Chapter Four
The nerve of that girl! They wouldn't even leave him
alone. All day, reporters trailed him, asking the same stupid questions.
"Damn people, why can't you just leave me
alone," he protested.
The reporters jotted his words down, their
intention: to splash his words on the front page of tomorrow's papers.
Hwoarang grew sick and by the end of the day he was
pissed. When he left the set of his new movie, four men trailed him, driving
past him then cutting him off so they could take a picture of his face. The
whole charade nearly caused an accident and when the paparazzi cleared the way,
he sped up and drove off. When he reached his house, an army of reporters was
waiting for him at the front gate. Just when he thought he was having a bad day,
it got worse when a reporter asked, "Do you have any idea that your lover
could be using you to get a story?"
"What tha fu-" Hwoarang had driven into his
driveway before he could finish his sentence, yet the press were quick to record
his words. Using him to get a story? Did that lady mean to say that Naya could
have purposely ran into the street so that he would care for her?
"That bitch!"
Hwoarang
still remembered what apartment building she resided at. He reared his car
around and drove out of the driveway and to her home so he could give her a
piece of his mind. The time to get from his house to hers would take an
occasional twenty minutes, yet he got there in less then five. His anger boiled
and he could not stop thinking about the satisfaction he would gain after
yelling at her. That cheap whore! How could she just use me?
He turned into the garage and parked, occupying two
slots. He did not care how he parked or where, just as long as he got inside the
building and talk with her. Even if she were not home he would wait all day.
Hwoarang could only think of seeing her, yet he felt surprised at how urgently
he went to her. It's my anger, he thought, trying to persuade himself. I
won't let her get away.
"Tell
me Naya's room number."
The
teller at the front desk grew speechless when Hwoarang approached him. He was
stupefied by admiration. Hwoarang asked him again, nearly losing all patience,
yet the teller still could not get over his presence.
"Ah…uh."
"Tell
me her room number," Hwoarang barked.
The teller reacted quickly, his hand reaching for a
directory as he had his eyes glued to Hwoarang. When he slammed the directory on
the front desk, he fumbled through the pages, his hands shaking violently.
"I don't have all day," Hwoarang said
impatiently. He kept staring back at the front doors, hoping the press would not
come rushing after him.
The teller soon found the name and replied,
"Fourth floor, room 18."
Hwoarang thanked him despite his foul disposition
and quickly walked over to the elevators. The lift to the fourth floor took an
eternity. Hwoarang stood on his heels, and shifted his weight from side to side.
The muscles on his arms flexed as his mind thought over the things he would say
to her. No matter how pissed he was, he would not stoop low by calling someone
names or threatening them. Whenever anyone pissed him off he just told him or
her how it is.
Soon the chime came, signaling his ascend to the
fourth floor. Hwoarang got off and made a left, following the teller's
directions. He reached the end of the hall before he found the broken door
addressed with the number eighteen.
At first he was too angry to notice the scenario.
He thought of barging in, but when he saw the placed trashed he grew alarmed.
"Hello," he called.
No answer. Hwoarang slowly approached the door, his
eyes peeling through the open crack.
He caught a glimpse of a slight movement and saw
that someone crouched on the floor, picking up some of the mess. He instantly
recognized her. "Naya?"
She turned to look back at him. A small frown
crossed her face then she said, "What are you doing here?"
"What happened," he asked, ignoring her
question.
"Someone broke in." She stood up, surveying the
mess. "It looks like they were searching for something." She gave him a
narrowed gaze now that he stood next to her. "What are you doing here," she
asked again.
Hwoarang continued to gaze into her apartment. The
furnishings were simple yet arranged in a fashionable manner. He assumed that
she kept house even though it looked like she never had any visitors. "What
would they be looking for?"
"I don't know…you still haven't answered my
question?"
He gazed at her. He forgot immediately after gazing
into her eyes. "I don't remember…"
She frowned up at him. Ironically, it was she who
reminded him of his purpose for visiting. "Oh really, I thought you stopped by
because you were pissed, knowing that the press is probably making bogus stories
about you. That really takes a toll on someone's reputation, doesn't it?"
"Yeah, they say you used me to get a story," he
replied curtly, now remembering. "You think you can use me? Hell, if you did
that from where I come from, they'd beat your ass."
"Not if I beat theirs first." She bent down to
pick up the papers she had gathered and then walked past him and entered the
kitchen. She placed the articles on the kitchen counter next to the phone. The
blinking red light caught her attention, which removed all attention from
Hwoarang as he spoke. She cut him off by pressing the 'play' button and the
message began.
"Hi there," it was Anna's voice, "after
last night I decided to pay you a little visit. Since you weren't home, I did
a little redecorating. Hope you like it." The messaged beeped when the Anna
had hung up the receiver.
"Who was that," Hwoarang asked, the voice
sounding dangerously familiar to him.
"A co-worker." Naya replied.
Someone at the door caught her attention. It was a
police officer.
"We came as soon as possible, but there is a
horrendous crowd of reporters downstairs. I think they're looking for you."
"Figures," Naya said passively. She walked over
to the door the let the rest of the police officers inside.
When the first one saw Hwoarang, his face lit up.
"Hey you're not that celebrity guy are you? Yeah, you are, thought so. Heh,
my kid idolizes you. He wishes that his old man could be more like you. Hey, do
you think I could have your autograph?"
"Not at the moment," Naya cut in, "you're
here to investigate."
The cop gave her a disappointing look. "Well, I
don't know how soon we can do this. There are other important things that
happen around Tokyo and more urgent things at that. The soonest we can
investigate is within a week, but that means we'll have to close off your
apartment for o-o-o-o, say at least a month."
"WHAT?" Naya looked astounded. "Did it occur
to you that I live here? This is my home."
"Well, don't you have any place to go?"
"NO!"
"Then find a hotel."
"You think it's that easy? Shit, what the hell
is wrong with you? It's obvious that there has been a break in and just last
night someone tried to kill me and again to day they tried doing it again. My
apartment was the safest place until this morning when the damn press chased me
inside. And it doesn't help with him," she pointed to Hwoarang,
"standing here because I could easily lose my teaching position once the
university finds out that we are supposedly having an affair! Can't you even
spare me one ounce of sympathy? My life has been torn apart in one day. At least
do something with your life by helping me out!"
"You two are lovers," the policeman stupidly
replied.
Naya grew impatient and walked out. She banged her
fist against the wall, leaving a dent. Hwoarang followed outside, feeling
guilty. When he thought that he had it bad, she had it far worse. He decided to
cool her off.
"Hey…"
"What," she barked.
"Look…don't you have any family or a friend
you could go to?"
"No…not even friends. I'm anti-social."
"Well…" he thought a moment, trying to think
of a better idea, yet none came to him. Suddenly, he said something that shocked
him. "…you can stay at my place."
She stared up at him with wide eyes. "No thank
you. I don't want your charity."
"It's the least I can do."
"For what?"
"I don't know. Look, you said that nothing in
your life is going right for you so let me just make it a little better by
giving you a place to stay, temporally of course. Once you find a new place you
can move out."
"No, not a good idea. Besides, not everything is
going bad. I just got a shot at obtaining my teacher's certificate three
months early and I'm sure the dean will help me out when I tell him what's
happened. I'll be fine, really."
He studied her. "You speak words of certainty yet
your expression lacks conviction. Besides, I still feel that I haven't done
enough after I hit you. It was my fault, you were running for your life and I
should have stopped."
"A simple apology is fine, really."
"Well then lets just say I'm doing this to help
you out. It's about time I started thinking about other people rather then
trying to find a way to satisfy myself."
She gazed into his eyes and knew he spoke with
sincerity. To prove his naturalness further, Hwoarang left her and approached
the officer. They conversed for a minute then he came back.
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him that if he needed to find you then
all he has to do is come to my place. I have more than enough room and I can
sleep on the couch downstairs."
"No…I'll sleep on the couch. I don't like
your bed, its too soft."
Hwoarang smiled. Finally, she agreed. After ardent
persuasion she broke in her pride. Odd were the events that unfolded. Yet, as
odd as they were, he did not know why he liked the idea of having Naya stay with
him.