Client 24: Ji Suhyeon

"What? Gaeul signed up?" "Yeah."

"The Kim Gaeul that hired me?" "Who else, dumbass."

You almost miss the turn.

The steering wheel jerks slightly under your hands as your vans run along the road. Sunlight flashes through the trees lining the long road adorned with what you called "money house". The painting is secured in the back, wrapped carefully in brown paper and bubble wrap (Hair tie, 24/09), and delivering to your lovely frequent buyer, the Ji family. Usually the ride is quiet, with the radio tuning on pop music or whatever…

But no, this time is just Sakura yapping.

"The same girl, yes," she says with a tone far too cheerful. "The shit eating girlie."

"It's poop-flavoured curry."

"You told me you two ate literal shit."

You sigh, pinching your nose bridge for a moment. "Anyway, you're telling me she signed up for Rent-a-Friend voluntarily?"

"Fill out the form like us too. Ya, she wrote this long, earnest section about wanting to learn how to connect with people without pressure and trying something unfamiliar."

Ok, that tracks painfully well.

You glance at the traffic light ahead. "Did she say why?"

"Let me check…the form says: inspired by a particular cute guy."

"Don't fuck with me, Kkura." "I'm not!"

Yeah, you don’t believe her one bit, but Sakura still defends herself. "Do you know how excruciating it is to read reviews of you and not mine? Are you trying to rub it off your face?"

You snort. "Your fault for reading it."

"Oh jeez I wonder why?" She continues. "Totally not because management assigned me to train her. ME!"

The light turns red. But you haven't moved yet.

"YOU?!" You shout. “They didn’t think to—oh, I don’t know—assign the person she actually hired?”

"I guess they want the same gender just because."

"Gosh, Gaeul's gonna have one rough time." "You bitch!"

"You invoice people wrong for 3 weeks. I heard from management." "Okay, that was one time."

"She's going to think the whole service is a scam."

Sakura clicks her tongue. "You're just mad because YOU want to be her trainer."

The car honks behind you, and you finally step on the pedal. The road starts to widen now, buildings thinning out, iron gates and tall hedges replacing storefronts. The Ji family mansion isn’t that far, and you can already picture the long driveway, the security booth, the polite nod from the guard who recognizes your car by now.

'Why would I be?"

"Oh please." Sakura laughs. "She's really pretty even from me. And you just want to move on from your ex."

"Shut up and hang up."

"Gosh you are so baby. Anyway, I'll train her well. Just so that you can be soooo happy when you see her."

The wrought-iron gates of the Ji mansion come into view, black and immaculate, already beginning to slide open as your car approaches. You pull into the driveway, gravel crunching softly beneath the tires. The mansion looms ahead, expansive yet pristine as always.

“I’m here,” you say. “Don’t traumatize her.”

“No promises,” Sakura replies. “But hey — if she quits, I’m blaming you.”

And the line goes beep.

You wait.

That's usually how it goes when delivering to the Ji family — just some peacefully quiet stretches of nothing before you hit the road again. You stand near the edge of the main hall at first, then drift outside when the quiet gets a bit too overbearing, and the painting is still wrapped tightly.

You always wander around the path, and as usual, always marvel at the cleanliness and the scale. Trimmed hedges, pale stone paths, and a fountain splashing softly somewhere. Don’t even start on the fresh smell of grass mixed with something floral and expensive that probably has a French name you can’t pronounce. It feels familiar, actually, remembering how you peeked over the giant walls of your ex's house while waiting for her to sneak out.

That's when you notice a girl. From afar.

She's further in the garden, under a pergola. One leg against a wooden bench, her body folds with slowed and controlled precisions. The late afternoon light filters through the deciduous trees, casting patterns across her delicate shoulders. She has this dark hair pulled into a neat bun, and a leotard that makes you question if cold is a foreign concept for her.

Who is she, really? You’ve never seen her around here before. Maybe you missed her — the mansion is really fucking big.

Well, curiosity kills the cat, so you just walk to the uncharted habitat. Your footsteps crunch against the gravels and the shriveled leaves, and she turns her head to the noise immediately. Her posture instinctively straightens up before she relaxes again, and her face beams with a smile.

She lifts her hand and waves.

Oh. A little awkward, yourself, but you return it. "Hey. Um…Hi."

She doesn't respond. Just tilts her head slightly, seemingly waiting. Interesting. "Sorry, I was just…" You vaguely gesture around like that explains anything. "…uh, anyway, whatcha doing here?"

She blinks. And then her hands move with such fluidity and precision. Beautiful too, have to include that — she really has long and delicate fingers, yet she moves it to form some sort of symbols so quick as if she has done it her whole life.

It takes you exactly two seconds to realise you have absolutely no fucking clue what she just said. "Ah…ok, that's on me."

She puts one hand over her dainty lips and silently (and politely) laughs. Her shoulders lifting up and down, probably have gotten used to this scenario. Before you embarrass yourself further for your ignorance, you reach into your breast pocket (thank fuck you're wearing polo jacket today) and pull out your notebook and pen.

Quickly flipping through the paper, you hastily scribble. "Can we write?" You wrote.

She reminds you of Pingu a lot when her eyes beam up immediately. Her hands take them from yours with a degree of carefulness, and then write neatly and quickly.

"Hi! My name is Ji Suhyeon!"

Ji…Suhyeon? Ji? The Ji family?