29

The bike roared between my legs like a giant vibrator from hell.

Death was the only ending for this fucking villainess—Haerin. Maybe Jungkook could hit a bump on the road and I could dramatically fly off into the sunset. Please—god—let that happen. Because every time I breathed, the visor fogged up and I wanted to push it through my skull.

I couldn't speak with him. He didn't either.

My fingers were still gripping the sides of his vest because—well—I didn't want to get run over. Coward. I know.

His back was stiff. Not stiff like he always is with his half-mad brain on display. He was stiff as if he was feeling forty-six emotions and maybe a lawsuit.

I had just rubbed my knee into the dick of a director at Neureva. What other perfect way existed to die? And who the fuck gets a hard-on in such a stupid situation? Well—no point blaming because it had already happened. I wish that I had at least kicked his dick instead of making it excited. That would have been far more bearable.

We had slipped out of there like two mormons, ashamed and awkward. Obviously, he had to drag me out of there because I was too busy getting disgusted by him.

Nobody protested or suggested anything. We quietly boarded the bike and flew from there like we had messed up big time. And we had. My mind was going blank inside that stupid helmet.

I had to give him the benefit of the doubt. I had to. Or else I wouldn't be able to sleep at night. Maybe he got a hard-on from the rub and not from me. I've heard that the crotch is a very uncontrollable muscle for men. So maybe it wasn't 'excitement' per se. It could have just been a rush of blood. Very normal. Very human. Very—man, I guess. I had heard this from Jong Suk a few times too. Sometimes they didn't really have to be sexually turned on. It just pops up like a piece of corn in a popcorn machine.

What the fuck man?

What simile did I just use? Corn popping in a popcorn machine? Somebody kill me for the safety of language.

But then, as I watched his back, it started pissing me off. Because a normal person would have at least—I repeat—at least, tried to say something like 'Sorry about the dick situation' but no. Mr Hard-On didn't even look at me or check if I was okay. What kind of man to even exist was this? Was he embarrassed beyond repair or did he just hate me enough to murder and toss me somewhere in the woods? Was I fucking sitting on this bike for that to happen?

There was pulsing all over my lower hip. Aggressive pulsing. I hated this.

We rode for about five minutes more before I decided that I was close enough to my home and wanted to get off.

I tapped his shoulder with the tip of my finger like he was fungus. He didn't even realise it so I tapped again. But this man was already in Disneyland or something and he couldn't even understand that I was trying to get his attention.

"Hey!" I snapped, finally, "Mr Dickinson! Stop the bike somewhere to the side!"

Jungkook gave me a side look from his helmet and then parked at the side of the road. For the first few minutes, I didn't even know what to do next. I just sat there, trying to do the math of how to get off this monstrous bike because my legs were not cooperating anymore.

He looked at me, "Can't get down." He stated. Didn't even ask. He just assumed it and got off first himself, leaving me seated. It was almost funny when he put it on the stand I stayed there like a character from Toy Story.

Then he awkwardly pushed his hand out, "Help?"

I growled annoyedly underneath the black metal and grabbed onto his arm. He lifted me by the waist and set me out.

"Why the hell do you want to get down here? Do you live here?" He pulled his helmet off at the same time as me, eyes scanning the surroundings to make sure we were somewhere logical.

"Yes, I live ahead. I can go by myself now." I nodded, fixing my hair a bit and the cap that I had unfortunately been wearing under the helmet the whole time.

I pulled the mask off, tossing it into the nearby trash can.

"Next time if you want to sack someone, don't fucking ask me for a ride, Miss Kang. I mean it."

"Oh fuck you, Mr Jeon." I sneered back because I was holding back and he didn't even help. "You didn't even let me sack him. For the fact, I was the one who got sacked instead. Hilarious."

"Wha—What?" His mouth flapped open, face exploding red again. "Sacked? Do you even hear yourself? You literally rubbed up on me!"

"Oh yeah, I was in heat!" I snapped back. "Why the hell would I even do that? You just pressed me up against a space I couldn't even breathe in! I didn't even realise your manhood was so close to my leg."

"Manhood?" He scoffed, slightly amused at the cringeworthy word I had chosen. "Don't deviate from the point that you already whacked the shit out of him with that baton once."

"No, I didn't!" I retaliated, my fists closing in rage. "I just touched him once! Touched. My plan was to beat the sexual harassment out of him but somebody couldn't even pull the sack back on him!"

He stepped closer, "Your world-class baton pulled the cloth off his head! Did you forget that part, Miss Rubby Rubberson? You could have done more if you weren't the one to mess up in the first place."

"What did you just call me?" My shoulders fell. Eyes wide and voice dropping to something that buzzed in my head like I was ready for sumo camp. "What the hell did you call me? You pervert!"

"Hah." He chuckled mockingly, "Me? A pervert? That's one way to victim-blame."

"Victim-blame?" My voice resounded. "I'm the victim here! You probably enjoyed yourself getting free stuff there!"

"E—Enjoyed?" His brows shot up, the red still on his face. "What do you think I am—"

"A pervert?" I tried to get on the tip of my shoes to get to his height—in obvious vain, because he was taller. "You are a loose man, Mr Jeon. A loose man, you get it?"

"Is that right?" He scowled, stepping forward again, forcing me to step behind. "Don't call me that. I'm warning you."

"Or what?" I folded my hands on my chest, glaring at him like I was about to kill him. And I would because he was getting on my last nerve.

He held his jaw, driving his hand over his face to pull himself back. But not so easy, Jeon.

I stepped forward, "Say something, Mr Dick Dickinson. Or what? What are you going to do to me? Don't tell me you're a disciple of that Han—"

"You—" he grabbed me by the arms at the same time that a random stranger jumped in.

"What are you doing to her? Step away, young man." The old man tried to shout and be the excellent citizen that he was.

But we were obviously caught at the wrong moment. I didn't want to make this a national issue or something at Neureva.

Jungkook's hands immediately flew off me. I glared at him with a winning smile and then turned to the old man, making sure both of us knew how angry he was. Well, he should be because this man was blaming me for the entire chaos at the Sack it and Whack it mission! Who the hell did he even think he was to say that? He was just an accomplice. Just an accomplice. I was the boss of the entire thing. He couldn't question me, surely?!

"It's not a problem, Sir." I turned to the old man. "Thank you for stepping up but believe me, I can beat the shit out of him anytime I want. So I'm in no danger."

Jungkook ran a shaky hand through his hair, speechless. Then his laser glare shifted to me. As if he was warning me not to make things worse. But that was in my job description. I was about to fuck him up.

"Look at him glaring at me," I muttered to the old man who glared at Jungkook too. "Come on tell him, Jungkook. Confess that I can beat you up."

Jungkook stared between me and the old man who was waiting to see if I was right.

He couldn't even confess that I couldn't. Because that would be a threat. Maybe a police report? Or public shaming for saying that to a woman.

He looked pained and furious. At me? Sure.

Then, he slowly nodded, words spilling through his teeth, "Yes, Sir. She is...a very strong woman. She can...beat me up."

And that's how it's done.

I flipped my hair behind my shoulder and then bowed to the kind man. "Thank you. I'll be on my way."

"Sure." The old man said, his eyes never leaving Jungkook's.

And I trudged away, pretending like my uterus wasn't in a battlefield right now. It was.

But by the time I got home, my life was already set to fuck me up on my own. My mom was waiting with me with my aunt. The aunt who had sent me on that god-awful blind date with Jungkook. Well, not god-awful, but not in my interests either.

"Oh, Haerin!" She called me into a hug that squished me dead in her. "How are you, child? I came here to discuss your date. Your mother was saying the same thing. What went wrong, honey?"

Argh.

I forced a smile, "He's a nice man but I just don't see myself with him. He's moving way too fast for my comfort."

Sorry, Bae Jungkook. I didn't mean to slander you but you're my sacrificial blind date today.

"But what happened?"

"Sorry, Auntie." I stretched my lips. "I don't think I'll go on dates for a while now. I'm not in that state of mind."

"What do you mean?" She stood up, horrified by my answer. "I even set out another perfect guy for you. You should have enough time to date people so that you can choose the right guy to marry."

Oh god. The marriage advocate from hell was here.

"Auntie, where's Uncle?"

"He's at home," She tilted her head. "He said he wanted to come but you know him. He wouldn't even get off the bed once he is on it."

"But he's your husband..." I blinked, feigning interest in whatever the hell was going on in their life. "Shouldn't he help you out first?"

"Oh, well. After a few years, it's not all roses and everything, honey. We have to compromise with each other." Her arm rubbed my shoulder. "You soon adjust to that life."

"Then...why are we so excited to get married?" I tilted my head. "If all I have to do is adjust with a man later who won't even love me right, why am I so excitedly hurried for it?"

My aunt's face fell. I probably broke a family law or something by saying this but my mouth was not in my control today. My back was sore and my bum hurt from sitting on that devilish bike. This wasn't where I should have arrived.

"Are you happy you got married? I don't think so. No one is happy with their marriage so why am I getting advertised with—ow!"

My mother had smacked my back so loudly that it sounded like a firework shot through me.

"You disrespectful girl!" She slapped my back again.

I crouched for cover but she continued throwing punches at me until I screamed my way out of the living room. I bolted to my own room, shutting the door to whimper like a dog.

Some days are just not the days, bitch. Someone needs to remind my aunt that.

•••

Ever since Jong Suk had slapped me, every situation in my life had been nothing but a rerun of that smack. I couldn't remember one fucking moment where I was actually happy about something. That motherfucker had ruined everything for me.

Everything was a replay.

Living, breathing reruns of how I didn't deserve a moment where my bum wasn't under acid attack.

I knew that Bo Ah probably didn't mean to hurt me with this—well, that sadist bitch might have actually wanted to—but it did hurt like a motherfucking dog. Mrs Sherlock Holmes was out there finding data to destroy me like she was getting paid for it. I didn't even ask for it. She didn't even type a message. She just threw up all the wedding pictures in our private chat. Vomited. Puked it up.

Now, like a stupid bitch with a hot dog between my teeth, I was staring at the HD photography like I hadn't already fought the urge to jump from this window. I knew that I'd need a private lunch break the moment the photos slipped into the ass crack of my phone.

Now, I sat against the cold wall of the fifth-floor stairway that no one else visited. With my legs folded across, even though I was wearing a skirt—I couldn't care less about it, because my eyes were watering already. If someone managed to get a peek under my skirt, they'd better be ready for some extra stretchable tights that I bought last summer. These babies were too good.

I chewed the dry hot dog off, trying to move my teeth. My jaw made weird ticking noises that I only ever heard my knuckles make. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand as I zoomed in.

There he stood. Tall, in a black tux, glowing. Literally. I'm not even kidding. I wish that this was because of my bias towards him, but no. This man looked like a Lana Del Rey song in his four-piece tux.

The next smack was the pretty girl next to him in a wedding gown that looked like it was sponsored by Cinderella. His hand on her waist and they seemed to be mocking me with that smile on the screen. This was the perfect rich-people wedding. Expensive. Dreamy. And beautiful in a way that makes you want to kill yourself.

I hated this.

I sniffled, wiping my eyes as the pictures went on and on. What the fuck was wrong with Bo Ah? Why did she send me this? Did she want me to die or what? The pain in my chest was physical.

I looked at the ceiling, trying to breathe and cursing at him a few times.

That didn't help.

I felt like a stupid teenager.

And what was even more painful was that I knew that I would never be able to pull that rich look that the bride had. I could never. That ambience and the regality felt unknown to me. I'd probably trip and fall in the fog somewhere and break my face. I would have embarrassed Jong Suk.

Maybe his mom was right.

I had scrolled too far down the pictures now. I hadn't even kept a count at this rate. Bo Ah has probably hacked the wedding photographer's system or something because how did she even manage to find so many?

This was probably the last time I saw Jong Suk in a suit that wasn't meant for someone else. It was ridiculous how I could imagine what perfume he must have chosen to go with that suit. He was always good with that.

There was another image of them cutting the cake. He hated sweets. He hated cakes. And now look at him go at it like he hadn't once complained that it makes his teeth itch.

He betrayed me with the small stuff too. Stuff that I could have said I knew about him. At this rate, did I even know him? I'm thinking the fuck not.

The cake probably tasted sweet, expensive and perfectly soft in the girl's mouth. Unlike me. Unlike this dry and mealy hot dog hanging from my mouth, which I had forgotten to chew.

The hot dog was too dry. Too mealy. Too cold.

Fuck this shit.

I wrapped the hot dog back in the plastic and wiped my face clean.

I couldn't just keep on crying over this. I had a job to go to

That's right.

I jumped to my feet, shaking my hands to stretch my muscles. Once I had smoothed the creases on my blouse and my skirt, I headed back downstairs. Back to where I came from like a damned ghost.

My feet knew that the washroom was where I needed to be.

My face was a complete mess that I had to fix with tissues. Once I had headed to the sixth floor where I was supposed to, I realised how insanely stupid life was. No one could even guess if I had a fucking vibrator up my ass or something. That's how little we knew about each other.

I shuffled my hair, tossing the half-eaten hot dog on my desk and tying my hair up to begin working on something productive for once.

I was fully fixated on my task when I saw a familiar demonic figure in the distance.

Jungkook.

He was talking to Mirae. It looked like a pleasant conversation. Mirae was playing the part very well. She wasn't blushing or being openly coy. She was handling herself very professionally with pieces of short smiles. From a distance, they looked like the perfect couple.

Good for them.

I looked at the screen again, continuing to work.

"Wow."

I heard Mirae say when she finally returned next to me. Her breath was a bit short and her cheeks were pink.

"Just wow, Haerin." She whispered. "Is being this attractive legal?"

"Well, I've been arrested quite a few times," I smirked, rolling my eyes.

"What?" She threw her head back laughing. "I mean—"

"That cyborg from the third floor. I know." I didn't look at her but her face blew up when I said it like that.

"Yeah. He talks so respectfully. He asked me how I was doing, and he didn't mean to make me uncomfortable with that meeting that day. Gentleman." She swooned.

I huffed a sigh and then nodded. "Yeah, yeah. He's a perfect gentleman. He's a sex god too. I get it, Mirae."

It was pure blabber. I swear. I was just boosting her ego.

Because she laughed.

"Oh my, I wouldn't know if he's a sex god or not. That's futuristic information." She continued to giggle.

"Mirae..." I slowly began, hitting send on the email I had drafted. "He's a director but it wouldn't hurt to try it out."

"Should I?" Her eyes grew wide. "But I'm too shy."

"Do you want me to pitch for you?" I turned my head to her. "It might be worth it."

"Really? You'd do it in a way that doesn't make me look desperate?" She dragged her chair closer to me, leaning to look at me with those puppy eyes that I hated.

I tilted my head, "Wouldn't mind."

"Oh, thank you, Haerin." She squealed. "He's perfect but you're the best!"

"Yeah, Mirae." I lazily agreed. "He's perfect. Jeon Jungkook is a demigod and we're just pining humans before that sexy and sizzling—"

"Haerin, Haerin!" She gasped and grabbed my arm so hard I squeaked in pain.

"What the hell—"

"Sizzling what, Miss Kang?" I heard Jungkook's voice and something deflated in me.

My gaze snapped up and he was standing over my desk, expressionless. Calculating and judging. He wasn't even smirking. He was staring as if I had violated him. And I had, in all honesty.

"Complete your sentence for me, won't you?" He said and I saw Mr Min standing behind him with his forehead in his hands.

Kill me. Kill me now, universe.