ACT THREE. VICISSITUDE

Vissicitude. /vəˈsisəˌt(y)o͞od/. noun. A chance of circumstances or fortune, typically one that is unwelcome or unpleasant.

Daniel is no fun at parties.

He thinks them a waste of time and money, little more than a lousy excuse to fool around, set homework aside, and roll out of bed the next day with an oppressive headache, no recollection of the night before, and a stranger passed out underneath the comforter.

Who, by the way, is alarmingly .

Not that Daniel can speak from experience, or anything.

The only other thing he despises, a trifling smidgen more than parties: blind dates.

And his impulsive bypass of yet another set-up is the only reason why he’s acquired himself a phantom mask and an angelic ensemble, having taken painstaking measures to brainwash Jisung into thinking parties more productive than blind dates. These affairs, at best, were staring contests spent in god-awful silence, and at worst, were infernal disasters during which potential wives—having been confronted with rejection—pelted him with cuss words or declared him a waste of their time, before chucking the remainder of their champagne down his shirt, and then marching out the front door.

This was detrimental both to his immaculate clothing, and to the over-priced bottle of Dom Perignon.

Come to think of it, Jisung might be proud—appreciative, even—of Daniel’s spur-of-the-moment decision to attend the Seniors’ Send-off, given his reputation for active avoidance of human contact. However, more than getting forced into unruly, crowded spaces, Daniel detests the idea of sitting through another one of Jisung’s lectures on his disappointing behaviour should he attempt another bail-out in spite of his exceptionally relaxed agenda.

This is your fault, Ong Seongwoo, he thinks. If you weren’t spineless enough to readily accept marriage for the sake of politics, I wouldn’t even have to deal with this predicament in the first place.

“I’m almost done,” Daehwi announces, styling his hair into a perfect coif. “Just a splash more colour on the eyes and lips, and I think you’re good to go.”

Daniel nods, scrutinizing his reflection in the mirror as Daehwi taps lightly at his cheek with a powder puff. Not for the first time does he wish he’s learnt to do his own makeup, even though he’s sure that— given the subtle intricacies of Daehwi’s artistry— he’s bound to make himself look either like a geisha or a life-sized matryoshka doll.

“I haven’t even gotten to the venue, and I’m already regretting this,” Daniel admits. “Curse Jisung and his uncanny propensity for figuring out my exact coordinates.”

“How does he do that?” Daehwi wonders aloud. “He seems to be in perfect control of your activities, knowing where you are and what you’re up to all the time.”

Daniel shrugs, sighing discontentedly. “If I’d known, I’d have already taken action. Now my throat is parched from having to explain why I’m against the idea of marriage.”

In the first place, I’d have to be interested in women.

And that is quite lamentably not the case, at all.

Daehwi leans in towards him slightly, dusting shadows of rose-gold into his crease. “He must have his secrets. All of us do.”

“What’s your secret, then?” Daniel pries.

“Mine?” Daehwi smirks. “I kissed a boy this afternoon.”

Daniel’s eyes widen into full-on saucers. “You WHAT? Has Park Woojin confessed to you?”

Daehwi shakes his head dejectedly.

“I didn’t get to kiss him,” Daehwi says, forehead creasing slightly in distress. “It was, uhm… my roommate. But I saw the kiss in my visions, and… you know what happens when I go against the visions, right?”

Daniel nods. Yeah. The unspeakable.

“Your abilities are useless,” he complains. “You see the future, and yet… should the visions turn ominous, you aren’t meant to avert them or alter them slightly, without the universe turning its back on you in return.”

“I envy Jisung the practicality of his,” Daehwi admits. “Though we aren’t sure if he has one, to begin with.”

“Could be Mind Reading,” Daniel supposes. “Even though mine is, too. But I’m hardly impertinent enough to poke into his business. And even then, I’d never have the courage enough to ask him if he’s…”

“A Legacy?” Daehwi continues. “Possibly. Nothing in this world will surprise me, anymore.”

“Either way,” Daniel sighs. “I read through his mind a couple of weeks ago. Turns out he has another blind date in the works…. my thirty-third in five months. Un-freaking-believable. And it isn’t as if I can lie my way out of this plight. He knows, somehow, and it drives him nuts. Can’t blame him, though… he’ll find himself at the tail-end of father’s wrath, should I resolve to mishandle the arrangement on purpose.”

“What is he to you, anyway?” Daehwi asks. “Yoon Jisung. I thought you were best friends, and nothing more.”

“Haven’t I mentioned this?” Daniel blinks. “Apart from being my roommate, he’s also my bodyguard, assistant… and these days, my personal matchmaker. His family’s been in service to mine for generations.”

“Interesting,” Daehwi muses. “And why is your father insistent upon marrying you off? You’re twenty-three, in graduate school, and have your entire life ahead of you. Why force you into settling down and rearing children?”

Daniel reaches over the vanity for his caramel macchiato, sipping at the drink contemptuously, daintily enough for his lip-tint not to transfer messily onto the straw.

“Dad’s competitive, that’s why. And I’m unsure if you care enough for campus chitchat to know this, but… Ong Seongwoo is getting married in July. Be that as it may, I did presume it an unfounded hoax for the longest time, given his top-star standing… until the news reached mainstream media, and finally dad’s ears, and now he’s relentless in pursuit of a daughter-in-law more beautiful and accomplished than Sports One’s Lee Saeran.”

“Ahh,” Daehwi exclaims. “Well, of course I’ve heard of this. Believe it or not, Seongwoo's marrying my sister.”

Daniel almost chokes on his beverage. “YOUR SISTER?”

“You’ve never seen her have you?” Daehwi guesses. “Otherwise, you’d have known we were related. She looks exactly like I would, if I had a wig and some lipstick on.”

Daniel grimaces, unable to digest the imagery. “Somehow, the thought of that scares me.”

“Let me get this straight, then,” Daehwi says once-and-for-all. “Your family’s gone head-to-head with Seongwoo’s for years, being two of the wealthiest, most powerful real estate conglomerates in Seoul. And because the heir to the Ong fortune is getting married to an up-and-coming influencer, your father is now implacable in desiring the exact same for you. Perhaps even better, now that you’ve mentioned it.”

Daniel nods, the burden of commitment weighing him down.

“I want my family to rise to the top,” Daniel confesses. “For my father to attain everything he’s dreamt of. He’s worked harder than anyone else, fighting tooth and nail for the attention of investors, just to get our business started, and our name out into the world. He’s built the company from the ground up, and I want to help him maintain everything he’s endured and struggled for.”

Daniel squeezes his cup of coffee at the base, a paltry attempt at relieving some tension.

“I just… I don’t understand why filial piety and authentic love have to be dealt with as mutually exclusive.”

Can’t I be a dutiful son, without marrying for power?

“Stop fidgeting too much,” Daehwi says. “Otherwise, I’ll end up poking your eye out with the liner brush.”

“I won’t mind,” Daniel mutters. “I’m tired of opening my eyes to a bleak world in which I’ve volunteered attendance to a massive social gathering. Sporting a get-up this ludicrous, to boot.”

“Nonsense,” Daehwi smiles. “You look amazing.”

Daniel stares his reflection down, silk shirt ed, leather boots polished to a shine, jeans ripped in places utterly inessential, including—much to Daniel’s chagrin—almost the entirety of his right thigh.

“You sure about this?” Daniel asks, biting his lower lip nervously.

“You’ll arrive in a mask,” Daehwi reminds him. “And by virtue of how stylishly I’ve arranged your hair, you’re almost entirely unrecognizable. Seriously… why keep your handsome face concealed by your fringe half the time? If you fix the hairdo, replace the broken spectacles, and stop arriving to class in shaggy, worn-out t-shirts coming undone at the seams… you might embody the notion of ‘Kang Daniel’ even better, who, may I remind you, is the scion to a colossal fortune, and not a Samoyed pup that hasn’t bathed in weeks.”

“That’s harsh, Daehwi-ya,” Daniel scolds. “Wait ‘til my father hears about this.”

“How frightening,” Daehwi teases. “I’ll do my level best not to displease you in the future.”

Daniel pokes at his tummy, causing Daehwi to erupt into giggles.

Tough as it may be to admit, however, Daehwi does have a point where his appearance is concerned. For the most part, he endeavours to effectively downplay his visuals in order to detach the ‘billionare’ image from his character; not only does this aid in low-profile maintenance, but this also delivers him from the strain of having to entertain even more women he’d rather not deal with.

“You’re all set,” Daehwi declares, clapping both hands gleefully together. He walks towards Daniel's cabinet, where a pair of snowy, seraphic wings are sitting. “Now, how about we show up at the party, and sweep some mystery man off of his feet?”

Daniel laughs, thinking the notion of such thing marginally superior to any such blind-date at hand.

“That,” he agrees. “Sounds like a plan.”

As can be expected, the site of the affair is a riot. Dozens of party-goers are dancing around in circles, and the strobe lights, spinning in dizzying spheres at inconstant degrees of luminescence, are starting to give Daniel a bothersome migraine.

The worst part, however, is that five times since his arrival twenty-five minutes ago, a grand total of seventeen strangers—male and female alike—have already tried their hand at what, all things considered, Daniel can only think of as incompetent flirtation.

There are a multitude of ways by which one can say ‘no thank you’, ‘I’m not interested’,  or ‘sorry, but get the out of my face’, and Daniel is finding it increasingly vexatious to have to repeat himself over and over again.

Overall, Daniel wishes he’d gone for the blind date instead.

At least that way, he wouldn’t be so disoriented, not only because of the rampageous atmosphere, but also because he won’t have to hear involuntarily into the thoughts of other people, whose state of affairs he neither cares about nor thinks is relevant to his well-being in general.

The other reason why Daniel dislikes crowded spaces: