There are Many Flowers in Seoul

Chapter Nineteen

To say Rose was dreading the return to the studio would be an understatement. She woke the morning of the shoot with sore muscles, stinging hands, and bruised pride, realising then the full extent of what she'd agreed to. When she'd promised herself that she'd never model for her mother's brand as a girl and walked away from her obligations, she'd done so fully believing it was a promise she'd be able to keep until the day she died.

Now, here she was, breaking that promise all because a man had saved her from certain death which, admittedly, wasn't an event she'd foreseen when making her vow at the tender age of twelve.

Rose dressed modestly for the day; no effort was made with her hair or make-up – she knew the stylists would only remove it all to mould her into their ideal mannequin anyway – and her clothes hung loose and comfortable because they'd be a relief once she was out of the constricting garments she was expected to display. Hitomi, on the other hand, wasn't prepared to show up with the appearance of a girl who'd just fallen out of bed. While Rose sat at the dining table with a mug of bitter instant coffee, she was preening herself on the bed, the contents of her vanity case spilled out across the sheets, a glitzy jumble of expensive lipsticks and lavishly pigmented eyeshadow palettes.

'You're up early,' Yuta observed as he passed through the room, gathering his briefcase and patting down his pockets, searching for his phone. 'Have you seen –'

'Counter,' Rose replied without looking at the man, still unhappy to have been chided like a five-year old when they'd made a deal to treat one another as adults. Granted, she'd made a foolish decision and his admonishments had come from a place of concern, but as usual, he'd taken it too far.

Realising his mistakes, and having had a night to calm his anger, Yuta approached the girl and ruffled her hair affectionately. 'Sorry.'

'It's not okay for you to yell at me,' Rose told him flatly. 'You know that, right? Saying sorry doesn't make it all better.'

'Don't fall off buildings and I won't yell at you,' the man reasoned.

'I don't plan on making it into a new hobby.'

'I was scared for you,' he admitted. 'I had flashes of having to call Lily and tell her to arrange a funeral because you weren't coming back from this trip in one piece. The thought of not seeing your stupid face every day just – I couldn't – I know I should have handled that better, and I am sorry. But, I'm begging you, Rose, don't do that to me ever again.'

Rose rolled her shoulders in a non-committal shrug. Yuta wasn't the only one who wanted to avoid a repeat of the previous day – all of it, in fact – and Rose could understand his distress. When she thought about him or Hitomi passing and the idea that she might never see them again crept into her head, she found it difficult to reconcile her feelings.

Would she be sad?

Undoubtedly.

Angry?

She wanted to say that she wouldn't, because death usually wasn't anyone's fault, but then she recalled how furious she'd been at Samuel for succumbing to his mortality and leaving her without warning – without a goodbye – and how, even now, her heart ached when she considered spending the rest of her life without hearing him laugh or seeing his gentle smile. His passing had been entirely natural – just one of those things that happened to a person when it was their time – but the death of a young person full of potential through their own misadventures was another matter.

Perhaps the way he'd spoken to her was wrong, but Yuta's feelings towards her weren't wholly unjustified.

Satisfied that her shrug was the closest thing to agreement he'd see, Yuta stole her coffee and squeezed her shoulder with his free hand. Once the mug was drained, he stormed through to the bedroom to hurry Hitomi along, fretting about getting to the studio on time rather than dealing with Rose's clear apprehension about the day ahead.