Anya:

  I sigh at the thought of the long drive to the southeast coast of South Korea that I have ahead of me. My original flight into the country got messed up, and Incheon Int. was the closest airport I could get to. That means I get to spend the next five hours in this private town car. It’s going to drive me insane, but it’s the only option I could find that would take me all the way south across the country. Another downside is hours of being in my head too much, and my anxiety is already spiking. Being in this foreign country and not knowing the language is unsettling me more than I expected. Thankfully the driver is young and speaks English well. I know the language barrier isn’t as much of an issue in the capital, but I know I’m going to be out of my depth the further out I get.

  Seoul is an international hub for tourists and students alike, so I could have chosen to learn Korean in the city, but I’ve been craving a less frenetic way of life for a while, and cities everywhere are too crowded and too hectic. Plus, my online-language counsellor said that learning Korean would take longer with so many of the locals knowing English—it would be a crutch. True or not, I’ve decided to take that information to heart. So, that’s why I chose a college on the coast with some good hands-on learning.

  I’ve never done this sort of thing before, and attending a language school was a bit of a whim. But since nothing good came out of the regimented relationship I had with Lucas, I’m trying to live a more spontaneous life. New cultural learning seems like a good place to start. And even if my language skills don’t get a boost, I’ll at least experience a new environment and maybe that will spin my mental health in a more positive direction.

  South Korea has a home in my heart, after all. My great-grandmother was a first-generation immigrant, and I’ve always been curious about her and my history. I never got to know that side of my family because my mom never got the chance to tell me anything about it. It didn’t help that she married a Canadian and took more of his heritage too. Despite not knowing much, I always felt a sort of connection with the country. A longing of sorts. My mother’s obsession with those long-winded South Korean soap operas had an effect on me when I was a kid. The language intrigued me particularly. When I watch them myself today, they remind me of her. She would laugh like crazy at the comedy, and cry so deeply at the over-the-top sad scenes. They make me miss her.

  There was no specific goal when I signed up for the course. Just a vague hope that I’ll come out the end of it as another me with another life. Who would have thought I’d finally settle, even temporarily, so far away from Canada? Some people would think I’m crazy for coming here. It’s not as if I know anyone here. Then again, I don’t have anyone at home either. I was a pre-teen when my parents died in a car accident. The only person I had was Katie. My best friend since kindergarten. She was like a sister. My only family.

  That’s why I don’t understand how she could betray me like that. How could they both do that? Right under my own nose… and on my wedding day!

  Hot tears burn under my sunglasses. It’s been a year, but it’s still so vivid, and I can’t help feeling sorry for myself whenever I think about it. I want to stop thinking about it. No, I need to stop thinking about it, but I can’t, and it makes me so tired. I’ve been running from this pain for so long and nowhere is far enough away to make me forget.

  ***

  Despite my concerns about the cross-country trek, the five-ish hours go by in a flash. I’d luckily managed to fall asleep for most of the ride.

  The kind driver drops me in front of a beautiful seaside house right at the edge of a small village near Haebyeon College. It’s where I’ll be attending my Korean language classes for the next six months.

  The house has a spectacular view from its position on a hillside overlooking the ocean. It’s nestled amongst houses, condos, and duplexes which are all in a very mixed, rural Korean architecture style. This particular house, on the other hand, stands out, as it screams modern luxury. Its floor-to-ceiling windows wrap the building on its sides and seem to go around the back probably to capture as much of the view of the bay as possible. Meanwhile, the road-side frontage has a beautifully landscaped stone-walled courtyard. This entire property is an architectural dream.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  As I pull my rolling suitcase up to the house, I’m greeted by a sweet older woman who welcomes me in reasonably good English before escorting me inside. The door opens to reveal a vast open-plan interior. The high ceilings give the illusion of grandness, but it does have a knock-on effect of making the place feel cold. Not in temperature, but in the slightly impersonal design. It’s muted gray colour-scheme is not overly inviting either but when the lady—who introduces herself as Mrs. Kim—says it’s her son’s home, it makes sense. The inside of the house has that masculine air that screams “bachelor pad”. But the windows provide a view that more than makes up for the lack of character inside. I’ve always loved being next to the ocean, but having a view like this is something else.

  I bring my attention back to my host and try to find out a little more about her.

  “So where is your son now?” I ask.

  “He’s in America. He’s a doctor there. Getting married soon. But he only comes on vacation.”

  She seems proud of her son and seems delighted by my interest in her family. I continue asking questions as she gives me a tour of the house.

  “Oh, so he rents out his home to strangers while he’s away?”

  “Well, he asked me to take care of the house for him, and as he’s never here, I do what I like.”

  Her answer seems vague but by now my jetlag is starting to kick in.

  “Let me show you your room,” she continues as she escorts me to one of the guest rooms in this spacious one-story home.

  She turns the light on as we enter a corner room at the end of a long corridor. “This is your room,” she says as she fluffs the pillows on the bed.

  This room is beautifully decorated, and I thank her.

  “Make yourself at home,” she says as she makes her way back to the doorway. She smiles very brightly, and I can tell we’re going to get along well.

  She eventually leaves me to settle in after giving me some last-minute instructions. The entire left wing of the home is out of bounds—it’s apparently her son’s quarters and is locked behind an large double sliding door beyond the kitchen. This suits me fine since I don’t intend to be here often.

  She finally leaves the house saying she’ll be back each morning to make breakfast—another little perk of getting an entire bed-and-breakfast to myself in the off season.

  ***

  I’m lying in bed in this huge house, alone in the dark, trying to sleep. But the jet lag and the long nap on the way here are making me restless. Normally, I’d be reaching for my sleeping pills, but my mind isn’t running to its usual dark corners tonight.

  Instead, my mind is filled with images of Taeho’s strong hand holding mine, his slender fingers interlocked with my own. His hands seem to reflect a heritage steeped in generations of hard work, and yet are soft and nimble from his own profession. Why I remember his hands so vividly is beyond me but they have me under some sort of spell and desire is building within me.

  My mind starts to run wild with images of Taeho’s hands moving over me. It’s as if his shadowed presence is releasing me from the tension that seems a permanent fixture.

  There is the conflicting thought that I shouldn’t be doing this. Not now. Not in a stranger’s bed. But Taeho’s hands have too much control on my mind, and my hand slips between my legs as I let images of him take over.

  His deep dark eyes stare at me while I spread my legs for him as he crawls towards me. I reach for his soft black hair that falls right above his thick brows as I comb my fingers through his soft dark strands. I imagine his broad stature and the sculpted form that lies underneath his suit as I watch him come closer.

  There’s a fire in the pit of my stomach and it’s growing. His seductive glare encourages me to keep going as I feel his deep breath close to my ear. Now I imagine it’s his hand working its magic between my thighs and within seconds, I arch my back as my climax explodes over me.

  I hold my breath to capture my orgasm for as long as I can— I can’t remember having such an intense reaction for quite some time. I’m in a state of pure bliss, and I have to admit that I like it. I like him. Or at least, I like how I’ve been imagining him.

  I let out a small moan before taking deeper breaths. I slowly come back down to earth but not before finding myself on a sort of high. There’s no anxiety. No noise in my head. No thoughts at all—aside from Taeho gazing at me and smiling like he was on the plane. I feel at peace and it’s beautiful. It’s a feeling I thought I’d lost and it’s all thanks to a handsome stranger I met on my flight.

  I wish this feeling would last forever, but I’m pretty sure it won’t last. My imagination has given me a bit of respite. His face will eventually fade, and I’ll forget all about him. I don’t want it to, but my mind has its own agenda. For now, though, I hold onto these images of him for tonight and finally doze off.

  ?Sky Mincharo