The stomping of feet. The pitter-patter of a young child’s steps on the hardwood floor of the apartment.

               “Mommy! Mommy!”

               A young-looking woman, seated on a couch next to her husband, turned to look at their child, who was running into the living room. “Yes, honey?” In the small girl’s hand was an iPad, the size of which providing a stark contrast to the tiny hands of the child that was firmly grasping the slim edges of the electronic device. “Don’t run while holding your iPad, it’s dangerous, OK?”

               “OK,” the child obeyed, slowing down to a walk. She jumped onto the couch, taking her side next to her mother, the father leaning over the mother to take a look. “Is this you?”

               Even before the child pressed play, the couple’s face lit up with smiles. “I guess she finally found out, huh?” the husband said, grinning.

               As the video started, the quaint room filled to the brim with a lively, colorful noise, full of energy and vibrance. The woman’s muscles ached to move, years of practice ingraining the choreographed movements into her body. “Yes, I am in this music video. Can you find me?”

               The child excitedly accepted the challenge, nodding eagerly before directing her attention back onto the iPad. “Um … here!” she said, pausing the video and pointing to a still image of the woman in her earlier years as a singer.

               “Your mom’s stage name was inspired by a goddess of beauty, Irene. Fitting, don’t you think?”

               Irene chuckled, the young girl eagerly nodding. “Yeah, it is! You’re so pretty in this, mommy!”

               The woman laughed again, more loudly this time. “Am I not pretty right now?”

               The young child, flustered, floundered. “I-I mean, um, you’re also—”

               “Hey, stop teasing our little angel,” the man said, patting the little girl’s hair. “You’re right, you are pretty in this music video. But the type of pretty you are right now is different.” The woman turned to the man with a cocked eyebrow. “In here, you have more of an innocent, energetic vibe, whereas now you have a more sophisticated, graceful feeling.”

               “I’ll let you off the hook this time, Song Jaheo,” Irene replied, leaning her head back on her husband’s shoulder.

               “What’s soph-sophtisticated?” the child asked, looking at her father with questioning eyes.

               The adorable display of their daughter struggling to pronounce the, incidentally, rather sophisticated word put a smile on their faces. “It means not simple, but in this case, I was trying to say was that your mommy has a different kind of beauty befitting her age.”

               Irene promptly turned around and slapped the shoulder she was previously leaning on. “Says the man who likes older women.”

               “That again?” Jaeho laughed, the child simply looking on in confusion.

               “Daddy likes older women?” the young girl repeated, puzzled.

               “Never mind that, you should be going to sleep, it’s already getting late,” Irene said, moving to get off the couch.

               “Aww,” the child groaned, Jaeho getting off the couch as well. “I want to sleep next to daddy this time.”

               The smile from the man faded from his face. Irene instantly interjected, grabbing the hand of the young girl. “I told you, only mommy can sleep with daddy.”

               “Whyy? You’re being greedy,” she whined, a deep frown appearing on her face.

               “Don’t tell your daddy this,” Irene leaned in, whispering, “But sometimes, daddy transforms into a monster at night, and only mommy knows how to make him transform back.”

               The young child, unquestioningly accepting the story, looked back at her mother in shock. “Really?” she whispered, peeking a glance at her dad who was looking on with a confused face.

               Irene nodded. “Don’t tell him, because if you do, then he’ll transform right there and then.”

               The child quickly covered with her free hand, earning another smile from the mother. “Good girl,” she said, leading her into the bathroom. After helping her with her pre-sleep procedure, the woman tucked the young girl into her bed.

               “Tell me a story,” she insisted. Irene looked over to her husband, who understood and took over.

               “OK, listen well,” Jaeho started, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. “Once upon a time, there was a naughty girl who didn’t want to go to sleep. So, instead of going to sleep like a good girl, she urged her daddy to tell her a bedtime story.”

               “That’s not a story,” the girl giggled, the man smiling along.

               “How about I tell you about how your daddy and I met?” Irene suggested. Jaeho met Irene’s eyes, the implicit question ‘are you sure?’ in his gaze. Irene reassured him with a smile and a nod.

               “Yes!” the girl excitedly replied.

               Jaeho always tried to live in the present. ‘Dwelling on the past can blind you from the present’, his mother used to say. It’s a motto Jaeho lived by, to the point where he tended to avoid taking pictures, fearing that doing so will subconsciously cause one’s presence in the moment to sully. Jaeho thought that it was this quality that gave him the edge compared to most people when he found himself in social situations, but even so, he very much felt like he didn’t belong in the place he was currently.

               Jaeho was exploring a part of Seoul he had yet to venture to and noticed a large queue for what seemed like a bar. Curious, he entered the line and was inexplicably allowed into the bar, a place that he very much felt like he wasn’t supposed to be in largely clued in by the amount of celebrities he had identified on the way to finding a comfortable seat.

               Why was he, an ordinary salesman, allowed in? Perhaps it was because he was a sometimes works as a model for a Korean jeans company? No, he doubted it; compared to the other people present, he was nothing. Did they just let in random people every once in a while? No, the amount of people who exited the screening room, dejected, said otherwise. Was there some other consideration they used, upon inspection, in determining who they let in? That seemed unlikely, again especially considering that the only other person he saw allowed in was a celebrity whom he recognized. Maybe it was because he was told by some that he looked similar to a new, upcoming actor? Jaeho found this explanation to be the most likely one; he understood that he was considered pretty attractive, but no matter how many times he looked at the mentioned actor’s face, he couldn’t find the resemblance. Sure, it was close, but in his opinion, the likeness of the actor’s face and his own face was as close as any other two Korean men.

               As if just being in such a seemingly high-class, private, celebrity-only space wasn’t overwhelming enough for him, seeing one particular celebrity drove his anxiety levels through the roof.

               He was a Red Velvet fan, among other girl groups like G-Friend and IZ*ONE. However, he always felt conscientious about the fact that they were all younger than him—some significantly younger. With Red Velvet, it was a different story; although he understood that Irene didn’t like having her age brought up, it somehow felt relieving to know that there was someone older than him in the industry. It felt like he was validated in his interests, like he wasn’t too old to enjoy the bright and peppy atmosphere the Kpop music industry created.

               So it came a great shock to him to see Irene in person: her snowy-white skin sparkling even in the dim light, her slim figure neatly seated on top of a stool at the counter of the bar, her delicate fingers wrapped around a cup, bringing said cup up to her full, bright-red lips. Perhaps that was an understatement: in fact, Jaeho’s heartbeat increased so significantly upon recognizing the leader of Red Velvet that he was afraid of being kicked out by a staff member noticing his clearly fanboy-ish reaction: his suddenly sweaty palms, his darting eyes, his restless legs, everything about him screamed ‘fanboy!’

               As comfortable as Jaeho was talking to people, be them strangers or acquaintances, he didn’t dare approach her, even after excessive checks and confirmations that the woman sitting at the bar was indeed the Bae Joohyun of Red Velvet. Fear of stumbling over his words, fear of bothering her, fear of making a bad impression of himself, fear of giving himself away as an ordinary person who didn’t belong here … all these fears factored into his indecisiveness. He had always heard that she was more beautiful in person, which didn’t even seem possible until now, even as he admired the distant side profile of her face.

               However, in all her beauty, there was one thing that he picked out almost immediately: a forlorn expression settled in her eyes. Being a fan of her, it pained him to see her in such a state—she appeared so lonely, but his cowardice drowned out his sorrow. So, to remedy the situation, Jaeho decided to try his hand at some liquid luck.

               There were two intentions behind his actions: if drinking just allowed Jaeho to temporarily forget about the lonely demeanor that Irene was exhibiting, that was welcome. However, if the liquor granted him the confidence to approach her, then that was even more welcome. In fact, he was counting on the latter, and about half an hour later of enjoying some of the best-made alcohol he had ever experienced at any bar, that’s exactly what happened.

               Feeling the warm, comfortable buzz in the back of his head, one more glance at the sorrowful Irene was all the reason he needed. As much as Irene appeared a goddess, in the end she was just another human being. If she was lonely, he would provide her company, but if she simply wanted to be by herself, he would comply. It was just a question, he reasoned. No harm in that.

               He maneuvered himself into the seat next to the stunning woman, drink in hand. “Are you OK?”

               Those were the first words he ever spoke to a celebrity, personally. He wasn’t sure why those particular words came out of his mouth, but he knew there was no taking them back.

               Irene turned, and her beauty just about sobered him up. Seeing her side-profile was one thing, but seeing her entire face, in all its beauty, was a completely other matter. “Oh, hello,” she greeted politely, bowing.

               Jaeho bowed back, wondering how Irene could look so strikingly beautiful in such a simple outfit. “There’s no need to use formal language with me, I’m younger than you,” he replied, struggling to maintain a steady intonation.

               “Oh, ok.”

               Feeling a bit of anxiety creeping into his system, Jaeho took another swing of his drink. “I’m a fan, so when I saw you sitting here looking all lonely, I felt really sad and thought I’d ask to join you,” he told her.

               Jaeho could see the discomfort in her face though. It wasn’t pronounced; even in his state, Jaeho was quite adept at reading facial expressions due to a natural talent that was cultivated in his job as a salesman. He could tell Irene was trying her best to politely maintain the conversation, but there was definitely a careful edge to her gaze.

               “Ah, really?” she asked, a smile in her eyes. In that moment, her gaze softened, as if she suddenly realized something, or if that smile somehow removed whatever ailed her. “You’re right, I sort of am. It’s why I’m here.”

               Just looking at her smiling caused the words to tumble out of Jaeho’s mouth, “Wow, your smile really is beauty like I’ve never seen before.”

               Irene, who Jaeho imagined was probably informed about her beauty on a daily basis, still appeared stunned by his off-handed comment. “O-Oh, thank you,” she thanked him timidly. “I’m sorry, I never got your name.”

               “Song Jaeho.” She gave the name some thought, causing the gears in Jaeho’s albeit tipsy brain to turn. Was this place really exclusive to celebrities? Why else would Irene expect to know his name? “I do some modeling for a jeans company, but that’s about it,” Jaeho admitted.

               “Oh,” she responded, looking cautiously at the bartender, who was currently serving another customer—an actor who recently starred in a decently popular drama, if Jaeho identified correctly. This action was all Jaeho needed to connect the dots; if a staff member knew, surely he would be kicked from the bar, and Irene would feel responsible and guilty for being the one who exposed that information about him, even if it wasn’t her fault at all. Keeping this in mind, Jaeho made a mental note to act more cautiously regarding his status as a normal person, especially around staff members.

               Just as Jaeho was about to open his mouth, Irene interjected.

               “Ah, I figured it out,” Irene declared, another smile on her eyes. Jaeho found himself simply admiring her triumphant expression, realizing he could probably look at it all day. How great would it be if he could; but even he, as attractive as he knew he was considered, could only call that a pipe dream. After all, this was Irene, a woman who had the freedom of choice of any man in the world—why would he, a relatively ordinary South Korean man, be chosen? “You look like the new actor that’s starring in that new drama that came out. What’s his name…?”

               “Song Jaeha,” Jaeho provided for her, the name already ingrained in his mind.

               When the ‘a-ha!’ look washed over her eyes, she clapped and nodded excitedly. “Yes, him!” she exclaimed. It was simply an incredible sight, something so adorable that Jaeho was forced to take another drink in fear of having sobered up from it. “Wow, his name is pretty similar to yours, isn’t it?”

               Jaeho nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably why people confused me so easily, especially after hearing my name.” Irene nodded, the triumphant smile still lingering on her eyes. Jaeho, feeling himself sobering up again, took another sip of his drink, noticing Irene doing the same thing with the cup of clear liquid that was in her hands. “What drink do you have there?” he asked, nodding at the cup in Irene’s hand.

               Irene’s gaze followed his before responding, “Ah, it’s just water.”

               Jaeho chuckled. “Surely you wouldn’t come to a bar with such an amazing selection of alcohol to just drink water. What, is even the water here exquisite?”

               Irene giggled, a swell of confidence ballooning in Jaeho’s chest. “No, I’m just chasing the last drink I had. It’s no good for an idol to get drunk in a place like this. My company would get mad at me.”

               “Smart girl. I should do that too, taste this exquisite water,” he said cheekily, signaling at the bartender.

               “You’re still calling it that?” she said, the remainder of her laughter lingering in her eyes.

               “Well, you certainly make it look like that. Maybe you should shoot a commercial for it or something.”

               Irene was thrown into another laughing fit: the second one of the night, Jaeho noted. “What do you mean? What, would I just be drinking water dramatically or something?”

               He shrugged. “I’m sure it would sell well. You never know, maybe you could reach ten million views on YouTube.”

               Irene scoffed at the idea, smirking anyway as he requested a glass of water from the bartender. “Yeah right, I doubt that.”

               Jaeho took another sip of his drink, then turning to look at her. Meeting her gaze was no easy task, Jaeho noticed; it took all his willpower and pride as a man to remain stoic and unflinching, Irene staring back with apparent ease. “Probably just a video of you laughing could get ten million views. Or honestly, maybe even a video of you smiling at the camera for a minute, although that might be a little creepy.”

               “Yah,” she chuckled, her eyes curving into another smile. Jaeho broke out into a grin, noting that this was the third time he was able to make her laugh.

               “What? Don’t you agree?”

               Irene thought about it for a moment before conceding, “Yeah, you’re probably right actually.”

               “Well, there’s one way to find out,” he said, pulling out his phone.

               “What?” Irene’s expression quickly turned into that of surprise and intrigue. “Are you going to record it?”

               “No,” Jaeho said innocently, pulling up YouTube on his phone. “I was going to see if such a video existed already.”

               “Why would you do that? Don’t, stop it,” she said, leaning over in a vain attempt to steal Jaeho’s phone from him.

               “That’s cute,” Jaeho commented, another smile forming on his lips, holding his cellphone out of the black-haired woman’s reach.

               “What? Am I that pathetic?”

               “No, I was referring to your cute little hands.”

               Not expecting that sort of an answer, Irene drew her hand from Jaeho’s as if it were a hot stove. He looked over at her, and although Irene was pointedly looking away, the action wasn’t enough to hide the creeping blush on her cheeks.

               “Wow, actually, now that I look at them, your hands are pretty small,” Jaeho continued, reaching over the bar’s counter and placing his hand near Irene’s for reference. This action drew the attention of Irene’s gaze.

               “Aren’t your hands just big?” Irene countered.

               “Really?”

               “Yeah!”

               “Hm … we need a third party,” Jaeho decided, leaning over and signaling the bartender again. It wasn’t his intention, but he managed to catch another glimpse at Irene’s stunning side profile: her tall nose bridge, her flawless skin, her long and slightly curled eyelashes, her soft eyebrows, her strikingly red lips—everything about her was simply perfection. It was like every detail about Irene from onscreen was amplified in real life, like a deity sculpted her face with the express purpose of creating the most beautiful person on the planet.

               Jaeho took another swing of his drink before the bartender could make his way over. “Hi, sorry, this might seem like a strange question, but do you mind if we compare hand sizes?”

               The bartender gave Jaeho a bemused look but complied anyway. Jaeho held his hand up to the bartender’s raised one, making sure to level their palms, which proved exceedingly hard due to being slightly inebriated.

               “See? Your hand is even bigger than the bartender’s,” Irene commented.

               “Really?” Jaeho said, trying to take a closer look but inadvertently misaligned their hands. “Ah,” he attempted to realign their hands but was stopped short by a chuckling Irene.

               “What, you don’t trust me?”

               “Well, to be fair, I only did meet you just now,” Jaeho said.

               “A fan should trust the idol though,” Irene replied, turning to the bartender. “Can I have the same drink as him?”

               Jaeho cocked his head in surprise. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” he warned her.

               “Why not? You make it look like it tastes good.”

               “My drink has a higher concentration of alcohol than normal.”

               “What, you think I can’t handle a little alcohol?” Irene challenged him, motioning for the bartender to make the drink.

               “It’s your choice, but at least let me pay for that,” he finished, pulling out his wallet.

               “What? No!” Irene protested, motioning him to stop.

               “A fan should also take care of the idol whenever possible,” he insisted, standing up.

               “No no no, it’s the idol that should take care of the fan,” she argued, using more strength to try to push his hand away.

               “If you don’t let me pay, I’ll stop being a fan of Red Velvet.”

               That stunned Irene just long enough to allow Jaeho to hand his credit card over to the bartender. “What do you mean by that?” she gaped at the triumphant man. “Why would you say that?”

               “Even if you’re richer than me, you should still let me be a man.” Irene’s gaze fell onto the counter, the bartender smiling at the two’s interaction before pouring the drink into a cup.

               “Here’s your drink, miss,” the bartender said, sliding the drink over to a slightly embarrassed Irene.

               “Thank you,” she said, reaching over to the cup and taking a sip. Right as the liquid disappeared into , the bitterness overtook her system, causing her to flinch in response, her facial features scrunching together. “Aah~! Wow,” she exclaimed, smacking her lips.

               “See, told you,” Jaeho’s smile played at his lips as he watched Irene’s reaction to the strong drink. “It’s strong, isn’t it?”

               “What are you talking about? That was my refreshed face,” she claimed.

               “Oh really? Is that the face you use in your alcohol CFs?”

               “…maybe…”

               Jaeho pulled out his phone again. “One way to find out.”

               “What, are you going to look up another video of me?”

               Jaeho looked at Irene. “Is there a problem with that? Can’t a fan look up videos of his favorite idol?”

               “Ooh, I’m your favorite?” a pleasantly surprised look appeared on her face, the humility of which caused Jaeho to smile. Surely it wasn’t that rare for someone to announce to Irene that she was his favorite idol.

               “Yeah,” he admitted.

               “Name three things you like most about me,” Irene proposed, throwing Jaeho’s brain into a mess, “Ready, go.”

               “This suddenly? Uh, um…” Jaeho attempted to stall for time, racking his brain, “One, you’re a really caring person … um, two, you’re a really sincere and hardworking person. Three … uh …” it was at this point that Jaeho was stuck. There were so many things he wanted to say: specific moments, individual performances, but that can’t have been what Irene was looking for. In the end, under the pressure of Irene’s expectant gaze, Jaeho ended up blurting out the thing he wanted to most avoid saying. “Now that I’ve met you in person, I can also say that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever encountered.”

               Once again, the comment seemed to catch Irene off guard. “Ah … oh, really? Oh, thank you,” she shyly replied, laughing a little. Jaeho couldn’t help but feel a bit perplexed at Irene’s stunned, embarrassed reaction; Jaeho knew that she was told of her beauty often, or at least was pretty sure given how frequently she participated in photoshoots, variety shows, and commercials. Was it the way he chose to say it? Was it because of the alcohol, or maybe a mixture of the atmosphere and Jaeho himself?

               Irene took another drink from her cup to prevent any further stammering, but it seemed that Irene forgot how strong the drink was since as soon as the liquid entered , her eyes went wide, bulging as she struggled to swallow the alcohol, after which she let out another ‘satisfied’ lip smack and set the cup down.

               “Did you still think you had water?” Jaeho said, laughing.

               “What?” Irene replied defensively, “I mean, it’s true that this is stronger than most things I drink, but it’s good!”

               “Maybe I should’ve mentioned that you react to things cutely as one of the things I like about you.” Irene laughed again, lightly smacking Jaeho’s shoulder. The playful action brought a smile to the buzzed man’s face. “Oh wait, I know! I like that you’re older than me—hey!”

               Irene smacked him playfully on the shoulder, a bit harder this time. “You know that you’re not supposed to talk about a woman’s age to her, right?”

               “It’s attractive though.”

               “How is being thirty-one years old attractive?” Irene’s facial expression quickly morphed from a bewildered, laughing one to one of sudden realization. “Oh, are you the type that likes older women?”

               Jaeho contained his own laughter, raising his eyebrows in response, replying, “I’m only a year younger than you, so I don’t think I can necessarily say that.” Irene brought her cup to , eyeing Jaeho with suspicion while slowly taking sips from the drink. This action, for some reason, put pressure on Jaeho to explain himself—perhaps because he didn’t want the idol to think strangely of him, even though they probably weren’t going to see each other every again. “Well, I mean I’m thirty years old so I’m also sort of old too, right? It always felt strange to be a fan of groups that had members who were significantly younger than me, so I felt a little relieved when I learned that there was someone among the groups I liked that was around my age.”

               Irene giggled, setting her drink down. “That’s sort of a weird thing to be worried about, isn’t it?” Jaeho could surmise that Irene was getting tipsy from two things: her current demeanor and the amount of alcohol that remained in her drink. This put Jaeho on edge: surely Irene would be safe in a bar like this, but how should he react to it? If things started to get out of hand, should he be the one to take care of her? After all, it wasn’t his position to dictate how much more Irene wanted to drink: but then again, what harm was there in just giving her advice? Surely people wouldn’t get the wrong idea in such a place if it came down to him looking after Irene.

               “Is something wrong?” Irene’s worried look filled Jaeho’s vision as she leaned onto the counter, turning her head and peering at his face.

               “Hm? What do you mean?”

               “You look … worried?”

               Jaeho couldn’t help but feel more worried, Irene’s demeanor exposing more and more of her inebriated state. “Irene, you should probably stop drinking,” Jaeho said, reaching over to her drink.

               She waved his hand off, entering a defensive stance. “Why? If you bought this for me, I should finish it,” she said, picking up her cup and downing the rest of her drink.

               Jaeho immediately signaled the bartender over, ordering a cup of water as Irene finished off the contents of her drink, setting the cup down with the same expression as before. “Ok, I admit, it’s really strong,” she said.

               “Here,” he said, pushing the cup of water in front of her.

               “What’s this?” Irene looked over at Jaeho with a quizzical expression on her face. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

               “No, it’s water,” Jaeho couldn’t help but smile; even while tipsy, Irene was exceedingly adorable. “Plus, you seem plenty drunk already.”

               Irene eyed him in a challenging fashion. “Oh yeah?”

               It was Jaeho’s turn to chuckle this time. “That wasn’t a challenge,” Jaeho told the tipsy woman, “Go on, drink. You said that your company would get mad at you, right?”

               “What, are you chairman Lee Soo Man or something?” Irene posed.

               “Do I need to call him, or are you going to drink the water?” Jaeho threatened. Irene pouted and groaned but ultimately conceded, putting the cup to her lips and taking a sip of the clear liquid.

               It wasn’t until after she set the half-full cup down did she finally come to a realization. “Wait, do you even have his phone number?” Jaeho couldn’t help but smile at that. “Why are you laughing? You tricked me!”

               “You’re really adorable, you know that?” Jaeho stated, finishing off his own drink, the faint buzz in the back of his head now having progressed to a prominent, warm feeling about his entire body.

               “I’m trying to scold you, why are you flirting with me right now?” Irene shot back, but still in a manner much to adorable to attribute the emotion of ‘anger’ to. “What, do you think I would just forget if you complimented me?”

               “Well I don’t know about my ‘flirting’ could do that, but yours probably could. It would probably be classified as a lethal weapon.”

               When Irene turned silent in the ensuing moment, Jaeho, thinking he had overstepped his boundaries, peered over at her. “Oh?” she replied in a low voice, burning a hole straight through Jaeho with her fiery gaze, “A ‘lethal’ weapon?”

               Jaeho quickly felt himself sobering up in the face of such natural iness. He had to take quick inventory of everything: where he was, how he got here, what he did earlier that day, to double-check the fact that this was, in fact, reality. “Yup, I’d definitely classify it as that,” he replied, the nervousness he was feeling subconsciously creeping into his voice.

               “Hm, maybe you should inform me what about it is ‘lethal’, then,” she replied, voice laced with the same suggestiveness as the smirk playing on her lips, a spark of playfulness in her eyes, leaning forward ever so slightly.

               Jaeho found himself completely immobilized by Irene’s advances; not only did he suddenly find it harder to form coherent words, but his body itself refused to react in response to Irene’s slighting towards him. He wasn’t one to be phased by the attractiveness of the woman he was talking to, but Irene was a completely different story. There was something about her aura that intimidated him, her proximity that seized the functionality of his muscles, her stunning beauty that rendered his vocal cords useless … frankly, the phenomena that was Bae Joohyun’s flirting was mystifying, mortifying, even.

               “Hmm?”

               “Oh,” Jaeho responded, realizing that Irene had placed the ball on his court, “Well, that,” he stated, for some reason believing that the explanation would suffice for the perplexed Irene.

               “What?” Irene briefly broke her façade, her face morphing into a confused one.

               Jaeho, realizing that Irene couldn’t read his mind, proceeded to explain, “You—well, your smile, your voice, um, everything I guess.” Maybe Jaeho was just overthinking, but her reaction to his response seemed off: if she was being playful, then taking upon an amused expression was appropriate, but if she was just flirting, something like a satisfied expression fit the situation. If this was the case, then why did she look startled?

               That facial expression flickered before Jaeho’s eyes, and sure enough, the sly, playful expression returned to Irene’s face. Taking the initiative, he posed a question to the dark-haired woman, “So why are you here?” Realizing she already provided an answer before, albeit a vague one, he added on, “I mean, specifically?”

               “Well, you know, I’ve been feeling a little lonely recently; don’t tell anyone else about this, ok?” she cut herself short, posing the warning accompanied with a glare that Jaeho could tell was meant to be intimidating but just ended up being adorable. He nodded, straining to keep a burgeoning smile off his face; Irene, satisfied with his response, continued, “I’ve been feeling a little lonely recently because I’m getting a little old and I still don’t have a boyfriend or anything. So I thought I would come here, but the only person I could bring myself talk to was the bartender.”

               Seeing this as an opportunity to get back at Irene, Jaeho answered, “How about me?”

               “Well you talked to me first, so that doesn’t count.”

               “No, I mean as your boyfriend.”

               Despite somehow managing to keeping himself composed, Jaeho’s heart was pounding. Even if this was a bar, even if it was Irene’s intention to have this kind of interaction, he felt as if he was overstepping some kind of imaginary social line that separated normal guys like himself and celebrities like Irene. Confidence was key though, and he made sure to not drop his act.

               Jaeho’s strategy, to take Irene by surprise, fell flat on its face when Irene casually replied, “Hm, ok … wait, you’re my fan right?” Jaeho simply nodded in response, thankful that Irene had, at the very least, dropped her flirtatious disposition. “You said that you thought I was beautiful, but you never told me what about me you think is beautiful.”

               To Jaeho, this is what, without a doubt, confirmed that Irene was absolutely drunk. “Um…”

               “Just one thing?”

               Jaeho’s heartrate was skyrocketing by the moment. What was Irene’s intention here? Was she trying to flirt with him, or was she just curious? “You’re just going to suddenly ask me that?” Jaeho answered, trying to laugh it off. Irene persisted, grabbing his hand in hers. This action startled Jaeho, whose thoughts were filled with nothing but the softness of her hands for the next minute.

               “Come on, answer mee~” she pressed on, leaning so far forward that she slipped out of her stool. Jaeho instinctively lurched forward, catching Irene by her shoulders, consequently stunned from the closeup he received of Irene’s face as a result of the accident. Irene, unfazed, attempted to cheat into Jaeho’s own stool, to which Jaeho uneasily stood up and conceded the seat to her. “Why are you running away?” she pouted, getting off the stool he was just sitting on and following him.

               “I’m not—wait, what are you—” this time, Irene grabbed his shoulders, both as a measure to hold him in place as well as to hold herself upright, before trying to join Jaeho on his stool once again. “I’ll answer you, just—just take your own seat first,” Jaeho struggled to get the words out, fighting both Irene and himself. Never before would he imagine that he would actually be trying to prevent Irene from sitting in his lap.

               “Ok,” she sighed, frowning but taking Jaeho’s old seat nonetheless. “So? What is it?”

               “You’re really asking me—” he stopped, feeling a tightness in his lungs, making it harder to breathe. “Um, well, the fact that you have such a small face, but you especially have really pretty lips.”

               “Oh, really?” she replied, excited by his answer, “Do you want to touch them?”

               “What?”

               Irene was already grabbing Jaeho’s hand, but before she could move it too much, Jaeho retrieved it from Irene’s grasp. “What? Just a little touching is no problem, right?”

               Jaeho knew that Irene liked initiating skinship with those she was close to, but was it ever to this extent? Maybe the alcohol was amplifying this aspect of her personality? But to this extent? The Irene he thought he knew was a reserved, calm, collected woman—why was she being so brazen? And to a complete stranger, no less?

               Jaeho placed his hands in his lap, to which Irene frowned. “You’re drunk right now, you shouldn’t be—”

               “Actually, now that I really look at you, your skin is so nice,” she commented, leaning forward and bringing her hands to his face. Jaeho hastily leaned away from her, grabbing the wrist of the intruding hand. “What’s wrong?”

               “Irene, maybe you should call your manager or someone to pick you up,” he suggested, holding Irene’s curious hands at bay.

               She shook her head furiously, shortly afterwards proceeded to withdraw her hands to hold her head with them from the subsequent headache, causing another smile to break out onto Jaeho’s face.

               “Ow … look what you made me do…” she whined, placing her elbows on the counter and pressing her temple into her hands.

               “Well you could have just said ‘no’,” Jaeho offered.

               Irene whipped her head towards Jaeho, narrowing her eyes at him. “Don’t play smart with me.”

               He held his hands up defensively. “I was just saying, that’s all.”

               “You need to take responsibility,” she demanded, straightening her back and turning towards him.

               “What? For what?” Jaeho cautiously asked, not wanting to be thrown off by a potential misunderstanding.

               “My headache,” Irene answered, leaning her upper body towards him. Jaeho averted his gaze out of curtesy. “Massage my temple.”

               It wasn’t so much a request as an order, really, and Jaeho didn’t know what to think of it. The first thought that entered his mind was the possibility of a misunderstanding arising out of the situation, but when he looked around the quaint club washed in dim blue lighting, he was reminded that this place was a private one in which such thoughts were unnecessary. He obliged Irene’s request, gingerly placing his fingers on the side of her head with his thumbs on her forehead and started the massage, rubbing his thumbs in a circular motion.

               Irene sighed and closed her eyes, smiling as the pain in her temple began to subside. “You’re pretty good at this,” she noted.

               “Yeah, I’ve been told that a lot,” Jaeho told her.

               Irene instantly became suspicious. “What, so is this how you get all the girls? You offer them massages?”

               “Wait, you were the one who requested a massage from me,” Jaeho reminded the inebriated Irene, retracting his hands. Irene opened her eyes and glared at Jaeho, although again, it was much too adorable to be intimidating, as what Jaeho guessed was Irene’s intention.

               “Don’t change the subject.” When Jaeho smiled in response, Irene pouted, saying, “What?”

               “You’re just so adorable,” Jaeho answered. Irene visibly flushed at this, a flash of bashfulness appearing on her face before a sterner one overtook it.

               “Stop—Stop changing the subject,” she demanded.

               “Stop—Stop?”

               “Don’t make fun of me! Just answer the question.”

               “What? If I ‘get all the girls by doing this’?” She nodded sincerely, a reaction that shocked Jaeho. He figured Irene was just joking, so why did she look as serious as she did? “Well, not many of them—” he stopped briefly when a crestfallen expression flashed on Irene’s face. Was he imagining things? “—well, none of them,” he corrected himself, “have ever asked me to do something like this before, much less on the first meeting.”

               Irene smiled with content. “Well, they’re missing out,” she claimed, turning around, “Do my back next.”

               Jaeho cautiously acquiesced, gently placing his hands on Irene’s clothed back at first, starting the massage on her shoulders. Jaeho couldn’t help but feel that a bit unsettled, that something just wasn’t sitting quite right with him: Was she really drunk? No, she had to be; otherwise, she wouldn’t ever do what she had just done. But then again, Irene was just a woman after all, and she even admitted having been lonely and wondering about her romantic life. Actually, didn’t Irene just now say ‘now that I actually look at you’? Did that mean that she only started to see him as a man after that point, or maybe it just only then that Irene had a chance to see him up close?

               No, that wouldn’t make sense given the situation; Irene had commented on his skin, something that didn’t really require close inspection to admire. Then what was it? The gears in Jaeho’s mind spun as he thought about those few points.

               About a minute later, he suddenly stopped, his hands coming off Irene’s back, causing her to look back in surprise. He did offer to be her boyfriend, and although it was a joke and it should have been obvious that it was one, maybe Irene actually considered it seriously and decided to test him?

               “What’s wrong?” Irene inquired, turning around.

               “Nothing, sorry,” he replied.

               “You’re pretty good at this. You know Wendy, from my group, is also pretty good at doing massages,” she said, scooting to the edge of her stool. “Do my legs next.”

               If Irene was indeed testing him, then this was definitely a crucial part. “I don’t know about—”

               “Aww, why not?” she pouted. Jaeho’s will almost crumbled in the face of such effortless cuteness, only his resolve to pass Irene’s test—in the slim chance this was the intent behind Irene’s action—holding him back.

               “Wouldn’t stretching be better for relieving tension the muscles in your legs?” Jaeho offered.

               Irene shrugged, placing her legs on the rungs beneath Jaeho’s stool, essentially sandwiching his legs in between hers. “That’s not why I asked for the massage though,” she said.

               Jaeho made sure to take a brief second to calm himself down before addressing Irene. “Well you can always ask Wendy herself, right?”

               “Why would I do that when I could just ask you?”

               “Because you’re more familiar with Wendy…?”

               Irene pursed her lips. Retracting her legs and setting her hands on the counter, placing her head on top of those hands, making sure to still be facing Jaeho. “You’re interesting, Song Jaeho,” she commented, closing her eyes. “Well, good job.”

               Good job? So Jaeho was right, that Irene was testing him? “What?” inquired Jaeho, only to discover that Irene was already fast asleep.

               Slightly panicked, he looked up and almost immediately made eye contact with the bartender. “Ah, don’t worry, I know who to call,” he said, picking up the phone located next to the cash register and speaking briefly into it before putting it back down.

               “Thank you,” Jaeho said, briefly checking up on Irene to make sure she was still situated securely to the seat.

               “Of course. Are you going to give her your phone number?”

               The question took him by surprise. Honestly, it wasn’t even a thought that had grazed his mind: while it was somewhat comforting, knowing that Irene felt safe enough to fall asleep in his presence, another part of him felt the situation to be bittersweet. It was a thought that lingered in the back of his mind this entire time: when this night is over, life will move on as if nothing ever happened. This was just a natural part of life, but that bittersweetness almost made him regret meeting Irene in the first place—almost.

               “I don’t think so. What would her company think if they found out?”

               The bartender shrugged. “Well, her company would only figure out if her manager tattled on her. And from my knowledge, the managers tend to be on the idols’ side when it came to issues like these.” When the bartender saw him ponder, he offered one last piece of advice, “Celebrities are humans too, you know.”

               Jaeho deliberated on the option, but no matter how he thought about it, it didn’t sit well with him. It just felt too … egotistical, too arrogant of him to do such a thing. In the end, even if Irene did enjoy herself tonight, Jaeho was just a random guy who Irene didn’t have much of a reason to be interested in, especially when she could choose from a much more desirable pool of men in the celebrity scene who, for one, could actually empathize with her daily troubles. He, on the other hand, was just a regular man in the workforce. When Irene’s manager arrived, she quickly bowed a ‘thanks’ to Jaeho before carrying the groggy idol out through the back door of the club.

               Jaeho finished his water shortly afterwards and departed from the club.

               Sure enough, when the next morning rolled around, the night at the bar all seemed a blur. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember what had transpired: it was more like it felt too fantastical to be real. Either it was the most realistic dream he’s ever had, or he actually did strike up a conversation with Red Velvet’s Bae Joohyun and they did flirt with each other for a little while. But the memory stayed fresh in his mind throughout his morning ritual, so by breakfast, he determined that last night did actually happen.

               This came with conflicting feelings: while he felt happy—proud, even—about how the previous night transpired, he overwhelmingly felt a crushing disappointment, a hidden longing, an emptiness that usually followed joy-filled moments like concerts or parties. Again, it almost made him regret ever having met Irene, but the ecstatic feeling of reliving that memory overpowered that regret.

               He could still remember her laughter and how it stayed in her eyes, the way she spoke and how soothing it was to hear her voice, her gentle hands on the back of his own … it scared him to admit, but he could start to empathize with obsessive fans who wanted nothing more than to be with their idols twenty four-seven. He wanted some validation, some reassurance that Irene and he could hit it off, or maybe he just wanted another excuse to see her in person again. He began dreading not leaving his phone number with Irene, even despite knowing how egotistical of an action that might have seemed. If he had just swallowed his pride and given Irene the choice of contacting him instead of himself, maybe he would’ve had a chance … after all, Irene did congratulate him for ‘passing’ her test. Or at least, that’s what he figured those words meant.

               After moping around his apartment until lunchtime, Jaeho realized he was contradicting his mother’s advice: being stuck in the past, unable to move forward. So, he pushed the memory into the back of his mind, and kept it just that: a memory, a recollection of a joyous, exhilarating night to never happen again, an interesting occurrence with no real future consequence. Keeping this in mind, he nearly choked on his own spit after seeing the post Irene made on her personal Instagram: it was a video of her drinking a cup of water in an exaggerated refreshed expression, with the caption: “What do you think? Do you think I could film a commercial for water?”

               This had to be regarding last night, right? In the grand scheme of things, this kind of a post seemed random and uncharacteristic of Irene. Maybe it was just a coincidence? The chances of that weren’t zero; or maybe she just vaguely remembered last night and that joke was one of the things she remembered.

               But what if this was all because Irene was subtly trying to communicate with him?

               The more Jaeho thought about it, the more ridiculous the notion seemed. First of all, how would Irene be able to find him by using this post? By reading each and every one of the over three-thousand comments? And how would she even determine which one was him?

               And that was still assuming Irene, for some reason, had taken enough of an interest in him after spending just an hour or two talking to him to want to talk with him again. Maybe it was just the joke itself that left an impact on her, and not Jaeho himself. And again, even if he did take it as a sign of Irene trying to communicate with her, what was he going to do? Comment on the post in the hopes that Irene would, by some miracle, find that comment and recognize him? Go back to the club later that night and hope he was let in again? None of those situations seemed very likely, so in the end, he decided to just like the post and leave it at that. As disappointing as it was, as much as Jaeho wished it was Irene calling out to him, he had to face the fact that reality and fantasy were separate.

               As the weekend passed and he went back to work, the empty feeling of disappointment started to fade. He wasn’t going to lie, he considered going back to the club to test his luck, but ultimately decided against it for fear of seeming like an obsessive fan.

               It was on the fifth day after meeting Irene that another post from her rekindled those emotions: it was another allusion to their brief night at the club—she was simply smiling at the camera for about ten seconds, after which bursting out into laughter, the clip ending shortly after. The caption: “This wasn’t creepy, was it?”

               It wasn’t just Jaeho that thought this was slightly out of character for Irene: even a few commenters felt the same way, wondering why she was posting such a video, developing theories that she was trying to prove someone wrong or that she was practicing for a CF. Jaeho deliberated on the topic for about an hour, this time resolving to leave a simple comment that told Irene ‘here he was’: ‘Just as expected, it was very pretty but also a little creepy.’

               Despite reminding himself over and over to keep his expectations low, he couldn’t help but feel a ballooning sense of anticipation, a swelling nervousness inside his chest that perpetually felt dangerously close to bursting. What if things worked out? What if Irene correctly identified him and they could meet up again? What if … what if … this question, that lingered in the back of his mind ever since that night, felt so close—so close—to being answered.

               So when no one responded or so much as to even notice the comment, that burning feeling eventually petered out into a small flame shortly before being snuffed out by reality. The following day, Irene posted another video of herself drinking soju with her members, making the same ‘satisfied’ face as Jaeho ever so vividly remembered as the face she made after taking her first sip of the drink he liked to drink. She smiled into the camera, the clip cutting off shortly afterwards, and Jaeho couldn’t help but think that the smile was directed at him, as a sort of ‘see, I told you so,’—a response to his accusation that Irene didn’t actually make such a face when drinking other, weaker forms of alcohol.

               Jaeho came to realize how uncharacteristic his recent behavior was: his life motto was to not dwell on the past, but here he was, shackled by it. So, this time, he didn’t dwell on the post; he simply just ‘liked’ it and moved on with his day, contemplating what he should do the upcoming weekend. He briefly considered visiting another bar, but instantly shot the idea down, knowing that he probably wouldn’t enjoy himself as much with the memory of last week’s encounter with Irene still imprinted in his brain.

               The next week’s Monday, Irene posted yet again, this time of the song ‘Young and Beautiful’ by Lana Del Ray. Jaeho noticed the lyrics at the top of the screencap: his English wasn’t that good, but with the help of Google translate, his suspicions were confirmed. The lyrics, “Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful”, could also be seen as a reference to that night, when Jaeho noted that he liked that Irene was older than him. Was he just stretching for a connection at this point? Maybe he was, but he couldn’t help it: that meeting and conversation with Irene was probably the single most memorable experience in his life and might be for the rest of his life.

               Whatever the case was, Jaeho tried not to dwell on it too much. It was a famous song, after all—and a pretty good one, at that. So, he liked the post and moved on with his day.

               The nudge that caused Jaeho to temporarily disregard his mother’s advice was when, a few days later, Irene posted again: this time, a serene, casual picture of the idol along with a caption that read: “I’m going to be honest here: you’ve all been curious as to what has gotten into me lately, right? Well, a new friend gave me these suggestions but hasn’t contacted me ever since then. If she doesn’t do so, I’ll seriously get mad :<”

               With all these hints, he figured that if he never at least tried, he would regret it for the rest of his life. If he could just bring himself to discard his pride that one night…

               The only hint that she may have been referring to someone else was Irene referring the person she was addressing a female, but even this could be explained away. If she addressed this ‘close friend’ of hers as a male, or even if she didn’t address the ‘close friend’s’ gender at all, rumors would start flying that Irene was secretly meeting or dating someone.

               That Friday, after some uncharacteristically obsessive preparation, he headed out for that bar. His anxiety gradually built up more and more until he entered the bar itself, inside the private screening room that sat between the rest of the line and the club interior and came across the same bouncer as he met his first time there. However, this time, he was rejected.

               “What? Are you sure?”

               “I’m sorry sir,” he replied.

               “But I was here last week,” Jaeho replied, immediately realizing that he shouldn’t have said that. It must have been his desperation, the building bubble of anticipation that suddenly burst with the bouncer’s words, that caused him to say such an uncharacteristically stupid thing: at worst, reminding this to the bouncer would do nothing more than to embarrass him to the point of anger and impatience, and at best, wouldn’t phase him whatsoever, the comment passed off as a lie.

               “I’m sorry sir, but I can’t let you in,” he repeated, thankfully choosing the latter as reaction.

               Jaeho knew he had to leave, that him loitering any further would result in his forced removal, which would just be all the more embarrassing, but he felt like he had to try. He already came this far; he felt that not pressing the issue would result in a regret that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

               “Can you just let me in for one minute?” he offered, swallowing his pride.

               “No, I can’t allow that. I’m sorry sir, but if you press any more, I’ll be forced to call security.”

               He sighed and nodded, turning around wistfully. “I understand. I’m sorry, have a—”

               A gentle, yet firm voice called out, cutting him off.

               “Song Jaeho?”