When two individuals share a connection, that link is eternal.
No matter the distance. No matter the length of separation.
No matter how badly you try to erase it.
The red string will always be there.
New York City. Arrogant and loud and full of people whose dreams are built based on nothing but a vision and hope, lacking ambition and drive. Drive. The one thing that pushed him to leave Korea; that pushed him to where he is now – the reason he has all that he has. All the luxury and power in the world, and yet, there’s still something missing inside of him. It’s been there for centuries: the dull ache in the pit of his chest that he can’t seem to shake off no matter the treatment. He sits in the middle of a bench in Central Park. Its well passed closing time, but no one ever notices a lonely man that keeps to himself. That is, of course, until a woman strolling through the park bumps into his leg.
His eyes snap up to her face, a grimace already fixed on his own. Just as he was about to snap, he’s stopped dead in his tracks as a familiar scent envelopes his senses. Sweet and tart, with just a hint of rose. No one has even come close to having this aroma save for one person in his life - someone he has since erased from his mind a long, long time ago. His voice drops to a whisper as he slowly pulls himself up from the bench, looming over her tiny frame in a somewhat threatening matter.
“Who are you? And where oh where did you get that scent from?”
Work, work, work. What time was that meeting again? And..with who?
Although it may seem that her chosen career wouldn’t have meant much at home, here she is in the middle of New York City; Losing her mind over the amount of success and fame she has gained here with her work in magazines, fashion shows, you name it. It’s been a year now that she moved here to make a name for herself, but still.. there is no place like home, no matter how hard it was to get along with her friends and family there. What was left of them, at least.
Her name.. was Park Choa. The smallest girl anyone here has ever seen, and quite possibly the most career driven individual. So driven, in fact, that she barely noticed the shadow coming up on her right. Before she could slow herself down from the quick sprint home, her stiletto nestled into the crevices of the pavement and wobbled her into the poor man minding his business. A quick apology stuttered past her lips in hopes of not disturbing him with her mistake, but to her rather gracious luck.. It was a rather huge mistake. Her punishment; The towering male now standing feet taller than the poor girl, asking.. no, telling her to identify herself. If this was going to be her last sentence, it’s going to be an honest one.
“My name.. is Choa. I’m very sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.. whatever it was you were doing, and I certainly don’t want to cause any trouble so if you’ll-” She paused, the gears in her head in full reverse now. “My.. scent? Perfume?”
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