love child

she releases a frustrated sigh, glaring venomously at the closet of cleaning supplies before her. there is absolutely no doubt in her mind that she has finally hit rock bottom. in all her years of life, uemura aiko has never imagined herself as a maid. she had grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth; to see herself fall this low is a tragedy unfolding before her eyes.

and yet here she is, tying an apron around her waist as she gathers her cleaning supplies. working for bang chulsuk is easy money despite the alternative payment of shoes in the past. it is still an incident that raises questions in aiko’s mind, but she blows her bangs out of her face and tells herself to get started, surveying the house with a look of dismay. it is almost as if a tornado has ripped through the penthouse. aiko curses bang chulsuk in her mind.

despite this, though, she begins to work. aiko finds herself in a steady rhythm, going from one room to another until she stops just in front of chulsuk’s office. it is the one room that she has been forbidden to enter. since day one she has been curious about the room and its contents. glancing left to right, aiko’s hand hovers over the doorknob.

“hey, bang chulsuk,” she calls, “are you inside?”

and five shots later she’s crossing the room to where he’s standing, her lip curling in a sneer as she approaches him.

“hey.” she says over the loud music, eyes narrowing, “you look like such a spoiled brat, do you know that?”

“you forgot your lunch,” she states as she waves it in misun’s face. she sets it down on the counter next to misun’s work, the odd instruments catching her eye. aiko tilts her head to the side. curiosity begins to take hold of her.

“have i seen you somewhere before?”

it is the first thing that slips out of aiko’s mouth; she cringes at her lack of conduct, especially to a paying customer, but the feeling of familiarity without particularly knowing why gnaws at her mind. 

she narrows her eyes, continuing to outline the image of a knife below hani’s rib cage. for a brief moment aiko looks up, assessing her customer’s face skeptically. she knows she’s seen her somewhere before, but she can’t quite recall where.

“are you an actress?” aiko inquires, concentration straying from her task at hand. the needle hovers just above hani’s skin as aiko awaits a response. “model? ulzzang? idol? i really feel like i’ve seen your face somewhere.” she blows a strand of hair away from her eyes, frustration holding a tight grasp on her as she tries to remember. she thinks back to the last few movies and shows she’s seen, then users on social media, then acquaintances, then pictures, and then—

“i got it!” aiko exclaims, relief flooding through her. “you look like a girl on this missing poster that’s been circulating around seoul for a while. i keep seeing them; they’re everywhere. but that’s not you, is it?”

it starts off as curiosity—a minor form of entertainment to pass the time. from the moment she meets lee jaehyun, aiko knows that there is something interesting about him. perhaps it is the scars that mark his body, or the strange feeling of heartbreak that seems to emanate from within his entire being. aiko finds herself immersed in her wonder for him: how come he has so many scars? why does he want them concealed? what does he do for a living? who is lee jaehyun, truly?

and as she pours her heart and soul into every scar she covers, aiko discovers that he bears stigmas that she cannot see. they linger inside his heart, hardly detectable but always there and it is only because of her own broken heart that she is able to identify this. but she can’t do anything about them. she can’t make them disappear. she can’t tattoo over them, and this realization begins to bother her more than it should. suddenly the curiosity clouding over aiko’s mind turns into something different, something more.

and she does not realize it yet, but that “something” is love.