𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝙊𝙉𝙀 :
𝘔𝘺 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴, 𝘔𝘺 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵

𝗜  𝗖𝗔𝗡'𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗜𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗠𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗬𝗢𝗨.

Was the last message sent before flagging down a taxi, the humid air whooshing with each car speeding by. I hadn't too long just arrived in Busan—two days ago—and have yet to explore the city since jet-lag's been kicking my ass. In bed with heavy stiff limbs, suffering from lost of time, and constantly exhausted unless it was to use the bathroom or order room service.

Reading back our messages had me smiling like an idiot before anything began. My cheeks grew warm and achy.

"Imani King?" A man asked when pulling up to the curb. It was a black Mercedes Benz, not the taxi I hauled.

"Yes?"

As if sensing my panic, a warm smile filled his round chubby face, flashing the gold in his front tooth. "Dasom sent me. I will be your driver for tonight." He hopped out of the car, his thick cologne almost suffocating, and opened the back door with a gesture. "After you."

A taxi did pull up behind the car but he waved it away rather impatiently.

It's no surprise he knew English. His accent was quite thick but far better than my poor Korean, which I've been brushing up on during the flight duration. And it's no surprise Dasom would send a driver. There was even someone to pick me up from the airport. All but her, of course.

She's caught up with work, they say. Or they say nothing at all.

"Let me guess, she lost her license?" Humor coated my tongue, curious what excuse would be used this time to explain why she hadn't been present since my landing.

"A chauffeur is a common luxury in Korea. You'll get used to it and won't even notice I'm here. Plus she'd prefer you meet her at your destination." The driver said with a genuine smile. There was an interesting tattoo on the back of his neck as bare as his head, the same as the previous driver; two red horizontal dots like a vampire bite.

"Will she at least be there before I arrive?"

"She should be, yes."

I hearted the message and got into the backseat, displaying the address for the driver to plug into his GPS. It was useless given he was familiar with his surroundings and knew where to go. The address was all in Korean but I knew it was a restaurant where I would be meeting my long-distance girlfriend of a year and three months for the first time in person. My pulse spiked but in a good way. In a final-fucking-ly way.

I first met my girlfriend, Dasom Yun—Yun Dasom, since we're in Korea now—through Instagram. She slid into my DM's one day but I never responded until a week later.

A private account with little to no followers only following me and a Korean artist was fishy from the jump. But unlike many others who were swiped from my notification bar and never thought twice of, Dasom's message remained. It was too intriguing to ignore. Too complicated, yet relatively easy to answer that I needed a whole week to think of a perfect reply.

It started off as a basic friendly get-to-know-you chat with casual flirting sprinkled in here and there. Also the infamous early stage when Dasom would disappear off the face of the earth and replied randomly throughout midnight after some days to a week. It got so bad I was sure I'd been talking to a ghost or pranked by an account run by a crusty ass pervert. Until I discovered her home was miles from Atlanta, Georgia in Busan, South Korea. Exactly over seven thousand miles apart.

Then one night our conversations took a turn, exchanging the basic conversational package for an okay-you're-interesting-now-so-let's-fuck-around-and-find-out-and-see-where-this-goes. The next level. When I first proposed to call, Dasom skipped all of that and requested video chatting instead. I didn't wish to show my face after three in the morning nor did I want to untie my hair snugged in its silk bonnet, but because she was adamant about it and I was curious, I agreed.

Desperate to uncover the identity behind the mysterious private account, I wasn't disappointed in the end. And certainly wasn't catfished.

Dasom's a different kind of fine. Like that fine-ass individual you catch in public and envision your entire life with them knowing you'll never see them again, fine. 90s sitcom fine. I was staring so hard I hadn't realized my mouth hung wide. Never in my life had I attempted to hang up the call to call again just to make sure the right person called me and wasn't using a filter. And her warm sultry voice was the icing on top.

Then the rest was history.

Two months later, our long-distance relationship was official. A year and three months later, Dasom's offering to fly me out to South Korea. All expenses covered just to be with her for a few weeks to a month. And of course, I wasn't gone turn down a blessing in disguise. A free trip away from home to be with my girlfriend wasn't even a suggestion. I had my bags packed and ready to go.

The driver pulled into the driveway of a restaurant much nicer than what Dasom described. She kept brushing it off as some local lowkey spot, but local lowkey spots don't offer valet parking nor built two-stories high and was practically made of thick glass. Most couples and individuals weren't humbled about their wealth; fur coats, necklines adorned by rubies and diamonds, limited handbags and watches on display, not one shown in jeans or sneakers aside from kids. But even then, their clothes were probably made from the rarest material sold from an unheard clothing line. Few were even accompanied by a bodyguard or two. The taste of money soured my mouth.

My fingers ran along my sleeveless dress, suddenly subconscious about what I wore. I felt like I was wearing a broke sign with bolded red letters above my head. It hung short above my knees, black with a boat necklace that gave a classy look and shaped my curves. A dress I had in my closet and worn once. My heels wrapped up my calves like tiny octopus legs, my square clutch dangled off my shoulder, wearing simple gold jewelry that pulled everything together. I don't stand out but I didn't blend in either.

The hostess grinned upon my entrance, switching to English with ease. "Hi, welcome! Do you have a reservation?"

I peered around the well-decorated building hoping to catch a glimpse of my girlfriend. The only who decided to surprise me was Bong, my driver who was to also accompany inside, and who told me his name only when I asked. Otherwise, he was quiet the entire ride. Small talk was nonexistent.

"I hope so. It should be under Yun Dasom or Imani King." I tried my best not to sound upset but it couldn't be helped. I'm itching to meet Dasom in person, and at this point, I'm almost convinced I'm being scammed or set up to have my body parts sold on the dark web. "I don't know which name she placed the reservation under. Probably both?"

Mentioning Dasom's name seemed to have altered the air from a regular dining customer to Beyoncé by the hostess's shocking expression. She scattered from behind the podium before an older woman, the supervisor possibly, appeared from out of nowhere and dismissed the last. "Miss King, we've been expecting your arrival. Please, follow me this way and I'll show you to your room."

Room? Weren't we just eating? Why did we need a room?

Others seemed to have caught on the hype, lingering hostesses and staff whispering juicy intel while staring back at me as if I were a celebrity. I mean, I'm starting to feel like one since landing in Korea. Might as well play the part, unless my girlfriend was secretly a well-known and beloved celebrity who downplayed her status. She had a thing about humbling herself even if I hyped her up.

I pushed back my skunk-stripe hair from sticking to my lipgloss and whipped my attention from over my shoulder. The amount of heat applied to retain its voluminous curls would waste if Dasom decided to sweat them out, but at least then I would know she wasn't all talk. And how badly I had been craving her AFTER I confirm my suspicions and I knew my organs were safe.

"It's a pleasure to have you here. I'm sure your flight was dreadfully long but hopefully smooth. You came during our hottest season, but nevertheless, I recommend you visit either of our popular beaches to cool you down. Busan and Jeju Island are perfect vacation spots for the summer." The supervisor said when entering the elevator. Bong entered last and made sure he remained a few steps behind, just at the tip of my shadow head. Still quiet, almost invisible. "We were informed during the reservation that you are a very special guest and we seek to pleasure Miss Yun's special guests. Her presence continues to grace this establishment five years strong."

We let out on the second floor.

"There's been others besides me?" The humor on my tongue was enough to cover my hurt suspicion.

Knowing she'd been here with others wasn't that big of deal, though I didn't wish to learn my girlfriend was a serial player who brought all her lovers to the same place disguising it as some special spot never shown before. I was worried that she had possibly been here with another date while we're dating. Given we lived countries apart, it wasn't that far-fetched to think she had a double life even as honest as she presented herself.

The supervisor didn't seem to notice my forward interrogation as a light laughter broke behind her hand. "No one as pretty as you." A forced smile cracked my lips but I didn't have to energy to join in because my list of suspicions grew even longer.

She cleared her throat to cover her laughter and continued toward until we reached a tall thin-like door decorated with exotic flowers and fish swimming.

"This is where you'll dine. It's one of our most extravagant rooms. Private and soundproof." She winked as if she knew something I didn't. Sliding open the door, she ushered me forward before entering behind me. Bong stayed outside. "Chef Aikawa is one of our finest chefs who has prepared tonight's menu specifically catered to you and Miss Yun's taste. I, of course, will be available should you need me for anything. You are in good hands."

Chef Aikawa bowed upon my greeting and I returned it. He stood behind his station where he would be cooking the entire night, sharpening his knives to prepare the first course.

Besides them, the room was empty. There was no sign of Dasom. Not even a personal item was left behind in case she went to the bathroom or took a call or meet another lover set up beside this room.

"Dasom isn't here yet?" I asked, checking my phone. No response or update. Agitation grew when the woman confirmed Dasom hadn't arrived.

"Surely for good reasons. Miss Yun is a busy woman with much on her plate providing this fine establishment and many others with the best grade A fish in all of Busan, but I'm sure she's on the way." She tried to smooth over the frown molding my features.

I didn't want to be that person but if someone planned a date, wasn't it common decency they arrive ahead of time? Maybe my expectations were too high and they moved differently in Korea, but my frustration felt reasonable. I'm in a whole different country with no prior knowledge of its culture, traditions and manners. Dasom invited me out of her free will and I dropped everything to be here with her. So why the hell wasn't she here? Why hadn't I seen her yet?

Just who the fuck was I dating? It was even more frustrating she could make time for a call while we're thousands of miles away than a date while only a few minutes away.

The supervisor caught my expression and eased closer. "Is something the matter? I can request another room or chef if nothing interests you." She offered, already directing the chef to exit the room. I was sure if I mentioned the walls were too dull she would repaint it without hesitation.

Despite everything, I managed a smile that possibly appeared more uncomfortable than welcoming. "No, everything's perfect. Thank you."

In truth, Dasom hadn't given me a reason to think otherwise outside of my wild imagination. She was probably stuck in traffic though a heads-up would be nice.

"Perfect! Sit wherever you like and I will bring our finest wine while your chef prepares the first course."

I took my seat at the v-shaped table. It's split with an area to dine and an area for live cooking. There was another dining table separate from the mini kitchen that could fit a whole family, and the room was much bigger than I expected but I preferred watching the chef cook. Merely glancing at the presented course, a somewhat genuine smile tugged my lips. Of course she remembered.

During the early planning of this trip, Dasom asked a bunch of questions to better my experience, which I was just excited to be in another country for the first time. In one of those questions she asked what I wanted to eat when touching ground and I told her I wanted sushi and various seafood dishes. Since learning Busan was famous for its seafood, I had to jump in on the opportunity to try it. Dasom chuckled at my response and said she would make it happen.

And that she did.

Two wine glasses later, Dasom hadn't arrived.

A plate of assorted sushi and seafood radish dumplings chewed down, there was no update.

Almost an hour later, Dasom still was a no-show. No update. No call. No response. Nothing.

And at this point, I've had enough. Dasom disappearing or going radio silent for some time was nothing new. Usually time differences and her job that constantly had her working overtime were the common denominator, excuses that were easily understandable and forgivable. But not this time. Not while in the same country. Same time-zone. Same area. Her home which was a planned trip I barely had a hand in planning. In truth, it was mildly concerning given how precise she was with time. If she vanished, she'd try her best to remember to tell me when she could.

Maybe something happened?

I tried for her again and left a few more messages, adding to the hundreds of others. I tried keeping myself occupied with wine and tasty foods and conversing with the chef. I tried making the most of my time with a smile on my face, and even decided to wait ten more minutes before deciding to leave. Thankfully the bill had been paid in advance.

Bong was so silent on his feet that I almost forgot about his presence entirely until he fitted himself in the corner of the elevator. "I'd like to be alone for a while." I told him. My head hung heavy with alcohol on my breath. The bottle was halfway empty about time I noticed, just drinking until I grew the balls to leave.

"I don't think I can leave you alone, Miss King. I'm to accompany you wherever you go until I see you safely home." Bong replied, his gruff voice almost strong enough to shake the elevator.

I groaned out. "I don't give a fuck what you're supposed to do. I'ma grown-ass woman, I'll find my own way home. And if Dasom asks my whereabouts, you tell her to come find me instead."

Bong didn't seem pleased with my decision judging by his long silence, but I couldn't care less. I'd been stood up, ignored, possibly set up and cheated on—I can have a moment to myself without constantly being followed by a giant buff teddy bear. It's my first time in another country, an opportunity that won't come again so I might as well enjoy every bit of it with or without my girlfriend.

Bong waited outside of the restaurant while I decided to further our distance. He slipped a cigarette between his lips, his free hand typing vigorously on his phone. His expression remained expressionless but I could've sworn I caught a glint of fear or...worry? His attempt to accompany me failed so he had no reason but to part ways.

Dasom won't ruin my night or waste my pretty dress.

A U T H O R ' S  N O T E

— BUSAAAAAN NIGGAS
(I had too 💀Iyktyk that clip always take me out)

— Anyways, I'm happy you're here! If this chapter ending felt sudden, it's because I decided to split the chapters which goes live tomorrow. Any thoughts why Dasom hadn't showed up..?

— FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER: keep in mind Imani isn't fluent in Korean so her being able to understand the entire conversation that takes place is craazzy. I admit that. But I didn't know how to go about it during her pov because the conversation is important to the readers and I'm used to 3rd person. So I decided writing will become my temporary bitch, providing mild omniscient point of view . I promise this won't happen again or throughout constantly.   Just a heads up.