Credits go to kurogane, for this amazing poster.

[One. Rejection]

How did Dara end up in this accursed predicament in the first place? Rewind back to the night when Dara was running late for Bom’s birthday bash at YG Club…

I am in deep trouble. Dara subconsciously bit her lower lip while hastening towards nowhere in particular, glancing at the pubs hidden in the dark, sinister alleys. She was already very, very late for Bom’s party held at YG Club, and now she is lost in the dark side of town known for vicious gang fights, cold-blooded thugs, mental druggies, numerous murders, and illegal activities. Tch. Sandara Park. What have you gotten yourself into?

“Bommie, pick up your phone,” Dara muttered, quickening her pace when she felt her “personal bubble” being invaded. Sure enough, she soon caught sight of some tough-looking guys tailing her from the corner of her vision, eyeing her as if she were some piece of meat sizzling in the cool autumn night. Wearing a simple wool coat over her short, sequined black dress, her slender, creamy legs exposed way up to her thighs could hardly escape unnoticed by those thugs. Dara could not help cursing inwardly for the situation slowly slipping out of her control. She should be feeling scared at what’s happening, especially at what may happen next, but right now she’s feeling more exasperated at herself for allowing this to have a chance to happen. One, she should not be late for her best friend’s party in the first place. Two, being the smart, safe person Sandara Park is, she should have known better, did her homework the night before, and looked up the map beforehand for detailed directions to get to the club. Three, she should have worn simple jeans and a dressier top instead of such eye-catching clothes, so she could avoid being followed by those guys that spell out trouble. However, it was too late for regretting and wishing now. Tch, reality. Dara had no idea where she was heading, but it was obvious that she had gone too deep into the alleys to find her way back to the main road.

Sandara Park never, ever loses control, she fiercely reminded herself. That streak of stubborn pride in her never fails to give her strength. She could feel the previous hint of fear vanishing instantaneously. Without a clue of where to go, she viciously zigzagged her way through the alleys, the scenery around her changing in a blur. Preoccupied with attempting to lose the guys that were stalking her, Dara bumped right into someone in front of her.

“Oh! I am so sorry!” Dara apologized, cringing as she looked up, expecting to see some tooth-missing gangster leering maliciously at her-

“Are you alright?”

Dara’s eyes widened as she stared blankly at the man in front of her. Dressed in a formal black tuxedo that brought out his platinum blond hair that glowed strangely in the neon lights, the guy she bumped into looked like he had walked out of the Burberry commercial of a glossy magazine…or perhaps one of those Japanese shojo mangas. Everything about him was too perfect; the sharp jawline, the aquiline nose, the mesmerizing eyes, the brows, the faint hint of expensive, masculine cologne…He looked like he belonged on the red carpet, accompanied with flashing camera lights and screaming reporters, not on the streets that smelled of booze and pee.

“Are you alright?” He repeated, unblinking as he stared openly right back at Dara, completely unabashed. Huh. His voice is boyish, not the low, y baritone voice Dara was expecting from the bad-boy looks. But then again, Dara noted to herself as her eyes roam over the guy once again, without the black eyeliner that made him appear tougher, he looks a bit youthful, childish. A younger guy. Dara scrunched her nose subconsciously. She was in her third year of university. If he was younger than her, then he must be a high schooler, no less. Younger guys were acceptable to her, especially if they look like that. Whoa, whoa, whoa. Dara rapidly returned to her senses, pulling herself back to reality. She can not believe that she was checking him out. Right in front of him.

Embarrassed, Dara laughed shakily. “Yes, I am fine.” You look hella fine too, a voice inside of her snickered. Dara groaned at the voice mentally, thinking it must belong to the hormone-crazy part of her that was starving for younger, tough men. This is not supposed to happen. Sandara Park does not check out guys, especially not in such an obvious and humiliating way. He is only a guy, she repeated to herself, no need to appear like a dork over him. Guys get too cocky over that.

“Are you sure?” The man (more like a boy, Dara thought to herself, refocusing on his naive, baby-like face) scrutinized her closely, concerned. “You look a bit lost.”

“I am,” Dara admitted sheepishly. “I am supposed to be at my friend’s party, but I lost my way-“ Her eyes widened in horror as she remembered why she was in such a hurry in the first place. “Oh, I’m so dead.” Yes, especially if Bom finds out that she had been too busy drooling over a guy on the streets that she completely forgot about rushing to her best friend’s birthday bash. “I’m sorry, do you know where YG Club is?”

The guy pointed behind him. Indeed, hidden in between old crumbling buildings that looked abandoned, in blaring neon lights were the words YG Club, and Dara could hear the loud blast of the bass. Dara sighed in relief. “Thanks, you saved me.” Before she went inside, she stole one last peek at the boy. He was still watching her intently, which made her heart skip a beat. Hurriedly, she turned back and headed into the club.

“Sandara!” Bom hit Dara hard on the arm, already a bit tipsy, the moment Dara reached the end of the red carpet that connects the main entrance to the inside of the club, before pulling her into a tight hug. Wearing a sleeveless sheath dress that was tight in all the right places, flaunting her feminine curves, Bom looked every inch the part of the birthday girl. “What took you so long to get here? Where were you? Wandering around the corn fields?”

“Got a bit lost on the way here.” Dara observed the club closely. Her sensitive hearing was of no use with the deafening music blasting from the speakers. First impression she got of her surroundings is: white. White like untainted winter snowflakes drifting from the sky. White like pieces of paper that holds endless promises. White like refined poise only found in high society. For a club located in the dim alleys, YG Club sure was posh. Crystal chandeliers were dangling from the ceiling, glittering like icebergs of jewels. Ornamental black light wall panels with vintage designs added an elegant flair to the atmosphere with their complex swirls. Wine and champagne bottles of every kind lined the gleaming glass shelves behind the bartenders. Dara watched in awe as bartenders clink and chug bottles in the air smoothly, serving various drinks of every style and color imaginable to the people crowding around the granite lounge bar. The dancefloor, located in the center of the room, was already filled up with people bobbing to the beat, and the DJ was doing his magic at the DJ booth with a huge LED wall forming the backdrop that was now of a huge equalizer.

“Come, come, so many people are waiting for you!” Bom dragged Dara to her table. The seating areas consisted of white velvet sofas and tufted banquettes, separated by white silk curtains. Dara still had a hard time believing that this white wonderland was located in such a violent and shady neighborhood.

Chaerin, a freshman in the same psychology class as Bom, hollered, “Goddess D! I thought you’d never show up!” She shoved a martini in Dara’s hands immediately. Now Dara knows why Bom and this girl hit it off this semester instantly; both of them were not shy at the least. That, and the common characteristic that they cannot be kept away from any kind of alcohol. Dara, though wrinkling her nose slightly at the unknown liquid that was the color of ketchup, took a sip as she sat down next to Minzy, a freshman who went to the same high school as Dara. Huh, not bad. Tastes like tomato juice with soda. Minzy gave her a warm embrace, squealing, “Dara unni!”

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