i. "The Bartender"  

  “I know I just serve drinks, but people tend to find comfort in telling me everything,”  

“To Jungkook and Yein, may the future be fruitful for them,” a man spoke, his eyes creasing softly and with much pride. The age of his eyes couldn’t be described as crow feet, they were simply wrinkled from hard work and dedication that became physically engraved on his visage.

“To them,” responded the entire room. Their glasses raising in happiness before their lips were drenched in the sweetness and bitterness of champagne.

The eyes of the entire guest list were sparkling in delight but, their smiles were just as feign as their class. Many of them didn’t care about the fruitful future they just toasted to, nor the happiness of the soon to be married couple. They only cared about being on the invitation list for the wedding, and hopefully, in the heir’s good book for when his word becomes a command.

The boy who had the attention of the room clenched his jaw. Champagne not being a strong enough alcohol to make him forget the long term commitment the ring on his finger now had him in. He would be drowning an entire bottle of soju right now if it wasn’t for this engagement party.

He couldn’t even enjoy his misery alone, he was forced to put on a feign smile. He’s been faking his smile for years, for him it was no problem faking happiness, it was faking his actual interest in talking to all these people.

“How are you holding up?” His step-brother walked up to him. The light and soft voice of the older somehow triggering the boy’s desire to cry. He just wanted to run away and not look back because the question only made him realize he was already tumbling.

“I want to jump of this building to my death,” the boy spoke, knowing all too well himself that he had a natural talent to make everything very dramatic.

The older boy scoffed, amused that the younger would describe his stability in the most unstable and insane way possible. The insanity of his words were always very sarcastic, but the younger knew no one will take it seriously, even if he meant his overdramatic words to an extent.

“Jungkook-ah, it’ll be easier than you expect. You just have to collaborate, put in your part,” the older spoke. His eyes getting lost in the crowd as he looked over all the guest only to spot his own wife having, what looked like, a splendid time with Yein. He spoke from experience because he too was tied off to someone he didn’t love.

“I know Jin, but it’s still very hard,” the younger dropped formalities, nearly forgetting that he’s not allowed to until after the wedding. Since Jin was only a step-brother, the value of his name was not as high as Jungkook’s, Jin only had age. When the marriage is finalized, they would become completely equals. Jin rolled his eyes heavily to the side, not really in the mood to be yelling at the younger for something so minor as formalities.

“Yein-ssi is more easy going than my nightmare,” Jin spoke, his hand stretching out to get a tall yet chubby glass of wine. That was his fourth glass of wine. To him, the juice of spoiled grapes was simply too weak compared to whiskey. Especially when every glass was simply filed one fourth of the way.

“What’s the easiest way out of here?” Jungkook asked, having had enough of this party. The entire night he was feeling suffocated at all of the luxury and feign kindness. His entire world was full of materialism to the point that people were no longer people, but walking banks waiting to be feed money and power.

“Why?” Jin asked, having drowned majority of this wine in one go. The two boys have become too comfortable drinking. Every time they decided to drink, they made a new record of how many glasses they needed to get completely drunk.

“I’m going to the bar, where they serve real alcohol,” Jungkook spoke, his tall and slim glass already empty. It had been empty, he drowned the entire thing on the toast. Before Yein even left his side that glass was gone.

“Oh little brother,” Jin spoke, disapproval tinting his words but an idea lighting his eyes. The idea of going to a bar was too tempting to pass up, and like the older step brother he was, he always came up with the perfect ideas.

So, before anyone could even object, the two boys were headed out of the building. Fake blood pooling down Jungkook’s hand as all they left behind was the soon to be bride worried sick and a broken bottle of wine.

As the music blasted in the car, Jungkook rested his head against the widow. The cold and very refreshing glass making him shiver. But it’s the fact that he was feeling something, that was comforting.

At times, he wondered if he even had feeling anymore. His own father doesn’t seem to have a heart to let his son be happy in his own way. At times, he finds himself not caring who he was hurting with his own guilty actions.

Jungkook was simply a time bomb ticking.

His entire life he has been told what to do and when to do it. He can’t even decide how to dress himself because his mother always said, “the son of a CEO must always look like the son of a CEO,” which made no sense. It wasn’t until he reached the 8^th grade that he realized what she meant. The son of an important man must always dress as if he too was important, not like a common kid.

All of the rules he had to follow and all of the regulations, all of the life choices made for him materialized anger, frustration, despair and misery. So much negative energy compressed inside one human soul made a time bomb, and there will be a moment when all of that will blow.

When, was the only question.

He was already resorting on alcohol to heavily numb his pain and make him forget, for a bit, of who he was. He wondered when that won’t be enough anymore, and he’d finally explode at the world.

“What can I get you gentlemen?” The bartender spoke, his black dress shirt buttoned almost all the way up. His dark hair was drenched in sweat as his shirt smelled of spilled alcohol drinks and drunk women trying to get his number.

“I’ll have a whiskey filled with ice, a two to one ratio, cola,” Jungkook spoke, feeling the need to get into his drunk state faster. He slumped heavily on the counter, his hand covered in dry blood as Jin disappeared somewhere to the side to talk to people he’s befriended from past visits to this bar.

Jungkook, unlike Jin, never had time for friends. Better yet, he never wanted friends. Just like his clothes, those were chosen for him too. And all the friends that were chosen for him were all equally stuck up they practically had gold coins up their . They were in the same state as he was, but the difference was that he believed himself to be a little bit more aware that the world isn’t all about money.

The man slammed a bill on the counter as soon as the bartended placed his drink in front of him. The bartender looked at him in slight worry and concern. His eyebrows raised in slight pity as he saw the man drink from the glass with ease. Jungkook wasn’t aware that he basically radiated misery every time he was slumped over a glass of alcohol in a bar.

“You seem to be having a great day,” the bartender spoke, his tall figure towering over Jungkook. His sarcastic comment was not welcomed warmly, but the moment Jungkook looked up to look at the man, his words getting caught in his throat.

The man simply looked at him with concern. His milky white skin slightly hidden in the dim lights as his round and youthful face simply stared with a faint smile.

Jungkook scoffed, finding it amusing that that was the first genuine smile he’s seen all night. A smile of amusement, that was created by pity, but it was still a smile that was sincere towards a feeling.

“Best day of my life,” he retorted, his lips tugging into a miserable smile as he rolled his eyes and went back to staring at his glass.

He has never had a good day in his entire life. His graduation from high school was not a great day, even if he was beyond excited to be leaving that hell hole of private schooling. His admittance to Yonsei University didn’t bring him smiles, no one even congratulated him at all because it was obvious nothing less was expected. None of his birthdays, none of his Christmas celebrations, no day has been a good day for him.

No day is a good day when he had to come home to hear a full discourse of the company he will be managing soon, because he always had the realization that his life was not his. His life was controlled.

“I know I just serve drinks, but people tend to find comfort in telling me everything,” the man spoke, his hands stretching out as he leaned against the counter. His entire work shifts consist of getting hit on by girls who can’t even remember if they have a boyfriend or a husband. And men spilling drinks over being heartbroken.

“You’re not confidential enough for me to even be talking to,” Jungkook spoke, his throat not even burning at another gulp of alcohol. Even if it was more loaded with whiskey than cola.

“Here is the best part, who the hell will believe a bartender,” he spoke, his voice slightly agitated. He didn’t think he was being that much of a bother. He was simply offering himself as an ear but like always, the ones who look like own foreign sports cars always bite back.

Jungkook realized what he had said. And he gripped his glass a little tighter, hoping he’d feel the cold ice inside to affirm that he was not heartless, that he still had a heart and feelings.

But as the bartender walked away, feeling slightly hurt that he was told he wasn’t even high enough in society to hear out a man full of misery, Jungkook knew he was losing his heart. He was slowly becoming a materialistic bank waiting to be feed money and power, just like everyone at the party who he was insulting in his subconscious.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t like talking about anything to anyone,” the boy whispered, feeling the deep desire to fix it so that his heart would be a little less cold.

The past few years, this is how it has been. His thoughts, his inner demons hidden inside him, never finding an escape. He also has a habit of speaking like the people he hated, the people that surrounded him, only to feel a deep desire to prove he wasn’t like those people at all.

He had a complex mind, a mind no one would understand. He had a way of thinking and feeling that no one will comprehend.

“I get it, but you look like someone who needs to talk to a special doctor,” the bartender spoke, coming back with a red cloth and a business car in between his fingers. He looked at him with sincere eyes before pulling out the bottle of whiskey and refilling the glass two thirds of the way up before filling it to the brim with dark cola.

“I’m not insane,” Jungkook spoke, his voice small and hidden. The laughter of Jin and a few other men and women echoed painfully in the bar. A special doctor is a simple way to say phycologist, or something dealing with therapy. He wasn’t crazy, he was simply living in a crazy world.

“I’m not saying you are. Sometimes you just need to talk about your ty life because we all live in a ty world. Why else am I behind this counter?” The man spoke, his voice full of attitude that didn’t sugar coat his words. Not like his world, where every little bad thing was coated in padding to make it seem like nothing.

“I’d rather be behind the counter than the idiot slumping on the other side,” Jungkook spoke, his voice echoing inside his glass as he set it down after one hard gulp.

“It’s sad that I believe you,” the bartender spoke. He felt sadden and slightly angry realizing that the man with a designer jacket, and shoes that will be tossed out once they are past the season, would rather be in his place. That he would rather be serving those with money than being the one served.

“What is this?” Jungkook asked, seeing the business card being slid towards him.

The bartender simply looked at the card hoping that the man would consider it. Knowing how he dressed and how he talked, he was important. But even important people need to loosen up.

“Confidential, if that is what you want, that is where you should go. Ask for that name, I know she can help you,” the bartender spoke, his words softy and with assurance.

He slipped out of the counter, the red cloth in his hand as he was ready to clean up whatever spill had undergone. Jungkook simple looked at the card, seeing two faces in a black shadow.

The card had a man and women, both in masquerade mask, and the title ‘The Kingdom Club’ written in some fancy calligraphy. The back of the card had the address and the name ‘Cinderella’ scribbled in black pen.

“What is this place?” Jungkook asked the bartender when he came back from cleaning up tears of a heartbroken man and a soju stained table top.

The bartender bit his lip and raised his eyebrows, not knowing how to break down the subject so he doesn’t freak out. It’s a subject that no many would openly talk about, which was ironic because their country was infested with the topic.

“It’s a host club, and the girl is a close friend of mine,” the man spoke, retrieving another bill from the counter as he whipped together a third glass of whiskey and cola.

“Are you insane?” Jungkook asked in disbelief, part of him laughing that the man would even think he had the indecency to go to such a driven place. He felt nauseous just thinking about going to a woman who many men, more powerful or just as powerful as he was, have touched and talked to.

“She first discovered I had ADHD because of how much I talked to her. She can help you understand all of your misery,” the man spoke, his voice calm and very amusing. He sounded like someone who was simply talking to a friend and giving him advise, something Jungkook didn’t know if he liked or not.

“No, I’m not looking to a e,” Jungkook scoffed, throwing the business card on the counter. It skidded away and fell of the edge as the bartender simply saw it sea saw back and forth before it kissed the ground. He quickly picked it up and placed it on the counter, slightly too calm for comfort.

“Ah, that’s what it is, you think she’s just a e,” the man laugh sarcastically but Jungkook flinched when he saw a spark in the man’s eyes that was ignited by anger.

It only took he man a few seconds to reach across the counter and pull Jungkook by his collar

“She’s probably more decent than your miserable ,” his low and very angered voice hit Jungkook’s face, causing his breathing to hitch and fear to run through his veins. “The host club was designed differently than the one you’re thinking about,” the bartender pushed his body back, his rough hands making Jungkook stumble to land on his seat.

“I doubt it,” his words came out in spite, hating how he was treated and basically almost assaulted because he spoke facts. Host bars, or clubs, lead to ion, men and women both sell their bodies to the highest bidder.

It took a lot of strength for the bartender to not snap again. Jungkook knew he wasn’t joking when he said the girl was a close friend of his, why else would he get so defensive.

“I bet majority of your dam family has already disgraced their name by going to a ‘e,’ so, why shouldn’t you. You piece of ,” the bartender spat, his voice agitated and very sarcastic. He put air quotes on the word e because he knew the girl well enough to know there has not been a bid high enough to buy her body, and there never will be one.

Jungkook look at the bartender with disgust as he walked away, going through a door only to disappear for the rest of the night. The card still lingered in the counter and his entire body ached. Realizing that what the bartender said as likely true.

His skin felt icky as his stomach bubbled uncomfortably. Business men had the connotation of indulging themselves in such places. Using their money to get and beautiful women. Who knows how many people that surround him, how many people he knew, stoop so low.

He cursed, standing up and drowning the last bit of whiskey. His entire life, he’d followed and he’s submerged himself in the world of business.

The glass nearly shattered when he slammed it down against the counter. He picked up the business card and cursed one more time before crumbling it up and stuffing it inside his pocket. He might as well commit to this life of misery he was born into.