AAE -- Twists of Fate

Part 1 -- Chapter 23

by LoveCR2

edited by All-About-AAE

 

 

Hyung-Chul slows the BMW and pulls over to the curb in front of Young-Mi's apartment building. The engine idles with a quiet drone that is almost imperceptible in the leather-wrapped cabin.

 

Young-Mi sits with her hands clasped over her Lady Dior bag. "Thank you for the ride, Director. I'm sorry you had to go out of your way."

 

"It's no trouble," he replies, glancing at her while keeping his hands loosely on the steering wheel. "And it's late."

 

She looks down at her lap. "You say that as if it's nothing."

 

"It's only basic courtesy."

 

"Courtesy?" The corner of her mouth lifts. "Is that what you call insisting you send me?"

 

 

Young-Mi releases her seatbelt and swivels in her seat. "I really enjoyed tonight. I didn't realize you were as accomplished a pianist as you are a tenor."

 

"My tenor pales compared to your mezzo-soprano," he states. "The club was quite taken with your performance."

 

"Our performance, you mean," she quietly corrects, lifting her gaze.

 

"Yes. We did make quite a duo," Hyung-Chul admits. "The Captain even took me aside and asked when we'd be available again for a longer performance."

 

"Are you kidding?" She laughs. "I only hope we're as successful with the News."

 

"I think you've already demonstrated that ability, hands down," he affirms, turning toward her. "You're a person with a lot to offer."

 

"Am I?" Her mouth twists. "That's what Sun-Mi said, too, that night..."

 

 

Silence settles between them. She lets it stretch before speaking again.

 

"Earlier, what I said..." Her voice is barely a whisper. "We've each lost someone dear to us, and sometimes I need someone who understands to listen, to be strong when I feel lost in the pain."

 

Her eyes gleam in the amber street light casting shadows across her face. "I hope I didn’t burden you tonight."

 

"Of course not. No one can live alone," he assures her, his voice warm. "We all lean on other people and burden them at times."

 

Young-Mi leans slightly closer, moving her left hand to the center console between them. "I appreciate that, Director. If you ever need to unburden yourself, feel free to lean on me, too," she offers.

 

He stiffens and looks past Young-Mi, out the window behind her.

 

"I'm sorry." She lowers her gaze. "I was being too presumptuous."

 

"Actually, I am struggling," he admits, placing his hand over hers.

 

Young-Mi looks up. His dark eyes are focused on her. "Talking with you tonight encouraged me, too," he says, the warmth in his voice returned. "I'm not good at talking about things like this. It's hard... Thank you for listening to me, too."

 

She flushes and breaks her eyes away. "It's nothing. That's what friends... are for."

 

He clears his throat as he releases her hand. "You should go in. It's late."

 

"Yes." She opens the door. "Good night, Director."

 

"Good night, Young-Mi."

 

She gets out, bows slightly, and closes the door with a solid thud.

 

Hyung-Chul puts the car into gear, but his foot stays on the brake. A trace of Young-Mi's scent clings to the cabin air enveloping him. Her striking features, so close just moments before, persist in his mind.

 

Young-Mi's sharp stilettos strike the concrete with flinty clacks, punching through the purr of the idling engine as she saunters toward the entrance. A deliberate sway of her hips flicks the narrow skirt with each step, slicing the dark navy fabric with pale shafts of movement. He follows her progress through the windshield, his eyes lingering instinctively -- too long, too attentively.

 

She stops at the door, her fingers on the handle. He blinks, forcing himself to look away momentarily as he pulls an image of Sun-Mi from his memory to refocus his thoughts.

 

Young-Mi turns back, her profile silhouetted against the glass doors, her face bright in the entrance light. The ghost in Hyung-Chul's mind dissolves in the glow of Young-Mi's smile.

 

She waves -- a small, intimate gesture. Hyung-Chul swallows and narrows his eyes, diverting his gaze onto the row of parked cars. Hands clenched on the wheel, he guns the engine. Tires squealing, the BMW tears away into the empty street. Young-Mi waits until his taillights disappear, then steps inside.

 

 

Inside her studio, Young-Mi turns on the lights and locks the door. The small space feels confining. The cheap furnishings, tawdry. Her nose wrinkles at the sour aroma of morning coffee and musty odor of unwashed laundry.

 

She faces the mirrored wardrobe, pivoting on the pointed toes of her Pradas to take in the full effect of her appearance as she reflects on Madame Kim's assessment...

 

'The heels create a leg line that gives the suit just the right stature. The figure is well-proportioned, a classic X-shape. The image is... perfect.'

 

Young-Mi leans toward the mirror, her gaze bright with the lingering thrill of the evening. A slow smile curls her lips, parting just enough to reveal a flash of white teeth, projecting her new, softer persona. She lingers on the expression, trying a subtle, questioning twist of her mouth before letting it melt into an inviting pout.

 

Tilting her head to catch the light across her cheekbones, she lifts her brows in mock innocence, then lowers her eyelids into a heavy, smoldering gaze. She holds her own stare, tweaking her features until the woman looking back matches the image in her mind. With a quick, playful wink, she seals her quiet triumph.

 

"You did well tonight, Anchor Huh Young-Mi," she murmurs to her reflection in the empty studio. "He couldn't take his eyes off you for one second."

 

Raising her hands to her jacket, she scoffs. "He's just a man after all..."

 

One by one, the buttons slip free. She slides her fingers under the lapels, pushing the navy fabric aside. The satin black camisole clings smoothly, a thin layer of stretch silk that closely contours her feminine curves. Fine spaghetti straps frame prominent collarbones. A wide band of delicate lace trims the V-neckline, hinting at more than it reveals.

 

"...And like every other man, he won't be able to resist what you have planned for him next."

 

Her gaze lifts slowly to her lips. Her smile gradually hardens into a cold smirk. "Like I took your job, Jin Sun-Mi, soon I'll take your man, too," she boasts. "When you come back, what will you say then -- when you see me standing in your place?"

 

 

The door buzzer cuts through the room. She freezes.

 

Young-Mi inhales sharply. "Who is it?"

 

In-Soo's gravelly voice rasps through the metal door. "Open up. It's me."