“Do I get a discount?”

“You should be charged with VIP service for even being here right now.”

Bartender Choi grunted but calmly proceeded to pour the vodka into the cocktail shaker.  Jung Jessica, on the other hand, playfully shrugged her shoulders and continued to spin on her stool, unconvinced.

The soft jazz muted under the echoing of ice bouncing off steel and of faded monotonous clicks.  No other person was present; but of course, the bar had not even opened. 

“As your sponsor, I have full right to check up on your business before the hours, isn’t it so, Sooyoungie?” Jessica mischievously suggested while deleting faulty images on her fascinating toy.

“I should have not agreed to sign that contract,” Sooyoung scoffed, half regretting her choice as she squeezed the lemon into the mix, “You’re only abusing it.”

“Just admit that you like this.”

Sooyoung kept quiet.  Jessica was right, she liked this: the silence and the company of one.

She tried not to delve into drawing a line somewhere in their relationship or tag a label on it as if it was something to be bargained in the markets.  They agreed that “friends” was fitting enough and, from time to time, “roommates” as Jessica insisted (even though it was something more like a casual walk-in and sleepover on the brunette’s side of the story.)  Sooyoung let it define itself, whatever it may be or however Jessica wanted it.

Yes, she would go with what Jessica preferred.

But sometimes, when it got difficult, the topic became touchy and sensitive.  And now that they had (somehow along the way of drunken agreements) added a legal partnership to the long lists of connections to call themselves, confusion sank deeper.

Sooyoung did not bother much.  She was not carefree.  She just cared less.  But recently it had triggered her to think.  Sometimes she hated thinking.  Thinking would lead to action.  And when Choi Sooyoung would act, she would not hesitate. 

It was a blessing that she had practiced self-control and learned to tame it well.

But Jung Jessica got what she wanted and did what she wished.

“On the house,” Sooyoung said simply as she passed the shot of newly blended cocktail at Jessica’s direction.  “If you’re going to be here, might as well be my guinea pig.”

The brunette seemed intrigued, gladly accepting the offer.  She knew it was Sooyoung’s way of saying, “Here, have a free treat.” 

“New mix?” Jessica asked.

“New rum and tequila shipment.  They should taste better than last week’s,” Sooyoung informed, wiping the mess she had spilled on the table with the rag on the hook.

Jessica set aside her camera and adjusted herself properly in her seat.  Pressing her fingers firmly onto the glass and then bringing it to her lips, she took a small sip of the bartender’s proud creation.  The taste aded than her tongue, seeping in slowly. 

When the spice hit, she smiled, satisfied.

“It’s really good,” she complimented, nodding approvingly as she took in more of the alcoholic delight, “but lay down on the gin.”

“Okay.” Sooyoung acknowledged the gentle suggestion with a soft voice.  She bit her lips and tugged on the rag in her hand, holding back a very happy, wide grin. 

Praised by her sponsor and uplifted with the right working spirit, she resumed back to her art of bartending. 

It started as a hobby, grew from perks of curiosity.  Choi Sooyoung enjoyed the experimental game she conducted: the mixing, the shaking, the pouring then all over again with the tossing and the spinning.  Sometimes she would pull a few tricks motivated by boredom.  Those tricks would inspire to become a talent.  Then a spark and snap it was, all which started from a reach for the old wine bottle off her father’s cabinet turned into a profession.  Now, it was good business.

The public condemned her, spitting their hatred for a woman tying her fate to an “unfitting” job and spouting their jealousy of her success.  Heck, Choi Sooyoung did not care.  “Let ‘em be,” she waved it off.

The only opinion worth of her consideration was from one who listened.  The people never listen.

Jessica propped her elbows on the counter, hands occupied on a tiny piece of machinery held up to her face.  She watched all of the interesting solo performances Sooyoung was pulling.  She could not get bored of this.  Every day was something new and every time was something intriguing.  Jessica liked to be entertained.  Her best expression of showing that she was satisfied was through the lenses.  She would pull her camera out whenever a captivating moment of art nudged at her to be stilled and memorized.  When it was Sooyoung she would be watching, her camera was always ready in hand; her finger, always on the trigger.

“How many photos do you have of me in there?” Sooyoung interjected.  She was too used to the attention from the tool that she would never fully fathom.

“A lot.” Jessica snapped another shot when Sooyoung turned to stare at the lenses with a disgruntle look.  “Probably around ninety percent, if not more.”

Sooyoung sneaked a grin; she liked the ratio.

“What is the other twenty?”

“Junk.”

A bothersome thought interfered; Sooyoung abruptly stopped what she was doing.  She leaned over the counter and proceeded to push the camera down with one finger.  Staring into Jessica’s unwavering eyes, she popped the question. 

“…what about that midget?”

The brunette remained still, composed and expecting.  “She’s on a different roll.”

Sooyoung scoffed and ruffled her hair.

‘Of course,’ she thought, disappointed.

Minding not Sooyoung’s moody behavior – as she was quite accustomed from when it was first only a subtlety – Jessica laid her eyes to another object of attention.

“You’re wearing that again.  The tie,” Jessica pointed out, amused.

“It’s the only one I have for today,” Sooyoung replied hastily.

“Choi Sooyoung,” the brunette started, “you have a tie for every day of the week on your clothing rack, even one for Sunday when you don’t work and a spare one neatly folded in your drawer.”

Sooyoung kept shut of excuses.

“It’s the only piece of clothing you don’t liter on the ground like a snake peeling off its skin.”

“Well, that’s strange,” Sooyoung interrupted, “They somehow ended up on the floor the next morning anyway.  I wonder whose fault is that.”

Jessica twitched, now glaring at her roommate.  Apparently, she had not let the incident of that one night slide.

“That happened once and I said I’m sorry,” Jessica groaned, “I can’t control myself when I’m drunk.”

“Still doesn’t give you the right to randomly strip yourself and then undress anyone within proximity, now does it?”

“But you didn’t stop me either.”

A fact tied a knot at Sooyoung’s tongue and drew a victorious smirk on Jessica’s face.

“Besides, nothing happened.”

Right.  Nothing did.  All Jessica remembered was waking up next to Sooyoung, both dressed only in lingerie with the remnants of their attires scattered around the bartender’s apartment and piled among other clothes.  It was cold, yet it was warm, being bare, and her headache was annoying.  And at some point, it was awkward.

When Sooyoung suddenly turned quiet, Jessica knew she said too much.

The brunette bent over the counter and extended at a hand to tug at the flimsy piece of cloth around the bartender’s neck.  The latter jolted in surprise but followed as the older girl pulled her closer.

“Bring this to the studio tomorrow.  It’s a nice addition,” Jessica said, her voice softer.  She retied the knot.  “You’re coming, right?”

“It’s in my contract.” Sooyoung stated plainly.

They heard the door creaked open upstairs.  Sooyoung immediately detached from Jessica’s hold and Jessica calmly sat back down on her stool.  They pretended to be occupied.

“I’m back!” a loud voice screamed, echoing in excitement as it roared nearer.

But there was more than one person.

They observed as a darker woman appeared from the swinging saloon door.  Behind her, a familiar redhead tagged closely.

“Choi Sooyoung!  I got you souvenirs- Oh who is this?” the tan woman stopped short, examining an unfamiliar guest seated comfortably at the bar.

“She’s-”

“I’m Jessica, Sooyoung’s friend,” Jessica finished with a smile, “You must be the master sommelier here.  Miss Kwon Yuri, was it?”

“Oh, you heard of me?” the woman felt flattered.  “I didn’t know you talked about me, Boss.”

“I didn’t.”  It wasn’t a lie.  Sooyoung had only briefly mentioned that the bar had a wine steward and that she went on a long trip abroad in Paris to learn more on her profession.  Jessica dug up everything else, like always.

The chief reporter had not forgotten about the red haired woman behind Yuri.  How could she.

Sidestepping away from the sommelier (who had quickly grew interested in her), she approached Hwang Tiffany.  Extending a hand, she introduced herself in a language only conversable to them both.

“I’m Jessica Jung.  It is nice meeting you.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened in surprise.  It was not every day anymore that she would meet someone who spoke English fluently. 

“Oh, you’re American!” she clasped both of her hands on Jessica’s, shaking it in excitement.  It was like she found a buddy.  “It’s great meeting you.  I’m Tiffany.”

“You sing very well,” Jessica noted.

“Thank you,” Tiffany flashed her eye-smile, “I appreciate your compliment.”

Sooyoung felt a sense of disturbance, partly because she understood nothing from the conversation but also partly because Jessica was being oddly polite and friendly. 

She interfered, “Enough with the chit-chat.  We’re opening soon.  Go get ready, both of you.”

“It’s a pleasure knowing you, Miss Jessica,” Yuri butted in, playfully taking hold of Jessica’s hand and kissing it gently.  She learned that from the French.

Her boss, however, seemed far from impressed.

“Kwon Yuri.”  It was a threat.

“We’ll talk at a later time, Miss.  If you’ll excuse me,” the sommelier slipped in a wink before skipping off, grabbing onto the redheaded singer with her.

Jessica chuckled at the unpleased look on Sooyoung’s face.

“I’m quite fond of Miss Kwon.  She’s interesting,” the brunette commented, adding a bit more oil to the fuming fire.

“You’ll get bored of her soon enough once she starts pranking you with all sorts of her childish ways,” Sooyoung asserted.

“Maybe.  I do have quite enough of that from my immature cousin.”

“Maybe you should hook them up.”

Jessica drank what melted from the ice in her drink.  All was cold water.

“Are you jealous?”

Sooyoung was taken aback.  By now, Jessica was just playing with her.  She hated it.

But more importantly, something else bothered Sooyoung.  The bitter look on Jessica’s face was back.  She did not say anything more, and allowed the silence to comfort them both. 

That question was not for her to answer.

---

“Good evening, Miss.”

Taeyeon lifted her head, squinting her eyes at an unfamiliar tan and tall woman, whose features pronounced both masculinity and femininity.  She was attired in all black with one whited piece of cheap apron tied the waistline of her pants and a bowtie clipped carelessly around the collar.  Her presence was similar to the owner of the bar and their outfits, although each presented in a different manner, shared a strong resemblance.

“Um… good evening,” Taeyeon awkwardly nodded her head, still observing the lady in front of her.

“I’m the sommelier here.  My name is Kwon Yuri,” the latter introduced, extending her hand, “It is my pleasure to meet you.”  

The mistress pulled away the hand glued to her lap and openly, with respect, accepted the friendly handshake.  At some point or another since last night’s encounter, she stopped caring about random greetings from strangers. 

“Taeyeon.  Nice to meet you.”

Still, she always felt it was necessary to leave her surname unmentioned.

“I never knew this place has a sommelier,” Taeyeon added, recalling her specific orders for bartender Choi to uncap the bottles after a few failed attempts of serving herself.

“Yes, I just got back from my temporary leave on vacation,” the tan woman playfully scratched the back of her head, “I heard that you are one of our most frequent customers.  I am preparing a special service for a few customers today as a thank you and an apology for being out of the task for so long.  Would you mind if I serve you your wine today, Miss?”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Taeyeon replied, nodding again, having no expectations of any greatness but was interested, nonetheless.

“Then, what would you like tonight, Miss Taeyeon?” Yuri reached for the black leather pamphlet tucked in the shallow pocket sewn on her waist apron.

“A half Merlot, please,” Taeyeon requested, waving off the menu.

“Ahhs, our Miyoung’s favorite,” Yuri whispered to no one in particular.

“I beg your pardon?” the young mistress said in curiosity, her ears not recognizing the name to be of any familiarity.

“It’s my ex’s favorite,” Yuri smiled widely again, “It’s nothing, m’am.  Just talkin’ to myself.”

Taeyeon pried no more.  Although as Yuri was about to walk off to take her order, she hesitantly called the young lady back.

“On second thought, I would like a…” Taeyeon paused and bit her lips.  Her eyes unknowingly shifted toward the stage.  She sighed then looked back at the patient bartender.  “I would like a standard-sized Merlot, please.  And an extra glass.”

“A standard-sized Merlot and an extra glass it is,” Yuri repeated the order then walked toward the bar, “I’ll be right back.”

She sunk back into her seat after Yuri had left her space.  Staring at the seemingly motionless clock, she begged the hands to nudge a bit quicker, just a bit would do.

The stage had yet to be lit and occupied.  The microphone had already been set up and prepared.  There was a stool on the platform today; Taeyeon knew that meant the siren would be singing a ballad.

Taeyeon threw her head back as she allowed the melodious tune of slow jazz to juggle against her ear drums.  It was so noisy, boisterous, yet it was quiet – serene.  She was alone again tonight, just like any other.  But not so lonely.  Not today, at least – hopefully.

A few minutes later, she was met with the same baritone voice from earlier.  Yuri had brought her wine as requested; and not to forget, the extra glass.

“May I?” Yuri politely asked, holding up the bottle to view before doing what she was hired for.

Taeyeon approved of the selection with a nod, masking her enthusiasm with a poker expression of indifference.

She enjoyed watching the pouring of wine, the tad bits of its delicate procedures so fine and elegant.  To her eyes, it was entertainment – an art her clumsy self could not come close to master.  Taeyeon observed attentively as the skilled sommelier trimmed the bottom lip of the bottle with a tiny knife, forming a clean edge on the wrapped foil around its neck.  In moments blinded to her eyes, so quick yet so precise, the tan-skinned wine steward proceeded to smoothly remove the cork suffocating the aroma with a specialized tool.

The single euphonic pop riled a craving in Taeyeon’s throat, an itch begging to be relieved. She swallowed hard, easing patience to her thirst. 

Yuri reached for a serviette hanging in her pocket to wipe the neck of the bottle for any stray dust or leak.  Closing her eyes and checking for the quality of the Merlot, she took a quick sniff of the scent escaping.  Another grin spread in satisfaction. 

Sommelier Kwon stood at Taeyeon’s right, carefully supporting the bottle with one hand while edging her thumb into the bottom’s punt for a tight grip.  She then served the finely fermented fluid, tilting the fragile object that shadowed with the darkest shade of green at a seemingly perfect angle.  The intrigued mistress watched in awe.  The red stream trickled into the stainless glass, a smooth fall that filled up only a third.  The ripples shook on the surface then submerged softly into one solid shade of Merlot.  There was no stain on the table top, not even a single drop. Taeyeon was impressed.

Call her silly, but little things like these intrigued her.

This was no classy restaurant, and neither was it a five-starred hotel.  Yes, indeed, she had seen this performance played out by other sommeliers, but Taeyeon was convinced she had just been gifted with the best – both in service and wine.  There was something note-worthy about Kwon Yuri’s ‘style’ that encouraged Taeyeon to make a self-reminder in leaving some extra tip tonight.

                “Thank you,” Taeyeon expressed her gratitude.  She lifted the glass and took a light sip.  Wonderful as always, although even more so as of late.  “It’s perfect.”

“You are very welcome,” Yuri bowed in appreciation and slipped in a playful wink, “Would you like me to fill this as well?”

She eyed the other empty cup lying still without a drinker.  A short pause emitted and a light curve drew upon her lips.       

Taeyeon replied, “No, it is fine.  You don’t have to worry about it.”

Yuri nodded and placed the bottle soundlessly on the table.

“If there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to let me know,” waitress Kwon said with another smile, then strode away to the next customer in need.

Taeyeon observed Yuri for a few seconds before proceeding to slump comfortably on her seat, shifting back to her natural state of useless deep-thinking.

It had always been odd to her (and surely, to many others as well) as to why this bar was left unnamed – unless Choi Sooyoung really decided to settle with just simply “The Bar” for the lack of better fancy words and titles.  It was definitely not an illegal business; it was quite like an underground hatch that would draw no attention unless introduced.  Even stranger as to why bartender Choi insisted on only hiring females and had them dress in male attires (with the exception of stage performers, of course).  Filthy vultures and boisterous, old geezers dominated regardless.  With the exclusion of underage innocents, all sorts of visitors became customers at some point – the majority of the town’s paparazzi now added to the list, thanks to Miss Kim.

Taeyeon’s neck stiffened at a pair of watchful eyes poking at her back.  She took a short glance at the bar where the culprit sat completely unfazed upon being caught in the act.  The young woman, dressed in a white fur coat and a slim fit skirt, shot a playful smile at Taeyeon.  Her right hand curled in a waving gesture and her left secured a small, leather pouch that caged her deadly toy.  Taeyeon responded coldly to the greeting, fixing her gaze elsewhere.

“Jung…” she sneered at the name under her breath.

The lights flickered on.  Silence nudged the noise to the walls and called forward the attention.  The audience scratched the ground with the movements of their chair, turning and twisting to get a better view.  The slow jazz came to a halt as the thumping tapping of the drums mirrored the pulse popping against their chest.  Showtime.

Taeyeon shifted in her seat, waiting anxiously to be a victim once again.  She observed as the siren strutted out from behind the amber curtains, her muted weapon in hand and smile reflected in her eyes.  Smoothing out the ends of her short-trimmed scarlet dress, she sat gently on the stool, her legs crossed and head lifted with confidence.  She then swayed her red locks to rest on one shoulder, revealing her delicate skin under the golden light.   Hwang Tiffany waved gracefully, feeding a spoonful of anticipation to her audience.

“Hello.  How is everyone tonight?” the star of the night greeted as the audience roared with hoots and hollers, banging cups and claps to express their emotions.  Taeyeon twitched at the piercing cacophony as Choi Sooyoung threatened some to pay for any broken glass.

Soon the deafening discord became a distraction when the siren glanced at her.

Their eyes met briefly – a glimpse – but long enough to let send a greeting.  Long enough to let Taeyeon know it was deliberate, and not accidental – that it was meant for her and no one else.  Long enough to scratch off piece by piece of the wall Taeyeon had put in so much effort to build, shaking it to the bare ground.  Long enough to prick at Taeyeon’s vulnerability, weakening her every strength. 

But it was not long enough for Taeyeon to know just what exactly was happening to her.  She felt a sudden chill (or was it the cold?), and all she knew was that the siren had noticed her.  She was a victim, a target – one that was being saved by the very cause of danger.

Across the room filled with many others hungry – lustful, even – for the attention of the beautiful maiden, Hwang Tiffany smiled at her.

Taeyeon bit her lips.

Her mindlessness let the introduction to slip off her hearing as the music seep into the stereo speakers.  The mellow strumming of the guitar set the mood; the steady beating of the drums controlled the rhythm; the final instrument, the soothing voice of Hwang Tiffany, caressed the hearts of her listeners.

[Play Soundtrack 01: Killing Me Softly - Colbie Caillat]

Sometimes it was the same song on repeat, a past of joy and hurt and longing.  Sometimes it was a new song, a new chapter written to the means of entertaining or to the purpose of disclosing a story left untold until sung.  Every time, Taeyeon’s mind was toyed with the strings of what she did not want to remember yanking away from where she had buried them.  Yet, every time she was reminded of things that had once made her happy, times she had forgotten.  She felt like a masochist for the things the siren’s songs could make her feel.  Nevertheless, she was just among of many other “miserable masochists” who chased after sad ballads to narrate their broken lives.  Funny, the way people find comfort in pain by dwelling in more pain.

Tonight sung a song of foreign lyrics, but spoke of reasons for her presence.  Although she could not make sense of any phrase whatsoever, she remembered it.  She remembered the melody, the harmony, the accented syllables’ ups and downs, the very voice which digs at her weaknesses; it was the first song she heard from that night – night one.

It was during a holiday, a month ago, when the city was busy with its people shuffling and slithering for suitable gifts and presents and treats.  No one paid much attention to the siren’s voice ringing softly underneath the ground as every other person became deaf to the wax of their own frustration.  But Taeyeon had no presents that needed to be bought or meals that needed to be prepared or a busy life that needed to be settled.  She was alone that night, and rarely was she let alone.  No paparazzo was out to trail her heels nor was there given attention to slit at .  Simply put, Taeyeon was an easy bait to the lure. 

Taeyeon heard the voice called to her and she followed it down the steps of that bar, to “the other side of the world”.  Her fingers clawed at the flaws of the walls but her steps were far from hesitant.  All she wanted in that moment was to be entertained.  She wanted to feel something, to feel an emotion.  She had been less of a human without it.

The young mistress took that seat in the far back, expecting nothing more than a few minutes of cradling curiosity before taking a permanent leave from the dust and dirt.  Yet, within those few minutes she was already lost in the hour.

So vulnerable was she when she gave into the siren.  How very effortless, indeed.  Yet, never once was she disappointed in everything that was delivered to her here in this unnamed Anthemoessa – a safe trap, her perilous haven.  …Music, peace, solitude…

She got what she wanted, but not yet what she needed.  Kim Taeyeon, however, remained obliviously unaware of her needs.  She was not particularly searching for them – indeed, she thought she had already dropped parts of them three years ago.  Everyone came here to satisfy their needs; Taeyeon came to find hers.

It was good business.  Always more than half full, always noisy, always occupied.

Everyone had their ‘main attraction,’ their reason – the irresistible pull – to be present here at a certain time on certain days of certain occasions.  Some came for the wine of all tastes and flavors and labels.  Some came for the noise amidst the quietness of the world of wordless, walking humans.  Some came for the cocktail tossing and towering, wine popping and pouring business.  Some came for the women.  Some came for the men.  Some came to be entertained. 

Many came for Hwang Tiffany. 

One came for a voice.

Yes, Taeyeon, herself, found it ridiculous that one voice could make her feel strong enough to compel her to do anything yet could make her so weak to her knees that disable her ability to think straight.  She was crazy, yes, she must be.

But what if, just what if…what if she was not?

Or was it really-

“Ouch-!” Taeyeon hissed at the biting pain of her teeth scarring against her tongue.  She lost focus of the song.

Taeyeon reached over to grab her glass and allow the Merlot to drown her bleeding buds.  (If only she knew alcohol was the salt.)  Overthinking the issue was not solving anything, so she, like all other times, would let it be.  For now, she would rather not know.  For now she would just grip on the brink of seat and move on.

Hands clasped and glass clanked against each other and the noise crescended into blabbers of cheers.  The last lyric trailed off into vibrato as the strumming of a few chords eased between the chants for an encore. 

“Sorry to disappoint everyone but only one song for today,” Tiffany bowed to the audience, the creases on her brows expresses both her apology and gratitude.

One song or two, Taeyeon never questioned the worth of for her stay.

Despite the loudly expressed disappointment of angry, drunk men desperate for another spoonful of their addiction, the noise gradually subdued when Tiffany dismissed herself from the spotlight with a smile coolly eased on her lips.  While most of the remaining crowd began to gather themselves to leave, Taeyeon sat quietly, the shifting of her eyes being her only movement.  Her gaze followed the siren as she walked off the stage and toward the bar, where Choi Sooyoung stood frozen with a glass in one hand a towel in the other.  From what her best blur of a vision could offer, Taeyeon witnessed the slight change of expressions as the redhead leaned in to whisper to her boss.  The approving nod and clapping gestures were the only signs for opened interpretation in the distance. 

In her peripheral vision, Taeyeon felt a chilling presence of a fox staring upon its prey.  Her head stirred lightly to catch the beast within her view, but whom she saw only resemble an abandoned kitten whose eyes defined neither threat nor harm.  Taeyeon held her glare with Jung Jessica, hoping that her poor eyesight could do more than tell her that the brunette was still looking at her. 

Suddenly gripped by a recurring emotion of anger, Taeyeon broke the staring contest of unanswered questions.

Taeyeon recognized that look from three years ago; it was the same, pitiful look Jessica gave her when Taeyeon, enraged with much disbelief and an overwhelming feeling of hurt and betrayal in its entire repetition, found the exact photos Jessica took of her – photos only Jessica had exclusive access to – on the front page of The Generation Newspaper.  After that look was a wordless walk out of the door and mutual traces of fuming tears.  Jessica never told her why.  A year later, Jessica acted as if nothing had happened that morning and made following Taeyeon around as, the brunette claimed, carrying off some annoying load of watching over a stubborn mistress for her cousin.  They were strangers, but only until the memories kicked in.  Their relationship is well defined as a negative film strip unprocessed and tossed aside. 

And neither tried to fix it.

Taeyeon sighed exhaustingly and dumped the cool red liquid from her glass down .  Usually this was about time Taeyeon take out her ‘good’ tip and leave them on the table and then grab her bag to leave the next minute.  She waited today, sober with her wine barely a quarter drained.

“Hello, Taeyeon.”

The young miss looked up, her breathing hitched.  She blinked, dumbfounded and suddenly lost at words.  She dropped her gaze and unnoticeably shook her head.  After what seemed like long seconds of patience from the latter, she finally returned the greeting with awkwardness trailing in her voice.

“Hi, Tippany-sshi,” Taeyeon said, glancing up to make proper eye contact this time.

The singer giggled in amusement, lowering her head and bringing her hand up to her lips.  Taeyeon remain confused but did not bother to question.

“So,” Tiffany composed herself, “how did you like the performance today, Miss Kim?”

“It’s good.  You were…you were good,” Taeyeon replied, feeling her bizarre lack of vocabulary exaggerating away from reality, yet, again.

Tiffany stared at the floor, hunched her shoulders and sighed.  She then pressed her lips together and pouted, scrunching her nose adorably. 

“Good, huh?”

Taeyeon smiled, holding back a grin.

“Very good,” Taeyeon fixed herself, emphasizing the change as if it would get any closer to how she really felt.

Tiffany beamed regardless and gave herself a tiny round of applause.  “Yay!  Better than yesterday.”

This time, Taeyeon could not help but grin widely.

“Cute,” she unconsciously murmured.

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

Taeyeon bolted in surprise, realizing that she had unconsciously let off a thought that she wasn’t aware that she was even thinking.

“I didn’t say anything,” she denied, smiling and shaking her head nervously.

Thankfully, Tiffany shrugged it off and instead carried her curiosity to the empty glass on Taeyeon’s table.

“You…Are you waiting for someone?” the siren asked, glaring down at the glass instead of looking at the young mistress.

“Yes.  Please, sit down,” Taeyeon said simply, hoping that her implications were understood.

But it was too vague.  Tiffany glanced over to Taeyeon, her brows lifting in confusion.  “What was that?”

“You’re straining my neck standing there.  Now, please, sit down,” Taeyeon made a polite gesture to the vacant seat across from her.  She then shifted her body to a turn, glancing at the clock on the back wall. “But unless you’re busy-”

When the mistress looked back, she surprisingly found the siren already sitting comfortably on the chair, despite bewilderment still evident on her face.  Tiffany was now shifting her attention to and fro between the glass and the wine bottle a size larger than yesterday’s.

Taeyeon reached for the wine and uncorked the bark from the bottle’s throat.  She held its neck, feeling the heavier weight bearing against her palm.  Then, recalling what she observed, she attempted to mimic the professional art of sommelier Kwon.  Taeyeon pressed her thumb against the punt of the bottle’s bottom and support its shoulder with her other hand.  Shaking nervously, but not evidently, she placed its lips a few centimeters above the brim of the empty glass in front of Tiffany.  Taeyeon then tilted its body, letting the flavor flow smoothly into the glass as she unconsciously held her breath.  All was good so far.

And then there it was: a drip – a tiny, leftover proof of the first-timer splat on the table like a gunshot.  The young mistress bit her tongue, holding back the curse beneath the buds.

Taeyeon looked at Tiffany, embarrassed.  She placed the bottle down, sighing, then reached for a handkerchief in her pocket to wipe her fail off the wood.  Grunting with disappointment, she leaned back on her seat and slapped her palms to her face.

‘Great.’

“Thank you.”

Taeyeon heard Tiffany said, looking at the girl through the small split of opening between her fingers.  Her hands refused to detach from her reddened cheeks.

“Sorry, that was clumsy of me.”

“No, it’s fine.  You did…‘good,’” Tiffany winked, teasing Taeyeon with her understated compliment.

Tiffany clasped the glass stem between her fingers, tracing the curves of its neck down to its foothold with her delicate digits.  She then gently lifted the cup to her scarlet lips.  Sipping on the crimson, she tasted the tinge of luxury with the tip of her tongue.  Tiffany paused, her lips stayed parted, centimeters away from the glass’ mouth.  Her eyes averted to Taeyeon’s watchful ones.  Grinning behind the glass, she brought the cup nearer and gulped down the remaining blood-red juice without a twitch or flinch.  Her pink lips, once again, left its dye. 

All the while, Taeyeon’s smile hid itself behind her palms; her eyes, however, left evidence of relief.  “I was waiting for you,” she admitted, finally placing her hands back down on her lap after being comforted by Tiffany’s liking to the wine.  Her words were spoken more straightforwardly than she had practiced.

Tiffany lifted her head, her expressions changing quickly from surprised to amuse to just, well, happy (as Taeyeon interpreted from delightful creases lit on the singer’s lips and eyes.)

“What’s the occasion?” she asked out of meek curiosity.  She took another sip off her glass, feeling more relaxed.

“Nothing,” Taeyeon replied, not so very sure of what was the appropriate answer or whether or not there was really an answer at all.  “If you need a reason, treat it as your tip for the night.”

“To be treated with such honor- no, to even sit with you is very flattering.  Thank you.” Tiffany bowed with a nod of her head.  Her smile had yet to cease its glow.

Taeyeon’s expression dimmed.  She glared behind her at the paparazzo hiding his face between newspapers, clearly observing her from afar.  She clicked her tongue, suddenly annoyed.

“Because I’m Kim Taeyeon?” the young mistress boasted with sarcasm.  Her own name sent bitterness on the tip of her tongue.

“No, because I think you’re a good person and I want to be your friend,” Tiffany replied, bluntly.

Taeyeon’s eyes widened and her shock became apparent.

As if they were her most natural reactions to such confession, Taeyeon scratched the back of neck and hid whatever kind of dumb face she was showing behind her fallen bangs.  Looking to the side, showing only her profile, she grinned, sheepishly.  What she heard was not a flattery.

Taeyeon felt this emotion before, this giddiness of having someone wanting to be her friend.  And then she was betrayed, twice.  Growing cautious with the intentions of anyone around her, she subconsciously fed herself with doubts, fear, and distress from lack of trust.  However, her intuitions sensed a difference this time.  Should she have some faith with it?  Some say a woman’s intuition could be frighteningly true, but hers might have grown rusty with constant suspicions shriveling up in her boggled head. 

But she had really lost her sense of judgment, being upon this siren, whose words she could believe without second guessing. 

Recklessly, she took the leap.

The young mistress cleared and stared back at the red-hair woman.  The siren had her elbows rested on the table and chin leaned on opened palms with her eyes attentively observing the former’s every awkward facial expression.

The victim swallowed empty air.

“Just ‘good’, huh?” Taeyeon spoke, breaking the silence and the exchange of ongoing looks.

Tiffany giggled, recognizing the mimicry of her tone.  Resting back on her chair, she smiled amusingly.

“Very good,” she countered with a familiar emphasis.

In response, the curve on Taeyeon’s lips lifted higher, showing her white teeth and pressing her eyes closed.  She was laughing.  The light of her expression belonged to the Taeyeon of three years ago, the dorky, adorable one no one could hate.  The one she, herself, had forgotten.

“Cute.”

Someone said, or so Taeyeon heard.

‘Was…was that…was it me again?’ the young mistress worried nervously.

Taeyeon wondered if her thoughts had somehow slipped off twice, only to realize that the whisper was not hers.  It did not seem to be a whisper at all, in fact, carrying through loud enough to be marked as intentional.  Or maybe her head was speaking on its own term and making up its own fantasy, wanting to be part of the game of déjà vu she was playing with Tiffany.

“What was that?” Taeyeon asked; honestly, she would rather not know if she had, somehow, further embarrassed herself, but anxiousness had a grip at her tongue.

“I didn’t say anything,” Tiffany shrugged mischievously, wearing a playful smile.

“Oh…” the mistress responded simply.  She decided to go with the flow.

Feeling awkward, Taeyeon sought comfort in her wine.  She reached for her glass, only to find it was already empty moments ago.  She had not even noticed.

But someone did.

When Taeyeon reached for the Merlot bottle, Tiffany quickly snatched it away.  The mistress threw a bewildered look at the siren but all she received from the latter was a simple two-word request: “Allow me.”  Taeyeon hesitantly sunk back into her seat, complying, although with much interest. 

She observed as Tiffany slowly slid her hand down to position the bottle in the face of her palm.  After carefully placing her thumb in the recess of the glass container, the latter leaned the object away from her to greet Taeyeon’s waiting glass on the table.  In a quick and precise manner, Tiffany poured the wine half-way through and sharply twisted the bottle and lifted it away.  There was no drip, not on the table nor on the lips of the tinted green Merlot.  Not a trace, Taeyeon searched.  Evident, however, was an unperfected professionalism.  A better act than the young mistress’, nonetheless.

Taeyeon was amused.

“You look surprise.  Is something the matter?” Tiffany commented on the odd, wide-eyed expression Taeyeon was wearing, wondering if she had mistakenly done something wrong.

“It’s just…you serve wine like a trained sommelier,” Taeyeon replied, still studying the difference between her performance and the siren’s.

“Thank you for the compliment.”

The young mistress trapped the goblet between her fingers and cautiously gave it a few gentle swirls.  After aerating the Merlot, she intoxicates herself with the strange sweetness of its strong flavor.  Strange.  Somehow, tonight’s fitted perfectly to her satisfaction.

 “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.”

Tiffany poured herself the treat as well, and once again, leaving no mess.

 “I used to live with one.  A sommelier, I mean,” the songtress stated after emptying the glass she had just filled.  “The master sommelier here is my best friend and ex-roommate.  I picked up quite a bit from watching her fill bottles after bottles with tap water and pouring glass after glass night after night.”

“Are you talking about Miss Kwon Yuri?” Intrigued, the mistress Kim sought confirmation.  She had no doubt that the tan woman was a professional of a professional in her field.

“Yes,” Tiffany verified, “It seems you have met her.  But of course you did.  No one can trim such a fine line.  Not even Sooyoung.”  She placed her finger on the bottle’s neck, running it along the clean cut of the foil.

“Why work here when she can be successful elsewhere?”

Tiffany glanced at Taeyeon with a knowing understanding and an expression as if she had expected the question.  She glanced at Yuri chatting with some customers at a far-off table, sighing.

“Because she’s a woman.”

The blunt truth left a bitter sting from Tiffany’s tongue and a shock to Taeyeon’s ears.

“Places like where she should belong will not put women to such ‘honorable’ titles.  Although, it’s not like she was ever after the pay or some sort of recognition.  That would be nice, yes.”

Taeyeon kept quiet, hoping that her silence was sending a signal for Tiffany to continue.

“She once told me this place feels like home, that she was satisfied with just this, and that it got better when I started singing here.  I’m sure that’s just a flattering joke,” Tiffany giggled but her expression grew darker.  “But she’s too good to be here.”

“It’s a pity.  They don’t know what they’re missing,” Taeyeon commented.

The siren smiled when her opinion – now a mutual thought – was suddenly stolen and spoken by Miss Kim. 

“Yes, it is.  At least here she is appreciated-”

“Miyoung!”

A loud voice interrupted their conversation and Taeyeon was suddenly on alert; the name sounded familiar to the young mistress who had heard its first mention through a tiny whisper just an hour ago.  She watched as Tiffany paused in horror before glancing to her side to see Sommelier Kwon walking toward their table.

“Speak of the devil,” the siren emitted an inaudible breath as Yuri drew nearer.

“There you are.  Sooyoung was looking for you,” the wine steward said casually, almost forgetting a customer’s presence.

“I told you not to call me that in public,” Tiffany gritted her teeth, sending warnings with her glare and not-so-subtle kick in the leg.  Yuri flinched in pain and Taeyeon continued to watch with raised eyebrows.  “What is it?”

“She said-” Yuri began, but stopped shortly when she finally acknowledged Taeyeon’s company.  “Oh, it’s Miss Taeyeon.  I’m so sorry for intruding.”  Yuri bowed in a formal greeting.

“Go ahead.  You don’t have to mind me,” Taeyeon said, gesturing them to continue their conversation by sitting back and drinking her wine.

Yuri easily took the permission and turned back to her friend.  “She told me that she’s closing early tomorrow so your shift will be sooner.”

“When was this decided?”

“Just now.  She told me she have plans with the sponsor again and wouldn’t go to the details about it.”

“Should have guessed.  It’s always because of the sponsor anyway,” Tiffany teasingly commented.  “Is that all?”

“Yeah, that’s it.  And we’re closing up soon so you should get packed.”

“Alright.  Thank you, Yuri.”

“No problem.”

Yuri turned her heels but halted momentarily to send another greeting to her customer, who was watching her disturbance in a generous silence.  Taeyeon observed as Yuri’s eyes shifted from her to the glass on Tiffany’s side of the table.  Grinning with a knowing look, she turned back to Tiffany.

“Tell me about it later,” Yuri whispered, obviously not aware of the volume elevated in her voice.

Taeyeon continued to drink her already empty cup, hoping that placing it before her face would help her with the act.  She continued to watch as Tiffany now bit her lips, refusing to comment but threatening for violence.

“In details, Miyoung!” Yuri exclaimed, dashing off quickly to avoid the cork – somehow victimized in Tiffany’s tight grip – from being thrown at her head.

The siren muffled another sigh and gulped down her wine.  Facing the amused bystander sitting across from her, she smiled cooly and shrugged her shoulders.

“Sorry for that.  She goes on about nonsense.” Tiffany apologized for any rudeness they might have caused, but Taeyeon seemed to be bothered by something different.

“Is Miyoung your name?” the young mistress asked.

“Sadly, yes,” Tiffany admitted, displaying her apparent dislike.  “It’s my Korean name.”

Taeyeon’s expression shifted slightly, trying to link the possible yet unruly connection between what Kwon Yuri had said to what the siren had told her.

“You don’t seem to like it much,” she pointed out, trying to distract herself from pricking on unnecessary details.  Sometimes, it worked at her disadvantage to have attentive ears and a good memory.

“No, I don’t.  Not really,” Tiffany cringed her nose, shaking her head, “It sounds old-fashion.”

“I think it’s a pretty name.” Taeyeon laid out the honest compliment in the midst of suppressing the demand for a need to be sated.

“I like yours better.  It fits you.  Taeyeon.”

At this moment, not in any way did her unsettled mind define her name.  She was not calm.

“I’ll go get pack.  Thank you very much for the wine.  It’s delicious,” the siren stated, her hands placed on the edge of her chair, readied to push it back.

But when Taeyeon lost control, the train lost its track.  Then, in the moment, she lost grip.  Easily and almost too quickly, the train rolled off the cliff.

“Earlier,” the train started, “Miss Kwon mentions her ex, also by the same name.”

Taeyeon observed as Tiffany stiffened, her expression serious yet her composure stilled to listen.  She should have stopped, but she could not.  She pushed further.  She wanted to know.

“I was wondering if… if you are…if you two-”

“We dated.”

It was simple.  It was blunt.  It was unexpected.

“Oh…I…I see.”

Was it the truth?

But why would it be a lie?  Why lie about this?

She was waiting for the joke to kick in.  Something along the line of “I’m kidding.  Don’t take me seriously.”  But there was none.  Not from Tiffany.  Not from reality.

Nevertheless, it brought a cold and confused silence. 

Not of disgust, no.  Surprise, yes.  Disbelief, maybe so.  This was ‘alien’ to Taeyeon.  She was not dumb and she surely had common sense.  She just had never been truly exposed to this.  (She could not even fathom love, what would she understand about this?)  She did not know it was possible for two women to “date”; she did not even think if it was still even called dating or if there even existed a mutual, romantic attraction.  She had heard of it once or twice, from friends who gossiped or from rumors that aroused attention.  She had heard its other names: a sickness, a phase, an illusion…  Where was the good in that, she wondered.  Like a child taught something foreign, Taeyeon wanted to know more.  Ironically, the truth had only left greed to her curiosity.

“I’m sorry for keeping you.  I should get going.  Thank you again, for all of this,” Tiffany broke the awkwardness and scooted off her chair to stand.  The sound of hard wood brushed loudly against each other alarmed Taeyeon’s attention and brought her out of her trance.

“Wait.”

The young mistress stood up as well, stopping the siren from leaving.

“Do you…Do you mind if I drive you home tonight?” she started stuttering, “I-It’s midnight and…”

Her mind was going in disarray, and her words abandoned her midsentence, unfinished.  Inside her resided conflict of whether to proceed with what she had intended from the beginning when she asked for her car keys this very morning despite the difficulties of pleads and persuasion and fighting with her own mind if this was really right versus…to quietly leave after she had received a straightforward, but honest answer she could not yet unravel.

What was left of her moral sanity finally tugged a question at the tangled wires of her brain at that seemingly almost unnatural second of space:

‘What changed?’

And when the siren turned to smile at her – in no difference than she had earlier; brighter, even – she received her answer.  She understood.

“I would love that.”

Nothing.

Not yet.

==========A/N==========

Hey, look, I'm ALIVE!  I finally got to finish this chapter.  I haven't fully edited it yet so there will be mistakes here and there (but I'll go back to fix it later.) (>A< )  Even more metaphors and sybollism in this chapter hehe

I'll edit this author's note later on with more info and questions answered.  I hope you enjoy the chapter and leave a comment telling me how you feel xD (please?)