POV: Hae Na Ri
In the days that follow, Hajoon seems to get busier. I only see him either in the morning or night or at some random time during the day. The second floor is indeed where he spends the most time, as his bedroom is there.
Although Mrs. Kang does shoot me dirty looks all the time, she doesn't actually say or do anything insulting. In fact, everyone seems to have become okay with my fantastic presence here.
I make numerous visits to the garden in the hope to cross over back to my world. Sometimes I get out of the palace to spend time at the library and study.
Though one good thing about being in an alternate universe is that there are lots and lots of new dramas to watch and new books to read. And I notice that some actors and actresses from my world are following the same career path here too. It is comforting to see familiar faces.
My room is on the first floor and I watch dramas in the living room called the Golden Sitting Room, as the furniture is beige and golden coloured.
Right now, episode 31 of Revenge of the Third Wife is playing on the LCD, through Flixnet.
I slowly poke a strawberry with my chopstick–the small bowl in my lap–as Bang Sunja presses the break with her foot repeatedly, the car swerving, dust flying. "Kim Gwanje, you bastard!" She shouts while struggling to get the car under control.
Behind her, Kim Gwanje slams his car straight into hers. At the edge of the cliff, Sunja opens the door and jumps out to save her life. The car rolls down the cliff, landing with a bang on rocks and getting swallowed by the river below.
The strawberry slips from my grasp. I breathe out in relief.
Sunja didn't die.
But it's far from over. She rolls over and gets to her feet. I fear Gwanje is going to run her over with the car–
"What are you watching?" Hajoon comes from behind me, from the direction of his study.
"Ssshhh!" I hush him and focus on the screen.
Gwanje slams the door shut. There is a malicious smile stretched across his face as he prowls around her.
"You have survived for too long, Bang Sunja. Now let's end this." He takes out a sharp knife, sunlight glinting off it.
"I should have never married you!" Sunja shouts. Tears stream down her face. "But today, I will fix that mistake."
From her pocket, she produces a small handgun. Gwanje backs away. His knife wouldn't hold against a gun. I realise I am biting my lip and slap my mouth gently. I don't have any lipstick to cover it. I make a mental note to get one from my meagre salary.
"Wait, Sunja'ya, listen to me," he starts begging.
"I have something to tell you before I kill you," Sunja says. She reaches up and touches her jaw. A mask and a wig drop on the dusty ground.
I gasp so loudly the strawberry bowl rolls off my lap. It's Gwanje under the mask.
"What the–" Hajoon is also watching the drama.
"Ssshhh, Mrs. Kang doesn't like that language here," I say as if I have lived here longer than him, and refocus.
"I am your twin brother Hwanje," the man behind the mask says, still in Sunja's mini skirt and shirt. "I love Sunja and I will take revenge for her."
Gwanje doesn't have the time to react. He drops the knife and runs down the dusty path their cars had taken earlier. Hwanje raises his hand and shoots him thrice in the back.
Wrapped in blood, Gwanje falls to the floor and dies.
Just then, a pair of heels appear near the body.
"What have you done?" Sunja cries out in horror. "You killed Hwanje, I will kill you!"
The screen goes still and OST starts playing.
"Aish, you stupid woman, he is Hwanje!" I yell at the screen.
Hajoon clears his throat. "Ahem…"
I get up, bow and greet him properly, pretending I just saw him. "When did you come, Your Majesty?"
"Just now when you hushed me several times to watch that ridiculous thing," he says coldly.
"I did?" I blink. "My my, I must have. I am sorry Your Majesty. And that was a melodrama, a makjang. It's my favourite–"
My soul nearly leaves my body as my eyes catch sight of something; the strawberries are scattered all over the beige couch, blotchy stains in several spots.
"Aiyo, jincha, when did that happen?" I quickly gather the strawberries in the bowl–that was lying on the ground somehow–and turn to Hajoon.
"Your Majesty, I have ruined your couch, I deserve to die!" I wail like a character in a Joseon Dynasty drama.
An amused smile starts to break out over his face. He is in a maroon highneck sweater. "Now I get it."
"Get what?"
"Why you have a…unique personality."
"Why? Oh speaking of unique personality, that reminds me I need a notebook."
"How does it remind you of that?"
I tilt my head. "I don't know. It just did."
He blinks and probably decides to accept it.
"You could have asked any maid for it–in fact forget that, let me give you some souvenirs of this world…" he says and moves in the direction of his study.
I follow him.
Today, some documents are scattered on the small meeting table in his study.
He goes to the shelf near it and slides out three notebooks and lays them on his desk. The A5 notebooks appear custom made for him; with their golden, silver and black metal linings, leather cover and 'His Majesty' written in capital.
I take the one with silver linings and black leather in my hand, admiring the quality. Anyone can tell this is an expensive thing. At the bottom, it says 'A Product of Inkline.'
"Can I take this one?"
"Go ahead. Pens are over there." He motions to his main desk.
The pens are also in different colors and designs, all made by Inkline and carved with 'His Majesty'. I chose a black pen.
"I'm reminding you once again, I will not be paying you for it," I say, flipping through the notebook and writing my name in it.
He chuckles and leans over to see what I am writing. He is closer than he should be. "I told you, they are souvenirs for when you go back." He looks up and winks, his handsome face and charming smile causing my heart to jolt in my chest.
I see the playboy in him again; probably flirts with and charms every woman. He must have an extensive, scandalous dating history.
The door behind us opens and a beautiful woman in a chic grey pantsuit steps in unexpectedly.
She looks more taken aback than me as her gaze flicks between Hajoon and me, and the little distance between us.
I back away from him, slowly and smoothly.
"Your Majesty, I was told to wait for you here," she says in a casual and friendly tone, dipping her head in a short bow. She has a beautifully styled wolf cut. Her voice is confident, calm, and so is her posture, as if she is used to attention.
I take this as my cue to leave and turn to Hajoon for one final bow. But the sight catches me off guard.
Hajoon's expressions have turned aloof, his eyes cold.
Just like the night I arrived here. Like a mask coming on. Hands clasped behind his back, the king is here and all that playboy persona from earlier is gone, vanished as if it never existed.
Yet this coldness isn't directed at me.