begin to sway him. The car was a physical metaphor for the lifestyle she could offer him. Ultimately, how could he refuse?

Bo-Ra smiled smugly to herself and rubbed her hands together. It was a good plan. She pushed open the car door and slid one high-heeled foot out onto the pavement. And then she froze.

Several meters ahead, the red-headed foreigner stumbled out of the lobby entrance. The girl was soaking wet and shoeless, her white dress clung brazenly to the curves and crevasses of bare skin beneath, but she seemed completely oblivious to her physical state. She glanced over her shoulder fearfully and then hurried along the sidewalk towards the street.

Bo-Ra was stunned. Not only was the girl shameless, but she had to be crazy.

Climbing back into the Ferrarai, Bo-Ra revved the engine, circled the drive and raced out into the street in pursuit.