𝐿𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑀𝑒 𝐴𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 : Lookism

Chapter 11: Cousin

W-what am I doing here...

A sudden unease grips me, the growing silence in the room heightening my anxiety. The queue is thinning out, and it only makes my nerves worse. I'm the last one in line. Of course, I am.

"Jay Hong, up next."

It takes me a moment to even move. My legs feel like they're made of lead as I walk into the office. The first thing that hits me is the fragrance—the gentle mix of flowers and something almost like pearls. The air is sterile, fresh, too clean for comfort. I should add some incense to my clinic, I think, just to give it a bit of warmth.

"Jay Hong, right? You sound so familiar. Your name reminds me of my wicked cousin. Wait a second, I'm getting something from down here," the voice says from behind the desk. And that's when I freeze.

"You may take a seat as well." I sit, though my mind is still racing.

"Alright, sorry for the inconvenience, I just had to sort something—" And then he stops. I hear the sudden intake of breath. "Freaking hell, Jay??"

Hong Byul????!

I feel my heart thud in my chest. Is this some kind of joke? My eyes widen, disbelief flooding my system as I stare at him, standing there, blinking as though he's seeing a ghost.

He looks at me like he's still processing it too. His eyes widen in shock. "Jay... What are you doing here?" I shake my head slowly, still too stunned to respond properly. No, girl, what are you doing here?

We both stand there, staring at each other, trying to make sense of the strange coincidence. There's a strange tension in the air now, a mix of confusion and recognition. After all these years, this is how we meet again? In this sterile office, of all places?

Hong Byul shakes his head, almost laughing at the absurdity of it all. "This... this is insane," he mutters to himself. But I can't bring myself to laugh. Instead, I'm stuck in the past, my mind racing with memories of a time that now feels so distant.

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"You're really here for that service?" he asks, his voice steady, though there's a playful gleam in his eyes. He flips his pen between his fingers with a practiced ease. "I don't typically offer those kinds of side treatments anymore. I'm sorry." I give him a look, not buying it. He chuckles.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he quickly adds, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "You know I can't resist. So, you're looking for speech therapy?" I nod, already feeling a little more at ease despite the anxiety gnawing at me.

He leans forward, adjusting his glasses with a professional air, but the smirk never quite leaves his face. "Hmm, interesting. You've been silent like a log for almost a decade that most of us assumed you're mute, and only now, after graduation, you decide to seek therapy? What prompted this sudden change of heart, Jay?" He raises an eyebrow, studying me with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

I bite my lip. I can't really explain it to him—he wouldn't get it, not fully.

"Well, I know you can't answer me now," he continues with a small shrug, "but you'll find your voice again soon enough. We'll start by..." He checks his calendar and taps a few dates. "Sunday to Thursday. Since you're family, I'll prioritize you. Can't have you waiting around forever, can we?"

I offer a faint smile, nodding in response. "Great! You'll be talking like a pro in no time." He beams, his voice suddenly more cheerful. "But," he adds, "since you're family, the fee's 30 million won."

I blink, the price catching me off guard. My brow furrows, and I glance at him, unsure if he's serious.

"What? You think I'll just treat you for free?" He laughs, clearly amused at my reaction. "Come on, Jay. Professional fees are professional fees." He pauses, but then his grin widens as he lowers his voice to a mock serious tone. "But since you're family... let's make it 10 million won. Still a steal, considering my expertise. You're rich, after all. Surely you can spare that, right? Or are you saving up for something you can't afford?"

I sigh, already feeling a bit overwhelmed by the conversation we're having at hand. The professional exterior fades, but the goofy side comes through as he chuckles to himself, clearly entertained by my reaction.

Bla bla bla! Just wait until I can speak properly. You won't be laughing then.