The protector

Concert (M)

Holidays are coming for some people in the world, and for some of them those days are not so holy. Could life bring you a warm house, a safe place, and the strenght to be your own protector.

2027, Spring

There were days during which a brightening sun only was the evidence of the inexistence of God, or of his dark humour. The celebration for the birthday of an atheist was one of them, In-ah thought. She always needed to focus on something stupidly revenging like that through the long hours in the stadium, or Mr Ra - her guide (should read: guardian but make it friendly, except he was the kind of man who turned out frightening when tried to be friendly), and the whole Pyongyang elite seated few meters away from her, would have read on her face all the feelings that situation nourished into her insides, and it was better if they didn't.

Staying focused during the ceremonies was something which had become increasingly harder since the appearance in her life of a punk pianist who – yes, she was aware of it – often addressed her showy side glances. Looking straight ahead had grown critical, or that giggling big puppy would have displayed their acquaintance in public. His youthful rawness in living their 'thing' so genuinely never failed to make In-ah feel like if someone had lit a little cute flame inside her gut, before remembering, just one second later, that exactly because of it she had to protect him and be twice as careful. Even Mr. Ra had suggested discretion, and Mr. Ra knew the protocol better than anyone.

As per any ceremony, she had styled her hair in an elegant chignon which perfectly framed her face without it mortifying the glory of her hair. Long, a lot, and wild. From where he was, he still could see her eyes, emphasized by the black eyelashes, those two precious elf eyes always sparkling, full of life, which made him feel attracted and in awe at the same time. Contrasting with the severe decorum of her black attire.

Feminine yet chaste, the classic cut wasn't belittling yet accentuating the strong personality of the owner, her shape making any formal dress look interesting and appealing. The pianist was proud, though a little jealous: when she had taken her place at the stadium, her appearance had many heads turned.

In-ah was about to leave, when he reached her and grabbed her wrist with a smartass grin "come with me."

"Abeoji, ommani, this is In-ah, my taekwondo teacher and my friend."

"Glad to meet my student's parents, ajumma, ahjussi" she bowed.

"A western woman teaching taekwondo, first time I see" Director Ri commented, and from his tone that one didn't mean to be a compliment. This because I asked you to be kind abeoji, Jeong Hyeok cast a glance to his father, fiery darts flashing into his dark eyes.

"De ahjussi" the sunbaenim held her pose supplementing a soft, kind, humble smile "in my country we don't have Korean teachers, we have to do it by our own. Autarchy," she replied, purposefully quoting one of the most popular words of the NK propaganda.

If the man gasped at the reference – and he did – she didn't show to have noticed it. In-ah stood still with the sweetest of the smiles, holding her signature pursue with the two hands graciously placed in front of her waist, playing her "I'm a little doll who has never had a mean thought in her life" role.

And if the harmful father had the suspect that she was the kind of woman who played the innocent when she considered her interlocutor an asshole – correct, for the records -, the harmless son only got stunned for how remarkable her diplomatic skills were, for the constant surprise she was.