Loveboat in 서울

𝟛𝟞

The red velvet drapes muffle the roar of voices beyond. Completely unprofessional, I make an eye-sized slit and peer out. Yonsei kids and counselors cram the front half of the theater, and the rest of rows to the topmost balcony overflow with strangers.

"We're sold out!" I whisper.

"And the better our show, the more people will bid at the auction. They'll be in the right mood." Sohee hugs me. "He'll be here."

Program in hand, she slips out between the curtains. 

The show runs an hour, plus intermission, and our number is the finale. Joohyuk still has time. I refuse to worry. My ankle twinges—I seem to have injured it a bit after all, and I rub it, and take the second pill, hoping that will be enough to get me through. I smooth my braid to the bit of red lace at its end, then adjust the neckline of my dress. Every tuck and curve molds to my contours. There's no hiding my body in this dress, and instead of wishing for Wendy's legs or Sohee's curves, I feel beautiful in my own right. Tonight, I'm showing what I can do, not just to Seoul and Yonsei, not just to Aunty Yumi and Uncle Gongyoo—

But to Appa.

"Annyeonghaseyo yeoleobun!" The mic amplifies Sohee's welcome through the theater. "Hel-lo, Seoul!"

An answering roar shakes the stage beneath my feet.

ʕु-̫͡-ʔुྉ*ᴸᵒᵛᵉᵇᵒᵃᵗ✲ﾟⁱⁿ*。⋆ 서울。⋆ *

I watch from the wings with Sulli and Krystal as Sohee announces each act: Korean kicking sacks, martial arts. Lucas and Jackson's comedy routine draws laughter from the audience. A guy from Bus G flies through Rachmaninoff's Études-Tableaux, his body and hands digging into the piano keys with so much fire and passion that understand what Joohyuk understood when he switched from music to basketball.

At intermission, Sohee encourages everyone to peruse the silent auction in its last minutes. I cover my red dress in the black smock again and slip out to peek at the progress. Hundreds of people swarm the auction tables, making up bid sheets, and then the auction closes. I smile at the crowd gathered around Kang's easels. Kang himself is seated beside them, long black hair falling into his eyes as he presses his chop to an inkstone, and sets his seal on each painting.

So he's sold them all. And carved his chop, too. Three Old Men, that slice of hope, is now cast like a die into the world.

As if he can feel my gaze, his eyes lift to mine, and he returns my smile.

ʕु-̫͡-ʔुྉ*ᴸᵒᵛᵉᵇᵒᵃᵗ✲ﾟⁱⁿ*。⋆ 서울。⋆ *

The second half of our show kicks off with a bang. Subin's nailed Korea—with their own independence close to heart, his thunderous "I Have a Dream" rendition gets a roar of applause that rattles the chandeliers.

"A vote for Yoo is a vote for you!" yells a voice.

Sulli and Krystal play a duet on zithers. A trio of kids and a counselor from Bus D improv a jazz number on keys, bass, drums, and a wind instrument hand-whittled from bamboo.

Then Sohee announces the Gang of Five, the last act before ours.

I duck into the dressing room, the hallway behind the stage, but Joohyuk is nowhere. As I lean my bo staff against the wall, my stomach clenches. Five minutes to go before showtime.

He'll be here.

"Where's Dohyun?" Sulli murmurs. "This is his act, but I haven't seen him today."