Saerom

“Hey there, gorgeous,” says Mingyu as I trudge into the chicken shop. I know he’s saying it ironically, because today I am far from gorgeous. The bags under my eyes are large and puffy, my hair is an oily mess, and my clothes haven’t been washed all week. I barely sleep, and I take every opportunity I can to save money, even if it means limiting my showers and saving trips to the laundromat.

I’m nasty and disgusting, but from the way Mingyu’s eyes ogle me, I don’t think he minds very much. He likes the dirty look, I suppose.

“You’re late,” he says.

“Cut me some slack. I had to close at midnight yesterday and wake up at six for class.”

“Why are you working such long hours?” he asks, laughing.

“Need the cash,” I answer simply, then go to the back to get into my uniform.

When I get back to front, I notice he is too engrossed in the TV overhead to finish cleaning the oily counter in front of him.

“Earth to Mingyu,” I say, and he tears his eyes away from the screen to look at me.

“One of those chaebol families is doing this weird marriage game,” he tells me. “Pretty interesting.”

“I don’t give a about stupid chaebols. Living their lives in luxury and playing games while we lower-class folk have to bust our asses just to survive…”

“Hey, maybe you should apply to be in the game,” he says, teasingly. “Winner gets to marry some fancy heir and live in a mansion.”

The prospect sounds intriguing enough. I turn my head to the TV and focus on what’s being said. The reporter is talking about the terms and conditions to apply: “it is open for both males and females over the age of 18 –”

“Hey would you look at that, you can apply too,” I back. “ing some pretty boy heir is your dream come true.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t comment. He just keeps watching.

The reporter continues: “This competition, named WED GAME, drawing inspiration from hit Netflix series Squid Game, represents Hong Pharamaceutical’s progressive ideas about love and marriage.”

Hong Pharmaceuticals?

The name of that company riles me up, sends flames through my limbs.

I hate them so ing much.

How dare they? They have enough money to splurge on this ridiculous competition, but keep hiking up the prices for medicine that people’s lives depend on. ing s. And they pretend to be “progressive” just because the chaebol is open to marrying a dude? Progressive my . What’s progressive about a feudal system that makes the poor poorer and the rich so rich they spend their money on stupid marriage game shows.

them.

I am clenching my teeth so hard, the gums around my infected wisdom teeth begin to hurt.

“I hate them so much,” I mutter.

“What did they ever do to you?” Mingyu laughs. He always laughs. He doesn’t know when laughing is simply not appropriate, and right now, it definitely isn’t

And then he comes up on the screen. The chaebol. Hong Joshua in all his regal glory. He wears some fancy suit that’s probably worth more than my entire house, and has this one-sided grin that rubs me in all the wrong ways.

And what’s worse is that he’s attractive as hell, too.

Damnit. Rich people don’t deserve to be this hot. They’ve already got the money, why would God bless them with looks too? Life is so unfair.

But his stupid good looks are irrelevant. All I can think about is wiping that smug smile off his spoiled little face. Throw a punch or two and disfigure his features until he’s ugly. That would make it more fair.

I watch him on the screen giving his address: “Hello everyone, this is Hong Joshua from Hong Pharmaceuticals,” he says into the microphone, cameras flashing all over his face. “I’m really looking forward to kicking this off and having fun with it. As you know, I’m looking for a partner to spend the rest of my life with, and to help me carry on the legacy of Hong Pharmaceuticals. The game will be broadcasted on national television, and everyone will get to watch it live in real time. I can’t reveal all the details yet, but it’s important for us to get some applications to be in the show. Like I said, I’m open to both men and women, and the winner will have the honor of being my wife… or husband. The games will take place on a remote island, like in Squid Game, but you can rest assured that the game is being planned within legal jurisdiction, so no lives will be endangered or anything like that. If you are interested in potentially participating in this game, knowing that the prize will be limitless wealth for the rest of your life, please go to the website and submit all your information and required files. Thank you, and I look forward to going through all your applications!”

“,” I mutter under my breath.

“Oh don’t be an idiot and apply! You need the money,” Mingyu says. “And I’ll apply too.”

“I didn’t know you were into dudes,” I say.

“For a billion dollars, I’m into anything. Heck, I’d even marry the old grandpa!” he says. “And besides, no one there is going to apply for the guy; they’re applying for the money.”

“Did you see the guy? I’m pretty sure many people will apply for the guy.”

Mingyu smirks at that. “Aw, you like him!”

I scoff. “Like him? If ‘like’ means wanting to gut out his insides and feed them to the pigs? Then sure, yeah, I like him.”

He laughs out loud at that. Then takes out his phone from his pocket and begins to tap on it. “Well I, for one, will apply. See what happens.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that kind of money.”

This is perfect teasing material, but when I try to come up with a clever jeer, I blank out. Mingyu has a point, to be honest. That’s a whole lot of money that can be won, even if it means marrying someone you’re not the least bit interested in.

Or, in my case, marrying someone you hate who owns the company which is the reason you’re poor to begin with.

“So, are you gonna do it? It’s free to apply,” he says, scrolling through his phone. “You just need to provide a few photos and answer some questions.”

“I’ll think about it.”

-

If I pay for the bus back home, I won’t have enough money to buy toothpaste. Our tube ran out a couple days ago, and my mouth feels nasty. I decide to walk instead.

But I am so sleepy I could barely keep my eyes open. And just my luck, it started to rain.

I mutter curses under my breath and scramble to find a ledge to wait under, assuming the rain will just go away in a few minutes.

It doesn’t.

The rain presses harder. The thunder, louder. The streets begin to flood, and even the cars struggle to traverse it. I just stand there with no idea what to do. I already bought the stupid toothpaste, and my home is at least half an hour away by foot.

I am not calling anyone for help. I’d rather drown.

So I brave the pelting rain and continue to walk,

I am cold and soaking wet by the time I arrive at my neighborhood. I have aching legs and no energy. It feels like the world around me is fuzzy and spinning, and my eyelids are so heavy and it takes so much energy to keep them open.

I could hardly wait to get home, where I could shed my clothes, wear something dry and cozy, and lay down and just sleep. The thought of being home gives me the strength to turn the final corner and -

There was no home for me to get back to.

I stand at the doorway to my building and look down at the door that marks the entrance to my basement-level apartment. The door is wide open, and the water has reached the handle. Me and my sister’s belongings – our clothes, our furniture, even the box of that stupid overpriced medicine – is floating out the door like worthless trinkets.

And that’s when I realize that I’ve lost everything.

My legs give out, and crash on the pavement of my street, defeated. I hope it continues to rain until I drown and die. Or until the whole country drowns and dies and nothing is left of it but ruins.

A voice cuts through the thunderous sound of the pelting rain. The voice gets closer and closer and closer, but I am too shocked and numb and tired to even turn my head.

“Saerom! Saerom.”

I feel someone tug at my arm.

“Come on Sae, I got you.”