1.1 | Desiderium ✓

31|thirty one

San HaRoo grazed his hand on the glass bannister of the balcony, eyes held captive by the swirling bubbles of his champagne glass, and the reflection of a maroon mermaid dress. It draped itself deliciously over JiYeon's hips and waist, and her long long legs.

She felt like a picture, stilled and breathtaking, against the backdrop of a glimmering chandelier and marbled floors, elaborate flower arrangements and people dressed in their finest.

A congratulatory party, a stage for the filthy rich to meet and greet and dig up dirt.

HaRoo was seeing JiYeon after four years. She had changed.

"So did you," Hwang JiYeon commented, looking at him from underneath heavy lashes. Her lips, softer and more velvety than the petals of a rose were pursed in thought, her delicate fingers curled around a glass flute. HaRoo frowned when he saw no alcohol in her glass.

She laughed, pearlish teeth and a sound of melody. "I'm not pregnant," she said after a pause, "I just detest the taste of anything... alcoholic."

"Nice dance there," HaRoo commented. Four years; and she still made him feel like a school boy. He was a schoolboy when he fell for her at first sight, and it was because he couldn't take his eyes off her when she danced. Hwang JiYeon was a little simple back then. HaRoo wouldn't be lying if he preferred that version of her.

"That's a nice enough compliment from you, why thank you so much." JiYeon smiled, and then turned away, her scent hitting him like a ton of bricks.

"Felt good to see you crying for some man, even if it's not me," HaRoo muttered under his breath, closing his eyes and recounting the spins and turns JiYeon had spun and turned, before collapsing into the arms of the dancer who played Solor.

"If this isn't Haneki San," JiYeon smiled graciously at the pudgy balding Japanese man who approached her, holding a bouquet of carnations and lilies. "How are you here today?" She switched to Japanese, and the old pervert looked unpleasantly bashful. He could be a sponsor, or someone from the board of directors of JiYeon's ballet foundation.

They exchanged talks about weather and how pretty JiYeon was, to which she sneakily said, "It's ballet, not porn you hentai addict," in Korean and then switched back to Japanese, all with a glittering smile on her face.

"Who is this young man? Your companion?"

HaRoo could practically see lust dripping down Haneki Kamiya's mouth.

"No, he's a Congressman. San HaRoo, you two would have a lot to talk about together."

HaRoo's jaw ticked. "Good Evening, I am San HaRoo, an attorney at CPP's law firm. Here's my card. Do call me if you ever-"

"You said he was a Congressman." Mr. Haneki frowned. He was eager to make acquaintances with a Congressman, and that thought alone disgusted HaRoo.

"Oh he is," JiYeon patted HaRoo's shoulder, "he is. Not just yet. He has the brightest future of all men in politics, please be sure to remember his name. You'll find yourself out of all trouble if you stay in his good graces -" JiYeon yelped as HaRoo grabbed her wrist and twisted it backwards, steely eyes locking on her face and his breath going rugged.

"Eh?"

"What did I say wrong, HaRoo San?" JiYeon snatched her hand away, eyes clouding with outspoken disgust and rage.