𝙄 𝙒𝙄𝙇𝙇 𝙉𝙊𝙏 𝙆𝙄𝙎𝙎 𝙔𝙊𝙐 ♡ 𝙖𝙡𝙞 𝙖𝙗𝙙𝙪𝙡

002

WIN OR LOSE

You'd been in contact with Ali for some time now. He'd been working hard to learn Korean, and earn money for a plane ticket. You hadn't expected him to want to come to Korea so bad, but he'd been writing all about it. You'd been sending him books and other materials to help him continue his Korean studies. He seemed eager to receive them, and you his occasional letters every three times a month or so. Distance meant it would take a while for letters to go to and fro.
However, one day, it seemed that he'd suddenly stopped responding to your letters, worrying you. It had almost been a month or two.

Your coworkers had always seen you as scary, or unapproachable due to the edge to your behavior. The oh, so terrifying L/N Y/N had been scarier than usual. Your boss, as a matter of fact, had not given you that raise he promised. The trip to Pakistan was just one of his searches for a loan, as the whole of Korea had rejected his applications for any loans. The company was in awful shape, and all this asshole did was sit down and play online coin slots, or pachinko for real money. The only thing keeping your hopes up as of late was the sweet, sweet solace of alcohol. You've grown a liking to soju as of late, not having enjoyed drinking before. It was that debt. That ever so dreaded debt. Lately, you could barely pay the rent on time, and faced threat of eviction. Of course, you couldn't tell anyone. The last thing you'd want was that destruction of your pride as the company's ace.

You were currently on your way to work. However, to your despair, your drunken night had resulted in you inevitably missing the subway. The vehicle taking off, you slammed your head against the closed doors of the entrance, letting out a loud, frustrated groan. Why couldn't you do things right for once? Stepping away from the door, you moved to turn back and sit on a bench to wait for the next train, when upon turning, a tall salesman (SCREAMING OMFG I WROTE SALAMI) stood right where you meant to go, shocking you.

Sighing, you pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration.
"Sorry, sir, but I'm not interested in whatever you plan on advertising. I'm flat out broke."
You'd cross your arms as the man opened his suitcase, revealing stacks of money and two pieces of paper for ddakji. Ddakji? You haven't played that in a while. Raising a brow, you stared at the salesman who adjusted his tie.
"Would you like to play a game with me? If you win, you earn 100000 won. If I win, you owe me 100000 won."
He'd offer. Tempting, but again. You had no money. Opening your mouth to speak, the man, as if he knew what you were going to say, immediately added.
"If you have no money, you can pay with your body."
He'd say to which your face burnt red with anger. Raising a fist to strike him in the face, you shouted at him.
"You creepy son of a bitch!!!"
Fist midair, the salesman caught it without a fuss, narrow, sharp eyes gazing at you.
"Forgive me. Allow me to reiterate. If you have no money, I slap you, taking 100 won off your debt."
He'd correct himself, calm, cool demeanor unchanging. You sighed with relief, apologizing to the salesman. A slap? Oh, that was nothing. Rolling up the sleeves of your jacket, you picked up one of the two colors, blue. He allowed you to go first. And so, with all the strength you could muster, you threw the folded paper down at the red. No reaction. Staring in disbelief, you looked back at the salesman, who wore a cunning smirk on his face. He picked his piece up before violently slamming it onto yours, flipping it over.
Slap!
The sound echoed across the underground station. You were pretty sure that was going to bruise. Grumbling, you picked yours up again. One loss became another, soon becoming what felt like an eternity before you won. The ddakji flipping over, you let out a loud cry of triumph, getting ready to slap the salesman as hard as you could. Just as your hand was about to make contact with his face, he caught your wrist and placed a heavy sum of money in your hand and a brown business card.
"If you're ever interested in earning more prizes, call this number."
He'd say before leaving the station, the doors of the train behind you opening. Quickly running inside, you took a seat and began to examine the card. You could hardly relax due to the stinging and burning feeling in your cheek.

Arriving to the office, you quickly headed to your cubicle in a frenzy.  Luckily your boss hadn't noticed you were missing, too busy yelling at his computer over his online gambling. Tiredly, you went straight to work, starting a project your coworkers had sheepishly asked you to revise.
As always, you took the train back home at around 1am tonight. You stayed a little late today.
Walking towards the apartment building, ivy creeping up its external walls, a crack here and there, you opened the slightly jammed front door and stepped inside the creaky elevator that groaned when it moved, as if a monster were operating it. You lived on the third floor.
When the elevator had stopped, you stepped out to the sounds of the couple a few doors down arguing, and the sounds of objects clattering. Especially glass. A baby cried from the other direction. Ignoring it all, you walked over to your apartment, struggling to jam in the keys. The keyhole was slightly broken. Some fool tried getting in with their own key too aggressively when you weren't home.
Opening the heavy door which closed behind you, you locked the door and collapsed onto the futon set resting on the floor, pulling out the now slightly crinkled card from earlier, inspecting it. A phone number had been printed on the back. You pulled out your cellphone and sighed, contemplating it for a bit. Oh, what was the big deal? If you lost, yoy lost, right?

...
...

"Hello?"
A voice on the other line would ask. Presumably that of the salesman from earlier. Or someone else. It was hard to make out whose voice it exactly was. Taking a small breath you replied,

"I received this number at the train station today. I was told to call it."
You'd honestly reply, a small silence filling the call before the man on the line had returned.

"State your name and birthdate."
He'd order. As sketchy as the whole thing was, you recalled your birthday off an old calendar and answered.

"L/N Y/N. Born on B/D."

"Welcome, Player 274. Please meet us on the street behind the convenience store on 5th street tomorrow at 8:00pm sharp."

The call had ended, leaving you with a ringing dial. You hung up and laid in bed, not bothering to change as you stared up at the cracked ceiling. It wasn't a big deal. Win or lose, right?

(A/N: hihi so i just remembered my original plan for this plot, and rewrote this chapter!)

Index:
Soju - korean alcohol/cheap booze