Seoul was nothing like Kris had imagined.


For one thing, the language he was taught during his language crash course prior the move was minimal at best. Sure he could talk conversationally about the weather, his name, his job and some other basics including “Where is the toilet?”, “How much does this cost?”, “How are you?”, “Bus please?”. With moderate speed.


But when he was into a sea of people during a business meeting, he could not recognize the vowels anymore, could not tell the differences in intonations as some of the associates switch from standard Seoul to dialects—he felt robbed from his speech. A lot of jokes simply went over his head as his business associates laughed and laughed throughout the night. Awkward and naïve, he switched back to his comfortable English. Despite the relative ease his business associates had slipped in to match their English skills to his, not everyone appreciated his change. “If he wants to do business with us, he should’ve spoken our language first. “ He got reprimanded behind his back.


For another, the senior hierarchical system was something he forgot to make use of. There was a certain path he should take in order to appeal to the foreign business tycoons. Joonmyun had tried to explain with whom he should buddy up first, with whom he should discuss about families, with whom he should consider bumping in an aerobics club—he simply mixed up the names and the activities. He chalked it up to the fact that there were too many Kim’s and too many Lee’s in that one group. Joonmyun, his senior, however, commented about his ignorance and his inability to adapt.


He had only been living in the city for five days and he was already losing hope, losing the sight of his goals. His limbs weighed more than a ton whenever he tried to rise from his bed. His footsteps dragged along the floor as if his body was rejecting the extension his legs provided.
At the end of the day his head would be pounding with names, mulling over new vocabularies to look into and work work work mantra ringing in his ears. He would stare at the ceiling, wondering—what the hell am I doing here? Why should it be Seoul?
He dreaded the sun rise and the morning after for they brought another work day into his life, another headache to endure. Bitter and disillusioned, he stopped caring.

“You’re just not used to the way things work around here,” Joonmyun said with knowing eyes. “Give it some time.”

“But I’m already here for a week. Nothing has changed.“ Kris protested.

“I’m well aware of your lack of enthusiasm for this project, Kris. But tell me, honestly, did you even try? Did you try to understand why? Did you wonder why your boss sent you here?”

“Well, I-.” Kris stopped himself and swallowed his complaint. The look in Joonmyun eyes was judging him hard. Eyeing him like an indulgent parent to a complaining child. “I’ll try my best next time.”

“Don’t try your best next time, Kris. Just do it.” And with that said, Joonmyun dismissed him for another appointment.
 

The shop he had chosen to retreat himself was wedged between a laundry service and a flower shop. It was small, quaint and smelt of fresh coffee beans, burned toast with a hint of mint in the air. Conversations were done in low murmurs and laughter, along with the sound of coffee mugs thumping on the table and steel forks scraping the cheesecakes from porcelain plates. Kris had only ordered black coffee—the bitter taste still lingering along his tongue—while staring fixedly at his notebook. The header read “presentation”, followed by a blank page stubbornly remaining blank.


A cup of filled with an insane amount of white cream appeared next to his empty cup. If the waiter on the shift had not interrupted, Kris would have been fine just staring into nothing. The waiter was about to head off back to the counter, when Kris finally pried his mouth open and asked his brains to work out his sentences properly.


“Hey.” He looked up at the waiter, his frown visible but he was sure his expression did not even come close to being annoyed. “This isn’t mine.”


“Not yours?” The waiter creased his brow slightly, a mild frown of confusion as the glassy eyes finally studied him for the first time and then looked at the table’s number. Kris glanced at the cream on top of the cup with distaste and then back at the waiter.


“Oh. My apologies, sir.” The waiter finally realized his mistake, and took the cup to pass it to the table behind Kris with an apologetic smile. Kris hardly registered the low dip of skin below the waiter’s mouth until the other asked him with a practiced customer-service smile, “Would you like to order anything else, then sir?”

“Another black coffee, please.” Kris pointed to his empty cup.

His order came back promptly after two minutes. It was the strong tangy pull of the coffee beans made him realize he had not eaten anything yet since lunch hour, six hours ago. His gaze immediately went to glass display cases where the shop usually showed off their desserts and sandwiches. Nothing seemed to look appetizing at the moment. Disappointed, Kris absently rubbed his stomach and sighed. Something flashy caught his eyes when he flicked his gaze back to the display case, hoping futilely for something edible to call out to his attention.

He froze in his seat and stared.

Do or Do Not. There is no Try .
Yoda

The words were plastered on the wall behind the coffee machine at the counter. Written in thick, dark pink ink gel to contrast to the dark blackboard. Ironically, he realized, didn’t Joonmyun say that to him not so long ago? A sense of déjà vu followed, Kris suddenly felt a little inadequate all over again. Even this coffee shop had the mindset to scratch ‘try’ out of its business image.

At the end of the night, Kris couldn’t co