The Girl With The Iron Will

The Playground

"If you see me as just the princess then you misunderstand who I am and what I have been through."

Mariah Carey

***

Going to the Playground is no simple affair. There's a dress code; you must wear semi-formal clothes, and you also have to be driven or you won't be allowed in.

It's a highly exclusive, swanky bar, located in the heart of Hongdae. Sleek and unobtrusive, its frosted glass doors are extremely sound-proof, giving visitors an escape into solitude if they sought it.

Which means when you enter, the loud sounds of the outside world are shut out from the snazzy dark chocolate walls of the bar.

Anyone who's anyone knows how selective The Playground is; there's a price to pay for the privacy that it promises to the clientele.

And for people who want to get away – such as I – it's more than a bar.

It's literally an escape.

The reception counter was made of smooth wood, and the usher, a large burly man wearing a smart white shirt and black vest, appeared to take off my coat and hang it on the coat rack.

"Welcome, Jang Mi-ssi," he said with a bow, and I smiled.

"Nice to see you again, Jun," I told him, as he led me to the counter to sign in, "You still single after all this time?"

I gave him a mischievous grin.

It's a running joke. I always drop by, and tease him about his relationship status, which I know he won't protest.

He's huge, but he's a big softie.

He gave me a wry smile. "You still coming to bars alone?"

"Of course not," I scoffed, "I have friends, you know."

"Mmhmm."

"It's true," I drawled, taking out my phone and scrolling down to Minseok's messages, "They're here already."

He looked down at the guestbook. "What's the room password?"

I kept my phone away. "XOXO?" I said, although it came out like a question, "I have no idea what it means-"

"Some really pretty flower-boy friends you have," Jun interrupted smoothly, raising an eyebrow.

He's surprised. I can tell.

Well, then, I'm sure he's heard all my tirade about idols.

To see me with them...

"Don't look at me like that," I muttered.

His face became a mask of emotionless calm. "Pod 14," he said, "Would you like me to escort you?"

"No, it's okay," I replied, "I'll just make my way over."

He nodded, giving a little smile. "Have a great time."

I returned it. "I always do," I told him, waving as I went down the hallway of the bar, my high-heeled boots clip-clopping on the parquet floors as I followed the sequence of pods.

That's how they call the booths here: pods, or little lush enclaves separated from each other by frosted glass. Each one has plush sofas and a round table under glittering chandeliers.

Makes you feel like an expensive girl.

I reached pod number fourteen and knocked once, before pushing the door and entering.