EXO X OC

 

Kim Jongin x Lee Suhwa

 

SUHWA – village girl, 20 year old girl, was just about done with her English school, quite adventurous, is on her train ride back home to Ansan with her box luggage and a scarf with plum blossom embroidery from her late mother when she came across Jongin was in the train without legal ticket, stealing the double seat her father's master has gifted her with

 

JONGIN – the son of the Kim Admiral that guards the palace, have just returned from Tokyo, knew nothing about Joseon except that people have started to ride trains and women have started to wear pants. Oh and that street lights had only been introduced for 3 days

 

…

 

The train was bustling with preoccupied crowds handling and keeping their families close to them, whilst Japanese army were either busy cleaning their guns or staring down conservative noble women dressed in colourful hanboks. The strong smell of summer air and dreadful body odor was beginning to fill Suhwa’s coach as she finally reached hers. Ironically, she had thought she would smell less of body odor should she purchase an expensive coach ride to Ansan, a journey that would consume about 4 hours of ride from Joseon, but she figured this smell was 10 times more unbearable than if she were to ride an open seat coach.

 

Suhwa mused for 3 good minute before decided to keep her box luggage instead and settle herself in open seat coach. She walked on, moving from the compartmented coach to the open ones. The door slid open, and Suhwa pondered on. The coach was particularly crowded. It was nearly impossible to find a free seat, whatmore she was a holder of a coach train ticket, and not an open seat one. She sighed, wishing this was but a dream. Suhwa started to feel the heat arose from the overbearing large crowd of people in the big box of train coach. Windows were indeed open but she thought no air was circulating just right. Suhwa felt her chest tightnening. She had no choice to but retreat back to her initial, and rightfully closed coach.

“Madsome behaviour,” she had uttered under her breathe. The first English word her teacher, Mrs. Hamilton had said when she caught her sneaking in rice wine in the middle of the class. That was where the misunderstanding between a low class Joseon girl and an English literature elite started. Over rice wine, being sneaked in during class, in broad daylight.

The fact was Suhwa’s father thought that if she found English school a delighted place to be and great language to learn, she may give the teacher the rice wine as a gift. That way her teacher would be happy. And she ought to as well. But how could she explain all this- not without the teasing and mocking laughter from her classmates.

“How could a low class girl be in school? What more an English school? And she even brought a wine with her? – were some of the mockery Suhwa had clearly heard of the first time Mrs. Hamilton towered over her, hands clasped on hip, visibly and utterly infuriated.

Suhwa couldn’t do nor say anything back to defend herself. “Crazy,” Mrs Hamilton had spoken. “And wild.” She added some more. Suhwan kept her head down for the rest of the class, the rice wine sitting idly on her table. The next day, she threw all the rice away and ran to the paddy field before being caught by the school gurds. This time, she wasn’t running away. But she was only running after her mother’s scarf that was blown away by the wind.

“Madsome little girl,” Mrs Hamilton offered when Suhwa was being punished in the prinicipal’s room. “I don’t want to tolerate any more of this nonsense. Either you pull yourself together, keep your discipline and learn properly with the best of manners, or you call your father this instant and have him withdraw you from the school.”

Never in Suhwa’s 18 years of life would she had to listen to an hour-long nagging in a totally foreign language. ‘Madsome’, she thought to herself. ‘I believe everything that’s happening right now is perfectly madsome too.’

 

“JUST who do you think you are sitting in my seat?” Suhwa’s brows collided in complete confusion. A man, dressed in beige, half-collared shirt with suspended overshirt looked her up and down as she stepped in. The coach was meant for 4 people, indeed, but her father’s master, Han Kiseok had generously bought her 2 seats- as token of appreciation for her desire in learning, whereas the two remaining seats were filled with sleeping Japanese folks in mid-30, one of which the driven factor for her to seek open seat in another coach. This man was clearly trespassing and was clearly breaching her legal seats.

“Sssh”, the man offered as matter of factly. “You’ll wake up the sleeping folks.”

“It’s my seat, sir. I will need you to-”

Jongin heard the shuffling steps next coach and the clear, clipped voice of conductor asking the boarders to show them their tickets. Suhwa thought God was truly on her side this time. This trespasser needs to leave the train immediately! How insolent and disrespectful.

“Well then I guess I will leave you to the authority then,” Suhwa rubbed her hanbok and fixed her flower ornament that she felt was beginning to fall loose. She then reached for her purse that was tied to her hanbok to retrieve her ticket. An electrifying shock reverberated through her spine. The ticket – she had lost her ticket!

 

“GOOD day sir,” greeted the skinny conductor in his uniforms that looked about 3 sizes bigger than him. Including the hat. Jongin stifled a smile and offered the conductor his ticket. Suhwas’ eyes were big and round as her gaze fell hard on the ticket that clearly stated the number of the seat and coach which she rightfully belonged to.

“Miss?” The conductor asked after he was done examining Jongin and the sleeping Japanese men’s tickets. “May I see your ticket miss?”

“She’s with me,” Jongin offered first before Suhwa could utter another word. Blood drained out her face, her hands hid behind her hanbok, mildly trembling.

“It’s a double seat ticket,” Jongin cut across as the conductor began to change the sunny expression on his face into dark and cloudy, much like how Suhwa felt on the inside. He took out the ticket had kept earlier and flashed the back that had said ‘doble seat- coach 3E.’

“Are you together with him, Miss?” The conductor asked for the obvious.

“We’re together,” Jongin said again, pulling Suhwa onto his laps, followed by her stifling gasp. “Just got married,” Jongin held up his hand to show the conductor his ring. He held Suhwa’s hand, and showed the conductor her ring finger that has jade ring around it, much to everyone’s convenience.

“Newlyweds,” one of the Japanese passengers said in Japanese. “She’s got great face for a Joseon woman I would settle for her too,” the Japanese laughed mirthlessly, and his friend nodded in agreement.

“The most conservative ones are usually wild in sheets,” the other man added in Japanese and their laughter merged into one.

“Righto.” Jongin laughed along, agreeing in his fluent Japanese, but inside he was honestly conflicted between shagging those vulgar-mouthed men in their mouth with his new boots or pulling out the swords that were resting on their hip  and slashing through their throats in 1 second without blinking.

“Well then, have a good one, sirs, ma’am,” the conductor cleared his throat and excused himself. Jongin nodded at him as a sign of dismissal, and his gaze then fell onto Suhwa, who clearly had a extricate time processing the impromptu scene.

She looked at him, utterly perplexed, before she spent too long of a 3 minute sitting on a stranger's lap- who also happened to be the thief to her ticket!

“Outrageous,” she heaved angrily. “We are not together. You are a Japanese thief who stole my seats, and I will not stand by this-” Suhwa stood up immediately, fixing her hanbok, hoping to in the meantime, calm her racing heart as well. It didn’t take someone long enough to notice the thief had rather exquisite taste to his outfits selection, how well gelled his dark brown hair was and how strong jawline he possessed. Suhwa pulled herself together.

“Thieving Japanese who stole my seats!” She pressed yet again, only she was rather making it clear to her own self.

“I’m not a Japanese thief,” Jongin denied rather kindly, speaking in Korean.

“You communicated very well with these Japanese folks! I know very well you cannot make a fool out of me. And return me my tickets and show yourself out! How dare you-” Suhwan pointed a finger at Jongin, bending over him in pure fury. Her cheeks turned red, and the heat from the summer air helped raised her inner tension. “You touched me with your filthy hands!”

“Are these two not together – bunch of lying folks!” One of the Japanese passengers who witnessed the whole bickering lurched forward, pointing at both Jongin and Suhwa. “I knew it. Joseon rats, they always lie.”

“No no,” Jongin who sensed the danger knew too well what result would come out of this verbal argument retorted in his fluent Japanese. He held Suhwa’s hold hand that was directed at him and squeezed it tight. “My wife is angry because she is hungry. It is a hot day, after all.” Jongin raised from his seat, pulled Suhwa close to his side, too close Suhwa could almost taste the strong sweet perfume from his neck.

“Let go of me-” Suhwa struggled but was in vain. He squeezed her shoulder, dragging her out of the coach, and walked on until they reached the quiet passageway.

 

“IF you touch me one more time I swear on my mother’s name-”

“Sshh!” Jongin lurched forward to shush her in the mouth the moment he let go of her. Their eyes met up in an electrifying glare battle, both were too stubborn to divert either one’s gaze. “If I let go,” he warned through his teeth. “You must promise me you will not raise your voice at me. We cannot be seen fighting. Do you understand me?”

Suhwa’s brows collided. She was clearly not happy with whatever nonsense she was asked to promise.

“Promise me?” He repeated, slightly impatient.

Suhwa nodded finally, agreeing to give in and hear what he had to say.

“I will let go now,” he said, and as Suhwa quickly nodded, he slowly released his hand.

Suhwa pushed him as faraway she could and kicked his foot. Jongin’s face wreathed in pain. “You-”

“HELP” Suhwa gathered her weight and ran towards the gaping coach door. Jongin impulsively grabbed her by the hand, and pulled her into one of the empty coaches that were filled with broken café stools. He pressed his body on top of hers against the wall, clasped her small face in to keep her silent and dragged a piece of wooden plank to cover themselves.

Not long after, fast-moving footsteps approached the hollow train passage, and the Japanese soldiers started to search the entire area for the screaming lady.

Jongin had his eyes set on Suhwa, rather deadly. She looked up at him, and away, and cold sweats began to drop down her temple, and onto Jongin’s hand that was against . He brought close his other finger to his own lips, signaling her to always keep quiet. The sound of footsteps of the soldiers become faint, and the order telling them to search elsewhere was clearly heard just behind the thin wooden wall that was covering them. Jongin heart beat too rapidly, and his sweats trickled down his neck onto his collar.

Minutes after the tension had leveled, Jongin pulled himself back, realizing the unpleasant position he had thrown this young lady in colouful hanbok into. Her hair tied in a neat bun was a mess now with little hair falling out and the flower ornament hanging on the knot was about to fall off.

“I will explain myself, just please don’t scream or you will get both of us killed, right here right now. Do you understand me?” Jongin looked her dead in the eyes, expression sour and grave and he was pointing at his lips again. “Shush down, alright?”

Suhwa nodded, this time she knew too well what not to do anymore.

“I will let go,” Jongin said, and he slowly let go. Suhwa’s eyes were red, face flushed, and her heart couldn’t stop beating out of her chest.

The moment Jongin let go she could’ve sworn she was standing but somehow, as though on someone’s cue, her knees lost its strength and became feeble in 1 second. Suhwa held on to the rack behind her, catching her breathe. Jongin helped rub her back, looking rather alert.

“Are you alright, miss?” He asked politely. But the moment Suhwan looked up, a heated slap was across his face. Crisp, and quickly.

“Explain yourself, you loathsome vermin!” Suhwa was shouting but she was also restricting herself. Her hand shook from the slap, and she could see the mark right away on his face.

His mouth was left agape, clearly stumped by her justly action. “I,” he paused, trying his best to control his expression. The slap felt too hot on his cheek, hotter than the scorching sun outside. “-most definitely deserve that.”

Suhwa’s chest rose in anger. She was staying still, and as faraway from him as she could. She hated every inch of him, despised the fact that they were stuck in the cramped space until he made himself clear as to why he had shamelessly stolen her seats, lied to the conductor about their status, touched her as he pleased and rudely cupped one too many times.

“I understand your anger, miss.” He said outwardly. “And I understand why you would slap me.”

“Even if I throw you off this train a thousand times I will not be satisfied!”

“Justified,” he said. “I can explain myself, please let me.”

“Explain right now or I will cut your throat open.”

“I’m sorry I stole your seats. I was wrong.”

“You touched me as you please, you lied to the conductor, saying that we are together and you clearly were wanted by Japanese soldier- that was the reason why you got on this train in the first place without legal ticket!”

“Your voice is too loud!” Jongin sprung forward, all ready to shut her up, again.

“Kepp your hands off me or I will bite them off!”

“I am not a wanted criminal,” he said silently. “I lost my way to the seat- see,” Jongin pulled out the ticket that he had shown earlier to the conductor. “It’s my name, Kim Jongin.”

The name written across was indeed Kim Jongin- seat 3E-coach F. Suhwa grabbed the ticket from him, and read back the ticket carefully. He was correct, from the first time. It was indeed his ticket.

“Impossible!” Suhwa almost couldn’t believe what just happened. “B-but your ticket- my seats.”

Jongin stifled a smile. “I’m sorry,” he said, with a smile. “I found yours, I guess,” Jongin pulled out another ticket from his pocket and showed it to Suhwa. Lee Suhwa- seat 3E-coach G.

“I was in your coach,” Jongin said. “I lost my way but before I could explain myself the conductor was already searching for ticket. You know how merciless they can be towards Joseon people. I picked up yours when I was panicking in my, well, your seat. It was stuck right under my boots, and then you came in. Like fate.”

“Bollocks,” Suhwa spat across. “If anything it was a pure nightmare. You could’ve just explained yourself to the conductor. He would kindly take you to your coach. Hand over my ticket and let’s be on our separate ways now,” Suhwa spread her palm open at him.

Jongin gave Suhwa her ticket, and she snapped right away like a fussy little toddler.

“I pray to God that fate has it in them, that we shall never cross path again.” Suhwa clasped at her hanbok, and rolled her eyes. She walked away, turning herself away and further from Jongin, her hanbok dress grazed at his boots before they disappeared too quickly out of his sight like a breath fogged up on window glass. Magical, but momentary. Jongin looked into his palm – a lips mark was red and visible across his palm. He stifled a smile, and clenched into fist.

“May God forsake your prayer, little miss.”

 

 

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