Page 72 of When Worlds Collide
Since I had no other gainful employment at the moment, I'd done some reading up on my tourist visa. It turned out it wasn't as strict as I'd thought. If it did get to the point where it expired, I would need to exit the country – but apparently, I could just come back in. Jihoon suggested we go on a mini-break to Japan, and on re-entry, hopefully my 90-day window would reset. While doing 'visa runs' is technically discouraged, it was a loophole we could use.
While I'd expressed relief and enthusiastically agreed to the Japan trip, I hadn't voiced how unsettled the idea of dipping in and out of the country every three months made me feel. It all felt so… impermanent.
Getting a job would grant me a worker's visa, and while that wasn't necessarily a permanent solution either, it would go a long way toward making me feel like I had roots here. Like I deserved a life here.
Shaking that thought off, I knew I had to bring the subject up with Jihoon again.
We decided to go for a walk after waving goodbye to everyone from the carpark. The day was crisp, but it had stopped snowing, so Jihoon and I decided to walk down the street to a favourite coffee shop of ours to get an iced Americano.
I’d really thought that was just something people did in K-Dramas – get iced Americanos even in the dead of winter, but no. Even in sub-freezing temperatures, and wearing enough thick layers that I couldn’t easily put my arms down by my side, we ordered our drinks. Well, Jihoon ordered one, I ordered a chai spiced latte because I didn’t like my insides to be as cold as my outside.
On the way back, I people watched as I happily sipped my hot drink, the steam curling out of the top and tickling my nose. More and more people were wearing those surgical-style masks, and though it was a common enough sight here, it was still bizarre to me. It made sense though. It was officially flu season, and it seemed you couldn’t open social media at the moment without seeing more and more reports about China and some new flu strain.
The upside to wearing a mask – which Jihoon did every time we left the apartment – is that between that and the hat, you couldn’t see very much of Jihoon’s face, which allowed us a measure of privacy. No one looked twice, because he didn’t stick out. Which was almost as weird to me as wearing the masks, because I felt like I could tell it was him even if he covered every inch of his skin. It was in the way he moved, his presence. I felt him.
I felt him now, pressed up against me as we rode the elevator back up to the apartment we shared. We faced the mirrored back of the elevator, and even through the mask, I could tell he was grinning at me. I leaned back against him, just revelling in the feel of his strong, warm body against mine.
“I love you,” I said, having absolutely no reason to say it, other than I felt it, and had the liberty to tell him.
“Saranghae,” he replied, and my mouth quirked.
“Saranghae,” I attempted to copy him, but blast my lazy English tongue, I just could not sound out that ‘r’ sound that was somehow both ‘r’ and ‘l’. I sighed.
He chuckled. “I like it. It’s cute.”
I grumbled, but as the doors opened just then, I let it go.
Jihoon entered the code for the door to the apartment, and pushed it open, revealing a large, white envelope on the floor that must have been slid under the door.
Curiously, I bent down to pick it up, flipping it over to see immediately the wax seal embossed with the symbol for ENT.
“What’s this?” I said, holding it up for Jihoon to see. He frowned, closing the front door behind him before coming over to me.
“I don’t know.”
“Do they know we’re staying here?”
He thought about it for a moment. “I told manager Youngsoo we were staying here. He must have brought it round. He has access to the building.”
I put down my latte on the console table by the door, toeing off my shoes.
“You better open it then.” I held the thick envelope out to Jihoon, curious but putting forth my best effort to not be nosy.
He took it from me and pried the wax seal away from the paper, opening the envelope. He looked inside, his face immediately clearing, his mouth forming an ‘oh’. He slid out a card and flicked his eyes over it briefly, before holding it out for me to see.
The card was thick – clearly the expensive kind – and written on it in golden calligraphy, to my surprise, was an invitation in English.
You are cordially invited to the annual winter solstice ball.
A celebration of artistry, elegance, and enduring magic.
This year’s theme is: Midnight Wishes – A Cinderella story.
Date: December 23rd
Time: 7pm until the stroke of midnight.
Location: The Ballroom of ENT Tower, Gangnam-Samseong-dong
