Lee Young-jin looked out of the window. Contrary to the building’s front, the inner side of the dim alley was serene. A dimly lit small window and a firmly shut iron door were inconspicuous, seemingly used by workers.
“I can’t go in, but you, Mr. Young-jin, should be fine.”
Lee Young-jin did not understand what he was saying. He stared blankly at him. Jang Young-hee’s lip corners twitched. He exhaled a short breath.
“It’s one of the clubs run by President Yang. For Omegas, women, or something else. Anyway, that’s it.”
Jang Young-hee closed his mouth as if adding any more explanation was uncomfortable. However, Lee Young-jin understood.
“Oh.”
He blinked as he stared at Jang Young-hee.
“Shall I let you in?”
“Go through the back door over there. It’s open. Say you came as a helper today and usually work at Arte.”
Lee Young-jin nodded.
He opened the car door and stepped out.
The air was damp, with a scent mixing wet soil and coffee, perfume and cologne, alcohol and tobacco, and the sweat and bodily fluids of people.
“Contact me if something happens. I’ll be around here.”
Jang Young-hee spoke just before the door closed.
Lee Young-jin looked back once and closed the car door.
The heavy metal door was open, just as Jang Young-hee had said. He opened it just wide enough for his body to squeeze through and wedged his shoulder into the gap. His swaying body was sucked through the door gap, and the door closed with a thud behind him. Inside was dark. Music thumped from beyond the walls and ceiling.
A corridor about a meter long led to another door. He opened it again. Inside, two bodyguards in suits were standing. One of them, seemingly identical in height and build to the other, was East Asian. The East Asian guy gestured as he saw Lee Young-jin.
Young-jin walked obediently up to him.
“I came from Arte. Today, I’m here to help with…”
“I know. Just go in and check.”
The man pushed Young-jin’s shoulder.
Young-jin entered without even finishing his sentence.
Another door appeared. The narrow corridor, small doors, and dark, twinkling lights continued. A spacious powder room appeared, framed by fluttering thin curtains with large mirrors and dressing tables in a row between them. A scantily-clad woman was adjusting something furry on her bra strap. Her lips were red. She too was Korean. Whenever she blinked, something applied to her long eyelashes sparkled like jewels.
“Change your clothes inside.”
She spoke to Young-jin in a friendly tone.
“The other girls have chosen, wear anything.”
“Uh-huh…”
Young-jin answered vaguely and went inside.
A long wardrobe filled an entire wall of the room. Fur clumps and thin straps were dangling under the partly-empty wardrobe.
He lost himself for a moment in front of the wardrobe.
But he didn’t have time to stay like that for long.
He listlessly rummaged through the wardrobe. Lingerie with flashing fake coins attached (it looked nothing but underwear), a bra with a long lace cape, a short dress with white fur… his dark eyes shook greatly with each garment he sifted through. Young-jin went around the wardrobe from beginning to end. But he could not find clothes he could wear.
His heart grew urgent.
Lee Young-jin’s hands moved a bit faster.
Desperately rifling through the clothes, he finally found an item that had slightly more fabric to cover his body than the others. It was a navy blue China dress made of thin silk. The sense of achievement in finding something with enough fabric to muster the courage to wear outweighed the burden of wearing women’s clothing. Young-jin hastily stripped off his coat and clothes and slipped into the silk piece. The dress was slightly small for him. With no stretch, it constricted his body tightly. With every breath, his chest heaved and the dress, sticking to his skin, squeezed his stomach and shoulders.
“Haah, haah.”
Young-jin, tense and desperate, exhaled forcefully and kept pulling down the hem of his dress, which kept riding up.
Then he discovered a bigger problem.
The slit on the side was too deep. It went up to mid-buttocks, exposing his underwear completely. He was wearing very ordinary underwear, which, paradoxically, stood out horribly inside the slit. Young-jin stupidly looked at the mirror. Indeed, there was a fool in the reflection. A man, wearing a woman’s dress that egregiously exposed his underwear, stood with his mouth agape, his eyes dazed as if he had been roused from sleep. Young-jin shivered as if waking from a dream. The image of the woman from a while ago flashed in his mind, wrapping him with anxiety and unease.
He staggered towards the vanity.
He yanked open a half-open drawer. Inside were items from small hand mirrors, colorful powders, eyeshadows of dozens of hues and tones, makeup brushes, and combs, all scattered haphazardly. He smeared whatever came to hand onto his lips. Somehow, he combed his hair.
The reflection became increasingly pitiful.
Young-jin put the comb back and closed the drawer.
His hand trembled uncontrollably.
While staggering, he approached the wardrobe again, flipping through each hanger, trying his best to find another piece of clothing. There was none. Instead, what caught his eye was new underwear in a transparent polyester package.
No. Actually, to call it underwear…
“Strap…”
This was his first time seeing such a thing.
Had it not been clumsily hung on the hanger in the semblance of underwear, he would have thought it was jewelry made of fabric and pearls, perhaps a bracelet or a hair tie.
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