“MiSoo, bisai-bisai ah (MiSoo, be careful),” my mother kept repeating. I think she's going to cry judging on how small her eyes gotten since we left home. I immediately hugged her.

 

“Mama, inda apa-apa (Mom, it's nothing),” I smiled, rubbing her back, “Aku akan jadi lebih hati-hati ok? Aku basar udah (I'll be extra careful okay? I am an adult.)” Well, I'm actually seventeen, well close enough. “Aku sayang mama (I love you, mom).” My last words made her cry. I kissed her cheek again and smiled at my dad. He had that look he had on for weeks. A look of mixture emotion; fright, sadness and proud. Because his eldest daughter has achieve the first step to her dream. But she has to go far from home. As I hugged him, I told him to make mom stop crying. I might cry. After multiple farewells, good lucks and good wishes. I was ready. “Bah, aku jalan (Okay, I'll be going now).” But as I turn my back, every steps seem to be heavier. I could still hear my mom crying softly in the background. I brush up my black hair away from my face. I looked back. My mom was in my dad's arms, still crying, still looking at me with those frighten eyes. I ran back to her. I hugged her once more. And told her that I love them.

 

. . .

 

“Kakui (amazing),” Shin looked around the huge Seoul airport. Everything was. . . well, huge. Tokyo's airport was enormous too, but somehow, South Korea is different. It has that different aura to it. Shin was too absorbed, trying to soak it all in. She was still impressed by the building that she was not paying attention to her steps. “Ah, gomennasai,(ah, sorry),” Shin had bumped into someone. A red passport slide across the slippery titled floor, Shin immediately picked it up and turned to retrieve it to person she had bumped a minute ago. “Hora (here),” her soft voice stated, holding out the red little book, when she realized the person did not look Korean or Japanese. She has a tan skin, maybe she's Spanish. But her huge Asian eyes declared other wise.

 

“Arigatou (Thank you),” the Spanish looking girl thanked in Japanese. Before Shin could say anything back, the girl said again in Japanese, “Gomennasai, nihongo wa zen zen dekimasen (Sorry, my Japanese is not good).” She bowed. “But do you speak English?” Now Shin was blank. The girl turned back, mumbling. But then as if she discovered a treasure, she turned and once again spoke in Japanese, “Hajimee, watashi wa Park MiSoo desu, dozoyoro shiku, (Hello, I'm Park MiSoo, nice to meet you,”

 

“Watashi Kinomoto Shin desu, (I'm Shin),” Shin was grateful have someone who understand Japanese. Her Korean was still rusty. But hearing the girl's name; Park MiSoo. A normal Korean name. But before Shin could debate with herself about the matter, a high male voice called her name out. Both MiSoo and Shin turned to find a hurried man in a suit, almost relief to find them. He has that little device in one of his ear that allowed him to talk to the phone and there were some papers wedged in between his arm and body. He looked like he need a good rest.

 

“Annyeonghaeseyo (hello),” he bowed. Both Shin and MiSoo bowed accordingly; feeling the foreign awkwardness. “Right,” he consoled a piece of paper that magically appeared out of his black suit. “Which one of you are Chloe Siaw Hyun, Park MiSoo, Kinomoto Shin and . . .” the man paused, blinking at the paper. “Do you know how to read this?” He shoved the paper to the girls when he heard a ringing. “Ah yes? No, I'm still waiting for another two girls. . .” the man smoothly explained. The two girls scanned the paper, Shin hardly understand the Korean writing but she recognized her name.

 

And MiSoo's clear voice declared, “It's Antoinette Aurore Juliette.” The man spin around, looking confuse, he told the person on the other line to wait. “The last girl's name. She's Antoinette Aurore Juliette. It's a French name.” But before the man could say anything, a scream came out of his ear piece.

 

“Mian (sorry), I go check the front desk okay?” And he just dash, leaving the two girls looking confuse.

 

. . .

 

“What do you mean turn around?” A rather angry girl was arguing with one of the stewards. Her accent was weird. It you just listen for seconds, you conclude it's British. But the longer she spoke, the obvious her accent had a hint of French. But her sense of clothing was fully french though. She had a pattern grey leggings that trail down to her white dancing boots, black bubble skirt and grey blouse. She team it up with a pink beanie and scarf.“I have an appointment the minute I'm off this stupid plane!”

 

But the steward refuse to listen. “I'm sorry mesdemoiselles, zere is a man on broad, had a heart attack!” he turned away and hurriedly dash off. The girl groaned and cursed in English. She grumpily walked back to her seat and sulk. If only she had something around here to send signals to Korea and let the person know that she's going to be late. She hate to be late. A soft giggle came beside her. She glanced and saw an amuse girl. She looked Asian with her tan skin and pretty single eyelid eyes.

 

“I know how you feel,” she spoke fluently in English. Her accent was American, New York American to be specific. “I have an appointment the minute I land too. I'm Chloe Siaw Hyun. People in Manhattan call me Chloe but my friends call me Hyun.” She smiled. She had a pretty calm smile. The French girl looked at the manicured hand and took it warmly.

 

“Antoinette Aurore Juliette. Yes, yes, I'm used to the whole Romeo Juliet thing. But I rather dance my shoes off than waiting for a prince.”

 

“I agree with you there!” The two girls giggled in excitement, barely aware how late they were going to be.

 

. . .

 

“Wait here,” an old grumpy lady groan, kicking open the door while buffering her nails and chewing gum.

 

“Uh. . . kamsamida. . . (thank you),” a younger girl bowed, making her red curls sway with the movement. The receptionist went away. And the girl did not know why she even bother to say thanks. Not like she was going to appreciate it. But she has to, now that her dreams are coming true. She look around the oval room. It looked like a meeting room full with a huge round table in the middle and chairs surrounding it. She walked around, trying to figure out where to sit. But as soon she sat down on a chair next to the door, it opened and walked in a tall lady in tight mini suit. She stride briskly, professional as she talked to her phone.

 

“I see, just bring the two here. The plane may take hours to fly over. Okay, see you later.” The lady placed the pile of papers on the table, sat down and sighed. YooIn stood up, wanting to be polite. The lady took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “So. . . you must YooIn.”

 

“De, annyeonghaesayo (Yes, hello),” YooIn bowed. The elder woman asked her to sit nearer. They stayed quiet as the woman read pages after pages. She smiled when she found the right paper. Her tone turned businesses-like.

 

“Okay, YooIn. I know you have been with us for over five or so years now. . . Your file says it all for your dedication towards the company. And I want to say congratulations.” She smiled. YooIn had a look of disbelieve and confusion. “Congratulations, YooIn. I want to be the first to say that you're finally debuting.”

 

. . .

 

Special thank you to Han @ Vanilla Sky. I love the poster and background. Please request from them, you won't regret it @ vs-vanilla-sky.blogspot.com

 

. . .