AUTHOR'S NOTE: Late, but this is my Christmas gift to all of you! Since this part was longer than most, I divided it into two parts.
Anyways, I'm ready to give you all some long deserved answers since there was some confusion and interesting stuff in the reviews about the story.
For the direction this is going... I'm in the process of expanding the story in experimental ways (different messenger—chatroom and PM—dialogue thanks to interactivity, Ame's ventures outside) so this has changed the flow of the original narrative bit by bit, though I am keeping it as close to the original script/timeline as possible. So for the Routes and the eventual romance... let's just say they're being built upon, and if you look around you may spot signs of them. I'm also making it clear that Ame's in their world, an 'alternate universe', and not the game. How that happened... I'm sprinkling a few more seeds along the way, just wait and everything will make sense.
Lastly, the omakes are 'what-if' situations meant to represent an exaggerated version of an MM fangirl. They only serve as a hotbed of weird plot bunnies, and trust me, they won't appear as often as they seem to do. Also, last chapter's omake has been removed because I belatedly noticed that it was wayyy too on-the-nose about spoiler-y stuff, so I'm sorry about the confusion it may have caused.
So that's it for now, I've held all you up long enough. Please enjoy~! ^^
WARNING: This story contains crude language/humor, angst, adult themes, headcanons/fanons and heavy spoilers. Read at your own discretion.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Mystic Messenger, credits to Cheritz. I only own the OCs that will appear in this story and my imagination.
CHAPTER 9
Clotheslined (Part 1)
Was this a bad idea?
Perhaps this was a confusing line to start on, in which please forgive me for the jumbled thoughts that will occur. It's just that...
"Okay, over here..! This would... perfect... with the Orion's Belt... background."
I discreetly hid a disgruntled groan while I jogged over to the bench near a streetlight of the park, where a short woman was bouncing on the heels of her boots, instructing two other people with a very intense smile and the energy of a caffeinated squirrel, gesturing wildly with jazz hands as she did so. Once she had finished, she turned to me with an air of professionalism that I appreciated seeing, even if her wide, toothy grin betrayed the image.
"How many... think... take?" she inquired, head tilting to the side and making her purple hair sway.
I made a vague so-so gesture (which in my head could range from a mere twenty to between forty-fifty including the 'trash') as I raised my camera to chest level and began double-checking the memory still available.
She nodded in understanding, head bobbing excitedly and making her bob cut bounce in waves. While I deleted some of the pictures that were either blurred, had the wrong exposure and shutter speed, and bad shot compositions, I noticed that she had began conversing with her friends once more, and I finally let out a heavy sigh.
I glanced up at the dark skies and the twinkling stars, hoping that we can wrap this up soon and I can get back to the apartment. Seven's been bugging the heck out of me since it's this late...
To be honest, even I have no idea how I got here. How did this happen again..?
Think it was three hours ago, wasn't it..?
Adjusting the sleeves of my jacket (which I should probably throw in the laundry when I get back later), I glared at my reflection in the mirror. My cap sat comfortably atop my head, and this time my hair was down and flowing all the way to my back, just shy of my bottom. Striking a few poses, I eyed myself critically, feeling slightly agitated when my hair would accidentally poke my eyes, or would flap near my nose and lips, causing me to sputter.
I'd always been fond of my long hair, but damn if it wasn't a huge pain to manage. It sucks that I don't even know any useful braids since I never really bothered.
I sighed before I took the cap off and instead tied my hair up in my usual high ponytail, careful not to leave any bumps. I then slipped the hat back on, the straps unclasped so I could fit my hair in, and with one final click I was finally satisfied with my appearance. I went back to the living room and sat there, hands grazing the straps of my camera bag and moving for my phone perched precariously by the edge of the coffee table.
The chatroom was currently active, made obvious by the few dozen messages I'd already missed, but... I glanced at the wall clock that read 2PM.
As much as I'd just love to waste my time going around on the internet and generally lazing about like a fat house cat, I needed to go and buy some clothes. The emergency supply can only last so long. If I viewed it from a practical standpoint, I could just go and wear the three sets of clothes I have in cycles, washing them as required. From a personal standpoint, that was just sad and there was that little issue of my... undergarments.
I'd be lying if I didn't say that I really wanted to just get out. I'm still not used to the place, even if I could just suck it up and pretend everything's relatively normal. While I did accept my situation, knowing where I was staying even if it was relatively safe still had me on edge. Unknown was perfectly capable of blowing the place sky-high without so much as a blink from me.
The outside served as a reminder that there was something out there, and despite the dangers lurking around in the shadows, maybe, just maybe, home could be reached.
If there's none... well, I'll cross that bridge when I get there.
It also helped that I did go and write more information in my notes (the whole rich people debacle and oddities of certain people), and trying my hand at Hangul. It's a rather unique way of writing, and very difficult to remember since it does take from the Chinese alphabet, the hanja, with various combinations of each character, representing a sound—at least from what I understand. With more time and practice, I could probably reach acceptable levels of understanding, seeing as my handwriting wasn't the equivalent of chicken scratch.
I deliberately ignored the various characters swimming in my head in favor of the string of messages that popped up. There were the words 'Such a narcissist' and 'Promiscuous Jalapeno Topping' though... and all I could think of was, what's Zen uploaded now?
Ame has entered the chatroom
Yoosung*: Why did he leave his photo? Lolol
Yoosung*: Already with Seven...
Yoosung*: Guhhhhh
Jaehee Kang: Ignoring... that
Jaehee Kang: Not everyone can act with their eyes like Zen does
Jaehee Kang: and in the musical, even though the script was odd convoluted mess since it was said that the original writer was high on drugs when he wrote it
Jaehee Kang: Zen's acting made up for it a lot, despite it being all about a fight between the Jalapenos and the Pickles.
Yoosung*: lololol
Yoosung*: This is making me crave pizza.
Jaehee Kang: You'll get fat.
Yoosung*: ?!
Jaehee Kang: As I was saying
Jaehee Kang: That photo was shot during a scene where he was taken captive.
Hostage...? Hold on, the Jalape—oh, it's the one with... Zen's abs out in the open. The visual of the albino kneeling, hands chained up above his head and presenting his body through the torn black clothes, with the lighting making the sculpt of his muscles all the more prominent and eye-catching, got me to growl up at the ceiling. I... don't think my dignity will be preserved all quite well if I had to lay my eyes on an actual 3D picture of that, so I forcefully will my twitchy pointer finger away from the back button.
Jaehee Kang: There is enough artistic value to preserve it.
Yoosung*: Artistic value...
Yoosung*: These have artistic value, Jaehee.
Lo and behold, the precious screenshots of Yoosung's LOLOL character, who was definitely some sort of Knight or Berserker class judging from that sturdy purple armor with gold trimmings built to take a beating and giant warhammer, frozen in the midst of a special attack, was proudly displayed on the monitor.
Jaehee Kang: -_-
Yoosung*: Do you know how hard I worked for five days to get that armor?
Jaehee Kang: Do not compare an artificial photo like that with natural art.
Ame: Eh... I mean, both do have their charms.
Yoosung*: Oh, Ame!
Yoosung*: I didn't realize you're here
Jaehee Kang: Hello, Ame.
Ame: Yo
Ame: But five days huh... dang, I do have to admit that looks awesome.
Yoosung*: Right?!
Yoosung*: Ame totally gets me
Jaehee Kang: I still think that Zen's photo's more irresistable to the eye.
Jaehee Kang: ...
Jaehee Kang: I suddenly feel an urge.
Jaehee Kang: Even though I'm in the office... I want to watch Zen's musical on DVD for a moment.
Yoosung*: But aren't u still on the clock? O_o
Jaehee Kang: Mr. Han is currently with having a late lunch with his father at the moment
Jaehee Kang: and other matters have been dealt with for now so
Jaehee Kang: I do have some spare time.
That's... news. A meeting with Older Han, huh...
Ame: You're serious.
Yoosung*: omg
Yoosung*: Jaehee's not joking.
Jaehee Kang: I must go.
Ame: Enjoy the musical time, Jaehee.
Yoosung*: lolol Good bye.
Jaehee Kang has left the chatroom
Yoosung*: It's just us two now, Ame. ^^
A grin took over my serious expression, since Yoosung's playful but calm theme was in the background once more. Never disappear music, even if I question how you're still here.
Ame: Yup.
Yoosung*: Before you came
Yoosung*: there were times when no one talked for days.
Yoosung*: It's all because of you, Ame.
Yoosung*: Thank you,
Yoosung*: for staying in the organization ^^
Ame: Ahaha, I'm just doing my best
Ame: and no need to thank me!
Yoosung*: I feel warm and fuzzy.
Yoosung*: I'll still thank you anyway heh
Ame: ... alright lol
Yoosung*: haha
Yoosung*: It'd be great to keep talking to you like this... ^^
Jumin Han has entered the chatroom
Oh, that's surprising, I thought the chat was about to finish... ah, let's see what's up.
Yoosung*: When will V tell us the party schedule?
Jumin Han: So bored.
Ame: I dunno...
Yoosung*: I don't like that he decides everything by himself.
Those words instantly triggered me to change the subject.
Ame: Hi Jumin. How's the lunch going?
Yoosung*: Hey, Jumin!
Jumin Han: I'm just sitting here. The meal isn't over yet.
The blurry photo of a table full of food would've been appetizing looking if it were taken at a slightly lower angle, emphasizing the subject and casting a blur effect on what's lined up behind it, and with a steady hand. Right now that steak dish... looked like a dull brick, and the asparagus were like overgrown grass.
Ame: ... Was it good, at least?
Jumin Han: Good...? Did I think that? I don't remember.
Ame: Ah...
Yoosung*: Is that... steak?
Jumin Han: Is it not obvious?
Yoosung*: Um
Yoosung*: At second glance, yes
I rolled my eyes, though I'm inclined to agree and had this pressing urge to start giving some photography tips all of a sudden...
Ame: ... Anyways! ^^;
Ame: Can you really chat with us while you're having lunch with your dad?
Jumin Han: In normal circumstances, it would be rude
Jumin Han: But
Jumin Han: My father and his current girlfriend are drinking wine
Jumin Han: and having their own little conversation,
Jumin Han: so they haven't even noticed that I'm on my phone.
Ame: Srsly?
Jumin Han: Yes, there is nothing for me to do here.
Being a third wheel does kind of do that to you. As much as I'd like to not be a judgmental person, if Jumin's dad really wanted to have some bonding time with his son and hope the heir would warm up to the new woman (who I hope's not Glam Choi...), he could at least try and bring him into the conversation instead of ignoring him and retreating into their own world. It's just kinda... insensitive.
Ame: I suppose that can get uncomfortable after a while...
Jumin Han: It is uncomfortable.
Jumin Han: I'd like to get back to the office as soon as possible.
Yoosung*: Still, you should eat your steak!
Yoosung*: If I was in your place, I'd have already finished that off
Yoosung*: ... speaking of lunch, I really should eat
Jumin Han: I did taste it, but I've lost my appetite
I sighed, suddenly feeling my annoyance rise. For the love of...
Ame: Geez, both of you.
Ame: Don't waste food, or at least eat some more. You've barely made a dent on that steak, Jumin.
Ame: and it's already past lunch Yoosung, u should eat.
Yoosung*: ahaha right ^^;
Yoosung*: Later, I promise
Jumin Han: I'll only eat what I can, but thanks for the reminder.
I glared at my screen, hoping my menacing intentions would carry over to their side, but say nothing else.
Jumin Han: Oh
Jumin Han: Do you or Yoosung watch TV often?
Hmm... to be perfectly honest? Not much, since with the exception of some anime and K-drama shows they televise during the mornings and evenings respectively, I'm really uninterested in the cheesy telenovelas, celebrity-hosted shows and the like.
Yoosung*: Hm, sometimes
Yoosung*: If it's a show I like, unless LOLOL calls my name~
Ame: Same here, except the LOLOL part
Yoosung*: Ehehe ^^;;;
Jumin Han: Do either of u know of the show "Mister Chef"?
Oh, yes, I did love the season with the blind chef, and other cooking shows like Master Chef Junior, Hell's Kitchen and Top Chef (though Gordon wasn't in it, some seasons like the All-Stars one and the first one were enjoyable primarily because of that guy with the liquid nitrogen—seriously, it's like watching magic) were ones my Dad and I would binge-watch when we had the time. Sure there were some excessively dramatic moments in between, but it was always entertaining especially when Gordon Ramsay would do go off the rails—erhm, getting distracted.
Ame: Yeah? But what about it?
Yoosung*: Not really.
Jumin Han: Neither do I.
Jumin Han: Apparently the chef here was on that show.
I could distantly remember Seven somehow freaking out about this, and I somehow feel relieved that there were no teasing moments today. Chill times like these were definitely nice.
Ame: Oh, cool!
Ame: Who and from which season?
Jumin Han: I'm not sure. I should ask the name of the chef.
Ame: Hm, whoever it was, props to them I suppose
Ame: Although, it'd be more awesome if it was
Ame: Chef Ramsay!
Jumin Han: You mean Chef Lamsay?
Ame: Ah yeah, sorry typo ^^;;;
Ame: But yeah, I'd always liked it if I could shake his hand just once...
... Ah, I did undergo a small phase of my life wanting to be a chef. I never told my parents, but hey, I wasn't a disaster in the kitchen and had a mom who was adamant in teaching me to cook so I could be helpful around the house. Come to think of it, I'm only grateful for that since it helped out a lot in my time here alone.
Jumin Han: So Chef Lamsay was famous.
Jumin Han: I saw him frequently at the french restaurant I often went during business trips.
Yoosung*: Wow...
Ame: O_o
Jumin Han: I still have his business card with me, in fact. Do you want to invite him?
Ame: Oh, hell yes.
Jumin Han: I didn't realize you were interested in this field.
Jumin Han: Alright, I'll tell Assistant Kang to reach him.
Ame: Okay ^^
Yoosung*: All this talk about food
Yoosung*: is suddenly making me crave for something sweet and salty. TwT
Ame: Like I said, get lunch already -_-
Yoosung*: Class hasn't ended yet ;;
Yoosung*: even when prof finished the lesson
Ame: eh ._.
Jumin Han: ... Is that a new thing for commoners..?
Yoosung*: Huh?
Yoosung*: I mean, eating a sweet thing then something salty and vice versa balances out flavors.
Yoosung*: That's what I do when eating snacks at least.
Yoosung*: It adds a bit more variety so u don't get tired eating it ^^
Ame: Yup, it's a kind of rule the snack industry does implement so consumers get more invested into buying again and again.
Jumin Han: I never knew there would be such a philosophy in snacks drenched in oil and preservatives.
Jumin Han: How funny.
Yoosung*: Oh, class dismissed!
Yoosung*: Imma head to the cafeteria now ^^
Ame: kk eat up Yoosung~
Yoosung* has left the chatroom
Speaking of dismissals, I should really leave too...
Ame: Btw, are you sure you should still be on your phone?
Jumin Han: Oh.
Jumin Han: ...
Jumin Han: I'd like to stay here a bit more.
Ame: Ah, Mr. Han's still chatting the lady up?
Jumin Han: Yes.
Ah, darnit... no one but Jumin would be left here then, and he clearly wants a distraction.
Jumin Han: He's still enjoying his conversation
Jumin Han: with the woman next to him.
Jumin Han: I really don't get why father insists on having me
Jumin Han: during times like this.
Ame: Well... you are his son.
Jumin Han: Even so, it's not like
Jumin Han: He ever asks for my opinion.
Jumin Han: I've already lost track of how many times he'd already changed girlfriends, so I doubt my input would even matter much.
Ame: Idk, I mean, he did invite you today.
Jumin Han: Yes, but he does so with every other woman.
Jumin Han: ...
Jumin Han: On second thought, I should go.
Ame: Oh... alright.
Jumin Han has left the chatroom
Yeah... that ended on an awkward note.
Ame: Hm...
Ame has left the chatroom
For Jumin's sake, I really do hope that his father can at least try to settle down. I'm only lucky that my parents stayed together for so long even with their contrasting personalities and issues that bogged everyone down, because being in a family full of stepmoms and half-siblings... it's bittersweet at best.
Slouching back into the couch, I pay half of my attention to the clock, slowly counting past a quarter past two, and the rest a bit... up in the air.
Three... two... one...
With a tired nod to myself, I shouldered my camera bag and trotted to the front door, index finger tapping against my phone nervously.
Ame [14:16]:
- I'll be out again.
Nothing bad should happen, right?
707 [14:16]:
- Alright, keep me posted.
I gave the CCTV a curt glance before shrugging.
Ame [14:17]:
- Right. Later.
Maybe going for a cold shoulder approach to the whole teasing challenge between me and Seven kinda gives off the vibe of me on a losing streak... not.
Me? Losing? Pfft, nah.
Opting to languidly salute to my spectator on the way out, I shoved my phone back to its hiding place and was met with a soft breeze outside. I pushed back the feelings that came with it, the ever-so-familiar bile that burned like acid in my throat, with a prolonged exhale.
I sped my way down and out the apartment building, easily crossing streets towards the mall without much trouble as the first time. I still cautiously wound around the area, avoiding a certain plaza, while only taking a few shots with my DSLR. A few were more for aesthetic than mapping, thanks to the fact that my memory card could get full soon and I have no way of copying all the contents without a working laptop right now.
What? The sights are nice and definitely fit for dynamic kinds of photos with all the bustling city life, so excuse me for going ham here.
In any case, once I had curbed any more urges to get jussssttt one more photo, I stepped into the airconditioned mall with a small smile, attaching my hat to the bag because it was getting kinda stuffy. Once I viewed the directory and embarrassingly asked for some help from friendly English-speaking natives, sprinkled with some of my trademark accented Korean, I briskly headed over to the nearest department store. Clerks greeted me as I walked by, and after grabbing a basket, I spent a good five minutes circling about the numerous items being sold until I found the women's section on the second floor.
Rows of mannequins in cute dresses and fashionable get-ups stood there for display, alongside the plentiful clothing racks full of stylish shirts, blouses and pants, and my face instantly soured.
I was not a fan of shopping for clothes, not because I had some sort of vendetta or anything, but it was... inconvenient. My body size did not fit any standard sizes so it was always a pain to find something, and despite how I usually dressed in whatever I could grab from my closet, I do like to think that I have a decent grasp for fashion when I had the opportunity to play around with what looks nice and what looks like a goldfish flopping out of their fishbowl.
Although, the belated realization of how slim Koreans normally were as I rifled through some of the clothing racks, scrutinizing the price tags of each one, really annoyed me.
I sighed in resignation. Complaining about stuff like this would just end up in a circle of self-loathing and exhaustion (and I've certainly had enough of that for the past two days), so in the end I just shut up the little jeering voices in my head.
While I mulled over what to buy, happy to see that there was a section full of clothes for one my size in another corner, I noticed the female clerk eyeing me thoughtfully. She was undoubtedly ready to step in but clearly hesitant because I know she could tell I was not Korean, so I spared her the trouble.
Just as I was about to grab the nearest checkered button-up shirt, my phone made it's existence known.
May as well... "It's me, Jaehee."
"Hello," I greeted cordially, relieved that I had no reason to stress out since Jaehee's been amicable. "What's up?"
"I simply called to see if you were okay... and I wanted to have a bit of girl talk."
"I'm listening," I fired back enthusiastically, always eager to have a bit of girly-girl time. "But I did recall you saying you had to watch something? The Jalapeno Topping one?"
"Yes, I am. I just paused it for a moment," she chuckled softly. "Anyways, do you enjoy watching TV shows?"
"Eh, unless I'm really into it. Why?" I supplied.
"I accidentally saw a teaser for a TV show and it reminded me of something. I just wonder, do you think it's possible to fall in love at first sight in real life?"
I hummed in interest. Apart from silly schoolgirl crushes, I've never really put stock into the idea. That and, as much as I did fantasize about things like that, nobody seemed interested anyways. A lovely, flower-patterned dress that reached just above the ankles caught my eye, and I briefly wondered if I dolled myself up, would people have been more... agh, I don't know. Why am I even thinking about this?
"Well, anything's possible. They do say love works in mysterious ways."
"I guess so. You do see these innocent characters on TV falling in love without considering reality..."
"Some stories don't necessarily have to reflect reality, since they do ultimately rely on emotions, which would be what hooks the audience," I pointed out. "Of course, the writers still have to consider what can be believable and what's plainly not."
"That's quite true. There was this musical Zen was in called 'Changing Seasons'. I got very lucky and was barely able to acquire a ticket. Zen played a repressed fragile character and in one of the last scenes he takes off his short..." she cleared her throat just as her voice was rising, which immediately clued me in that she was about to fangirl.
"Short..?"
Judging from her lapse into silence, I could tell that it was on the controversial side of the spectrum."I mean... nevermind."
I quietly snorted as I dumped a black tank top into the basket. "So, you were talking about that musical?" I said, inserting as much fascination in my tone as possible.
Not that hard to do anyways because it's also quite a treat to hear Jaehee break from her formal-ish way of speaking. It... sort of reminds me of some of my friends when they talk about their favorite books, music, fandoms... and her hesitation was proof that she didn't get to share it to anyone else.
"I heard about the behind the scenes and apparently the original creator was at the audition herself to find the best actor with the perfect face and acting. Legends say that she rejected countless of actors to cast Zen after hearing him read out just one line."
Maybe she had the greatest epiphany after he went up on stage. I was about to say it when Jaehee mumbled thoughtfully. "I think this was the line he read..."
I stood still with a knowing smirk, waiting as she geared up.
"You think love at first sight is a joke? Deeply falling in love with one person who can immediately touch my heart is a joke? I honestly don't know. All I know is that everyone wants to be in that kind of love at least once in their life, no matter what other people say. And now, the woman I want to loves stands in front of me. Here, take my hand, my one and only true love."
There was... something about Jaehee's acting that sounded so genuine that I could only whistle to show my appreciation. "That was... intense. You're amazing, Jaehee, it almost felt like you were talking to me."
The brunette let out a tiny gasp. "Me? Haha, that's a funny joke."
"Seriously! If I were a guy I'd have made a move on you already. That's how much I love it," I asserted.
"What I did was nothing compared to Zen's acting," she said dismissively. "God... I want to see it again. Where did I put the DVD back home..?"
I shook my head, internally wondering how many times it'd take to make her believe that she had quite the talent for drama. Or that she's an amazing person. "You're going to rewatch it later, then?" I instead asked.
"Ah yes. If you wish to see it, let me know. I'll try to arrange for Luciel to hand it over to you must return it in pristine condition. The DVD is sold out and very difficult to find again," she said in a warning tone.
It warmed me to know that she was showing signs of trust for her to offer letting me borrow those DVDs, because if there's thing I could say about the matter with one hundred percent clarity, it's that some people have a less that savory careless habit of handling other people's stuff and returning it with a gut-wrenching collection of tears, rips and scratches. There's also those times when they don't return it at all, and I've already lost contact with them plus it was kinda awkward to keep hounding them about it. Suffice to say that it took a lot of convincing and trust before I could personally hand anything of value to anyone.
"I'd love to. And don't worry, I'm very careful with stuff," I sincerely answered, given that I didn't want anybody to go through the same things I did.
"Then I should finish watching this before I go back to work. I can only hope Mr. Han doesn't sic any last minute projects at me so I can attempt a marathon... "
My nose wrinkled at the thought, as it was too relatable. "Let's hope so, and don't stress yourself out too much, okay?"
"I'll be okay. Have a nice day, Ame."
"You too, Jaehee," I said back just in time, since she dropped the call.
I never realized how... nice it was to just talk about random things until just now. It felt... normal.
After a moment I decided that I may as well get a four days worth of clothes and picked out some patterned blouses, tights, sweatpants, a sweater—one sharing the appearance of the original MC's sweater, who knew it was that common—and undergarments under a strict budget, because hell if I go snatch up shit like a crazed shopaholic. My mind eventually wandered while I absently judged the fabric between my fingers, undoubtedly cotton, mostly focused on the bold numbers printed on the tags.
The most interesting thing about the monetary system of South Korea was the fact that it's... sort of inflated from most. I guess it's because of the whole exchange rate they had with US in the 80s... or was it the 90s? Anyways, it posed a problem for them after a financial crisis that basically pulled the carpet from under them, and they had to take time to regain their footing. At least from what I understand from all those random times I went through histories of different Asian countries out of boredom.
Shaking my head at the impromptu history lesson, I then placed one last shirt in my basket before I went to the fitting room, and thankfully all the clothes were comfy and fit me, some a bit snug than others.
With that done, I headed back to the first floor to get a few doll shoes and a new pair of sneakers... because I had a feeling that running will become something to look forward to in the imminent future.
Once I finished up with my purchases, I waltzed out of the mall less tense than before, an invisible weight lifted off of my hunched over shoulders. My next steps felt lighter, and I hummed contentedly as I paced myself for the trek back.
So far, so good. My phone hasn't given any indications that something may need my full attention, and nothing has bowled me over like a truck. Somehow... I'm just glad for the mundane to occur, because if I was whisked away to another world where shit came crashing in like a tsunami, I'd buckle under the stress in a heartbeat.
Maybe my luck has granted me a reprie—
The next thing I know I'm wheezing painfully on the asphalt, hand reflexively cradling my camera bag protectively under one arm in a rather awkward, twisted position. It doesn't help that I was being crushed by something heavy groaning on top of me, and it was becoming steadily harder to breathe. My head feels fuzzy as well, and I recognized the ache for what was a possible concussion.
"Eugene!" a panicked voice called out, which got me to snap back to reality.
I forcefully opened my eyes, gritting my teeth at the wobbly skies and glaring holes at the vaguely humanoid shaped purple blob.
"Please get off of me," I hissed.
The blob suddenly jerked, and I blinked a couple of times. The blob was actually a wide-eyed girl with hair and eyes a blinding shade of purple that faded into pink at the end, which I wondered if she had dyed because it was just so vibrant. She had a yellow shooting star pin on her hair, but I was particularly transfixed by the luminescent blush that dominated her face because that does not look like a healthy shade of red. With a raise of my eyebrow, she eeps and quickly disentangled herself from my person.
I take a huge gulp of air once she was off of me, body unwounding until I was sprawled flat on the ground, and my arm sending me the sensation of a million pins and needles. I soaked in the cloudless sky and the slow draft that passed, patiently waiting for myself to feel less dizzy.
I also checked the state of my head, and found a small bump forming.
Well... that could have went a lot worse.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" the purple-haired girl repeatedly stated in a panic beside me, and I give her a dismissive wave.
"M' fine," I slurred, slowly sitting up just as another pair of people skidded to a stop.
I mechanically analyzed the newcomers as the pain dulled. One was a tall, average-looking male with tousled brown hair in a plain white shirt under a black bolero jacket, gray slacks, and a blue scarf. The other was a pretty, red-faced... uhm, well-endowed female with blonde hair pulled into a tight, elegant updo, wearing a pink blouse, white skirt over black tights and high-heeled boots. The both of them wore identical exasperated expressions directed at the purple-haired girl, who looked sheepish.
"Seriously... one second... you go... trouble!" the male flailed his hands in an aggravated manner, just as he then gave me an apologetic look. "I'm sorry... trouble, ma'am."
My hand twitched, reaching into the folds of my clothes for my phone. I'd already spoke to the girl out loud dazedly so it'd be good practice... but fumbling about my words with a constantly throbbing head would be bad. I gripped at my device and began shakily typing with Gooogle Translate.
"I'm okay," a monotone female Korean voice suddenly emanated from my device, and I masked my surprise and pain (plus apparent stupidity) at forgetting the voice option for the translator by smoothing out my face.
At their pinched expressions, I had a distinct feeling I failed, so instead I addressed the bewildered-looking girl that knocked me over. "Are you okay?" I asked while I gave a once-over of her appearance: purple scarf wrapped tightly around her neck, a beige trenchcoat over dark brown pants, and yellow boots. She gave off the vibe of a free-spirited girl pining for adventure, if a bit airheaded. Strangely, she also seemed... familiar.
The girl shyly ducked her head, and a somewhat embarrassed grin crossed my face when I realize I'd been staring for a while. "Yes, I-I'm really sorry for bumping into you."
I shook my head, slightly regretting it when pain spiked up like someone had the brilliant idea of bonking me with a hammer"I wasn't watching where I was going either, so I'm sorry too."
"B-But..."
I didn't answer as I crawled over to where my plastic bag of clothes lay, unceremoniously thrown to the side, but thankfully nothing but the tights had spilled. My camera had been cushioned by my poor arm, so it was unharmed. I stood up, wincing as I did, but I didn't pass the chance to amusedly glimpse at the purple-haired girl who was being berated by the scarf-wearing guy while the blonde girl timidly watched from the sidelines.
As if noticing my gaze, all three of them whirled towards me in sync that I got the weird impression of being a troop leader.
The guy bowed low, and the other two followed suit. "We're really sorry."
I awkwardly gestured at them to stop with the bowing. "There was no harm done, so I say it's all good." The robotic voice washed over us all, and I'm just glad that I don't have to get up in others' faces again.
The trio collectively eased at my remark, the purple-haired girl visibly slumping in relief. Perhaps she was expecting a lecture like the guy had done, but I wasn't really one to hold grudges over mere accidents. "Anyways, I gotta go. Have a nice day."
I briskly walked away, idly noting that at least not that many people had witnessed that little mishap down the street since there was only a souvenir shop stationed here, until a gasp from the purple-haired girl made me instinctively turn.
"It's you!" she pointed at me as if she'd seen a ghost, while the guy she now held hands with (her boyfriend, maybe?), looked just as baffled as I was.
I blinked owlishly.
"I couldn't tell... not wearing... hat ... hair's different. But you're... chasing that thief... me yesterday!" she said that so fast that I shot her a weird, dumbfounded stare which she ignored, eyes practically shining in awe and... admiration? "Did you catch him?"
The blonde girl jabbed an elbow at the weirdo, eliciting a startled yelp from her. "P-please don't mind her, she's—"
She huffed, stomping a heel down defiantly. "Oh, come on! Don't... you... annoyed too!"
The blonde shifted uneasily. "Y-Yeah but..."
"No buts!" the glasses-wearing girl declared, leaving the protesting girl to fidget restlessly, muttering darkly under her breath. She ignored that, pulling the guy along as she marched towards me with newfound determination gleaming in her eyes. I stayed in place, unsure if I should just ignore her and hightail it out of here or let curiosity win out. The latter won by a county mile, and unfortunately came with the package deal of being grabbed by my bad arm.
I suppressed a flinch. Where's the concept of personal space gone off to? A vacation to the Bahamas?
"Hey, Eugene..." the guy began, leveling me with a concerned glance, but she wasn't deterred.
"Did you catch him?" 'Eugene' (or Yoojin/Yujin?) repeated in that high-pitched cutesy voice oozing with curiosity.
I pasted on a practiced smile and nodded mutely, even if inside I was getting more and more exhausted as time ticked on. She practically sparkled in that instance, and as she positively beamed at me, I noticed that the guy's eyes had wandered to my side, contemplative.
"So cool!" the purple-haired girl squealed, to the dismay of my poor sensitive eardrums, and then she paused as she noticed the guy, tracing his line of sight, and I curiously did the same.
... Oh? They were staring at my camera bag for some peculiar reason.
"I... may sound... weird... you're... photographer?" he inquired, a strange glint in his eyes.
I nodded warily.
"What are you... oh," Eugene had gone slack-jawed, comprehension clearly written on her round face. My own face scrunched up, displeased at the fact that I was out of the loop of whatever this was. "That's... wow."
And as quick as a flash, the purple-haired girl's face was TOO close for comfort. "Say, ma'am, I... proposition for you."
"Whoa, wait!" the guy reeled her back with an appalled look, causing her to release my arm in the process. I gingerly cradled the limb, feeling my muscles acting up once it was retracted to my chest, and in the end I just let it hang by my sides. Great, if this ends up the same way my left thumb did after a mistake during basketball class, I'd be hard pressed to favor my left arm for the next few days.
Gee, I can hear my Mom yelling at me in the distance to stop getting hurt 90% of the time. And just as I was getting used to the stiffness in my body.
But unto the immediate matters...
Proposition? I mouthed dubiously to myself, watching as the two volleyed arguments back and forth, voices steadily rising with every comeback too fast for me to catch on. The blonde girl hung behind them apprehensively, lips set in a thin line. I knew this was my chance to escape... this, but when I made a step back, the blonde shot a silent, pleading, wide-eyed stare, and I cursed myself for folding under that look in the span of five seconds.
Just as I wondered why the universe liked to conspire against me, Eugene's mouth quirked into a triumphant grin, while the guy backed off reluctantly, dragging a hand across his face.
"나는 단지 이길 수 없다," he said, barely audible.
The purple-haired girl only bumped a fist at his shoulder, and he turned to me.
"You see... Miss, what she's... is," he haltingly spoke, discreetly shooting daggers at his girlfriend (I think). "We're looking... someone... take... us. In exchange... we'll buy... food."
Take... what exactly? And throwing in a tempting deal of free food over this... wait, do I look like a glutton?
"It'll... quick. We're not... much," the brown-haired adult backpedaled, taking my silence as a sign of either me considering or hesitating, which was to say he was right on both accounts."A few... fine. And this is... for... earlier as well."
I craned my head at him with a frown, trying my best to convey mock offense at his little proposal. And maybe with a lack of enthusiasm for the idea, because if this was what I think it was...
"It... not long," he added. "If you accept... won't... trouble... lot."
"It'll... big help," Eugene chimed in. "We've... looking... over... replacement... cancel... and if... do it... we owe... big time!"
The quiet blonde grunted something that vaguely sounded like an agreement.
These kids... playing with my emotions, eh? I could just walk off and ignore their pleas but brushing them off would just seem cruel, and they all seem like good, if somewhat desperate kids if they're asking a random stranger for help. Help for a photoshoot to be exact, if my conjectures were correct. Well... I'm not exactly an expert photographer since I'd only been handling this thing for a year at most, and that was an on and off experience so I had some right to doubting...
Although their hopeful expressions wasn't helping matters.
Whipping out my handy-dandy translating device, I gave them my answer.
*나는 단지 이길 수 없다 – I just can't win.
Review Responses:
Scar (Guest) – Hello! I'm really happy to know you're enjoying this story ^^ Yeah lol, I've been constantly writing stuff here and there whenever I can as practice, and I'm glad you think highly of it! Also, I hope the author's note above has cleared up whatever I think has confused you, and if you still have questions, please don't be afraid to ask. I'm willing to hear any criticisms/concerns you have :3
Maetrix – Hehe thank you! ^^ I'm glad to be back~
MadelVer – Well, there are variations of the spelling (bwisit, buset, buwisit) and personally, I use the first one often, so that was the one I went with. I'm glad to see your enthusiasm haha, and thank you, I do aim for a detailed and realistic tone and pacing to this story, since I was personally basing parts off it of my experiences while playing the game (like how the first day was quite overwhelming and disorienting when I started, which is why I had divided it into four chapters of it to translate that feeling).
Thanks a bunch for all the follows and favorites!