A sweaty mist carried by the wind off the tiny seaport gust through the window, the sheer white curtains swaying at the sudden touch. Seol sat upon his bed and smoothed his hands over the faded floral sheets, allowing the warm rays of heat from the blinds to stroke his face. A bouquet of white lilies in a glass vase and an unfinished novel rest on the nightstand beside him.
"Seolhee," Soeun spoke softly from the door frame.
He shuddered but turned to meet her eyes regardless, "Hello, mother. What do you need?"
"We'll be leaving in two hours, be ready please."
"Yes, mother. What's the occasion? How formal we going?"
"Much more formal than your dialect use right now."
"Right. So what do you suppose I wear?"
Soeun trudged over to your wardrobe, twisted the gold-encrusted doorknobs, and swung the doors open. She released a sigh as she took in the variety of clothing choices, none of which appeared to suit her fancy.
"Seolhee, where are all the lovely dresses I bought you?" she called.
"Charity. I prefer suits."
She placed her hand flat on her hip and dug her tongue into the flesh of her inner cheek, "Charity? Seriously, Seolhee? Those unemployed low-lives loafing and sautering on the side of the roads, doing nothing but polluting our society with laze don't deserve our materials." she sighed, "And, listen here, Na Seolhee. With that name, you honour this family. If you don't grow out of this childish phase of yours, there will be consequences." she threatened, "Do you understand me?"
Seol simply nodded. He didn't think he could handle the ridicule of his voice cracking in protest.
"Good. Now, I'll pick out a dress for you from my wardrobe. You do your hair and makeup and come down to the principal floor's main exit when you're ready. Okay?" she spoke as though even breathing the same air as her was a privilege.
"Yes, mother."
She walked proudly out of the room. How narcissistic.
He didn't think she knew money doesn't run in everyone's blood.
Seol plodded to his bed and zoned out until Soeun came back.
"It's no use staring at the wall all day, my love. Get this on please." she danced out of the room after handing over an elegant red dress that's sleeves draped down the wearer's shoulders but had a clean-cut neckline, for modesty, of course.
He slipped into the gown and just stared at his reflection.
Perfect. How happy I am to be used as a mannequin for whatever kind of experiment this 'royal family' is.
In his opinion, the dress looked downright awful, but what else could he do than follow the orders of the queen? Seol styled his hair to an acceptable extent and applied very little makeup. He prayed she'd be satisfied with whatever was clinging to his body right now, and that another bicker wouldn't be aroused. His feet led him down the long staircase to the principal floor, where he'd be escorted by the gentlemen ushers down to the car. 'The family absolutely does not need ushers, but anything that comes with a hefty-figured price tag is a must.'
