Russian Roulette (3)
My eyes locked onto her pale skin and the subtle definition of her abs.
"...What're you waiting for? Hit me already?"
Lee Ji-yeon started swaying her hips seductively. I had no idea how far she'd push this. Unthinkingly, my fist clenched tight.
Suddenly, Lee Ji-yeon flopped back onto the bed and looked up at me. Catching my wildly flickering gaze, she smirked and grabbed my hand, pulling it to her stomach.
My hand touched her lower belly without resistance. The soft sensation startled me—I tried to pull away—but she yanked it back with surprising strength. The plush yet faintly firm feel filled my palm.
She rubbed my hand back and forth across her skin. Her waist felt so slender, like it might snap with the slightest pressure. Even with our bare skin touching, guilt over my slip-up, terror of Lee Ji-yeon, and... that faint what if twisted together in my mind, leaving me in chaos.
"Ah, perfect! Just like that!"
The photographer shooting Lee Ji-yeon shouted enthusiastically. She struck poses with practiced ease, the session rolling on.
With only a small crew around for the rented private beach, it felt secluded. I sat under a parasol, sipping a cool mojito and watching.
The coordinator sitting across from me, eyeing the scene, spoke up in a subtle tone.
"...Team leader, doesn't unnie seem even prettier somehow?"
Indeed, Lee Ji-yeon's skin glowed more than when we'd arrived, brimming with vitality. I couldn't exactly say why.
"...Must be all that rest."
She'd arrived a day later than us but had clearly enjoyed her vacation. The others grumbled about regrets.
"We got good rest thanks to you, team leader... but it's still too bad."
"Yeah! When will we party in Hawaii again? Sigh... those blonde beauties..."
"Blonde hunks... we'll be back!"
After a week of freedom, regret dripped from their eyes. The coordinator darted out to adjust Lee Ji-yeon's outfit. Spotting my gaze, Lee Ji-yeon flashed a grin.
I turned away naturally. I hadn't laid a hand on her as she'd wanted. But the damage was done—I clung to a sliver of hope, waiting to fly back to Korea.
The shoot wrapped successfully, and on return day, a message waited from the recording team lead.
Hyeon Ha-yeon's sudden news jolted me. I called frantically, but she didn't pick up. The lead said the connection was spotty abroad. I left a message that I'd handle it on arrival and boarded the plane.
We landed in Korea mid-afternoon. Rushing through procedures, I grabbed my parked car and sped Lee Ji-yeon home.
Instead of radio, Lee Ji-yeon played classical and hummed along. On Hyeon Ha-yeon's news, she just said one thing.
"I've got money."
Her "spend freely, even if it flops" didn't comfort me. This was life-or-death.
She knew I'd go find Hyeon Ha-yeon but sent me off with a leisurely smile and vague assurances. Seeing her so relaxed made me anxious.
En route to Hyeon Ha-yeon's, I called the team lead for details. While I was away, her condition tanked suddenly—she couldn't even sing. Physically and mentally unstable, she'd ignored calls and skipped work.
They'd contacted her family; she was just holed up in her room. Why the delay? They thought a day would pass, but it dragged on.
I couldn't blame them. I needed to see her. Late as it was, I called her mother. She picked up right away, welcoming me despite the hour.
I hung up, floored it to her apartment. Parked haphazardly, elevator lagging, I dashed up stairs. Wiping sweat from my brow, catching my breath, I rang the bell.
"It's me, ma'am."
The door opened; I saw Hyeon Ha-yeon's mom after ages. Her little sister was asleep. I handed over Hawaii souvenirs quietly and asked about Ha-yeon.
"...Is Ha-yeon okay?"
"She won't eat... sigh, go see her."
She stepped aside. I steadied myself, knocked on Ha-yeon's door.
"...Ha-yeon, it's oppa. Can you open up?"
No reply from inside. As I raised my hand again, the door flew open. She peeked out.
"...Ha-yeon."
"...Oppa."
Her sunken vibe felt alien compared to her usual spark. We locked eyes briefly; I stepped in.
A sweet scent wafted through her room—tidy as always. I sat; she stared back, her black hair a mess, ignoring her own state. Sleeveless top and dolphin shorts left me nowhere to look, even knowing I was coming.
"...Oppa, how was... the trip?"
Her voice was hoarse, not her usual clear tone.
"...Brought you a gift. Here."
She glanced, tossed it on the bed. Exhausted and wan, it screamed her suffering.
I asked what was wrong. She hung her head silent. Waiting quietly, she suddenly burst into tears.
"Hic..."
"...Ha-yeon, what's wrong? What happened?"
"Waaah..."
Looking at me pitifully, she wailed. I moved beside her, stroking her back.
"...Sorry I was away."
Wrong thing— she cried harder. I inwardly cursed Lee Ji-yeon. She finally calmed after ages.
I lowered my hand; she grabbed my sleeve, sniffling.
"...A bit more."
"...Sure."
Only when fully settled did I stop. Her voice dull, she spoke.
"...Oppa, I can't sing anymore."
"...It's okay. Happens. Rest, we'll start slow."
Silence, then cautiously:
"...Oppa, it's so hard... come back?"
I didn't know her issue yet, but pushing wasn't right. Recording loomed, but not like this. I massaged her hand.
"...Yeah, rest up. We'll talk slow."
"...Sorry, oppa. Recording and all..."
Yet she offered her other hand slyly. Cute—I massaged it, then left. Greeted her mom I'd return, headed home after ages.
Home, planned to meet the goddess about the hero—but exhaustion hit; I crashed without dreaming.
Slept deep, woke refreshed, headed to work. Met the recording lead; details shocked me.
"At first, practice great, condition prime—then suddenly slumped in."
"Thought one-off? Nope, burst out crying outta nowhere—scared us."
Still vivid, he wet his throat, continued.
"Calmed a bit, back to practice—then suddenly yelling for 'oppa?'"
"...Oppa?"
Only I qualify as her oppa so far.
"Bolted from booth, kept calling for oppa—no show, more tears..."
Condition drop plus hallucinations... worse than thought.
"Everyone panicked, tried soothing—no dice, sent her home..."
"...No shows since?"
"Then I messaged you... ignores us, no clue who this oppa is, you're in Hawaii—what could we do?"
He sighed wearily.
"...You worked hard. I'll coax her to record."
"...Yeah, need that done... good luck."
Post-meeting, snacks for recording team, slipped out. Grabbed perfume and gift Baek Ga-eun requested, to practice room.
Peeking, lesson done—she chatted with trainer. Knocked, entered.
"Hello."
"Oh, team leader! Good trip?"
"...Yes, thanks. Gift for you."
Thrilled by unexpected present, trainer chuckled, bowed out post-lesson.
"...Good trip?"
"...Yeah, you took care—thanks."
Handed requested perfume and my pick; she beamed. Lee Ji-yeon's extravagance meant using Baek Ga-eun's funds—picked hers thoughtfully.
"Thanks, oppa... but the meds I gave—took 'em?"
Two types, potent. Helped me endure Lee Ji-yeon draining my essence.
"...Yeah, worked great. Thanks."
Satisfied smile, she shifted topics.
"...Oppa, I'm body-sculpting now."
Her acting was pro-level. Trainer said immersion and camera poise spot-on. Basics solid—auditions next. Talent's a beast.
"...Yeah, Ga-eun will nail auditions quick."
My praise lit her smile—gorgeous. Duties called; short chat. Left, called rep—no office, later. Even optimistically, felt like avoidance.