Chapter 9 #3
“Home. My father is furious with me. He’s threatening to freeze my cards. I need to get back and fix this before he does something drastic.”
She sat up, her brow crinkling with concern. “He’s furious? Why?”
“It’s … complicated. Family business. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me.”
Hyukjoon let out an exasperated sigh. “Listen, the room is paid for, and they have my credit card on file. Just stay. You can sleep in and get some breakfast in the morning before heading to work. Order whatever. On me.”
He began walking toward the door, and Dahye scrambled to get to her feet.
Her thoughts were foggy, but she knew something was terribly wrong.
He had never left her like this. An unbearable thought seized her: that once he left the room, he would be lost to her forever.
The only thing that mattered now was that she had to stop him from leaving.
She grabbed his arm and yanked him back.
“Stop it!” He jerked his arm out of her grasp.
The words tumbled out of her mouth. “Please don’t go.”
“Come on, Dahye. Don’t do this right now.”
She followed him out the door and to the elevator, blubbering.
Begging. It was late, and there were only a few people lingering in the lobby, mostly tourists.
Seeing their curious stares, Hyukjoon pulled Dahye aside, his eyes alight with fury.
“You’re causing a scene,” he hissed. “Go back inside. Get some sleep. You’re acting crazy. ”
“I can’t. I have a bad feeling that if you go, it’ll be over between us for good,” she said.
She hoped he would deny it, but he said nothing and walked out to the driveway where his BMW was waiting.
Dahye trailed after him, tears rolling down her cheeks.
He stopped. Reached into his pocket and removed a handful of bills.
“If you’re not going to stay, then take a taxi home,” he said brusquely.
He shoved the wad into her hand. Her fingers were limp; the money fluttered to the ground.
Without hesitating, the valet began to chase after the notes.
Hyukjoon covered his face with his hand.
His voice was muffled. “Can’t you just listen to me for once? ”
Dahye touched his shoulder. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she said softly.
Leaning against the car, he took out a cigarette and fumbled with his lighter, his fingers shaking.
“I fucked up, Dahye.” He sounded exhausted.
His hair was a mess, but he still looked impossibly handsome.
Behind him, the valet stood, the cash balled up in his outstretched fist. “Keep it,” Hyukjoon muttered.
The man looked at them questioningly. It was a lot of money.
“I said keep it!” he said again, louder this time. The valet bowed, then slipped away.
“Talk to me,” Dahye said. “Please. You know you can tell me anything.”
“Alright. Since you want to know so badly … There’s something you need to see.
” Hyukjoon pulled his phone from his pocket and shoved it into her hands.
Dahye looked at the screen and was confused to see a couple lying naked in a bed, their bodies entwined.
The man was thrusting into the woman as she threw her head back in pleasure, her mouth a small ‘o.’
She shrank away, flooded with embarrassment. Porn. He was showing her porn. She could sense the valet watching them curiously and swallowed hard, trying to push Hyukjoon away.
“What the hell is this? Why are you showing me this?”
“Look at it.”
“I did!”
“No, you didn’t,” Hyukjoon said, his voice trembling. “Look again.”
As she forced herself to look back down at the little screen, Dahye felt a wave of nausea overcome her. The woman in the video opened her eyes briefly, her lips parted, and Dahye realized with a sudden jolt that she recognized her. It wasn’t just any couple in the video—it was them.
Horrified, she thrust the phone back into Hyukjoon’s hands. “Where did you get this video?” she asked, squeezing her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to look at it for another second.
A ribbon of smoke curled from the end of Hyukjoon’s cigarette. He took one final drag before tossing it to the ground, putting it out with the heel of his shoe. Then he spoke, avoiding her gaze. “We got caught on a camera at that hotel a few weeks ago.”
Dahye thought hard. They didn’t stay at hotels often, a couple times a month at most. “The one in Itaewon,” she said.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah. A private investigator found this video in a molka chatroom and sent it to my father. I’m sorry, Dahye, but it’s going to be all over the news tomorrow.”
Even though it felt like time had stopped, around her, the world continued to move.
Cars rumbled past. Planes drifted overhead.
In one of the windows of the office building across the street, a light blinked on, revealing a man and a woman, the two of them wild with laughter.
Maybe they were colleagues, returning to pick up their things after a night out with their boss. Or maybe they were having an affair.
Hyukjoon sniffled loudly, and when Dahye looked at him, she was surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes. He grabbed her and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. I really am. I should have been more careful. I should have been—”
“It’s okay,” she said automatically. She closed her eyes and buried her face into the folds of his shirt. He smelled of cologne and wine and smoke.
“It was just bad luck,” he whispered. “It could have happened to anybody.”
It seemed too simple an explanation for something so monumental. She dug her fingernails into her palm, trying desperately to wake herself from this terrible dream.
“Does anybody know that it’s me?” she asked.
“No. I’m going to take care of it. I’m going straight home right now, and I’ll smooth things over with my father.
After that, I’ll call the reporters and make sure nothing happens to you.
I’ll protect you, Dahye. I swear.” He kissed the top of her head.
She kept her arms stiff at her sides as a fresh wave of tears gathered in her eyes.
“But what about you?” she croaked.
“What do you mean?” He wore a curious expression on his face.
“What’s going to happen to you?”
“I’ll be fine. My father wants me to lay low for a few months,” he said. “He went ahead and booked a flight for me.” Hyukjoon hesitated. “To New York. I’m supposed to leave in six hours.”
An image materialized in her head. She was sitting next to Hyukjoon on a plane headed to New York City.
They would leave Seoul and this terrible night behind.
Climb to the top of the Empire State Building.
Walk through Times Square. Visit the places he had haunted as a student at Columbia University.
She had never been to America before, had never dreamed it to be a possibility.
“I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’ll quit my job. I just need an hour to pack and get my affairs in order.”
He blinked, taken aback, and stared at her as though she had sprouted a second head. He chuckled. Squeezed her hands. “I wish we could go together,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But that’s not possible right now. You understand, don’t you?”
She didn’t. But she nodded as if she understood him perfectly. Hyukjoon didn’t like it when she was disagreeable. “Difficult,” he liked to call it.
“When will we see each other again?” she asked.
“Soon,” he promised. He cupped her chin, tilting her head up toward his, kissing her chastely at first, and then with hunger, his tongue hard against hers. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”
How long would that be? Weeks? Months? He climbed in the car and rolled down the window. “I love you,” he called. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Get some rest.”
As if she could. The engine roared, and Hyukjoon waved as his car disappeared into the night.
+
Alone in the hotel room, Dahye turned on all the lights and sat on the couch, drinking the remainder of the wine straight from the bottle. She could barely taste anything through her dulled senses.
She remembered that night in Itaewon, but only vaguely.
They had gone to a club. After spotting Hyukjoon, the security guards had whisked them to the front of the line.
The girls behind them in their miniskirts had glared at Dahye, whispering loudly to each other.
She had known what they were saying. What was someone like him doing with someone like her?
But rather than be offended, she had felt a burst of pride.
He chose me, not you, she had thought, staring defiantly into their eyes.
At least they had had the decency to look away.
In their private room, Hyukjoon had slung his arm carelessly around her shoulder.
The music had been so loud she could hardly hear him.
A couple of his friends came by with drinks, and from there everything was blurry.
Snatches of memory: dancing on a table, Hyukjoon’s friends shouting at her to take her shirt off.
Hyukjoon sitting back, smoking, watching.
“I’m not taking it off,” she had shouted at them and then she had tumbled into Hyukjoon’s lap. His erection surprised her.
“I’ll be back,” he mumbled, and he disappeared.
Dizzy, she had closed her eyes. When she’d opened them, she wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed, but Hyukjoon still hadn’t returned, and she was alone with one of his friends in the room.
He was crouched next to her, one hand pressed against her neck. He seemed surprised.
“I was worried about you,” he said. “Was making sure you still had a pulse. Do you need some water?”