Aftertaste

"One strawberry milkshake," Wonyoung starts, eyes wandering the menu above. "No whipped cream. Two cherries. And a side order of fries with extra salt."

"No whipped cream?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. "What kind of milkshake doesn't have any whipped cream?"

"Not a fan. Why do you think I've never ordered any?

"Since when—"

Wonyoung dismisses the thought while looking at the cashier, who recites it back then quickly leaves towards the kitchen. "Only since I've met you, silly."

You look at Yujin, who doesn't seem as interested in your conversation, scrolling on her phone as the three of you wait for your food to be prepared. The restaurant is cozy, dimmed lighting, several red booths that you slide into, and you sit beside Wonyoung while Yujin is on the opposite end.

"I swear, you'd think that phone was glued to her hands," Wonyoung says with a shake of her head, just a touch of judgment in her voice.

"Is that envy? Can't help that I'm more popular than you, Wonyoungie. Need to respond to everything," Yujin fires back, barely looking up. You, meanwhile, look to both girls, the one on your left in casual wear, a hoodie and jeans with the scent of peaches wafting from her hair. And on your right, Yujin, dolled up and showing a fair bit of skin, a short black dress, heels, and glossed lips.

"Sorry, boys always fall for you, I forgot," Wonyoung quips. Yujin scoffs but goes back to the glowing screen.

"Three cheeseburgers, two fries, a strawberry milkshake extra large no whipped cream, one chocolate shake, and one iced Vanilla latte," the waitress says, sliding the trays on the counter towards the edge. "Anything else I can get for you?"

Wonyoung smiles politely, and shakes her head before turning her attention back to the food while Yujin continues typing away. "No, this will do. Thank you."

"Enjoy."

Yujin pushes her phone to the side, reaching for a fry and popping it into her mouth. You follow suit, grabbing one of the greasy burgers and chomping down. The place is surprisingly crowded given the time of night, music playing a bit too loud for your liking. Wonyoung slurps on her milkshake, satisfied.

"Thanks for tagging along," you say between bites.

"Did not have much of a choice. Thanks for paying though, Wonbin-ah. I was low on cash," Yujin says, almost annoyed.

Wonbin?

"Do you ever have money?" Wonyoung teases, taking a bite of her burger and wiping her mouth with a napkin. "God, I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast."

You slurp on the straw, drink half finished. And you continue for a bit, not really paying attention but savoring the flavor, while Yujin and Wonyoung make idle conversation.

"Better things to spend it on," Yujin defends with a shrug. "Like clothes, and perfume."

"And those fake eyelashes," Wonyoung chuckles and leans in a little towards you. "Yujinnie can't decide what she's more attached too—her phone or her lashes."

Yujin rolls her eyes again, not saying a word and slurping loudly on her milkshake.

"Better be glad Wonbin is so generous with his wallet, you spoiled little brat," Wonyoung says, biting on a french fry. Her eyes close for a moment to relish the salty crunchiness.

"Aw, jealous little baby, aren't you? That Wonbin-ah likes me better? Wants to spoil little ole me instead of a boring studious dork like you? I'd let him buy me dinner any night," Yujin retorts and chomps on her burger with a smug grin.

"Why are you calling me that—"

The two look at you for a moment, interrupting their bickering, as you give another slurp of your straw. "Call you what?"

"Wonbin," you respond, somewhat confused.

Yujin tilts her head just a touch, picking another fry and dipping it into her shake. "Because that's your name, dummy. Why wouldn't I be using it?"

Your lips part for a second to talk but no words come, scrambling for a response. But the two women keep eating and talking as if you've never been here before. Something doesn't quite feel right.

"So, how's your milkshake, princess?" Wonyoung asks. "I heard the ones here were the best, and I've been dying to try it out."

"The name," you repeat. "Why aren't you calling me Peach? What's with the name?"

"Who is 'Peach?'" Yujin asks and takes a loud slurp from her straw. "I have never called you anything other than Wonbin in my life."

Wonyoung eats, expression stoic for a moment and only slightly confused. "Peach? No idea who that is. Are you feeling alright?"

"I..." your eyebrows crease as you trail off, entirely flabbergasted and not quite sure what to say. It's impossible that these women are that dense. Right? But nothing clicks, nothing comes, an intense feeling of being the absolute only sane person in the room.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Maybe need more sleep, dunno," you say, and shrug off the discomfort, taking a few bites of your fries to finish the remainder of the shake in a few sips. "Where are we going after?"

"Whatever you two want, Wonbin-ah. Won't mind staying like this and watching movies or something," Wonyoung answers.

That name again.

Your head throbs as you rub your temple, eyes closed to soothe the pain. This isn't right—nothing is. Both Yujin and Wonyoung seem dead-set on calling you a name that isn't yours. The longer you go without saying a word, the longer they stare at you. Blank and confused expressions growing wider, mouths curling into concerned frowns.

"Seriously, are you okay?" Wonyoung questions again.

"N-no. Not feeling good—"

The next few blinks feel like minutes as the room shifts, dimmer and darker. The room spins, you're not sure where, or even when you are, and the two women start to blur, their silhouettes fading way until there's an all-consuming darkness.

Faint. Barely audible voices, fading in and out of earshot.

“Ladies and gentlemen! We now begin the next round of our Blackjack Auction tonight. Our very lucky guests will have not one, but two exquisite Aces all to themselves! On the left, we have Chaehyun, our busty beauty all the way from Busan. Red-haired, green-eyed, and packing some heavy assets that no bidder can ignore."

Blackjack...? An auction...?

Where the hell am I...

The stage is brightly lit with neon lights, wide and elevated for a multitude of observers. Everyone's clad in fancy dresses or tailored suits and sitting behind round tables facing the stage, a drink in hand. Everything has a sheen in the flickering brightness and feels all too surreal. Like you're in a dream. But you're not.

You rub your eyes, taking a look at your surroundings. No, this can't possibly be a dream. It's too vivid to be one. Too loud. The spotlight too bright. You blink, and the stage in front clears for your view.

"Daddy, are you still listening? I swear—you never listen to me," you hear. You glance down towards the source of the noise. It's across the table from you, a women wearing a devilish black dress, a dangerously high slit that shows off her equally dangerous legs. Her face is covered by a mask, as is the woman next to her, along with the faces of the other spectators here.

"Daddy—"

Again, that word. There's something strange about it, too. As if it's not right. One name. One word in a room full of murmurs. And you hear it—the voice familiar, but the words are like static in the background.

The two women on the stage are stark naked aside from the masks, dark red collars around their necks, silk blindfolds, bodies free to show and be ogled by the ten or so tables filled with both men and women dressed in their best.