She let her hand fall and took a step back. “That’s too much,” she stammered. The woman blinked but said nothing. Dahye was surprised to feel Hyukjoon standing right behind her, his arms circling her waist.
“Why are you talking about money right now?” he whispered in her ear.
“It’s too expensive. And when would I have the chance to wear something like this again?” She lowered her voice. “Can’t we just … reschedule? It’s so late. They must have given up our reservation.”
“They’re not giving up our reservation.”
“But—”
“I told you I’d buy whatever you wanted.” He was insistent. Hyukjoon was starting to slur his words, and Dahye looked down and saw that the bottle of champagne was almost empty. Motioning toward the clothes, he said, “Try on the red. It’s pretty. It would look good on you.”
“I can’t.”
“You can.” He buried his face into the side of her neck. “Come on. Try it on. It would make me happy. Don’t you want me to be happy?”
She wanted that more than anything. “Okay,” she said. “Where’s the fitting room?”
“Don’t be silly. There’s nobody here.”
Dahye looked around. Indeed, the woman helping them had disappeared. Hyukjoon led Dahye to the floor-length mirror sitting on the floor in front of them. Its edges were ornate gold. Nuzzling her neck, he reached for the zipper of her skirt. She swatted his hand away. “Stop it,” she hissed.
“Come on,” he murmured. “Lighten up.”
She watched him in the reflection as he tugged the zipper down, shivering as the cold air brushed against her skin. Hyukjoon hooked his thumbs over the edge of her lacy underwear. She let out a small cry but could do nothing to stop him. Soon, she was completely naked.
“Turn around. I want to see you.”
She turned, looking past him, at the beautiful room, the dresses, the paintings on the walls. The chandelier glittered,catching the light. On the side farthest from them, she noticed a painting she had initially missed: a tiger in the throes of slaughtering its prey. She closed her eyes and then Hyukjoon’s hand was heavy on her shoulders, pushing her down. She had no way of resisting. Her knees buckled and touched the carpet.
“Look at me,” Hyukjoon said.
She obeyed. Staring up into his face, she waited.
+
They were over an hour late for their reservation. If Hyukjoon had been anybody else, they would have been turned away. But the beautiful hostess did not betray even a hint of annoyance. “This way,” she said, smiling, leading them to a table hidden in the corner.
Dahye sat with her hands heavy in her lap. A single candle sat in between them in a smooth, polished stone, the flame flickering. In the low light, Hyukjoon’s face was waxy, the shadows accentuating the hollows of his face. Suddenly he seemed much less handsome to her, and she looked away, nauseated. Her knees twinged.
Stop it, she chastised herself.You’re being foolish.
In the end, Hyukjoon had insisted on buying the red dress, the most expensive one on the rack. It had cost him over 1,500,000 won, but he hadn’t even blinked. Just waved his hand.
“Put it on the Amex,” he had said.
She should have been happy. Anybody in her situation would have been. So what if he had been a little rough? He was a man; he had needs. He loved her and cared about her. He had brought her to this beautiful restaurant, where every single woman was jealously watching her. Wasn’t that all that mattered?
Oblivious, he smiled at her, reaching across the table to touch the crook of her elbow. “What do you think?” he asked affectionately. “Is it everything you dreamed of?”
She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts that she hadn’t had the chance to look around. She craned her neck. The ceiling was painted the deep blue of a night sky. From it dangled hundreds of tiny lights, each one arranged like stars. The walls were made of textured gray concrete, and dried moss peeked out from the cracks. In the center of the restaurant, a fake fire blazed, casting long shadows over the diners. A man’s voice drifted from a nearby table.
“It’s like eating in a cave!”
“That’s the point,” the woman sitting with him retorted. “It’s brilliant, isn’t it? Coming to Namu is like dining in the past, while the sister restaurant in New York is like going to the future. Two very different concepts that go hand in hand. Simply gorgeous, don’t you think? It evokes that deep, primal urge to—”
The man groaned. “I’m so sick of this pretentious bullshit. I just want to eat.”
“You’re the one who insisted on coming!”