this absolutely amazing poster is from the ifyoucan'thang postershop

Chapter One

.

With legs like jelly, I amble on.

The airplane landing was anything but graceful. The sensation of the free-fall is still vivid in my mind. And to think, a baby was crying throughout the whole flight and I actually survived this! 

And don't get me started about the 'meal'. The horrific excuse of airplane food has contributed to the way my stomach has been churning and tumbling ever since. It's great to be finally back on solid ground, and I'm still in utter shock that I've made it.

I shouldn't be complaining since the duration to Incheon Airport hadn't been that long. However, those two hours had drained me because it was my first time to be in the air. Literally. I don't know if I ever want to step foot inside another airplane ever again.

Nevertheless, I'm still proud of myself for taking this leap. I've left my home town and actually had the guts to leave my own country to Korea.

It's thrilling. Why, you ask? Becaues it's my first big stand against my parents, and first real shot at being independent. I can't wait to be exposed to different cullinary skills and techniques that I would have never experienced back home. 

The glass doors slide aparat as I exit. I watch as the other passengers disperse to different directions.

The old grandma, whose seat had been designated next to mine during the flights, is getting overwhelmed by her huge family who are aggressively showering her with affection, one-at-a-time leaning down to hug and kiss her. On the other side I see an adolescent kid run up to his girlfriend, embracing her and spinning her around in circles before carefully propping her down to kiss her right on the mouth – in public.

It's been minutes since I've landed in Korea and already I can tell the difference between Japan and here. This display of affection is what I've seen in dramas and in movies, but I have never envisioned in to happen in actual reality.

I shake my head, aimlessly walking further ahead. However, I don't know exactly who or what I'm looking for.

As if God's answered my prayers, I see a line of men dressed in suits, holding pieces of paper. Amongst the English, Korean and Chinese characters, I finally see my name in kanji being held by the man in the centre and I let out a sigh of relief.

'Tanaka Sayuri'

Yup, that's me. I point at the sign and give a slight bow at the man holding my name.

His short black hair is gelled back, small face framed with round silver-brimmed spectacles and a navy tie. From his appearance I'm guessing he's in his mid-forties. The man studies me, eyebrow quirking upwards when he sees that I'm addressing him, or the fact that he's studying my clothing with quiet distaste.

My uncle may be rich, but I'm not. My airport fashion consists of a faded black maxi-dress and a peach and white striped cardigan wrapped around it. My hair's in a messy bun and I know my skin hasn't been in the best condition from waking up so early to catch the first morning flight. Additionally, I'm probably paler than usual because of my unsettled stomach from the flight.

“Sayuri-san, welcome.” He greets me in fluent Japanese. “My name is Baek Dongjin. I am your uncle's secretary. I promised him that I'd take you to your new home.”

“Thank you,” I smile. Dongjin's eying me in surprise because I had replied back in Korean. “It's fine for you to talk to me in Korean. My pronunciation may not be of the best standard, but I have studied the language for a long time. It's been one of my hobbies since I was child and my best friend is Korean.”

Much to my objection, Dongjin takes my suitcase away from me as we migrate out of the airport and into one of the company's private cars. I shouldn't be amazed by this special treatment because I'm used to my uncle being praised back home, but being in a different country reconfirms his influence and how he is recognised elsewhere.

As mature and proper Dongjin appears to be, he's a menace on the roads. 

I feel like my heart is going to leap out of my chest. Dongjin's way of driving is abolsoultey appalling. He's been taking over cars without doing head-checks, speeding like a madman and even racing past red traffic lights. How exactly had Dongjin received his driver's lisence? The more important question is how have we not crashed into anything yet? For all I knew, Dongjin's driving hasn't been doing any good for my stomach. In fact, it's rekindled my nausea. 

Trying to get my mind off the sickening feeling, I speak up, “Which area will I be living in?”

“The Gangnam district.”

“Really?” I gape.

Although I may not be a local, I know that the district Dongjin's mentioned is one of the most expensive locations in Korea. Again, I shouldn't be shocked by my uncle's impact, but I don't think I'll ever get used to this type of special treatment.

“Your uncle designed an apartment complex right beside Han River. It only seems fitting that you are to stay there.”

Not knowing what to reply, the secretary takes the opportunity to pass me a couple of envelopes. “They're from you're uncle too. Some credit cards so you can spend freely and, perhaps, buy yourself new clothes-”

“I don't need them.” I frown, handing it back to him. Although he's not facing me directly, I can see the incredulous expression on Dongjin's face for not accepting the credit cards.

I tell him, “I'll find a part-time job. Uncle's done enough for me and I already have enough clothes.”

My clothes aren't expensive and not even close to classy-looking because most my garments are mostly hand-me-downs from my older sister. Clothing has never been my priority, nor have I ever exhausted my credit card with senseless spending. There's more to life than conforming to materialism; and having food on the table took precedence over me wanting to become a fashionista.

We continue to drive in silence. When Dongjin finally speaks again, he informs me that we're ten minutes away and - in the process - almost runs over a cyclist.

My fingers clutch onto the bottom of the leather seat, eyes-wide as I gaze at the secretary. I wouldn't be surprised if somebody told me that Dongjin was a automobile racer in his past life, or past time. He's crazy.

Dongjin touches the accelarator and abruptly swerves around a corner and that's when I know that I can't take it anymore. I need to get out.

“Stop the car,” I grit out.

Dongjin protests, “We're nearly there.”

I lean over to his side of the car, gripping onto the wheel. “Now or else I'm going to projectile vomit all over this lovely interior.”

This sentence alone causes him to roughly park the car onto the side of the street, slamming the brakes.

I urgently push the door and run outside. The air is fresh but all I want now is to find the nearest lavatory. Thank Goodness, out of all places we've chosen to stop at, it happens to be a botanical garden or some public park. I gesture for Dongjin to wait in the car as I hastily run down the cobble footpath to find a toilet to hurl up over.

Mid-sprint, a cold sweat forms over my face as I keel over.  I'm facing the perfect trimmed grass and yellow daffodils and -

I clasp a hand over my mouth, but I feel the acid burning up my throat. The sensation builds up and it's then that I can't help but do what I've been wanting to ever since landing....

It expells out.

With hands on my knees, I blink back tears and take a deep breath when it's over. My face is burning red, partly because as well as feeling disgusting, there are multiple bystanders who have witnessed me making a fool out of myself. A family of four even make a big commotion of picking up their picnic matt and relocating a good five metres away from me.

Great way to leave an impression on your first day here, Sayuri, I muse to myself. 

I scowl when I feel inside my handbag, searching for anything to wipe my mouth with. There's nothing. I don't cry often, but right now I really want to. This is so embarrassing and-

“Take this.”

I peer sheepishly up and see a handkerchief is being waved forcefully at my face. I take it from the person, brushing the handkerchief against my lips. Once I'm sure that I don't have anything still left on my mouth, I stand up and study my saviour of the day.

"Did you drink too much?" 

The guy appears to be around my age. He's tall, but not in a lanky way, has kind eyes and a helmet is covering his scruffy brown hair. From the shorts and the jersey top he's wearing, I can see how toned his body is. His hand is resting on the bicycle, that he must have hopped off, when he had come to my rescue.

“Are you all right?” He asks me, wryly smiling.

Would anybody who has vomited feel 'all right'? Moments like these, I'd quip back with a sarcastic comment, but I refrain myself from doing so. This guy's saved me here and the least I can do is say thank you, which I do.

“Tha-thanks,” I stammer. “Did you want this back?”

“Er-”

“Sorry, that was stupid of me. You wouldn't want my vomit all over your handkerchief back...”

“That's true.” The guy scratched the back of his head, laughing. “Keep it. I have many at home anyway.”

I nod, still feeling humiliated by the whole situation. I bow apologetically as I retreat away from the stranger. “Thank you again. I really owe it to you.”

Not waiting for a reply, I turn on my heel and sprint back to the vehicle. I jump back into the passenger seat and Dongjin shoots me a concerned glance. I shake my head. “I'm fine now. Just drive a bit slower, please."

The handkerchief is still in my hands. I fold it and it's then that I notice a name embroidered on the side of it with red thread.

Song Daehan.

Was he a pre-school kid? I laugh to myself, amused. Although I hadn't wanted to stand around after the ordeal, I'm curious what type of guy Daehan is. I wonder that if we were to meet under different circumstances, would we have become my first Seoul friend? 

I shake my head to myself at the petty thought. If anything, I don't want to ever meet him again because barfing in front of somebody is a memory that nobody would want to recall - especially when that somebody happened to be cute.  

•••••••••••••••

As expected, my new apartment is stunning.

I knew this as soon as I walked into the building. Dongjin hadn't been kidding when he said the apartment overlooked Han River because it was right next to it.

The lobby's ceiling draped with crystal chandeliers. The elevator stretched all the way up to level 18, which was ironically the designated level I had been assigned to thanks to my uncle. The apartment was furnished with all the necessities needed. The interior was of a modern and minimal design, simple yet appealing to the eye. From the Queen-sized bed, an enormous walk-in wardrobe, a sparkling clean bathroom (which even had a vintage styled bathtub); my favourite part of the apartment was the spacious kitchen.

Dongjin had even explained to me that my uncle had went out of the way to adjust the kitchen and make it bigger so I could without stressing over space. 

It's very thoughtful of my uncle to do this, but it makes me slightly uncomfortable. My parents have never done something like this for me before, nor could they ever afford to, yet my uncle is spoiling me silly. I can't help but feel bad because he's allowing me to rely on him so much.

After Dongjin had orientated me around the apartment, the first thing I had done was fall asleep. I had intended for it to be a nap, but the sleep took longer than I had anticipated.

It's night time, and it's only now that I'm having a proper - and more detailed - look around the apartment.

As I glide a hand over the kitchen counter, savouring the lavish feel of the surface, I spot a couple of boxes wrapped up in pink cherry blossom patterned paper that I had left on it before collapsing into bed. Inside the box there are six packaged strawberry-flavoured glutinous mochi with red bean inside each one. I know this because I had watched my mother personally make them for me to bring with me to Korea.

One of the things that worries her is that she thinks that I won't make any friends. That, and she doesn't want me to enemies with my neighbours from a previous experience (don't ask, it's a long story).

My mother had instructed me to give each box to my neighbours living besides me. It's a Japanese old tradition to give a small gift to your neighbours when you move in next to them. My mother had made me promise her to continue this tradition, despite me being in another country. To be honest, I wasn't planning to, but being alone is making me have second thoughts.

At this time my family would be eating dinner together. My parents would be lecturing my younger brother about how filthy his room is, my older sister would complain about work and I'd be how I wanted to move away from the crazy family because they were too noisy.

And now it's quiet...too quiet.

Frowning, I snatch up the boxes in one arm. I make my way towards the entrance and slip on some shoes before heading out into the hallway. There are only two other apartments, asides from mine, on the top level of this building. This works well because I've only got two boxes of mochi.

After a minute of waiting by the neighbour's apartment on the left, I leave the box in front of the door before trying the apartment on my right.

I ring the doorbell. Thirty seconds has passed. Believing that it'll get the same response like the previous attempt, I slowly make my way back to my own apartment.

When I hear a door creek open, I stop moving.

Spinning on the heel of my foot, I gaze at my neighbour for the first time. I almost drop the boxes. I'm using my utmost control to prevent my jaw from hanging loose. A wave of heat rushes over my face as I avoid looking at his body.

“Did you get the wrong place?” my neighbour drawls.

He's answered the door only with a towel riding lowly around his waist. His jet-black hair looks damp and I swear that there are long scratch marks over his chest and above his chiselled abdomen. I might be wrong, but I'm not going to seek the answer by inspecting his chest. The hickeys on his neck are a dead giveaway what he's been up to.

If he answers the door, topless, like it is nothing...how will I get used to him living next door to me if he is this carefree and-

He asks me, “Are you the new neighbour?”

“Uh-yes,” I reply, nodding, but I'm not looking at him. I shove one of the boxes at him. “This is for you.”

“Thanks!” He takes it without hesitation. “I'm Manse. What's your name?”

“Sayuri.”

I'm about to step away, but somehow his hand has found my chin. He lifts my head so that I'm staring directly at him. He chuckles. “Why are you so shy? Are you interested?”

I blink. “In what?”

"In me?" He grins.

I push him away, gaping. “Are you kidding?”

“Yes.” He winks. “But the option still stands whenever you want it to. You conveniently live next door to me and you are pretty, you know?”

“What?” I exclaim.

I can't believe this guy is saying this to me. The funny thing is that I can't even tell if he's joking or not. There's a mischievous glint in his eyes. His voice is soft, yet confident and I'm certain that many girls would consider him attractive because, well, he is.

“Honey, come back inside,” A sultry voice whispers,a bit too loudly, from behind him.

There's a hand, with painted purple nails, that slides over his shoulder and grasps onto his chest. It's then that I know my assumption is correct where the sorce of scratch marks on Manse had emerged emerged from. 

“I'll see you around, Sayuri. As you can see, business calls.” Manse presents me with a final wink before slamming the door in front of me.

I'm left utterly speechless. I don't know if this act of his is either loathing or amusing. He has smoothly flirted with me whilst being preoccupied with another person!

Now this is definitely something I hadn't expected.

•••••••••••••••

(a/n) 

Wow. I was tossing between writing in first and third person. I'm glad I chose first person because writing from Sayuri's perspective flows really smoothly. It's been a while since I've connected with a character like this and she feels fresh and new. There's something about her I already like, and I don't often get this with many of the female protagonists I write (yeah, that sounds really odd).

Anyway, there was a glimpse of Daehan. I hope you've liked the first chapter. Feel free to drop some feedback. Thanks for reading ;)