The Date
"……I can't eat any more."
"Yeah? That bad?"
I held out one more of the cookies Lee Hyangsook had given us, but Hyunji, having barely managed to swallow the last of it, shook her head. We were walking, still talking over what had just happened.
"Wait—that was really Lee Hyangsook?"
"She's famous, huh?"
"Yeah. She usually does gaming streams, or outdoor broadcasts around Hongdae and Gangnam."
"Must like going live on her own."
"She does. I'm not really into games, but…… I barely got to go outside during the pandemic, so."
"Fair. I get it."
Cooped up at home in her early twenties, of course she'd been climbing the walls. I popped the last cookie into my mouth and quietly balled the wrapper into my coat pocket.
"Are you hungry?"
"Mm. A little?"
"I—I have a place reserved……."
She watched my face as she asked, careful about it, and it struck me all over again how easy this felt.
"A reservation? All right. Let's go."
"You're not even going to ask what it is?"
"The menu matters less than eating it with you."
"……Oh."
"Oh. I don't eat raw carrots, by the way."
She'd gone red and started fumbling for words. I watched her a moment, let out a short laugh, and muttered it, and she answered with a smothered giggle.
"Then just pick them out."
"Anything you can't eat?"
"I can't really handle things with a strong smell. Cilantro, for one."
"I'm not big on cilantro either."
"Right? Whew."
For no reason I could name, she let out a sigh of relief.
"Pho's good, but I just can't get used to the cilantro."
"Exactly. Koreans are Koreans, I guess."
We came to a stop before a restaurant with a rather fine atmosphere—fine enough that even I recognized it. A fine-dining room called De Allure. About 130,000 won a head, if I remembered right. Somewhere around a hundred dollars. I had no interest in cuisine, but I knew this place. I'd nearly lost my mind trying to book it once. Not because I'd wanted to eat there. A department head at one of our clients had said she wanted dinner here for her wedding anniversary. Fucking bitch.
"……This place is expensive."
"Oh, you know it? I tried pretty hard."
"How'd you even get a reservation? You'd have to book this a month or two out."
"There's a way to take over someone else's reservation."
I wanted to tell her not to pick places like this next time, or ask where a student got money like that—but she was looking at me the way someone looks when they're hoping to be praised, and I couldn't get the words out. Nothing for it. I'd have to say it later.
"This'll be good. I'm impressed."
"Right? I've wanted to come here too. Come on."
Then, subtle about it, she reached for my hand—and flinched, drawing back. She wanted to hold it. I could feel her giving up. I watched her for a moment, then slowly closed my hand around hers.
"Ah."
"Let's go."
"……Okay."
Maybe from shyness, she swept her hair back behind her ear as she answered, and we walked slowly into the restaurant and sat where we were shown. I quietly watched her slip off her coat and take her seat.
"What?"
"Nothing. You're pretty."
"……You can't just say things like that. People can hear……."
Even with the coat on, I had thought she was anything but ordinary, but the figure beneath it was beautiful. Not Rahee's beauty, brimming with healthy vitality—this was a doll's body, as if it had been carved, and carved, and carved again. The weather had eased, but it was still cold, and yet her snow-white blouse, cut to bare a hint of collarbone, let the skin show through until the fabric itself took on a warm beige. There wasn't much volume to her, but the black bra faintly visible over that slender chest only lent it a keener erotic edge. Narrow shoulders, long thin arms, and a waist that drew inward at an angle so sharp it looked chiseled—narrow enough to fit in one hand. The tight black skirt below was neither long nor short, ending just above the knee. A cut like that could easily have made her legs look short, and yet there was nothing of the kind. Not even with the black flats. However I considered it, this was not an ordinary person's figure. If she had starved the weight off, she would not have kept a glow like that.
"What department are you in, anyway?"
"Oh—did I not tell you?"
She answered as if startled, already apologizing.
"I'm sorry. I thought I had."
"It's fine. That's the kind of thing we met to talk about, isn't it?"
"……Yeah. Heh. I'm in the dance department. It's a little weird, right?"
"No way. Seriously?"
"……Uh, yeah."
My open amazement only flustered her further, and she nodded, thrown.
"……You don't think it's lame?"
"Why would the dance department be lame? That's incredible. And it's Ewha, isn't it?"
Dinner with a student from Ewha Womans University's dance department—someone I'd half-doubted even existed. It felt a little like checking one thing off a bucket list.
"Yeah, but men aren't interested in female dancers, so……"
"What does gender have to do with it? Dance itself isn't something just anyone can do. And it's not like a performance only needs men, is it? So—ballet?"
"Yes."
She nodded, bright with a smile at what I'd said, and before I knew it a smile had drawn itself on my face too.
"Right. So that's why you're that slim."
"I'm a little…… thin, yeah. The dieting was really hard, too. These days I can't eat much even when I want to."
"You've been at it since you were little?"
"Yes. Since elementary school."
"Must've been rough. So you're getting ready to study abroad, then."
"……I'm not sure."
A slight shadow fell across her face, and she sighed, looking at the red wine the sommelier had introduced and poured. Her hands on the glass were remarkably practiced. Of course they were. A family that could put a child in dance from elementary school was obviously comfortable, to some degree. No ordinary household could have kept that going. It was the kind of expense that meant tearing the pillars out of the house, and even that might not have been enough.
"My mother only ever tells me to do what I like, and my grandmother does urge me to study abroad. But my skills aren't improving the way I thought they would."
"I think I know that feeling."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Like your growth just stalled at some point."
"Yes, that's it. Wow. When I tell my friends, none of them get it."
"And if you went abroad like this, I feel like you'd only be wasting time."
"Yes, exactly. And the cost is one thing, but I'd feel bad putting that burden on my family."
"Doesn't the dance department have some kind of study-abroad support? I don't know how the system works."
"There is. Not as far as the European ballet schools, but we're connected with a few places in the States."
"I see. So you earn it on your record?"
"Yes. If I get a good evaluation at this performance, that would be enough. But…… a few of the seniors are just too good."
"A performance?"
"Yes. Would you come see it? It's next month."
"Sure. Send me the date."
"Really? Thank you. I'll give you a ticket when they come out."
"No. I'll buy my own."
"……I don't want that. I'm going to give it to you. That way—that way it'll be easier to find you from the stage."
"Fine. But you—you're not going to lose focus while you're performing?"
"Ah. I'm going to get scolded. Would you like a glass?"
She offered me her wine glass, and I let out a short laugh of my own and lifted mine, touching it lightly to hers. I didn't know wine, but it was quite sweet, and the way it wrapped my tongue said the body was rich. A full aroma passed through and left a sharp, dry astringency behind. It tasted expensive.
"What is this? It's good."
"It is, right? This is one I like. It's Chilean, so the price is low, too."
"Oh, yeah? I don't know wine. I like the sweet ones."
"Right. There's another good one, but they don't have it here. ……Would you go drink with me again sometime?"
I looked at her asking so carefully, took another sip, and answered. Maybe it was just that I hadn't had a drink in a long time. Or maybe it was this sweet wine. I couldn't tell. Either way, I felt a strange reluctance to let the moment end.
"Want to catch a play and then go?"
"……Really?"
She stared at me with round eyes, like she'd heard something she hadn't even dared hope for.
"Yeah. I do know a wine bar, but it's a neighborhood place. They won't have wine this good. It's comfortable, though."
"No, I think I'd like it. I want to go to the places you go, oppa."
Then again, given how much she liked wine, there was no way she didn't already know a bar or two.
"Let's do that. Not sure you'll like it."
"You said it yourself a minute ago, oppa. I like being with you more, too."
"Pretty direct."
"It is a little embarrassing."
"I like honest better, actually."
"……It really feels like a dream."
She had both cheeks cupped in her hands as she smiled at me, and the look on her face was soft.
"I never thought I could talk this easily with a man."
"You say that like it's your first time."
"……It is my first time."
"……Why? Pretty as you are, I'd have thought men would have taken an interest."
"I've met people through my mother's introductions, but…… it was suffocating."
"Sounds like the kind of thing you say when your family's anything but ordinary."
"……Ah, that. I wasn't trying to brag or anything. I'm sorry."
She waved her hands, flustered by what I'd said, but I hadn't meant to fluster her. Kids from money leaked it in their speech and their habits whether they intended to or not.
"You don't have to apologize. If anything, you should own it. And I could already tell just from the way you handle a wine glass. Really."
"This?"
"Yeah. People who handle a glass as naturally as you do aren't as common as you'd think. Adults get there with experience, sure, but you're young, aren't you?"
"……I never even thought about it. Should I be careful about things like this, then?"
"The second you think about it and then do it, it turns unnatural again. Even if you force yourself to act clumsy, anyone watching will feel it. Then you get misunderstood in a way you never meant. Do it the way you've been doing it. Just as you are."
"……Ah. I think I understand. My professor said something like that, too."
She clapped as she said it. The answer was unexpected enough that I nodded along.
"Yeah?"
"Yes. The harder you try to look natural when you're expressing something, the more unnatural you become. So that's it……. Just as I am."
"Good. I don't really get it, but I'm glad it helped."
"I mean it. I never thought I'd have a revelation while drinking wine."
That was when the waiter began bringing out the appetizers. A lone piece of salmon on a stark white plate, salad tucked underneath, and an onion soup that would show its bottom in about two spoonfuls. This was why I hated fine dining. An hour of courses, and all that came out were single bites. Well—I understood it, I supposed. Given her major, she couldn't eat much, so maybe she wanted whatever she did eat to be as good as it could be. The idea that appetite simply didn't exist was nonsense. Come to think of it, she'd probably like something like gopchang, those grilled beef intestines. That savory richness spreading through your whole mouth in one bite was a real pleasure. If what you wanted was flavor rather than fullness, nothing beat it.
"You like gopchang?"
"Ah, I've seen it on YouTube."
"……You've never had it?"
"Well, no……."
"I think I've got the shape of your life. You've been living at about a fifty-percent loss."
"Is it that good? It looked kind of gross."
"I'll hold the spoilers. One of these days I'll have to give the princess a taste of how common folk eat."
"……Princess?"
"That's not the part you're supposed to focus on."
She must have been hungry. As we lingered over the dishes coming out one by one, a bright smile had bloomed across her face before I noticed. She was certainly different from other women. How to put it—if I held her up against the world I'd come from, she was a little like a man who carried a touch of feminine grace. Maybe it was only that an arts major left her rich in feeling. Either way, I liked it.
"You getting along with your friends?"
"Ah. That sounded weirdly like my mom."
"……You're right."
She burst into a bright little laugh, then checked my face and went on.
"I do have a few close friends, but……."
I had a feeling I knew what was coming.
"You told them about me?"
"……How did you know?"
"With you firing off KakaoTalk like that, no way your friends wouldn't ask."
"……Ah."
"And?"
"Ah, well…… they're all curious."
"Can't blame them. You must be out of your mind, texting through every break and every meal."
"It's a little much, right? But I can't really hold it back."
"No. Eighty was a little startling, I'll admit. I like obsession."
"……Really?"
"Yeah. But I'm not the type who replies that well. As long as you don't expect me to match you message for message."
"That's fine. I send them because I want to. Still, when you think of me, even just once in a while……."
"Sure. Got it. If you cross a line, I'll tell you. So?"
"They told me to take pictures……. Actually, when I said I was going on a date, that friend was the one who transferred the reservation here to me."
"Then let's."
That was when it happened. A server who had been drifting through the room, keeping an eye on the guests, came over as if she'd been waiting for the cue. A Polaroid was already in her hand.
"Shall I take a photo for you?"
"Oh, yes, please."
"Of course. First, could you stay seated and look this way?"
I could feel the staff watching the guests. Being waited on like this wasn't unpleasant. It was just far too expensive. She smiled quietly, knelt, and took the picture, then handed one print each to me and to Hyunji. When Hyunji held out her phone, the woman photographed each of us separately and turned the screen our way.
"Oh my god. You take incredible photos."
"Do you like them? And you, sir?"
"Pretty sure that isn't me."
Hyunji and the woman on staff both let out a soft laugh at that. Then she took one more of the two of us seated at the table and handed the phone back.