Did you ever have that feeling of waking up early in the morning when you think you don’t have reason to be, and suddenly, you remember you have a paper due that day, a long one, but you haven’t done it? Or probably that feeling of coming to consciousness and being worried about something real bad that hasn’t even happened yet but is imminent?

Doesn’t it just push you to the edge of your sanity as panic surges into your system like cold water being injected into your bloodstream, enough to induce an imaginary headache which physically hurts just the same, enough to get you shooting upright on your bed and scrambling onto your feet as if your life depended on it?

It felt like that. Except that my sanity is intact, unfortunately, giving me no excuse for whatever stupidity I now realize I have subjected myself into. Except that instead of feeling my blood run cold, I felt it bubble in heat at the top of my head, and that the pounding pain I felt wasn’t imagined and hurt like a . I shot up in a sitting position, too, except that I wasn’t in my bed. The cherry on top? I’m not alone.

That familiar tuft of glaring blond hair I have a love-hate relationship with sticking out from under the duvet captured my attention immediately, not to mention the rather bare feeling I had underneath the covers. I slowly looked under the blanket to check like how a child looking into its closet for hidden monsters would. I got more than what I’ve wrought when I saw the equally clothes-less person lying beside me, eyes closed and seemingly in a peaceful dream.

He’s gorgeous.

I had to slap myself, literally, to snap out of my delusions. That’s when I realized I messed up. Rules are rules and the first rule says you don’t with friends, that’s taking the word in all its sense. . It’s a catastrophe. No other word for it.

I eased out from under the covers, - running around the room to retrieve my clothes. My jeans were on the floor with my red lace . Embarrassingly enough, the matching bra was hanging on the lampshade on the nightstand. I don’t remember it being that wild. It was rather slow and… I shook my head. That’s not even what got me upset.

I always wear matching underwear. It’s a habit, always have been. It keeps things more organized, or at least I’d like to think so, but they say that when a woman uses matching underwear on a day that she will meet with a guy, it’s her decision that more or less, she’s getting laid. Ugh! That wasn’t the intention at all.

I looked at the bed where the person I did the deed with was sleeping. He’s beautiful in his waking hours and even more so when he’s asleep. Doesn’t this person cease to be this good-looking? It’s annoying. More than that being annoying, it’s like a reminder of how hard it is not to engage in such activities with this person, not that I thought about it before this whole mess.

He’s gorgeous, not the conventional type of gorgeous, just my type of gorgeous, tall and on the slim side. I’ve always preferred lanky guys over buff ones, or those who appeared to be thin but have some guns underneath.

And did I mention he’s pretty? He’s so damned pretty. Then again, maybe it’s just me and my clouded judgment.

On top of that, he’s one of my closest friends, really dear and close to the heart, someone I can never afford to lose cause I think it’ll devastate me more than my previous breakup did.

I came to my senses and felt my face rearrange into a horrified mask. I just had with that very person. No, no, no, no, no! I shivered at the thought of it. He’s hot and all that, but damn it, I’m very stupid to have succumbed to this. Where did the level-headed, prudent, smart, business-minded, detached side of me go? Really? I just felt like a goddamn snail on the cold ground, except that someone pulled my shell off of my body, leaving me defenseless against the elements.

I tiptoed towards the door where I found my angora pull over, putting on everything as I made my way towards the door with one thing in mind – escape. Things are already as bad as they looked like and I am worsening the problem by walking out on him early in the morning before he wakes up after a night of intimacy.

I’m such a , but I can’t face him either. Not after this. Not after I practically screamed his name in pleasure when that shouldn’t have happened. The thought makes me cringe, but what can I possibly do to undo things? It’s done. I’m ed!

I didn’t see anyone as I made my way out of the apartment, immediately grabbing my bag and fishing for the keys inside. Once I was safely out of the main door, I ran towards the elevator as if something was hot on my heels, chasing me, but really there wasn’t anyone or anything behind me.

I just needed to distance myself from their dorm…and that damned pretty creature.

****

Winter, the season I’ve learned to hate through my two and a half continual stay in Seoul. It’s bitingly cold, so much so that it made think that some people’s personal hell, including mine, was made of sleet and snow, not that I do not take scorching flames into consideration. It’s probably a combination of both.

I hated winter ever since I’ve made the decision to settle down in the country for some reasons which are valid enough and deeper excuses I do not give a damn talking about. The first time I stayed for a week-long visit, it was winter, another February in the past. It’s the root of all the reasons I came back the following May to temporarily settle. Ironic, but Germany will always be home, not Korea.

The following winter, I almost got into a road accident because of the slippery roads. It’s weird cause I got chains on my tires, I don’t drive that fast, and it never happened before, like never. Before Christmas, I dislocated my elbow after slipping on the sidewalk while wearing the proper shoes. Before the year ended and before my elbow could even get the chance to recover, I broke my ankle. The elevator at my apartment wasn’t working so I had to use the stairs. Melted snow on tiles sealed my fate. I’m fortunate enough not to have fallen from the top of the stairs, just three steps to go.

I don’t have bad kinesthetic coordination. I’m not even what people referred to as clumsy. Some people are just insensitive and reluctant to cooperate. The home owners’ association should have heard about my condition, but a fight, which was sure to ensue, was the last thing I wanted that time. It was New Year for crying out loud!

I hate winter because despite the deadness of the surroundings, it’s the busiest season of the year for me. Inventories, meetings, tying up loose ends before the last number in the year goes up a notch, you name it. It’s the time of the year when I feel like the whole world was breathing down my neck.

I remember that day. It was some time in the latter half of February. That’s about right. Roughly a day before, I just came from a flight from Germany since it was my mother’s birthday. It’s an occasion I can never ever miss, not when it’s forty fourth and it’s still the bomb.

Despite that, I’m in the office. I loved my office so much it has become my second home. It had a nice view of downtown Seoul, from the twenty sixth floor, only spanning a quarter of the whole floor area. Not too big, not too small. Just enough to have a wide workspace, a conference room, a kitchen, two separate resting quarters, and a lounge. My employees loved it as much as I did I didn’t need any inaccurate mobile application to see how the traffic conditions are.  I love it because it’s mine. That’s the best thing about it.

My office is like the brain connected to all of the business deals I do from the cosmetics brand franchise I own to the investments I am monitoring through the help of my minions. It’s where everything happens and I don’t think I’ll be anywhere near where I am if I did not put this up. It started small. I’m not a successful tycoon yet, just a normal business person, but I’m proud of how far I’ve come without anybody’s backing. If you must know, I still go broke from time to time.

“Mr. Kang from BigHit wants to set a meeting,” Jo Seulgi, my secretary slash henchman, told me as I was making my way out of my office, trying to put on my jacket while balancing my bag and struggling to swipe the screen of my phone which was currently ringing.

“When’s my earliest available time after this week?” I asked before answering the phone. Kang is the representative of the business end of BigHit, one of them many talent agencies in the country and producer of one of the most successful groups to date, Bangtan Seonyeondan. It’s a mouthful and the literal meaning of the name is quite as ridiculous as they are amazing performers. I refer to them as BTS like everyone does, my last biggest investment after buying shares from SM Entertainment, the star factory.

‘Are you back? Obviously you are or you won’t be answering this line.’ Speak of the devil or anything related to it and it appears. ‘When did you get back?’

“I’m kinda busy right now –”

“The twenty fifth,” Seulgi told me as she scanned