mistress | jjk (on hold)

하나 | one

If you asked me how this all happened, I would truthfully answer you that the first time happened randomly.

It was about 6 in the afternoon, in May, where the metro was filled with many people as well as flyers and food wrappers, annoyed tourists with no sense of style at all, pale people that were going or coming back from work.
I was waiting at Seoul station after the pressure and insults at work. When the train from the opposite railway left, loud groans were heard. The board said that the train was stuck in another station. Someone probably jumped on the railway. Usual things, I though while others wondered. Why do people have to die?

Many passengers started to leave the station, and one girl between with very tall heals, who found it hard to walk in them, and a blue dress. Last season's Zara collection, I thought. She was probably heading towards Myeong-dong with other stupid people. Her hair was a mess, red extensions were seen all around her head tangled.
«Eunae! Eunae! Is that you?»
She looked at me and waved her hands enthusiastically. I acted like I didn't hear her.
«Eunae! Look over here!»
Loads of people looked towards me making me shift uncomfortably. She rushed towards me in her high black heels.
«It's me! Jiwon!»
«We'll talk later!» I didn't hear voices like hers anymore. I never thought I'd see her ever again. There was no option she was going to leave the metro station, so I adjusted my leather briefcase on my shoulder and made my way towards her.
«Hi! I was sure it was you!»
«Hi Jiwon» I said cautiously
She filled the empty space between us while she stumbled and pulled me in a tight hug, like I was her missing twin sister.
«Wow look at you! So professional. I had no idea you were still in Korea.» I didn't comment anything back since I haven't talked to her in a decade. Facebook friends weren't my thing and wasn't in the mood to be reminded of where I am.
But then I felt like a bitch.
«You look good to Jiwon. Your hair is great.»
«Actually, I don't go by Jiwon anymore. You can call me Yoonjo.»
«Yoonjo? Ah... nice.»
«Yes. Look at us now. All grown up.»
I wasn't sure back then what that meant. I questioned myself if she knew too.
«Look, I have one hour before I have to go to work. Do you want to go for a drink? To catch up.»
I could've totally told her I was busy, that I was in a hurry, I could've gotten her number, and told her I would call her back, even though I wouldn't. But where else could I go? And her voice seemed happy - something that made me feel lonely and comfortable at the same time. I only had 22.000 won with me and three days until I got paid. But who knows what might happen.
«Sure», I said. «I'll pay though. Let's go to Maloneys Pub».

We ordered two champagnes at the Pub, and I was left with very little money. I just wouldn't be able to eat until the end of the week. It was stupid of me to do such a move, but sometimes you need to show off. With her pink acrylic nails , Jiwon -Yoonjo- succeded in getting the cherry in her drink, while it bounced around the glass.
«It's awesome here, thank you.»
«I work close by here.» I informed her despite that she didn't ask me to.
«I work with artworks. At an auction house. My sector is about famous painters at the Renaissance.»
Well, it actually wasn't. But she wouldn't be able to tell apart Rubens and Rembrandt.
«So you make a lot of money.» she commented. Boredom had taken over her and played with the drink. I wondered if she regretted calling me out at the station, but, instead of caring, I wanted to thank her.
«Not really, that's what everyone thinks when they hear it.» I told her trustingly, feeling the drink and sugar flood in my blood making me relaxed, «in reality, I make none to zero.»
«Yoonjo» told me that she worked here in Seoul as well. She worked at a bar. «It's supposed to be really classy, but it's really not. Don't think that it's something dirty though.» she added quickly, «It's just a simple bar, nothing else. But you make loads of money.»
She told me that she makes over 2237610 won a week. «But you put on a lot of weight.» she said sadly while rubbing her tummy that she didn't have. «You drink a lot. But we don't pay for it. When needed, we throw the drink in the flowerpots, that's what Namjoon says.»
«Namjoon?»
«He's the owner. Yah, you should come one day. You could get a second job there since you can't make much money. Namjoon is constantly looking for girls. Would you like another drink?»
An old couple came dressed nicely, maybe they went to the opera, sat at a table opposite of us. The lady looked at Yoonjo with disapproval from the bottom of her shoes until her red hair. Yoonjo turned her chair, uncrossed her legs and crossed her legs again slowly, giving the old man a glimpse of her black lace thong, not taking her eyes of the old woman. I didn't even need to ask her if she was comfortable doing so.
«Like I was telling you», Yoonjo continued, while the lady turned red like a tomato, «it's fun. The girls are from all over Korea. You would be a banger if you made up a little. Come on let's go!»
I looked down at the clothes I was wearing. A black suit.
«Now?»
«Yeah, why not? I have loads of things in my bag.»
«I don't know Jiwon.»
«Yoonjo.»
«Sorry.»
«Come on you can wear my lace top. It would look great on tour boobs. Unless you got somewhere to go.»
«No», I answered while getting to drink my last sip,
«No, I don't have somewhere to go.»