Chapter Two

For six months his life had been hell. He thought that gaining fame and a fat checkbook would relieve his problems. The man was wrong. Nowadays, the only thing he enjoyed was riding his motorcycle, the wind blowing his hair as the surge of adrenaline freed his mind. He needed to feel a sense of danger. He hadn't felt that since the Iron Fist Tournament six months ago. Since then, Hwoarang was hailed as the best Tae Kwon Do artist. His name blazed in lights, especially now since he just finished making his second movie.

It was by chance really on how he was discovered. The tournament trophy didn't mean anything to him, yet it won him a reputation as the next target of moviestar-seeking agents. He only wanted to avenge his late master, Baek Soo Dan, and defeat Jin in a real fight. But in the end it was Jin who needed his help and Hwoarang could not do much for him. He still did not like him, no matter how mentally disturbed Jin was. The only person who could save him was himself, but since his mother was deceased then who would?

Hwoarang shook the matter aside. He did not want to think about his rival or any other of his pressures. He never thought that becoming an Asian celebrity would cost him his personal life. He had always liked girls, but now they bombarded him with attention and he nearly grew sick of it. If only he could find someone who would treat him for him…better yet, if she had never even heard of him at all. If only I could just have five minutes alone…

Even now, as he drove through the streets, some people recognized him by the color of his auburn hair. Some women whistled for his attention while they called out his name, as others practically chased him down the street. To relieve himself of the crowd, Hwoarang turned into another road. He decided to take the long way home, but he only used this as an excuse to prolong his bike riding. Anything to get away!

He was just beginning to relax when a shadowy figure ran into the middle of the road. Hwoarang pressed his brake, but he did not react fast enough. The person ran past him, but the left handle on his bike hit her. The girl flipped sideways and landed on the ground, motionless. Hwoarang had a difficult time gaining control of his bike. He skid ten feet away, his bike landing on its side. Hwoarang cursed. However, his mind instantly thought of the girl he knocked over on the road.

He ran over to her. She had landed on her back, her black hair spilled over her face. He slowly brushed it aside and instantly recognized the blood coming out her nose and lip. He inspected the other parts of her body to check if any bones were broken. The only injuries she suffered was a bleeding nose and mouth, along with a bruise on her left check. He was sure that he did not cause that. He noticed that she had no shoes on. Apparently, the woman must have ripped them off while running. He could tell that she was trying to escape from someone, but he saw no one chasing her.

Hwoarang lightly slapped her cheeks, trying to gain her attention. The girl was knocked out cold and relied on him to care for her. Great, now look what you've gotten yourself into! He cursed for having two drinks before he left. He wasn't a man for alcohol, but his status required him to be a social drinker.

Carefully, he picked up the girl's lifeless body. Amazingly, she was pretty light. However, he could tell she was athletic by the shape of her legs. Her short jacket made him wonder if she had any garments underneath. It's too cold for her to be running out here.

He picked up his bike by the handle and set the girl in front of him. He didn't want to get her other leg to go over the other side, but instead let her sit side-saddled. Once he settled on the seat he restarted his bike and rode off into the night.

Two hours later, Hwoarang's personal nurse examined the young girl. He had brought her to his penthouse and laid her on his bed. He figured that she would sleep until morning, which left him no choice, but to sleep on the floor.

After checking her and bandaging her wounds, the nurse told him to let her stay there and rest. "She will be well enough to leave in the morning. Just allow her to sleep here for the night and tomorrow you can take her home."

Hwoarang nodded, offered the nurse a drink, but she refused. So, he showed her out the door and gave his word to care for the stranger until she grew better. When he closed the door, he went back to his room to check on her. The nurse had taken off her jacket and put on one of his shirts on her. The only thing the stranger had on was a bikini, which horrified the nurse when she saw it. The nurse tried desperately not to look at the girl as she dressed her. Hwoarang found her distress amusing, but not as distracting as the girl's figure. The first thing he noticed were her legs and soon enough his eyes traveled from head to toe. He grew surprised when he realized the slight curve on his lips.

"This is going to be interesting."

When Hwoarang said this he frowned. Don't be a pervert. His inner conscience scolded. From then on he avoided looking at her. The only part of her he allowed to stare at was her face, and that too pleased him. She was lovely, innocent, and nearly too beautiful for words. He thought that a person would have to possess a personality that matched with their appearance in order for them to look beautiful, but that assumption was often false. Sure, he liked pretty girls, yet he tried to avoid them as much as possible. Their disgusting attitudes usually drove him away. Yet the last person he had to credit was his ex-girlfriend. The two of them had secretly dated during the Iron Fist Tournament and he had not seen her since then.

"Anna," he whispered.

He reflected the times they shared and the memories they made. On the last day he thought of telling her he loved her, but she left, no longer able to cope with her defeat. She hated him from that moment because he had defeated her. She thought he would back down and let her win; yet she did not understand the purpose of his involvement in tournament. Unlike him, her intentions were fruitless. Still he missed her and sometimes even wished to relive the physical heights of their relationship. Now, he wondered if he would even set eyes upon her again. No doubt she was involved with someone else and after all, she had been his first…Forget her…she's not worth it.

At least for that night he did. As Hwoarang prepared for bed, he frequently stole glances the girl's way. Sometimes he convinced himself that is was only to check if she still slept, other times he just wanted to steal a glance of her face. Who is she? Judging by her costume she was a nightclub dancer, yet he did not want to guess which type of dancer she was classified as. The girl looked too innocent and young to be an employed stripper. Just how old is she? He thought. Judging by her looks she appeared to be seventeen, only two years younger than him. He wondered if she was even in school. Girls like her had no place in nightclubs. They belonged in school, receiving an education that would promise them a comfortable future.

Before going to bed he looked at her one last time, wondering how she would be when awake. Truly, she intrigued him. She must be hiding many secrets.

She woke up before he did the next morning. She allowed herself to forget where she was, wherever that may be, and pretend she was nowhere at all. The dancer was a dreamer and liked to imagine herself some place else besides her real life. If only I could live like this forever.

She opened her eyes, having to accept that she existed in the real world. At once she frowned. This is not my home! Where am I? Instantly, memories of the previous nights flashed across her mind. The dancer winced.

Her eyes traveled around the large bedroom. The furnishings were made to accommodate a man, a very rich man in fact, noticing the theater system opposite the bed with a surround system. She also saw a new computer to one side of the bedroom. The hangings on the walls were priceless, probably stolen from a museum. Yet in fact, she slept in the bed of a man who earned his living. She wondered who lived here and admired the way the person kept after himself. She did see a pile of clothes draped over a chair, but it was customary for someone to just toss their clothes aside when they came home.

At that moment she grew frightened. Did I? Did we…sleep together? She gazed down at her own clothing. Her palms began to sweat and she felt the back of her neck burn when she saw a man's shirt on her. I've never even been close to a man before!

Quickly, she sat up and kicked the sheets entangled in her legs. She could not think. Her body had a mind of its own as it tried to make its way out of the bed. When she swung her feet over the side of the bed she froze. A long form rested beneath her. She leaned over to get a good look at him. She had never seen him in her life.

The man had auburn hair and a well-built body. He wore long pajama pants, but no shirt. He slept on his back with one arm draped over his eyes and the other resting on his chest. The girl stared at him for a moment. He startled her when he removed his arm from over his eyes, yet he did not awaken. This time he had unmasked his face and she now looked into the face of a very attractive man. To her, admiring a person's looks was innocent, but she never allowed herself to do more than just look. She had lived an isolated life, merely trying to get by and finish her education at the same time. Every year, all year she went to school and soon enough she would obtain her bachelor's degree. She was the youngest student in her class, and the most anti-social. Many times she assured herself that she would cease her job at the dance club once she received her degree, and that was only three months away.

While she let her mind drift away, the girl did not see him open his eyes. He now saw her gazing down at him. He saw his open shirt exposing her costume. The girl at once realized his prying eyes and covered herself. She frowned at him.

He smiled shyly.

Hwoarang made an abrupt move of getting up, alarming the stranger. She lay back in the bed, grabbing the sheets. Hwoarang looked the other way, avoiding a smile to her face. When he stood up, he stretched and then faced her.

"Good sleep?"

She studied him then shyly nodded.

"Good," he replied. "Then I can take you home."

The girl frowned. "Why am I here," she suddenly asked.

Hwoarang paused to look at her since he was folding the blankets from the floor. "Last night you had a little accident. You came running in the middle of the street and I didn't see you coming."

Familiarization struck her. "You were driving the motorcycle," she confirmed.

Hwoarang nodded then stood up. The girl watched him put away the blankets in his closet. When he came out he asked, "Do you want something to eat?"

"Uh…no, thanks. I'd better be going, I have class today."

"Well, then I'll drop you off."

"No, that's okay, really."

"Seriously, it's the least I can do after last night."

"Well, you can tell me where my coat is and we'll call it even."

He pointed to a chair and she thanked him. Hwoarang left the room, leaving her the privacy of getting ready. When the girl finally put on her coat, she neatly made his bed and walked out of the bedroom. She entered a small, carpeted foyer furnished like a living room. The foyer was fashioned like an indoor balcony, which had an outlook to the downstairs. She slowly made her way down the curving staircase to the lower level. The lower level had a ceiling that reached above the second floor and on one whole side of the room was a window, which reached from the floor to the ceiling. The girl became amazed with the ocean view. The sun was already poking through the horizon, which was a relief to her, knowing that she would not be late to class.

The girl looked to her left and saw the man preparing a meal. She slowly walked to the kitchen and took a seat on a stool.

"I have some bagels and rice cakes, if you want some."

She nodded and he handed her a small plate. "Thank you," she replied kindly.

"Your welcome."

Both ate in silence a few moments and then he finally asked, "Why were you running last night? It looked as if someone was chasing you."

The girl paused. She tore her eyes from the plate and gazed at him. Hwoarang felt his heart slam in his chest by the impact of her features. She did not answer him. Obviously, he had no business to know.

Hwoarang grew annoyed. He waited a while longer, yet she did not say a word.

"You ran into my bike, you know. I could have killed you."

She glared at him, which made him go still. Again she averted her eyes. Hwoarang rolled his eyes. Impossible.

"You know, for a stripper, you're really stuck up."

She gave him a look. "I was running because someone was trying to kill me," she exasperatedly countered. "And if I go back there tonight, I'll be dead by morning."

Her bluntness made him freeze. "I'm sorry," he quietly replied. He was ashamed for his abruptness.

"It's all right. I'm sorry for running into you."

He nodded and then held out his hand for her bowl to take since she had finished long before he did.

"Do you want more? I have plenty," he offered.

The girl waved her hand. He nodded in return.

"So…? Uh…what's your name?"

"Naya."

He stared at her. "Nice."

She raised a brow wondering why he said that.

He waited, expecting her to recognize him. Naya realized his intent and went right out asking him, "I'm sorry, I know I should, but I don't even recognize you."

Hwoarang smirked. "It's cool. I shouldn't have expecting anything. I thought everyone knew me. I'm Howarang."

She shook her head up and down. "Well Hwoarang, it's a little vain of you to think I would know who you are."

He looked confused. She continued, "I don't go out much, only to work. I pretty much go to school, then work, and vice versa."

"I see," he said, inspecting her jacket.

"I'm not a stripper, if that's what's bothering you. I only dance."

"I see."

She narrowed her gaze at him. "You're not used to talking with 'performers' are you?"

She said the word 'performer' lightly so that he would know that she preferred him to call her that. Hwoarang got the message.

"To be honest, no," he replied. "But don't you have anything better to do?"

"It's not my choice to dance. I only do it for the money."

He frowned, "And why is that?"

She looked at him as if he were stupid. "I don't lack morals, so stop looking at me as if I were a prostitute."

He averted his eyes. He did not want to argue with her, the woman wasn't worth his time. Anna had never acted coldly toward him. Then again he had passed on judgment, which was something he rarely did.

He changed the topic. "Anyway, I noticed that bruise on your cheek. I know I didn't give that to you."

A look of remembrance crossed her face. "I kicked someone on the face and she thought of returning the favor."

"She's the one who's trying to kill you?"

"Likely, but the man she was with was supposed to do that."

Hwoarang nodded. He did not feel like her could trust her. Is she just trying to stay here another night?

He could not believe he was actually going to ask her that. "Well…do you…need a place to stay?"

He was relieved to see her shake her head from side to side. "No, they don't know where I live. I can take care of myself."

"Okay. Well, you wanna go now?"

"Yes."

"Fine then. We'll take the car. I'm sure the last thing you want to see is a motorcycle."

She smiled, taking his remark as a joke. Hwoarang felt himself grow more accustomed to her. They had just met and even though they had an uneasy start, they were obviously getting somewhere.

He walked her out and both got into his silver Benz. Hwoarang backed out of the driveway and shifted into first gear.

It took about twenty minutes to get from his place to Naya's Tokyo flat. Unlike other people, her directions were not jumbled or confusing. She knew how it was to be driven into frustration when it came to following someone's directions. Soon Hwoarang pulled up to a parking lot. The apartment building Naya lived in resembled an office building with a four-story parking garage next to it. Just his luck, there was a press crowd waiting for him at the curb. They had followed him from his home to Naya's apartment building and now were assailing her with numerous questions.

"Did you spend the night in Hwoarang's home?"

"Are you two involved?"

"Excuse me, ma'am, but are you naked under that coat? And where are your shoes? Did Hwoarang pay you to sleep with him?"

She glared at the reporter in the face, offended by his questions. She punched the man in the face and immediately the crowd started chasing after her. However, half of the group managed to break free from the rest and started surrounding Hwoarang's car. He sailed passed the reporters by driving off. Naya, on the other hand, ran into the building. The reporters would not leave her alone until she would answer their questions and she had other things to worry about, other then dodging them. She had class to go to. She hoped that no one would learn of the incident and rapidly let it go. Yet, when she saw her face in the midday news while in school, she had a feeling that this was only the beginning. And not only that, but someone had finally discovered where she lived.