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Chapter Two

Dal Mi shifts her weight from one foot on another as she studies her surroundings. The delicately aged bird feeder that she had used to exchange letters with Do San sways gently along with the soft nudges of the afternoon breeze. It hangs from a sturdy branch high enough so that it could hide neatly within the canopy of dense, twisting branches and vivid pink blossoms, yet low enough that her ten years old self was able to reach in to leave letters that she had excitedly sprawled for him, pouring her heart out daily. It was also where she was able to retrieve handwritten responses from him - each letter written oh so perfectly. Here under this tree was where the one special boy, her first love, had helped her through a series of the worst moments during the worst year of her childhood.

She had left a letter in there recently for him with the intent of inviting him to this networking party. Staring intently at the chipped bird feeder she wonders if it's still there...

Her arm begins to stretch upward to the bird feeder when a voice suddenly catches her off guard. "Seo Dal Mi!"

She twirls around to see who had called her.

There towering in front of her stands a well dressed giant with a soft gentle face and broad shoulders. The corners of his soft pink lips slowly curl upwards to flash her a shy, slightly lopsided smile that she could only describe as charmingly boyish with a hint of possible mischievousness. A single prominent dimple sits next to his smile highlighting his good looks. Though he appears a bit guarded, she notes a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. He prudently takes another step towards her to close the gap between them. Instantly the proximity feels too much for her to bear. This person who she has been pining and wishing for all these years is now just a simple arm reach away. The fresh scent of his mildly musky cologne fills her head which has gone otherwise blank.

With her eyes widened and her heart pounding at her chest, she can only make out a soft whisper. "N-Nam Do San?" She clears her throat. "Are you really Nam Do San?" The name that she has been playing over and over in her head for over a decade now seems so peculiarly foreign coming out from behind her lips.

She thought words and a flood of questions and all these pent up emotions would come spewing out her mouth the moment they were to finally meet. Visions of her running and hugging him tightly. Visions of him running and hugging her tightly, exclaiming loudly, "Seo Dal Mi, my one true love! You can't believe what I've been through to find you!"

Instead here they stand, all quiet under the cherry blossom tree.

He exhales loudly a few seconds later, breaking the moment of silence that felt like an eternity. "Yeah, about that," says the man as he runs a hand through his short locks of thick, dark hair. His smile is gone now, replaced by a set of pursed lips. He seems a bit annoyed, or tired, or both. "Are you free for maybe a cup of coffee? Or tea? Or whatever you'd like to drink."

"There is this coffee shop nearby," she beams brightly up at him. "We should go!" There deep inside her chest is a lovely brew of happiness mixed with a dash of relief welling up, coloring her cheeks a faint hue of rouge. Now after so many years she has found the face that is attached to that name: Nam Do San. And Nam Do San, a gorgeous model-like man, would like to get coffee with her. "Pinch me! This can't be real," she screams internally.

"You must find Nam Do San for her," Mrs. Choi said tearfully. "That stubborn girl hasn't moved on."

"Where am I supposed to find him? Don't you recall? Mrs. Choi, we made him up!"

Inside the small, mostly empty coffee shop, Dal Mi and the man sit themselves in the farthest corner of the cafe, closest to the bright window. The shop assistant had just left with their drink orders, leaving them alone to browse from a small food menu of various sandwiches, cakes and other pastries. The wooden table heated from the sun rays pouring into the shop's large windows feels warm against their skin. The warmth coupled with the low chattering in the background sets an intimate atmosphere much to her delight. He has been quite quiet during their walk towards the coffee shop during which they exchanged comments about the weather and Halmoni's health. Dal Mi glances up from beneath her long lashes to meet his stoic gaze. Astonished at the idea that he might have been studying her, she darts her eyes back down to the menu in front of her. "Hm, what to pick. Everything seems about the same."

She can still feel his fixated burning gaze on her, and it's making her feel nervous. Maybe she isn't how he had expected her to be. At twenty six years old, Dal Mi is a college dropout living with her elderly grandmother. Between working at her office job doing sales and helping her grandmother run her food truck, Dal Mi's social circle has very much gradually diminished over the years after high school. Normally she likes to believe she has no regrets, yet here sitting in front of him, he makes her start to question her life choices. She had taken note of his expensive looking clothes, shoes and even his watch during their walk towards the cafe. She briefly wonders how her older sister, In Jae, would handle this situation differently.

Nope. The unemotional, joy-sucking vampire wouldn't be in this situation.

He soaks in her subtle movements. The way she tucks in a stray lock of hair behind her ear only to undo it unintentionally by twirling her hair around her fingers. Every so often she looks up at him from underneath those long, dark lashes that showcase her beautiful brown eyes before rapidly looking back down at the menu that she's holding in her small hands.

Last evening he had decided to see her while posing as Nam Do San. He thought of excuses to tell her to help her move on like his having a girlfriend (his obsession with his career left him no time or interest in dating), a massive debt from his severe addiction to gambling and now loan sharks are after him (too ridiculous), or just plainly ghosting her to make her hate him (too cruel).

"Miss Seo," he begins after clearing his throat. He reckons it's now or never to get the truth out. "I-"

"Please, you can call me Dal Mi," she interrupts with a wide grin. A quick flash of her pearly white teeth stuns him momentarily.

"... Dal Mi," he hesitates, trying his best to pick and choose the next words carefully, "I don't know how else to say this so I'll just go right out with it. The truth is I'm not Nam Do San."

Her brows are furrowed together to display her confusion. She blurts out, "Wait, what?" She stands, swiftly swinging the strap of her handbag over her shoulder in preparation to dash away.

His hand reaches up and grabs her wrist to prevent her from leaving. "I am not Nam Do San!" He sighs, and briefly breaks eye contact as his eyes roam around the cafe to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Dal Mi, I am the writer of those letters. My name is Han Ji-pyeong. Will you just hear me out?"

He finally settles his gaze back to meet her face which is currently displaying a storm of emotions: mostly confusion mixed with a dash of nervousness and anger... Her long, silky smooth hair that is as dark as his own frames her scowling, pale face. She raises her eyebrows quizzically, challenging him - daring him - to conjure up a good enough answer that she can then deem palatable. It does not take a genius to see that beyond the sweet facade there is a young, captivating woman who is calculative, fierce and undeniably intelligent. His eyes slightly drop to her reddish pink pursed lips and her soft jawline.

"Dal Mi, Nam Do San isn't real," he states as he releases his grip on her. "But I am the one you've been looking for all these years. Nam Do San is just the name that we picked."

"We?"

He bitterly lets out a faint chuckle at the ridiculousness of the situation. He partially blames Mrs. Choi for starting this mess. His polite smile carries an inkling of sadness... "Mrs. Choi," he speaks in a low tone, "You were going through a hard time, and she wanted to give you some solace in the form of a pen pal."

Dal Mi finds herself sliding back into the seat that she had just vacated. Her hands clench on top of her bare thighs, and her legs shake nervously. "Han Ji-pyeong, you said?"

"Yes."

"Excuse me, here is one Iced Vanilla Latte for you, Miss," a peppy chirp interrupts them as the cafe assistant places their drinks in front of them, "and for you sir, an Americano."