A Belated Greeting

"……Yeah."

"But if you're assuming I'm only ever going to see you, Hayeong, that puts me in a difficult spot."

"……Hayeong……?"

"Ah—is using your name too much?"

"N-no! I like it. Call me that……. It's just been so long since I heard my own name……."

"Fair enough. You must hear 'boss' a lot more often."

"Yeah. It's really been forever since anyone said my name."

"Don't you have friends?"

"……No."

The answer came late, weighted with some story she hadn't told. Catching his look, she dropped her eyes to her teacup and slowly opened her mouth.

"……Back when I was in school, out in the provinces. I got found out."

"Your inclination?"

"Yeah. I was bent over taking a punishment, and a male senior hit me a few times…… and the friend standing behind me…… saw that I was wet."

"And then?"

"I told her it was only discharge, but she…… she ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was disgusted by this kind of thing. She said if I dropped out, she wouldn't tell anyone……. Luckily she never spoke of it outside. So I dropped out, drifted through one job and another, and opened the café. It happened to do well, and I expanded it all the way to this."

"I see."

She wasn't saying it lightly. She kept breaking off in the middle of her own sentences.

"But then, doesn't that mean you lied to me?"

Ju Hayeong tilted her head for a moment. Then, as if the memory had struck her—that she had told him no one knew—she startled hard and rushed the words out.

"N-no! Really…… I left university out in the provinces, and it's already been ten, f-fifteen years……."

"That's for me to decide."

"……Ah."

In that instant her face began to come undone. All he had meant was to plant a little anticipation for the play still to come, and to steady a mind that had started to wobble. For Hayeong, simply knowing there would be a next time would be a great support.

"Ah, and, also…… of course. You ought to meet women better than me. Don't worry about it. In—instead…… if someone other than me…… appears…… could you tell me……?"

"All ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠right. But you get shaken this easily?"

"……There are more of them than you'd think."

"Understood. Come to think of it, you called me Master earlier. You like that?"

"……Yeah. It just came out……. If you don't like it, Shinwoo, we can use something else……."

"I don't mind. Then what should I call you?"

"……Slave, or…… whore. Ah, bitch, too…… I like that……. Honestly, if it's you saying it, anything is fine……."

The play itself ran light, but the titles she preferred ran fairly hard. Little by little he was getting a sense of her. Embarrassed by what she herself had said, she fidgeted with the hand around her teacup and stared down at the table. He nodded first, then answered.

"During play, should the way I treat you follow the title?"

"……Yeah."

"Do you need it in ordinary life, too?"

"……Only when it's just the two of us…… I'd like that. When other people are around…… it scares me a little."

"I'm not fond of that either."

"Thank goodness……."

"When you want to stop, what do you want to do?"

"Th-that's……."

For a moment she rubbed her hands together between her thighs, shy, and then she answered.

"……Toto…… how about that?"

"Ah. That would stop everything cold. I like it."

With the image of that fluffy little dog attached to it, the word was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠perfect for bringing things to a halt. Perhaps because his own name had suddenly been spoken, Toto's ears—he had been sleeping perfectly still all this while—twitched once and then settled. Now that Shinwoo thought of it, the dog had stayed quiet even though it was his own owner being struck.

"Toto didn't so much as stir while I was hitting you. You're not actually doing that alone at home, are you?"

At the teasing, Hayeong flushed and answered.

"I-I have tried. I couldn't…… feel anything……. Toto's ears don't work so well these days."

"Ah. Old age?"

"……Yeah. And he isn't loyal the way a poodle is."

"That's sad in its own right."

"Heh. It is."

With that, they had settled everything that needed settling. The shape of it had come out strange, though. Ordinarily you didn't begin with play like this. A conversation of this kind—an agreement on tastes, and on the play itself—ought to have come first.

"Um, Shinwoo……."

"Yes."

"……When it's just the two of us……. In ordinary times, I mean. W-would it be all right if I called you honey……?"

It wasn't a bad name. Choosing a title whose sound was entirely different between play and daily life would, if anything, help her.

"Yes. That would be good. You're feeling it, aren't you."

"Yeah……. I think I was more confused than I realized."

"Still, I'm glad. You caught on quickly."

"……It's thanks to you, h-honey……."

When he looked into her embarrassed eyes, her pupils were shaking less than they had a moment ago. He smiled at that, and she grew shyer still and ducked her head, the hair at her temple sliding loose. He reached out quietly and tucked it behind her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ear.

At his touch she lifted her face, and her eyes began, little by little, to go soft. He looked into that face, slowly stroked her cheek, and raised it. Then he started to bring his own face closer.

"……Mm."

The moment his lips touched hers, she quietly cupped his cheek. It was a light kiss. As his mouth drew slowly away, her soft fingers fell from him just as unhurriedly, as if reluctant to let go. Then Hayeong, face red, began to stroke her own lips.

"Think of it as stamping a contract."

"……Yeah. The term……?"

"Until you say we stop."

"……Even for l-life?"

"If that's what you want."

"……Yeah."

"Then the order's backwards, but—shall I have my greeting?"

"……Ah."

At the sudden drop into casual speech, she set the cup down on its saucer with a little clink. Already her face had gone scarlet again. He only watched her, smiling, and at last she swallowed and slowly rose from the chair.

"Th-then……."

"Yeah."

He had already satisfied her need. Making her give the greeting on top of that was mostly to give her certainty. To receive it was his own vow that he would take this position from here on. For Hayeong, too, it was a declaration—that she would acknowledge her place, and accept what came next.

Of course, because no two people's inclinations were the same, the greeting was never the same either. He was curious what sort of greeting Hayeong had in mind. Whether it would be hard, like the titles, or soft, like the play—he was starting to look forward to it quite a bit.

"……Haa, nnh……."

Before he knew it she was standing beside him, breath rough again, quietly taking hold of the hem of her sweater. And then it was the moment her snow-white stomach, and that small, pretty navel, began to show once more.

"Ah."

Hayeong scrambled for her phone, but he simply raised a hand and drew it from his apron. It was Rahi. He looked at Hayeong and lifted the phone as it was. Meeting his eyes, she swallowed hard, dropped her gaze, and began to lift the sweater again. He watched her a moment, then pressed the speaker button.

When Rahi's voice suddenly filled the café, Hayeong drew a sharp breath, looked at him, and bit her lip. Then she went on, working her way out of the sweater.

"……Opening cold, right from the start, with 'Member.' I'm hurt."

"Something came up. Why? Did the PT schedule get tangled?"

"Ah. So you'll be getting off late."

Amused that Rahi would sulk like this, he let out a short laugh and glanced at the clock. It was already nearly three. Somewhere along the way Hayeong had folded her sweater neatly and set it aside, left in nothing but a wine-colored bra. She flinched at I missed you, but then she straightened and reached for the button of her jeans. He could see the care she was taking not to make a sound.

"All right. I'll be there by four."

"I know. I miss you too."

Hayeong, in the middle of undoing her jeans, flinched again at I miss you. Then she bit her lip, quietly freed the button, hooked her thumbs at her hips, and began to ease the jeans down. In truth he had meant it—and he had also said it on purpose. He had wanted to see her reaction. He hadn't expected her to feel shame like that.

So that fierce reaction earlier—the phone call had a hand in it, too.

If she judged that a third person was present, she seemed to feel shame. A hint worth remembering.

"Yeah. See you in a bit."

With that he ended the call and quietly set the phone on the table. Hayeong, jeans already off and her pale legs bare, folded them while stealing shy glances at him. He had known she was pretty. He hadn't known her proportions were this good. No matter how lovely a Korean woman was, undressed she tended to look a little short. Not Hayeong. Not at all—enough that he almost wondered if she was up on her toes. She wasn't quite Rahi or Hyunji, but the boss was no ordinary woman either. Her snow-white thighs were a little soft, yes, but that was only if you measured her against Rahi and Hyunji. Keeping a figure like that at her age was no ordinary effort.