“Kyesin. Kyesin! Park Kyesin!”

 

“N-ne?” your head snapped up.

 

“It’s almost time,” a woman, who is simply called as Hannah, said. Her face was painted heavily with bright colored make-up. She wore a sleeveless crop top which she personally cut off to reveal her cleavage, a pair of extremely short denim shorts and brown boots. She was already in her mid 30s.

 

You sighed. Work is starting again. You stood up from your seat and checked myself on the mirror. And you hate what you see.

 

The woman in the mirror has a pretty face but all that has been overpowered by the heavy eyeliner and the bright red lipstick. Her uniform was a red tube – a color that matches her lips, high waisted black skirt and black stockings. The woman was actually just 23 years old but she looked much older. Compared to the other girls, she looked the most conservative – or in other words, the least ty.

 

“Ei, you should at least wear these shoes,” Hannah said, handing you a pair of bright red stilettos that were about five inches high.

 

“Eonnie, I can’t walk in those,” you said.

 

“Do you want manager-nim to get mad at you again? You know he cuts your pay when you don’t follow his orders.”

 

You sighed and took the heels from her. You sat down and put them on. “There. Happy?”

 

“mhm… not quite,” she shook her head. She rummaged through her bag and took out a pair of scissors. She cut your stockings, making holes of different sizes and at irregular places. “Better,” she grinned at her work.

 

“Isn’t it too much?” you asked.

 

“You’re still too covered, to be honest. But this is the most you can manage.”

 

“I look like a ,” you said. “No offense.”

 

“None taken,” she chuckled. “But just be careful out there, okay?”

 

“I will, eonnie. Thanks.”

 

“Yah Yah what are you all doing there chatting?! Let’s go!” Manager ahjussi shouted.

 

You went out of the dressing room. This place was supposed to be just a bar, but for some reason, the owner made it into a club. There were two kinds of servers in this place - those who bring in the food and drinks to customers and those who are personally picked by the customers to fulfill their requests. Sometimes, if the person has enough money and is influential, he could bring the server home. You were part of the former, and Hannah was part of the latter. Yes, it was a disgusting place and it was a disgusting job but you had no other choice. As do some other girls there. Hannah is actually very nice, but she wouldn’t want to work here either. All of you have one and only reason why you work in this place: you needed money.

 

There were different kinds of men coming in. And they differ when it comes to age too. Men in their twenties to thirties were mostly single and are part of the labor force. Those men usually come mainly just to have fun… drink and get drunk. The second group are the ones in their thirties to forties. Most of them were married men and they come to the club for a brief escape from their problems. You are all supposed to be discreet about it, but when those people come, they come to get pleasured. The other girls have no choice when one of them fancies her. They would have to entertain the guests or else the strict manager would fire them. The last group were the filthiest of all – the CEOs. Old men in suits come sometimes in groups. They are loud and erted. They are the ones who can ‘buy’ a girl if he wishes to. They can because they have power and they have money. It’s a degrading kind of job. Those girls who were in that group felt like dogs – leashes tied around their necks and they have to follow their master’s command. Hannah is one of them. It’s very sad to see someone so nice degrade herself just to earn money. But what can she do? She had no education. She has a three year old son but the father left her with no alimony or any kind of financial support. She wants nothing but the best for her little boy. She wants to provide him with the things she never had. She has to support him on her own. But all she had was a pretty face and her body.

 

That is the reality of life.

 

“Casey! Guests at table 8,” Hannah told you. In other to protect your identities, you use English names when you’re at the club.

 

“Right,” you nodded. You took a deep breath. You went to the table where three middle aged men sat around a table. “Hello good evening, sir. What can I get for you tonight?”

 

“You,” answered one – the oldest of them all. You wanted to puke.

 

“I’ll have a beer,” one said as he chuckled.

 

“Same.”

 

“Alright, three beers it is then. And perhaps your number?” the oldest one winked.

 

You faked a smile and excused yourself. “Three beers for the three erts at table 8,” you said to the person at the bar.

 

“Casey! If manager hyung hears you again, you’ll get fired for sure!” he said. The barista, Ye Moonyoung, is a nice man. He is in his mid-30s, single, and probably the only gentleman in the club right now.

 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay.”

 

“You just have to endure it, okay? You’re lucky you’re only serving drinks. Think about all the other girls in here who have it worse than you.”

 

You sighed. “I know. But doesn’t it bother you? How filthy these guys are? They’re probably cheating with their wives, throwing away their families!”

 

“So why are you here then?” he asked.

 

“Why are we all here? We all need money,” you answered.

 

“Then you should have known what kind of place this is before deciding to work here,” he said. “Now just go and serve these to them.”

 

You took the tray of beers and served it to the table.

 

“Thanks gorgeous,” one of them winked.

 

“Casey, table 13,” one of the girls whispered to you.

 

You nodded and obediently went to table thirteen. There were five men, all in suits. All looked obviously rich. Very rich. But one of them was much younger than the rest. He was in his late 20s or early 30s and the rest were at least 45 years old. You wondered why they were together. Perhaps the younger guy was a subordinate? Ugh what a cheap kind of business relationship.

 

“Hello, good evening. What will you, gentlemen, have for tonight?” You asked.

 

The one who looked oldest answered first. “Scotch for me.”

 

“Would you like that on the rocks, sir?” you asked.

 

“Yes, please,” he chuckled.

 

“I’ll have the same,” the youngest man answered. The others ordered beer.

 

But never have you expected to see a man like that in this place. His face is bright. His skin is fair. He has big round eyes and a distinct yet pretty mole under his right eye. His nose is pointed. His lips were nice and pink. He wasn’t thin, but he wasn’t fat either. His body looked just right – not very muscular. He looks like the son of a chaebol. His eyes met yours for a second before you looked away, flushed.

 

“O-okay… I’ll be right back with your drinks,” you said, bowing.

 

You walked back to the bar, quite shocked. How could someone looking so decent come in a place like this? Is he, deep inside, a ert like all the others? It would be a shame if it was like that. He looked like he didn’t belong in this place.

 

“Two scotch on the rocks, table 13, and three beers,” you said.

 

“What? No insults?” Moonyoung chuckled.

 

“One of them seems strange though… like he doesn’t belong here… I’ve never seen him here before either. I’ve seen 2 of them a few times, though.”

 

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Casey,” he said. “Those kinds of people are actually worse.”

 

You sighed. “I know. He’s probably like a Christian Grey type of person and in to some weird Fifty Shades kind of stuff.”

 

“Probably,” he agreed. “Here are their drinks.”

 

You took the tray to their table and served them their drinks.

 

“Thank you,” the young man looked up at you and gave you a warm smile. He’s actually polite… and he looks extraordinarily gorgeous. You can’t believe a man like this exists. You decide to call him Mr. Black since his black suits looks well on him and because he is mysterious and dark, and he reminds you of a certain Mr. Grey.

 

The night progressed slowly. You served drinks to several tables. Got hit on by almost all of them – all, but Mr. Black. He was unexpectedly polite and well-mannered. Like your first thoughts of him, he doesn’t belong to this place at all. Unlike his colleagues who were rowdy and drunk, he kept his composure, barely smiling, but would often catch your eyes.

 

The club closed at two in the morning. You changed your clothes and counted the tips you received for tonight. But the tips were just enough for one day’s worth of allowance. You took your bag from the locker, ready to head home.

 

“Casey,” the manager called you. This old geezer. What does he want now?

 

“Yes?” you said, going to him.

 

“I need to talk to you in private,” he said. “Bring your things.”

 

What? Was he going to fire you? Hannah looked worriedly at you before you followed manager-nim to his office.

 

Inside sat a man in front of his desk. The man stood up as you entered and bowed politely. It was Mr. Black.

 

“I-is there a problem, manager-nim?” You asked. Your voice trembled.

 

“Ahh… Casey… I know you’re just a table server but I’m putting you in customer duty… just for tonight,” he answered.

 

“What?! No! I never agreed to this!”

 

“This is Mr. Cho. He will take care of you this evening,” he said.

 

Mr. Black looked at you with an intense gaze. “Do you remember me?”

 

You gulped and nodded. “You’re one of the guys I served earlier.”

 

He signed. “Shall we?” he said. It was the first time you heard his voice clearly. And it was surprisingly deep and rich. Almost like music to the ears.

 

“No… no… I can’t!” you shook your head.

 

“Come on, Casey. It won’t be much of a big deal by tomorrow. This guy has already paid a lot,” manager-nim said in a whisper.

 

Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. Moonyoung was right. These are the worst kind of men.

 

“I don’t care how much he paid! I’m not… I’m not that kind of girl!”

 

“I won’t hurt you. I promise,” Mr. Black said.

 

Tears started stinging your eyes. “How could you do this to me, manager-nim?”

 

“Please, just go, Casey. I’ll raise your pay, alright? Alright? I promise,” Manager-nim begged. “Don’t you want to pay off your debts as quickly as possible?”

 

You breathed deeply. “I… I…”

 

“Your rent is due on two days, right? And the debt collectors will come by then,” he said.

 

Tears fell from your eyes. Do you really need to go this low for money? You look at Mr. Black. His face was calm and collected. Should you really sell yourself to this man?

 

“I promise, you’ll be alright,” he told you. If this is what it is, then he’s a psycho for being this calm. A pretty darn handsome psycho.

 

“Casey, please…”

 

“Shall we?” Mr. Black offered his hand. You thought for a minute and reluctantly took his hand. Mr. Black led you outside where his pearly white Audi was parked. He opened the passenger door and let you in before climbing to his side. He revved the engine on and drove away. “Please stop crying. I will not hurt you,” he said in a warm voice. That was hard to believe. “Casey, is it?”

 

“Y-yes,” you replied.

 

“Is that your real name?” he asked.

 

You shook your head. “Park Kyesin,” you said.

 

“So which would you prefer I call you?”

 

“Any is fine…”

 

“Alright. I’ll call you by your real name then,” he said. “Where do you live?”

 

“Uhm… just a small room at a hostel… the owner is a family friend and she let me stay there…” you answered.

 

“Where is that?” he asked and you gave him the address. “Ah… I see… Are you originally from Seoul?”

 

You shook your head. You don’t know why but there’s something about him that urges you to answer his questions. “I’m from Gangwon province,” you replied.

 

“What are you doing in Seoul?” he asked.

 

“I transferred here to study…”

 

“Ah… I see… Where do you study?”

 

“Seoul University.”

 

“Oh really?” his face lit up and glanced at you. “What year are you in now?”

 

“I’m in my 4th year… I’ll be graduating in a few months,” you replied. His car then slowed to a stop in front of the building where you stay at. He went out of the car and opened your door for you. “Mister… Cho…”

 

“Please, call me Kyuhyun,” he said.

 

“Kyuhyun-ssi… I…”

 

“Go inside, it’s getting late,” he told you with a warm smile.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Go inside and rest. You’ll need it for school tomorrow.”

 

“Aren’t you…. Aren’t you planning to come?” you asked, utterly confused.

 

He chuckled and shook his head. “No,” he smiled. “Go. I won’t leave until you’re safe inside.”

 

You looked at him. Did he pay that large sum of money just to bring you home?

 

“Thank you,” you said, bowing down. You slowly walked towards the hostel and went inside. You watched by the window as Mr. Black went inside his car and drove away.

 

Your heart was beating fast. You regret thinking about him as a erted psychopath. He was nothing like that. But why did he pay just to get you home? Did he perhaps…like you?

 

“Kyesin-ah, is that you?” ahjumma came out sleepily from her room.

 

“Yes ahjumma. Please go back to sleep,” you said.

 

She went back into her room and you went into hers. You changed your clothes and lay on your bed, thinking of Mr. Black. A couple of questions ran through your mind. Who was he? Why did he take you home? And the one you’re most curious about, will you see him again?