“Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. 
A person may be proud without being vain.
Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us.”

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice

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It starts with the most clichéd of them all, the princess is waiting in the middle of the dance floor for her prince, and the clock is nearing midnight. The DJ still has his music on and the disco ball has been still, waiting for midnight to strike before it comes to life scattering an array of shattered lights across the room. It’ll be beautiful – no one needs to tell her for her to know it will be. Except she doesn’t really like to concern her with beauty, at least not such outwards, flamboyant beauty – she’s more the inner beauty type of person or whatever her friends say.

It’s about 5 minutes before the dance starts and she stands still in the corner of the dance floor, her cup of punch in one hand, and her friend holding onto her other “Have you seen him?” she asks nervously, her friend’s sweaty hands rubbing off on her own.

The voice of her friend is drowned out by the music and she just wants the night to be over. Her dress was riding a little too high for her liking.She had been forced to come tonight – her friend saying something about always being there for each other – she didn’t really care though, she just wanted to shut the girl up – only to then have her friend proceed to insist she wear the skimpiest dress that she had in her closet because ‘We’re going to be late and I don’t want to keep Hoya waiting’ she says.

“Darn these masked balls” her friend sighs as she pulls out her phone impatiently.

3 minutes till midnight

“I told you Bomi, he’s probably not even coming” she sighed out of frustration, he’s about as reliable as a politician she’s about to say.

“Is someone talking about me behind my back?”

He’s standing there, black mask with gold sequins to match with his black suit and tie “I’m sorry I kept you waiting” he smiled as he took Bomi by the waist.

“Did you bring your friend?” Bomi shouted over the noise into his ear

“He’s running a bit late, he’ll be here soon – I think...” Hoya grins leaving Chorong feeling somewhat cheated.

“Oh god he’s probably a creep isn’t he” she rolled her eyes

“Ladies and gentlemen we advise you get your partners ready, the dance is about to start in 2 minutes”

“Let’s go to the dance floor, he’ll be here soon Chorong, don’t you worry – he’s nice” Hoya winks and Chorong rolls her eyes so far they were about to disappear into the back of her head.

Great – she thinks, nice means he’s probably some really weird guy but he wouldn’t hurt you unless you dissed star wars or something. She didn’t want to think about it, the clichés of it all. It seemed a bit unfair on the guy.

“Come on gents, now’s the time to grab a lady and lead her to the floor” the DJ’s voice echoed in the spacious hall.

God – she had half the intent of yelling at the DJ for persistently annoying her with his voice all night, was she listening to the music or his obnoxious screaming?

“You’re Chorong right?” she hears panting from behind, beads of sweat dripping off his face, his suit seemingly damp as much as his hair was soaked. Surely it couldn’t be all of his sweat?

“Sorry I just ran into a bit of a problem” he grinned; his eyes covered by the white mask that hid half of his face “Shall we dance?”

“Look, I appreciate what you’re doing but it’s really ok”

He leaves her without a moment to think as he whisks her onto the dance floor. Her body is pressed up against his whilst he rests his hand on her waist just as the song starts. She had tried not to look into his eyes; she found it oddly rude to stare as much as he had his hand on her waist. She didn’t want to create a commotion when the song had already started so she reluctantly followed his lead.

“So you’re Bomi’s friend?”

“Ex-friend would be the correct term” she grits her teeth, searching for the girl and her partner amongst the sea of people.

She spots them, lovely and sweet with each other, cuddling and kissing as their hips swayed to the slow music. She was happy, she guesses, that they could have a love like that. Not like she was jealous – not at all.

“I didn’t keep you waiting long did I?” he asks almost apologetically.

“I wasn’t really waiting for anything to happen more so anyone to be honest” she peered through her mask at him. His eyes like crescent shapes behind the mask, his cheeks - his dimples were charming based on what she had seen so far – nice like Hoya had described.

“Parties aren’t your type of things?”

“What gives that away?”

“The fact that I’m dancing with you yet you haven’t asked me what my name is”

“How is that any sign that I don’t like parties?”

“Because you're not trying to socialize”

“What’s the point? You’ve known Bomi for a while and this is the first time I’ve met you”

“And...?”

“I can guarantee you this will probably be the last as well...”

“I would hope not...”

Although Chorong can’t see through the mask she’s mystified by this young man, the way he spoke – he sounded far too confident – who he was – she would be lying to say that she didn’t want to ask what his name was suddenly – why he was late, but most importantly why he was dripping wet from head to toe.

“So are you going to tell me your name or do I have to ask?”

“Can I be Prince Charming for the night then? If we’re never going to see each other again?”

“I’m not going to call you that”

“It’s ok” he grins, spins and dips her.

“You know you’re quite conceited” Chorong examines his expression and wonders if she’s insulted him and yet she finds him smiling all the more.

“I don’t need to be conceited, I have people to do that for me”

“So you’re a playboy”

“Casanova sounds more romantic” and Chorong lets out a snigger all too fast.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just I’m trying to figure out who you are, you’re quite fascinating…” she says with a condescending tone. One that Woohyun doesn’t pick up, clearly because he asks her immediately after -

“Is that meant to be a compliment?”

“You’re fascinating like me observing the way monkeys interact in a zoo, like a specimen”

“Conceited, playboy, monkey, specimen – you really know how to make a man feel good”

“Good sir,” Wait good sir? It’s this whole masquerade business that makes her feel like she’s at some Victorian dance party or somewhere in the early 19^th century and well, she’s Elizabeth Bennet and he’s… oh god – Mr. Darcy? “I say this to you because I am certain you’ve never heard it before amidst your sea of women who love to throw themselves at you – I’m pretty sure all you’ve heard your entire life is how gorgeous you are and nothing more. Does it hurt your pride when people don’t compliment you?”

She doesn’t sound like Shakespeare.

“You don’t think I look the part?”

“You look the part as any other man here tonight, with half of your face covered – when you all begin to look the same how do you differentiate between those who are rotten and those decent?”

“For a woman who doesn’t like to be judged you sure are quick to jump the gun”

“What sir do you know about me?”

“More than you think”

“But I don’t think you do at all” Chorong pulls away as the song ends, but before she can continue with the bantering she’s disturbed by two men pushing their way through the crowds.

“Hey you! Stop” they’re marching through the crowds and he turns to Chorong, he grins and reaches for her hand, a kiss on her knuckles and what she perceives to be an apology before he dashes off “Get him!” one of the guards lunge forward and inconsiderately knocks Chorong to the side.

“Hey!” Chorong snarls and grabs him by the arm, tossing him over her shoulder, his body slamming onto the ground but before Chorong could do further damage Bomi whisked her away off to the side.

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“I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.” 

Jane Austen - Pride and Prejudice

- The first time she meets him.