You’re never going to escape reality.

Someone like you should know that such selfless acts can lead to the destroy of the mass.

I woke up dizzy, disoriented and tired. The nightmare I had last night—the words that came out of the mouth of the person hidden in the shadows, still give me the creeps. Maybe he’s a friend of the landlord who lent the landlord money, but the landlord can’t pay him back because I haven’t paid our rent, or maybe a fan of Jiyong at school who confessed to him, but got turned down because he already has a girlfriend—but she won’t have that kind of voice since girls never had such deep and stern voice. We’re usually high-pitched or frog-pitched. Whoever that male creature hidden in the shadows was, I can’t just shake off the feeling that I don’t know him. He’s like someone that has been there for over whole my life.

I blinked twice as I stare at the ceiling, which pretty much looked like my ceiling back in my bedroom in Korea: battered butter-cream wallpaper, clean but old, calming to see both in day and night. I was about to be convinced that I was still in Korea when I heard a loud conversation near my door.

“Pouvez-vous produire une centaine de copies de cette?” (Can you produce about a hundred copies of this?) I heard Jiyong said, and I can’t help but laugh at his French though it’s something you won’t laugh at since he’s very good. It brings back bittersweet memories, the time we met in a mandatory French class when we were still freshmen. Jiyong never paid attention to the professor’s classes at all, but he’s so good at the language that hearing him would make you think it’s his second language. Back then, since we were a pair, he would make me do all the French homework and not help at all, saying that he’s too good that the homework would be useless. And look at us now.

A man answered him right away. “Oui, monsieur. Je vais envoyer les copies après une heure. Avez-vous besoin de plus?” (Yes, sir. I'll send the copies after an hour. Do you need anything more?)

I blushed, because it still made my hair stand on one end whenever I hear a French speak French.

Jiyong replies, “Non, rien d'autre. Vous pouvez aller maintenant. Je vais vérifier sur ma femme.” (No, nothing else. You can go now. I'll just check on my wife.) I blushed. He had told me a couple of times before going here that he wants to ask my father my hand in marriage, and he’s been talking about marriage a lot on the way here, but still hearing him say things such as wife still makes me giddy regardless of how many times they are pronounced.

The door suddenly clicked open, catching me surprised and that’s when I was brought up to reality. Jiyong sat on my bed, parallel to my hip and looked down at me with a playful smirk. Instinctively, I covered my already battered red face with both of my hands and complained, “You’re embarrassing me!”

He placed a hand on top of my hands, warming my already cold hands, and then he laughed. “What’s wrong with the name-calling? It suits you.”

“But we’re still not yet—“ I cut myself, too embarrassed to say anything with that topic. “I think we should be discreet.”

He laughed and disheveled my hair. “If you say so.” Then, he removed my hands away from my face using one hand, and pinched my nose. “You should get up because we’re starting the search today.”

My face brightened up almost immediately, and I grabbed his hand that was pinching my nose, giving it a squeeze. “Really?” I asked, brightly. “We’re going to search today?”

Using his free hand, he pinched his nose and made a sour face. “Yeah, after you take that stench off. You smell like a traveler that didn’t take a bath for three days.”

I squeezed his hand harder, too much pressure that it could break his bones, and he winced. “Kwon Jiyong!” I shouted.

Then he laughed again.

“Your Dad’s face is half and half.” Jiyong pointed out, looking at my father’s 22 year old photograph, and his whole face is rather heavier than I expected as he rest his chin on top of my shoulder blade.

I blinked twice, now judging my father’s picture critically than before. “Mom said that he’s half-Korean and half-French. His father has the French side.”

“That’s so cool.” Jiyong said, his voice sounded so amused and his face felt heavier than before with the sudden change of emotion. “But I was wondering, if you haven’t seen him since you were really young, how did your mother manage to bore Sanghyun and Durami?”

“I’ve asked Mom about that eon ago.” I replied, still looking at the picture even though Jiyong had set his sight on me. “Mom said that Dad snuck out of their hotel when his family had to stay in Korea for a short stop before their connecting flight. This happened for two times, of course with year-long gaps and Mom was impregnated after those nights, thus bearing Sanghyun and Durami. I never knew because he would be out before the morning comes, leaving only a rose and his jacket beside Mom on the bed.”

Jiyong removed his chin from my shoulder blade and whispered, “Your father’s pretty sly and… sort of powerful. He can impregnate women with just one night.”

I blushed, and my hand almost crumpled the photograph.

“But, setting that aside,” He shrugged. “I wonder why everyone looks at us as if we are a stupid couple whenever we ask them about your Dad’s picture.”

I looked at the photograph once again. Well, there was nothing wrong with my Dad’s picture, and he looked foreign in my eyes as before. He’s wearing a jersey, khaki pants and boots, in gear for intensive gardening. Mom took it when he was challenged by my grandfather in a game he called ‘Intense Chores’ wherein if my father successfully did the chores in a 1.008 hectare house, my grandfather will acknowledge his marriage with my mom, a thing my mother is pretty sensitive about so my dad had no choice but to agree. Mom said that Dad won in the end and his disappearance whatsoever isn’t related to the Intense Chores challenge.

But setting that all aside, everyone that we’ve asked about my dad always glares at us after seeing the picture, or if not, stares at us as if we’re the most stupid persons in the world. Jiyong didn’t like it, especially that he’s prideful, but I take it to another level. Never mind their stares. The question would be: Why would they stare? It’s not as if everyone knew my father to be staring at us uniformly. There must’ve been a certain reason why would they stare at us as if we’re a bunch of goons.

I was about to ask another French citizen when Jiyong pulled my sleeve and stopped me from walking. I turned to him, curiously and saw him looking up at the clear, dark blue sky. He looked worried. “They said that everyone should be in their houses before 8 p.m. I heard there’s a royal announcement.” (Assume that France is still under absolute monarchy.)

I sullenly looked at the sky too, and glumly agreed, “Yeah, I think we should go back.” I stuffed the photograph inside the hidden pockets in my jacket, and it felt heavy, as heavy as the burden inside my heart.

Jiyong instantly placed his hand on my shoulder, but no matter how warm his touch had been, I’m too depressed of stopping the search. I have this gut feeling that I’m near on finding my father. The clues are now being stitched together in my mind as a jigsaw puzzle waiting to be completed with one more piece. Just one more and I could’ve found my father already. Just one more…

Jiyong squeezed my shoulder. “We’re going to find him tomorrow, I promise. For today, let’s just go back and watch the royal announcement. As immigrants, we need to comply with the country’s regulations right?”

I nodded, reluctantly.

He kissed the top of my head, and I suddenly felt light-headed, my face flustered. “You’re still defiant as you are,” He said, amusement hinted in his voice. “But I’m always here to pull you back whenever you’re one step too early.”

I squirmed, leaning my body towards him and nodded, eagerly.

I blinked twice once I opened the door to our condominium, finding the whole place peculiar than it was before. Of course, the lights are turned off like before we left, but there’s this kind of weird silence inside, as if someone refusing to make any sound is inside.

I looked over my shoulder, to seek Jiyong for advice. “Hey...” I started, but my voice trailed off immediately when I realized he wasn’t there. I looked around the hallway, but only to find it empty.

I shrugged and looked back towards the condominium. Definitely, there’s something off inside, especially now. I felt like there’s some kind of evening breeze rotating inside the room. The room feels colder, much colder.

Discarding the negative thoughts, I went inside, locked the door and the lights. There was a sudden popping sound from someplace inside the room, sort of like an inside firecracker, and I was taken so much aback I shouted all the profanities in the Korean dictionary. My shouting subsided, the lights in front of me subsided and I found Jiyong grinning ear-to-ear in front of me.

Before I say anything about his attitude, a song played from the television, “Joyeux anniversaire. Joyeux anniversaire. Joyeux anniversaire, Sandara. Joyeux anniversaire!”

I stared at the television screen, tearful and speechless as my family and my closest friends show themselves through a webcam chat, their faces slightly blurry. My family was at the front already in their pajamas, while my friends were all at the back standing, wearing their party clothes. Bom was glaring at Top, her arms crossed in annoyance and before I could say anything, she shouted, “Choi Seunghyun you pronounced the anniversaire wrong! You wasted all that practice!”

“Come on, Bom Noona.” Seungri complained, covering his ears using both of his hands because Bom’s voice was too loud for his ears to take. I experienced that too firsthand. “We already sang the song. If you want to make it right again, you should’ve invented a rewind button for real life first.”

Bom pumped her fists in front of her, and shouted again right in his covered ear, “But we could sing it again!”

Top rolled his eyes. “No, we’re not.  I’m never going to sing it again.” Then he looked at us, his lips twisted into a playful smirk. “What about I dance, eh?”

Chaerin rolled her eyes while Minzy covered hers. “No, not that Oppa.”

Bom pumped her fists and threw it in the air. “Let’s just sing! Sing!”

Taeyang laughed, shaking his head. He looked like he had enough.

My family started, “Joyeux anniversaire—“

I cut them all off. “Everyone!”

They all stopped in midway, which by the way made it look like I pushed the pause button, and stared at me.  It had gone off for a few minutes, their eyes blinking rapidly as they stare at me and when they realized who I was, in unison they shouted, “Happy birthday, Sandara!”

I laughed. “Thanks. How’re you guys?”

Top and Bom answered in unison, “It has only been two days, Dara.”

I sat on the couch facing the television as they simultaneously talk, and I was surprised to see a cake on top of the center table, just in front of me. I looked up curiously and Jiyong shrugged, only saying, “Surprise?”

I looked back at the cake, and Jiyong lighted the candles up one by one, all twenty three of them while the people at the other side of the screen started to sing Happy Birthday in Korean.  Jiyong sat beside me and joined in with the singing, though his version is way hotter. When they were finished, I bit my lip and deliberately thought of a wish.

I closed my eyes. Please let me find my father and let me be with Jiyong always.

I opened them again and blew all the candles at once. Everyone clapped and I gaze up at the screen with happiness, giddy happiness. I didn’t really realize it was my birthday because the time difference confuses me, that’s why all this time I thought I’m going to celebrate my birthday tomorrow.

My mother smiled and started, “Sandara, there’s something—“

Her speech was cut off when the screen crashed, their faces being distorted with different colors. Jiyong grabbed the remote control and started to push different buttons. “Maybe it’s a lag or something. I thought Armistead fixed this beforehand.”

Jiyong’s attempts were all futile, every push of the button won’t work, and the television screen won’t show their faces anymore, its screen static black. Frustrated, he threw the remote control somewhere in the room and stood up. “I’m going to get something to drink.” He said and his footsteps echoed around the condominium.

The television suddenly started showing different kinds of colors, and this blinding flash of colors was replaced after a few seconds by a foreigner wearing formal clothes, something that’s near to the clothes of a King. I ‘oohed’.

It’s time for the royal announcement.  

Jiyong sat beside me, placing a can of beer on top of the center table. In my peripheral view, he now looked relaxed. “Oh, it’s time already? I thought it’s going to start at eight?”

I shrugged. “Maybe they decided to air it earlier.”

The King cleared his throat, his smile was too perfect it could’ve been fake and began, “It has been twenty three years since you’ve chosen me as your ruler and I’m absolutely indebted to your warm hospitality despite of my ethnicities.”

My eyes retracted. I’ve seen that face before. It’s like a puzzle with a missing piece… no, this is the missing piece. This is the missing piece in my puzzle!

I immediately retrieved my father’s photograph from my jacket. After taking a sip from his beer, Jiyong noticed what I was doing, and he said, “What is it?”

I fumbled with the picture, tears now starting to form in my eyes. “D-Dad,” I tried to say and I bawled when I accidentally tore the picture in half. , I’m starting tearing apart.

Jiyong grabbed the picture in my hands, hastily before I tore them into smaller pieces and combined the two pieces together; forming it into a whole again, then he moved it near to the television screen, beside the King’s face.

I covered my face with both of my hands as the tears uncontrollably stroll down my cheeks and they grew louder when Jiyong wrapped me into an embrace. My whole body was too weak, too weak that I can’t even move anymore. I can’t hear anything anymore. I can’t see anything anymore. And the truth, the truth is now clear.

The King is my father

He’d spend my birthday with me and my family