At quarter to 6pm, Dara was seen pacing back and forth at the hospital’s lobby, muttering to herself and occasionally biting off her nails – unhygienic especially for a doctor but her nervousness brought out her childhood mannerisms. If she were honest to herself, she’d admit that the nerves were due to the fact that she’s a little worried on who would win the bid for Jiyong. The girls’ words at the coffee shop had been haunting her for the past hour. 

But she would die before she admits that. When asked she’d swear she’s just worried that Jiyong might not show up and she’d be forced to auction herself. A part of her, the part that is scared of the possible entry of Jiyong’s still to be found The One during the charity auction, wishes Jiyong won’t show up. The other part of her, the one who’s social development had been arrested since grade school, wished he’d show up already and end her suffering.

Just as the clock on the wall struck the hour of six, a white-shirt-black-jeans-clad Jiyong with a black leather bomber jacket slung over his right shoulder came striding in. 

“What the heck are you wearing?” Dara exclaimed, the words went out before she could stop them. He looked too good in his outfit. Females young and old would surely bet on him. She just hoped her idea won’t come back and bite her in the someday. 

“Why? The event’s informal, you said.” Jiyong told her, unworried at her negative reaction to his attire. “We even match.” Gesturing at her white loose shirt, dark jeans and combat boots.

Dara ignored his remark, grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the hospital’s covered parking lot that had been temporarily converted into an auction hall. “Let’s go and get registered.” 

A half hour later, the crowd was cheering as the stakes have gone higher than