“I swear to God, Yeong, if I get a call telling me to pick you up from the police station, I’m abandoning you.”   “Sure, Mom.” I stare at the television screen, flipping through channels with the remote in my hand. There really is nothing to watch past eight at night.   “I’m serious.”   With a sigh, I sit up straight on the sofa and turn my attention to Yongsun. “I’m not five, you know.”   “Well, you sometimes act like one.” She retorts, buttoning up her blouse.   “Make sure to bring a coat or something. It’s too cold outside for you to be wearing just a skirt with nothing over it.”   “I know. God, work dinners are stupid.” She frowns at the mirror.   I shrug and pop a Cheeto in my mouth. “Life.”   I observe my friend as she prepares for the occasion. Seeing her dressed up formally like this sometimes makes me wonder why she is still single despite her maturity, not to mention she would make the perfect mother. Well, almost, if she cuts down her nagging. Unlike me, Yongsun leads a stable life with a stable job. She works as an assistant manager at a perfume company. She doesn’t lead a crazy life as she is always home before eleven at the latest, with the exception of those few clubbing nights. Her only hobbies are reading and shopping. It almost frustrates me at times that she can’t find someone who loves her. Then again, romance isn’t for everyone. I’ve come to realize that a while ago.   “You all set for dinner?”   “I literally just ate ten minutes ago.”   She throws on her tote bag after a glance at her wristwatch. “Just making sure. Don’t want to come home and find a corpse lying here.”   I roll my eyes at my friend’s exaggeration. “Have fun.”   “Thanks.” She mutters and leaves the house.   With nothing interesting playing on television, I reach for my phone. A part of me is debating whether to call Byulyi out of boredom, but another part of me knows that she is probably exhausted from work at the department store. Should I take another walk along the Han River? But there is nothing interesting to see either. Should I have a drink by myself? Oh, but that incident a week ago… Not to mention Yongsun might really kick me out of her house if she finds out.   Then my encounter with the bartender last week suddenly crosses my mind. Not that I forgot about him, but I can’t help feeling bothered by the idea of meeting up with a stranger. The image of his eyes still lingers in my head when I’m reminded of him. I glance at the clock on the wall, having an internal dilemma on whether I should follow his words to free myself from boredom.   As long as I don’t drink, I should be fine.   I start second-guessing myself just a few blocks away from Syndrome, the all-too-familiar place where I became a mess. I’m not sure where I gathered my courage from to decide on going to a club by myself. The most obvious problem is how I will find the bartender. What if he isn’t working today? How can I ask for him when I don’t know his name? And if he isn’t at the club, then it kills my purpose in coming to Syndrome.   I suddenly feel a tug at my arm. I swiftly turn and come to face with a group of three boys who look to be around the age of high schoolers.   “You alone, miss?” The tallest one who grabbed my arm smirks.   “I’m meeting up with someone.” I reply, half irritated and half nervous on what they’re going to do.   “Ooh, your boyfriend?” Another steps forward beside the former male.   “Let go.” I attempt pulling my arm back, only to find it no use as the male’s grip tightens on my wrist.   “Come on, we can bring you somewhere fun.”   “No, I don’t want to go.” I can feel my heart starting to beat rapidly against my chest. God damn these bastards.   “We’ll have a lot of fun, I can promise you that.”   “I already said no—”   My heart pounds harder against my chest when I feel an arm snaking around my waist. Just when I am about to flinch and move away, a familiar voice resonates behind me.   “Sorry, buds. She’s with me.”   I turn my head around, almost sighing in relief as soon as I recognize the tree branch tattoo on the person’s neck.   The bartender’s broad figure must have scared the three away. High schoolers shouldn’t be messing with adults after all. With an unamused scoff, the tallest male releases my arm and gestures the other two to follow him. Has it always been this dangerous for adult females to walk alone at night?   “You alright?”   I immediately pull myself away from the bartender as soon as the three boys are gone. “Yeah, thanks.” I mumble.   He chuckles. “When are you not in trouble?”   I stuff my hands in my coat pockets. “When you’re not around, I guess.”   "Well, you’re welcome. Come, let’s go inside.” He nods towards the entrance of Syndrome.   How does he know I was going to head inside Syndrome? I decide to brush the question away and eye his outfit instead: black leather jacket, casual blue jeans, and skater shoes.   “Did you just get out of work?”   “Work? No, I was about to have a smoke out here. Until I saw a lamb being huddled by a small pack of wolves.”   “You can have your smoke. I’ll head in first.”   “Nah, don’t need it anymore. I only needed it because I was bored.” He tosses back a smile at me. “I knew you’d come back.”   “And what makes you think that?” I follow him into the club, almost blinded by the sudden flash of neon lights.   “To see me of course.” He shouts over the deafening music.   I roll my eyes at his narcissism.   He suddenly grabs my arm and pulls me through the crowd, leading me to the bar counter.   “Are you going to make me drink again?” I ask as we sit beside each other.   “Didn’t I promise to do the opposite?” He gestures to the bartender. “A Manhattan and a sparkling apple juice for her please.”   “I suddenly feel like an underage teenager.”   “Better than feeling like afterwards.”   “Not joining us tonight, Dean?”   The male turns his head towards the voice. He nods at an older man standing by the DJ booth. “Nah, not tonight. Catch you later.”   “Isn’t this supposed to be your job, Dean? I’ve been told you’re one.” I nod towards the bartender who’s preparing our drinks and smile at the new piece of information.   He sniggers and thanks the bartender when our drinks arrive. “Not a legitimate one.”   “So you’ve been roleplaying as a bartender here the entire time?” I ask in amusement.   “Something like that.” He raises his glass of Manhattan at me. “Cheers?”   I clink my glass against his. “Cheers.”   He takes a long sip. For a moment, I thought he is going to finish the whole glass in one go, but experienced drinkers would most likely learn to enjoy and savor the alcoholic taste.   “My friend owns this club. I earn extra cash here from time to time as an uncertified bartender. Don’t go around telling people though.”   I chuckle and take a sip from my own glass of sparkling apple juice. The taste isn’t completely to my preferences, but I should appreciate the free treat. I glance behind Dean and notice a couple having a passionate make-out session. How romantic.