༺Masterpiece༻

XLIII :: Whirlpool

The air in the clinic shifted palpably as Mr. Cha entered the room, his presence heralded by an almost unsettling quiet. He was a well-groomed, middle-aged man, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that fit him like a second skin, exuding an air of authority and refinement. His salt-and-pepper hair was slicked back with precision, and his clean-shaven face bore no signs of weariness or age beyond his years. From the outside, Mr. Cha appeared to be the embodiment of confidence-someone I might admire from a distance for his poise and undeniable presence. Yet, the way his sharp eyes darted around the room, surveying it with a cold, calculated glint, sent a ripple of unease through me.

As Mr. Cha extended a polite smile and shook hands with Jimin, his gaze flickered toward me, lingering just a heartbeat too long. It was subtle yet enough to make me shift uncomfortably in my chair. There was an unsettling confidence in Mr. Cha's demeanor, but beneath it lay a predatory edge that gnawed at me in a way I couldn't fully articulate. When he spoke, his voice was smooth and rich, laced with the kind of practiced charm that came effortlessly to men of power.

"Pleasure to meet you both," he said, his eyes now fixed on Jimin with an intensity that felt almost invasive. "Who's he, Dr Park?"

I forced myself to maintain a straight posture, reminding myself to breathe, but I couldn't shake the discomfort tightening around my chest. I had encountered men like Mr. Cha before-those who wore their charm like a mask, artfully twisting conversations to leave others feeling ensnared. A faint tension hung in the air as the door clicked shut behind them, amplifying the feeling of entrapment that enveloped me more than I cared to admit. Each passing moment felt charged, as if the space between us crackled with unsaid words and unacknowledged intentions, leaving me on high alert, acutely aware of the delicate dance unfolding before me.

"Good evening, Mr. Cha. This is Gerald, an exchange student under training. He'll be sitting with us for this session today," Jimin announced in a sharp, unyielding tone, his voice resonating with authority.

I stared at him, momentarily stunned. Who the hell is Gerald? The name struck me as absurdly mundane, a mere placeholder that contrasted sharply with the tension in the air.

Jimin offered me a calming gesture, a subtle motion that urged me to play along with this elaborate charade. It took me a moment to grasp his intent: if Mr. Cha were ever to search for me, he would be none the wiser. And even if he did catch a glimpse of my face, I could easily feign that he had mistaken me for another. After all, there was no real Gerald that resembled me-not in this lifetime, at least. Perhaps a Lieutenant, but certainly not Gerald.

"I see. How old are you, young man?" Mr. Cha inquired, his gaze piercing, as if he were dissecting every layer of my being.

"I'm twenty-three, sir," I replied, weaving another lie into the fabric of our conversation.

"Oh, you're just as old as my son. What brings you to Korea?" he pressed, his interest piqued.

"I'm an exchange student, sir. I was previously studying psychology in the United States," I explained, forcing a steady tone despite the anxiety swirling within me.

"Oh, splendid! I have friends in the States. Where exactly are you from?" Mr. Cha continued, leaning forward slightly, an eager glimmer in his eyes.

"Southern California, sir," I said, maintaining my facade.

"My wife was from California," he remarked, his expression softening momentarily.

"Good to know, sir," I replied, nodding, though I could sense the tension coiling tighter.

"Come now, don't call me 'sir.' Just Cha will do, it's perfectly alright," he insisted, waving his hand dismissively as though to banish the formality.

"Of course, Mr. Cha," I acquiesced, my heart pounding with every syllable.