Date: September 8, 2018

Jisoo's POV

                I slumped back in my ox red leather chair, exhaling in ecstasy. It felt good to be back, back in my second home. My safe space. Just as my home screen came into view, I felt a presence lingering abnormally close to me. Before I could see who it was, a carton of banana milk plopped down in front of me. Startled, I searched for the source of this sorcery and found myself staring at someone’s back. Recognizing the all too familiar black hoodie, I registered that it was Jin. He nonchalantly sat down in the station next to me and logged onto his computer, not once returning my gaze–as if nothing happened at all. I eyed him suspiciously, then the banana milk, then him again. Did he put laxatives in this thing? It didn’t look like it had been opened, though. I rolled my chair over to him.

                “Hey, what’s that about?” I questioned, elbowing in the arm and pointing my chin towards the dubious looking banana milk.

                “Huh?” he answered, glancing over at the carton with an artificially confused look plastered on his face. “Oh, yeah. I don’t know. I had an extra carton. Didn’t wanna throw it away so I thought you’d wanna have it. But if you don’t, I’ll be glad to take it back,” he apathetically turned back towards his screen and extended his arm towards me with an open palm–ready to retrieve the carton.

                “Uh, ok…” I hesitated, still skeptical about his sudden change in behavior from the first time I had met him. But I wasn’t stupid–there was no way I would turn down banana milk. “Thanks, I guess.”

                I returned back to my station and put on my headset. A few minutes into gaming, I began to feel thirsty but didn’t want to leave my match to get something to drink–so I ripped open the carton and began downing it. Within seconds, the banana milk was gone and happily settled in my tummy where it truly belonged. Then, I peeked at Jin–half questioning his erratic behavior, half worried that I may have to spend the rest of my day on the toilet.

                A mischievously satisfied smirk danced on his lips. Maybe he was watching a funny video, or maybe his gaming comrades were cracking a joke. But for whatever reason, I felt like it was neither.

Date: September 9, 2018

Jin’s POV

                Careful not to undo its perfection, I slightly tugged my tie forward to allot for breathing space. Several attendees seated across from me eyed my discomfort, as if mocking my inability to withstand the structured attire of a true businessman. The air conditioner was quietly humming in the background, although its alleged function of cooling was nowhere effective. Dressed in an outfit tailored by some famous fashion designer, I was sweating non-stop underneath my dress shirt and thick blazer. My hair was also lightly trimmed and slicked by a stylist who promised my combover would make me look like nothing short of a Korean pop star–but I didn’t care for the superficial things, I just wanted to get out of this hellhole.

                Again, I checked my watch. It read 3:52 PM, giving me just a little over an hour to get to my exam. As the seconds continued to tick by, I grew more and more anxious. I shot a glare over at my father, who was running the conference. He was going on about the company’s mission statement and stocks, speaking in such an authoritative tone I began to wonder how anyone in his room could bear following after his tyrannical attitude. Every few words spoken would call for a short glimpse at me, as if checking to see if I was giving him the zealous learning behavior he wanted. Every time, I intentionally looked elsewhere–one moment inspecting the dull painting on the wall, another pretending to be mesmerized by whatever was outside the window. The displeased look on his face delighted me–this was the least he could put up with for forcing me to sit through pure boredom rather than letting me make final preparations for my Law Enforcement Exam, which I now suspected I would be late to despite my father’s promise that I wouldn’t. At some point I figured he probably coerced me into doing this just so I’d miss my exam and resort to working under him.

                The meeting continued to drag on. My patience was running low. I scowled at my dad–making sure he knew what he had coming for him if the conference didn’t come to an end now. But he turned a blind eye towards my anger and proceeded to speak as if he had no regards for my aspirations–that was the deciding factor for me. At 4:15 PM sharp, I silently stood up and excused myself. Just as my hand touched the door lever, a relentless voice called out from behind me.

                “Jin, this is very unprofessional behavior. The meeting is not over yet,” my father austerely criticized. “Please apologize to your superiors and have a seat.”

                I sneered, a plethora of possible comebacks buzzing in my mind, but I repressed them out of the little respect I had left for him. I proceeded to exit the room. Right before the door shut, I could hear my father threatening to remove the funds that supported my studies for police academy. By the time I processed what he said, I was already sprinting down the stairs.

                As soon as I made it outside, I flagged down a cab and hopped in–giving the driver the address of the test-taking center and requesting that he get us there as quickly as possible. By the looks of the old man who struggled to merely punch in the location on his GPS, I began to doubt his driving abilities–but I had no time to get out of the cab and find another. So, I stuck with him, watching as he leisurely merged into the streets from the curb driving 25 mph when the limit was clearly 30 mph. I quietly groaned to myself and checked my watch; the time read 4:32 PM. My exam was at 5:00 PM.

                “Ahjussi, can you go any faster? I really need to be somewhere at five,” I pleaded, gripping onto the front passenger seat in desperation, my heart hammering in nervousness.

                “I’m doing the best I can here…” he reassured, squinting at me through the reflection of his rear view mirror. “According to the GPS, we won’t be there until 5:03 PM. There is some traffic up on the freeway.”

                “If you could just drive a bit faster I think we’ll be able to make it on the dot,” I reiterated, frustrated that he was oblivious to how dire the situation was. The driver gave me a nod back in return, seemingly acknowledging what I said but not likely going to follow through.

                The rest of the ride was a nightmare. We were stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic as soon as we hit the freeway, barely inching forward. I kept on checking my phone, wishing that time would slow down just this once–but as the minutes jumped closer to 5:00 PM, my confidence was dwindling.

                At 5:01 PM, the cab pulled up to the exam building. The parking lot was full, but the benches in front of the entrance were desolate–everyone was already inside, taking their exams. Hurriedly stepping out, I hoped I would be excused for just scratching start time, but when I reached the entrance I was greeted with an imperious white sign on the door that read “NO LATE ADMISSIONS. EXAMS WILL COMMENCE SHARPLY ON TIME.”

                This was the one thing I looked forward to for the past twenty-two years; I studied hard and put in the effort to succeed. This could have been the exam that got me into police academy and furthered me along the career path I’ve been working towards, but because of my father, I was set back by months. He wanted me to give up my dreams for his–I couldn’t even begin to comprehend his selfishness.

                “Hey, are you okay?” the cab driver hoarsely hollered, disrupting my resentful train of thought. “If that darned traffic wasn’t so bad, you would’ve made it on time. I’m sorry son.”

                Weakly smiling, I solaced, “No, it’s fine.”

                “Come, I’ll take you home,” he beckoned, waving at me to return back to the cab, “Don’t worry about the fee.”

                Some people say home is where your wife, parents, and siblings are, others say it’s where you’re fed to your heart’s content and kept warm and comfortable. For me, I didn’t know what home was. Was it the big empty house I lived in that overlooked the rest of the city? The house that echoed in altercations and hostility? The countless nights I spent alone, munching on takeout because the stove was broken and no one was ever around to fix it? We were rich by definition; my father and his sons loved displaying their wealth through shiny cars, fancy clothing, and a grand house–but it was all a facade, an empty shell. The abundance of money they had made up for the lack of love, compassion, and humanity in our family. So, I stayed out as late as possible–using up all my energy until I had none left, and that was when I returned back to my barren house. That was the only way I could fall asleep without being haunted. Tonight was no different.

                The cab driver dropped me off at a convenience store, just by Sihoon Nahm Gaming Cafe. I thanked him and left him with a hefty tip that covered both trip expenses, although he probably didn’t notice the full amount as he was busy wishing me good luck on my future endeavors and encouraging me to stay positive–the standard pep talk from an elder. I watched him drive off until I could no longer see the silhouette of his car before I headed towards the store. On the side of the building, I spotted a middle-aged woman squatting near the wall–a cigarette in one hand, her phone in the other. She seemed relaxed–maybe even content with her life. I was envious.

                A young cashier meekly greeted me as I stepped in, not once looking up at me as she was preoccupied with some game show on her phone. I approached her at the counter and cleared my throat in irritation that conjured a sheepish look back in return. She promptly apologized and asked if she could help me with anything. I eyed the shelves behind her, observing all the premium alcohol, cigarettes, and condoms that were neatly arranged according to category and brand. I originally came here for a soda, although a cigarette didn’t sound so bad either.

                “Uhm, what kinda cigarettes do you recommend?” I gulped, a strange thrill of rebellion rising in my chest.

                “Well, depends on what kind of taste you like,” she responded almost judgmentally, as if someone of my age should already be well-acquainted with smoking. “I personally like Sonbong, so I guess you could try that.”

                “Ok, I’ll take one of those with a lighter,” I confirmed before she reached for a pack and carelessly threw it across the counter. After paying, I grabbed the items and immediately pocketed them in my blazer before exiting the store and walking towards the gaming cafe.

                Upon arrival, I picked a discrete wall on the side of the building and reached for the pack of cigarettes with shaky hands. For whatever reason, I was nervous although I knew how common smoking was in Korea–maybe I just had to get over the hump of trying it for the first time. Messily ripping off the plastic cover, I popped open the lid and pulled out a stick–appreciating the perfectly rolled tobacco. With the cig between my lips, I took out the lighter–struggling to turn it on with my clammy fingers. My heart leaped in excitement as a small flame ignited into existence.

                Just as I was about to light the on fire, the cigarette was abruptly snatched from my mouth. Shocked, I checked around me to see if I had dropped it.

                “Stupid,” a familiar voice murmured as I was idiotically frowning at the ground. A figure swiftly moved passed me shortly after, eliciting a head turn from me.

                One hand holding my cigarette and the other her backpack, a girl walked towards the nearest trash can and disposed the stick. Then, she strolled towards the entrance of the gaming cafe. Before turning the corner, I caught a glimpse of a rammus pin on her bag. My stomach churned in embarrassment.

                It was Jisoo.