2.1 | The Better Half and Half ✓

TWENTY FOUR>> Come Fall In Love With My Tongue Technology

TWENTY FOUR|Come fall in with my tongue technology| MIN YOONGI

────
───
──

"You are telling me to get him a hangover soup? Think again." I peered at him, accusing him of downplaying my importance from his niece to a mere servant.

"Yes. The servants are off their duty hours. And if you can't prepare one, then Mr. Yeun, please follow me to the kitchen." Uncle Mojo turned his proud head toward Yoongi's manager.

The man's facial expressions became unfriendly to the prospect of doing some cooking in the kitchen, albeit they stalked off through the deep lobby to begin their new expedition.

With no third person around me, I scooted closer to him. I studied the dozing-off Yoongi's highly intoxicated half-opened eyes, and thin lips set on the tune of something inaudible. Next, my wily mind ordered my hand to rip his phone that was poking out of his jacket's pocket.

"I'll do anything to get you out of the league," I mumbled lowly and pulled it out carefully. "You keep snoring dummy, and I'll decorate your grave with flowers and warm wishes." I grinned as I inspected his phone and cocked my head to laugh about the poor boy. Suddenly I heard footsteps from behind and quickly stuffed it in my jean pocket.

Uncle Mojo sat next to Yoongi and I grabbed a seat next to him silently, feeling uneasy as heat generated from his little phone was blowdrying my butt.

I faced him and said dryly, "While you expect this man to be in the running. Will he keep Molan happy? I suspect him to be the kind of man who would spend the entire course of a day in drinking and night sleeping. Molan will never be found on the scape of his mind." Shrugging my shoulder, I peeled his phone off and hid it beside the cushion as Uncle Mojo paid attention to the boy solely.

If you caught him in an ugly mood, you would get a mouthful for no fault of yours.

"Did I ask for your opinion?" He lifted his head, boredom marking his action. "We have to encourage the idea of being hospitable to a guest. This is how it works in Korea." His brow puckered up imperiously. "This is not your California-"

"Okay, fine." I further muttered in a threatening tone, looking sideways, "In which corner does his hospitable characteristic die in Taehyung's case? He's always fear-stricken to enter beyond the threshold of the living room, and is treated like a housefly."

Holy crap. I closed my eyes tightly and before Uncle Mojo could break each word of each sentence, and push Taehyung and me one step closer to the gallows, I implanted a quick and heated question, "What do you know about his family!?"

My high-pitched voice resulted in Yoongi flickering his eyes at the ceiling. He tilted his head and spoke from his abnormal sitting position on the couch, "Family . . . . my fa─mily is very . . . big."

I rolled my eyes and stamped my hand on the sides of my head. He looked like a yellow dog with double standards, overlooking his red jacket that reeked of wealth. This had been proved thereof, every wealthy person was not politically and socially correct in everything. For example, although, Taehyung overcame poverty daily, that hadn't made him into a roadside drunkard or a bluff master. Instead, he thrived on becoming a golden-hearted man who walked on the pure path of civility and compassion.