FLAMES: If They Let It Out

STORY 1: TATTOO

Jiwoo holds her breath while tightening the towel around her upper body. She can feel her cheek blushes. Her head down, her eyes don't dare to look at the man in front of her.

The tall firm figure turns his body, looking at her.

"Are you ready?" his low-toned husky voice asking.

She nods slightly. "Yes..."

With her head still down, she slowly walks closer entering the dimly light room. A sitting chair with a reclined back is at the far end of the room. The husky-voiced man beside it, holding a hand-held tool on his right palm.

Jiwoo swallows. She never felt this nervous in her life. It's not about the pain she might feel from that tool. She has endured a lot of pain on her body in the past six years – from all the trainings and fights she had gone through. It is the butterfly in her stomach that leads to her nerve at the moment.

No one has ever seen her in this less-than-appropriate state. Only a thin towel wraps her body now. Her hair tied up, showing her long neck and delicate collarbone. Her smooth fair skin starts to sweat, especially looking at the man approaching to her.

It is him, she said in her mind. Choi Mujin.

Jiwoo silently stares at the black tattoo on his chest, behind his half unbuttoned white shirt. A tattoo that she first saw in her first fight coaching with him. A view that had become a flourish of her teenage daydreams.

He has been part of her life these years. To her, he is such a guardian, mentor, boss. Anything else...? This part has always been difficult for her to define. Lots of things have happened to her since her father passed away. One thing she knows, he's always been there. For her. Despite the silence and suaveness he portrays.

"I will do it quickly. It will hurt, but it shouldn't be for long," he speaks while holding the tool, putting it on a table next to the chair.

Jiwoo lays down on the chair. She can feel him sitting on the small chair on her left side. His heavy breath speaks for his existence. His scent fills the air around them. She closes her eyes for a while, partly because she still doesn't have the courage to look at his eyes, and mostly because she wants to feel the moment – his rare existence near her.

"I'm going to start now," he murmurs, almost to himself.

Shyly she opens the small part of the towel covering her left breast. Again, she is reminded that no one has ever seen this before, not any man. The nerve starts to struck her again.

She might feel she is the only one feeling the nerve, because of his great calmness. Never does it cross her mind that he feels the huge nerve inside him too. Seeing her like this. Only two of them. This close.

He puts his palm closer to her breast. After cleaning some area of her left breast, he puts a piece of paper onto it and flattens it softly. Few moments after that, he pulls it off.

"Alright, this part will hurt," he says. She nods slightly, holding her breath.

She could feel her skin sores. Pierced, sliced, heated...

"Argh..." she couldn't help not to sigh.

"Hold on, it'll be alright," his voice soft, calming her.

She closes her eyes tightly. A glimpse of feeling struck her. Is it regret? No, it is something that she wanted. She asked for it.

"It's done," he sighs.

Slowly she opens her eyes. The first thing she sees is him, looking at her. His dark iris is deep and cold as usual. Yet this time it is filled with different kinds of emotions that she couldn't define.