Jiyong had once told her about the four different forms of love.

Storge, which was what he called familial affection. The love shared between family members, born out of blood and maintained by affection.

Philia; the platonic love shared between friends, filling and loving without the need for validation.

Eros, romantic love, surpassing that of philia and storge and oh-so-easy to corrupt when disparity was evident between lovers.

And agape: unconditional and altrustic love. The love of a selfless god.
                                                                                                                           (but could it really exist?)

But in doing so, she'd lost sight of what she had been meant to do.

Thanks to their love, Yoona was lost, guided only by what little she could see beyond Jiyong and what they had together.

Books, films, quotes--anything material that had been based upon love had never spoke of this inability to think or imagine beyond one's relationship, and neither had her mother warned her of the consequences of loving someone.

The extent to which he possessed her was something that she found almost--terrifying.

The modern woman didn't let the realities of the world hold her down; she wouldn't let men or women prevent them from progressing--but nevertheless, Yoona found herself being hindered by Jiyong's love. A man's love.

Whether or not it was selfless, romantic, platonic, or familial--it didn't matter what form of love his was for her... she found that she didn't care about receiving her Master's degree anymore; she didn't care about getting married and having children to please her parents; she didn't care about getting a high-pay job to support her parents or herself--she had Jiyong, and she had his love.

Did it really matter in the end whether she became a good Korean?

There was still the possibility that maybe... progress didn't matter in the grand scheme of things.

A romanticist would say that Jiyong was her North star; eternally guiding her towards her destination--whether it be in a few weeks or a few decades, their love would eventually lead them to a place where everything ended with a gilded happily ever after.

A pessimist would say that love wasn't worth the uncertainty or the hindrance. While humans were social creatures--it didn't matter whether it was romantically so, or platonically so, as long as you had someone. Love wasn't a reqiurement for the continuation of human life.

And indeed, love wasn't something that she'd wanted nor desired, but obtain it she did, regardless to how she had never searched for it in the first place.

The love of a man was something that was intrinsically different from the love of a woman, her mother had once said.

She had been brushing Yoona's hair, watching her with tired, sad eyes through the mirror as her thick black hair was parted and divided, painstakingly woven into thick ropes of braids going down her back.

"The love of a man starts from the body; both his and yours," she murmured, gently placing pins through her black locks. The sharp tips scraped against her scalp, pressing deep into soft skin. "He loves you with his eyes, then he'll love you with his hands and lips. His heart won't love you until you deny him what his body wants, so that he is forced to see your heart."

Yoona had watched her mother as she kissed her temple, wrapping the long braid up into an intricate knot at the back of her head, holding it in place with an ornate gold clasp.

"Keep your body and heart as pure as a child's; it's the only way a man will ever let himself think that you're worthy."

Could a woman--any human, really--remain pure in a world such as this?