“I did!”
“No, you didn’t,” Hyukjoon said, his voice trembling. “Look again.”
As she forced herself to look back down at the little screen, Dahye felt a wave of nausea overcome her. The woman in the video opened her eyes briefly, her lips parted, and Dahye realized with a sudden jolt that she recognized her. It wasn’t just any couple in the video—it was them.
Horrified, she thrust the phone back into Hyukjoon’s hands. “Where did you get this video?” she asked, squeezing her eyes shut. She couldn’t bear to look at it for another second.
A ribbon of smoke curled from the end of Hyukjoon’s cigarette. He took one final drag before tossing it to the ground, putting it out with the heel of his shoe. Then he spoke, avoiding her gaze. “We got caught on a camera at that hotel a few weeks ago.”
Dahye thought hard. They didn’t stay at hotels often, a couple times a month at most. “The one in Itaewon,” she said.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah. A private investigator found this video in a molka chatroom and sent it to my father. I’m sorry, Dahye, but it’s going to be all over the news tomorrow.”
Even though it felt like time had stopped, around her, the world continued to move. Cars rumbled past. Planes driftedoverhead. In one of the windows of the office building across the street, a light blinked on, revealing a man and a woman, the two of them wild with laughter. Maybe they were colleagues, returning to pick up their things after a night out with their boss. Or maybe they were having an affair.
Hyukjoon sniffled loudly, and when Dahye looked at him, she was surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes. He grabbed her and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. I really am. I should have been more careful. I should have been—”
“It’s okay,” she said automatically. She closed her eyes and buried her face into the folds of his shirt. He smelled of cologne and wine and smoke.
“It was just bad luck,” he whispered. “It could have happened to anybody.”
It seemed too simple an explanation for something so monumental. She dug her fingernails into her palm, trying desperately to wake herself from this terrible dream.
“Does anybody know that it’s me?” she asked.
“No. I’m going to take care of it. I’m going straight home right now, and I’ll smooth things over with my father. After that, I’ll call the reporters and make sure nothing happens to you. I’ll protect you, Dahye. I swear.” He kissed the top of her head. She kept her arms stiff at her sides as a fresh wave of tears gathered in her eyes.
“But what about you?” she croaked.
“What do you mean?” He wore a curious expression on his face.
“What’s going to happen to you?”
“I’ll be fine. My father wants me to lay low for a few months,” he said. “He went ahead and booked a flight for me.” Hyukjoon hesitated. “To New York. I’m supposed to leave in six hours.”
An image materialized in her head. She was sitting next to Hyukjoon on a plane headed to New York City. They would leave Seoul and this terrible night behind. Climb to the top of the Empire State Building. Walk through Times Square. Visit the places he had haunted as a student at Columbia University. She had never been to America before, had never dreamed it to be a possibility.
“I’ll go with you,” she said. “I’ll quit my job. I just need an hour to pack and get my affairs in order.”
He blinked, taken aback, and stared at her as though she had sprouted a second head. He chuckled. Squeezed her hands. “I wish we could go together,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “But that’s not possible right now. You understand, don’t you?”
She didn’t. But she nodded as if she understood him perfectly. Hyukjoon didn’t like it when she was disagreeable. “Difficult,” he liked to call it.
“When will we see each other again?” she asked.
“Soon,” he promised. He cupped her chin, tilting her head up toward his, kissing her chastely at first, and then with hunger, his tongue hard against hers. “I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”
How long would that be? Weeks? Months? He climbed in the car and rolled down the window. “I love you,” he called. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. Get some rest.”
As if she could. The engine roared, and Hyukjoon waved as his car disappeared into the night.
+
Alone in the hotel room, Dahye turned on all the lights and sat on the couch, drinking the remainder of the wine straight from the bottle. She could barely taste anything through her dulled senses.
She remembered that night in Itaewon, but only vaguely. They had gone to a club. After spotting Hyukjoon, the security guards had whisked them to the front of the line. The girls behind them in their miniskirts had glared at Dahye, whispering loudly to each other. She had known what they were saying. What was someone like him doing with someone like her? But rather than be offended, she had felt a burst of pride.He chose me, not you, she had thought, staring defiantly into their eyes. At least they had had the decency to look away.
In their private room, Hyukjoon had slung his arm carelessly around her shoulder. The music had been so loud she could hardly hear him. A couple of his friends came by with drinks, and from there everything was blurry. Snatches of memory: dancing on a table, Hyukjoon’s friends shouting at her to take her shirt off. Hyukjoon sitting back, smoking, watching. “I’m not taking it off,” she had shouted at them and then she had tumbled into Hyukjoon’s lap. His erection surprised her.