Nayoung’s POV

For the umpteenth time that afternoon, I step out of the dressing room, feeling more and more self-conscious every time I do.

I look at Hyukjae Oppa in front of me as he gapes at me, his face a mix of astonishment and admiration. I smooth out my dress for the last time and lift my head again. I give him a rather hard look, hoping he would finally get the message I pass him through my eyes.

Let’s get out of here. Let’s get out of here. Let’s-

A skinny, thirty-something woman suddenly pops out in my sight and I almost suffer a heart failure. I put a hand over my heart. God, that creepy shopkeeper again. She’s never failed to shock me with her abrupt appearances.

The woman looks at me – at my dress, more particularly – as if I were an original Monalisa painting on a very rare exhibition. “And this, Mr. Lee, is really a work of art. A master piece. Tour de force-”

“I get it, uh, Yerim-ssi.” Hyukjae Oppa is still trying to be polite, glancing at her nametag, while I’m already rolling my eyes at the comment. He stands up from his comfortable position on the creamy couch. He walks over to me, regarding me closely with a smile on his face. He shoves his hands into his pocket pants.

He is starting to speak when the woman beats it to him. “It looks perfect on her, sir. She looks magnificent. The dress brings out her lovely eye color, her legs look longer, and,” she says, as if I’m invisible to them, and produces a gold purse out of nowhere, “This handbag would complete the view. Let’s see,” She slips the small purse into my right hand and claps her hands noisily. “Oh my God, I was right! It looks lovely!”

Hyukjae Oppa, seeming to be hypnotized with everything the woman says, nods correspondingly and s his MasterCard to her. “We’re taking them.”

I whip my head at him in disagreement.

“The dress and the high heels?” she asks too eagerly.

“Yes.”

“The purse, too?”

“The purse too.”

“Perfect!” she squeaks. “Could you please sit here and wait while we wrap the dresses and everything, or,” her face gleams wickedly. “You can browse through the tuxes, the dresses again, the-”

“I think that’s enough.” I cut off her babble with a pointed look. Is she trying to drain his wallet or what?

The woman turns and narrows her eyes slightly at me, looking a little displeased. The look is vanished in a flash when she’s back to her happy-shopkeeper mode and soon her wide smile is back. To Hyukjae Oppa. “Very well, then. Please wait here comfortably.” Then she walks over to the cashier counter and mumbles something to her co-worker.

I look around me, surveying the enormous boutique and all the things in the room. There are dresses, blouses, evening gowns, purses, sandals, heels – pretty much everything to wear. Only in heart-breaking prices.

I sigh to myself. Why are we here now? I mean, we’re in Jeju Island. There are so many things to see – the beaches, the historical monuments... oh, and ice cream parlors – rather than this kind of high-priced boutiques. We have plenty of places like this in Seoul.

Yet we’re here now. Why? Because I forgot my dress for Hyukjae Oppa’s friend’s wedding tomorrow afternoon.

I know, stupid me. If I didn’t forget the dress, we wouldn’t be in this boutique for hours like what we’re exactly doing now.

The woman from earlier starts scanning the price tags of my four dresses, three purses, and four pairs of high heels. Yes, we’re buying them all. And that doesn’t even count the ones I’m wearing right now. I narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest.

“You don’t seem too happy.” Hyukjae Oppa observes.

Should I be happy that he finally notices that?

I snap my head at him, making him cringe. “You bought me all that stuff, why wouldn’t I be happy?” sarcasm is dripping in my voice as I turn my back to him and head back for the dressing room.

“Nana,” His hand catches my wrist.

I sigh and spin my body to face him. “Why are we buying those things? We're attending one wedding. Not four. I don't need that many.”

“They look perfect on you.”

“That’s what the shopkeeper says.”

“They do look perfect on you. She’s just stating the obvious.” He says. I try my best not to roll my eyes at him.

“That’s because she wants us to buy everything she offers to us.” I deadpan. “And guess what, you’re buying everything she offers to us!”

“Nana, I know how you love dresses, how you-” he pauses when I knit my eyebrows at him. He sighs. “I just want you happy.”

“I know. And thank you for bringing me here.” I exhale heavily. “But this is not what really makes me happy. I love shopping, but it’s your company that makes me content. Shopping is not even on my to-do list, Oppa.”

He slides his hand from my wrist to my hand. “Alright. Sorry.”

I smile and squeeze his hand. “Can we eat now? I’m famished.”

And so a few minutes later we’re in his car, a silver European convertible that I believe was just imported less than a month ago. No need to mention the price, I guess. I don’t need another heart failure after looking around in the cabin of his private jet.

He drives the car easily, occasionally flashing me smiles and asking if I’m comfortable enough with everything. For these wealth and all, silently I’m wondering. Is it this the kind of lifestyle that he’s been trying to reach? That’s why he was so focused on his dream to inherit his family’s Company. Now that he’s got them all, is he happy now?

“Something on your mind?” Hyukjae Oppa realizes my gaze on him.

“I’m just thinking... are you happy now?” I blurt out.

He takes one hand from the steering wheel and grabs mine on my lap. “Of course. You’re here. Why wouldn’t I?”

I can’t help but smile at that.

“No, I mean,” I’m starting to feel a little hesitant with my next wording. “With all these wealth, the properties. You’ve achieved so many. Are you happy with it?”

Hyukjae Oppa sighs, and I wonder if my question has somehow offended him because the smile on his lips is gone.

“I’ll be lying if I say I’m not happy with this.” He says seriously.

I stare at his profile intently. Hyukjae Oppa wasn’t one to be ecstatic about having things. But now he kind of is. What's changed him?

“I used to think that it’s not all about money. It’s not fortune that really matters.”  He says, his eyebrows furrowing together. “But then I started to learn that in fact, it is. Money matters. Money becomes essential because it controls people.” He smiles bitterly and shakes his head. “I’ve learned so much, Nana. Everything – right or wrong – can be done with money. It gives us power. It gives us justifications. Just snap your fingers and you can make... or break someone.”

I really don’t like this new side of him. I peer up at him, under my eyelashes. I wonder if what he says is directly from his heart, because I believe it’s only his brain that is fogged up with that kind of theory.

Or at least, I hope so.

He seems to be deep in his thought as he says that.

“When I was nothing, I could only be broken. I had to work hard – very hard, to make or break people.” His eyes darken. “The weak ones are the losing ones. My grandfather taught me that.”

His grandfather. The arrogant one that was our high school headmaster?

“Did he ever break you?” The question flows freely through my lips before my brain-to-mouth filter can work properly, and I immediately feel the need to slap my mouth shut.

What kind of question was that, Kang Nayoung?

He almost scoffs at my question. Hyukjae Oppa takes a long pause to answer that, and all the time he’s been avoiding my gaze.

“No. Of course not. Not me.” He says after some moment, releasing my hand and placing both hands on the steering wheel, before giving it a death grip causing his knuckles to turn white. “He breaks everything that gets into his way,” He says. “And I am his way, so obviously he wouldn’t break me. It’s everything that gets between me and his goal that he breaks.”

The tone and voice he’s using is cold, very cold, dripping with ice and bitterness. Suddenly the air around us is tense and becoming thick enough to be sliced with a knife.

 I’ve never seen him like this. Is it wrong to interpret that he hates his grandfather?

I wonder why...

“Hyukjae Oppa,”

“What do you want to eat? There’s a steakhouse over there and I heard it’s quite famous here. Want to try?” he points an index finger at a restaurant on our right side.

I understand immediately. He doesn’t want to prolong this conversation. Maybe it’s a sensitive topic for him and he doesn’t want anyone to probe any further.

I nod my head, giving him a supporting smile as he pulls up to the restaurant’s parking lot.

The restaurant is not as fancy as what I thought. Actually, it’s just a normal steakhouse, and I won’t complain with it. The luxury he’s been giving me is a little suffocating, to be honest, so it feels good to have this kind of normalcy.

We order a bottle of white wine and rib eye steaks, then ice cream for the dessert. Hyukjae Oppa looks a bit distant after that conversation, and I decide maybe it’s necessary to give him some room for himself. Maybe he needs to think over... something.

“This is delicious!” a voice exclaims gleefully from the table next to ours.

I turn my head to the voice and find a teenage girl, maybe a high schooler or something, holding up a glass of wine to . She takes another sip as a middle-aged woman, most probably her mother, regards her closely.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. I don’t want to drive a drunken daughter home and get scolded by your father.” The woman warns, though her voice is soft and tender... and loving.

“Eomma,” the younger girl whines.

“That pleading eyes won’t work on me, little girl.”

“Fine.” She huffs, but then shrugs, as I know how teenager’s moods are swinging more frequently than they eat. “That was delicious, though. When will you teach me to drink soju?”

“Soju is stronger than wine, dear. Maybe you won’t be tasting it until you’re 18.” The daughter is about to pout when her mother adds, “Wine is much more delicious than Soju, don’t worry.”

The teenage girl beams. “Thanks for letting me taste this then.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

I feel the overwhelming need to look away when the mother reaches to pat her daughter’s head. I look at my fingers as I fidget them on the table.

My mother... God, my mother, how is she now? Where is she? Does she miss me?

I... I miss her.

A hand stretches out and grabs my fidgeting ones. “Nana,”

I struggle to form words.

“I remember this day when... when my mother taught me how to drink alcohol, and,” I shrug and look over to the pair next to us. “They remind me of me and... my mom. I miss her.”

Daeyoung Oppa has repeatedly told me that our mother... she doesn’t deserve our tears of longing. She doesn’t deserve us. The moment she ran away from our house, she ran away from our lives.

My mother is a daughter of a very wealthy businessman. She’s used to luxury and possessing luxurious things, so obviously she couldn’t take it very well when her husband lost control of Kangsan.

Yes, Kangsan Group has gone into bankruptcy once, although with some miracle we could stand vertically again.

Though unfortunately, by then, she was already gone from our lives.

My father was too heart-broken to have the desire to find her. He was expecting a wife that would accept him wholly, no matter he was rising or falling.

And my mother has given up on him. She disappointed him... us.

I sigh. Maybe they’re just not for each other. Maybe it’s better that I lost a motherly figure.

Maybe my mother would just be more depressed if she didn’t run away; if she had to find the fact that her only daughter wasn’t getting into a precious university and instead, getting into a coma after trying to kill herself in a car accident.

Thinking about this, I don’t feel tears forming in my eyes anymore. I’ve been through this far too many times in my head and I’m almost numb to it now.

God, I’m pathetic.

“I’m sorry.” Hyukjae Oppa’s broken voice pulls me out of my reverie.

I lift my head to meet his gaze, eyes wide. Something sounds off in his tone... Was it guilt that I heard in his voice?

“Nana, I think,” he takes a deep breath. My hand is still in his grasp and I feel his fingers getting cold. His eyes look darker when they finally meet mine. “I think I need to tell you something.”

Ahhh finally I can breathe! It's semester holiday! Yaaaay.

It's been sooo long since I left author notes at the end of my chapters. I've been kind of on and off with this story but I think I'm quite determined to continue this. Anyway, I didn't mean to leave this chapter hanging, really! I just left it like that so I could remember what to write for the next chapter because honestly, I've always been a little confused as to how to continue each chapter, because, well, I haven't been updating very regularly. Sorry for that :'')

Anyway, a few days ago I saw Lee Hyukjae. Like, the REAL Lee Hyukjae. God. Okay, so I went to SS5. And I saw them. All of them. And I've been torturing my throat. I've been screaming so much, especially along Hyukjae's and Kyuhyun's lines hahahah.

Frankly, I don't really like Hyukjae's hair now. Red-orange is just not for him. Well, at least for me it isn't. Black or dark brown or red or blond is. But anyway, he's beautiful, like, SO beautiful in real life. Kyuhyun too. Donghae too. Oh, they all are just beautiful. Have I mentioned that Hyukjae's famous six pack is back?

Okay, I'm blabbering. Anyway, I'm in love with EXO's new album now. All of the songs are easy listening. If you haven't listened to it, you better try hihi.

Aw it's getting too looong -__-

This might be the longest author's note ever. I'll try to update ASAP ^^