TWENTY FOUR|Come fall in with my tongue technology| MIN YOONGI

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"You are telling me to get him a hangover soup? Think again." I peered at him, accusing him of downplaying my importance from his niece to a mere servant.

"Yes. The servants are off their duty hours. And if you can't prepare one, then Mr. Yeun, please follow me to the kitchen." Uncle Mojo turned his proud head toward Yoongi's manager.

The man's facial expressions became unfriendly to the prospect of doing some cooking in the kitchen, albeit they stalked off through the deep lobby to begin their new expedition.

With no third person around me, I scooted closer to him. I studied the dozing-off Yoongi's highly intoxicated half-opened eyes, and thin lips set on the tune of something inaudible. Next, my wily mind ordered my hand to rip his phone that was poking out of his jacket's pocket.

"I'll do anything to get you out of the league," I mumbled lowly and pulled it out carefully. "You keep snoring dummy, and I'll decorate your grave with flowers and warm wishes." I grinned as I inspected his phone and cocked my head to laugh about the poor boy. Suddenly I heard footsteps from behind and quickly stuffed it in my jean pocket.

Uncle Mojo sat next to Yoongi and I grabbed a seat next to him silently, feeling uneasy as heat generated from his little phone was blowdrying my butt.

I faced him and said dryly, "While you expect this man to be in the running. Will he keep Molan happy? I suspect him to be the kind of man who would spend the entire course of a day in drinking and night sleeping. Molan will never be found on the scape of his mind." Shrugging my shoulder, I peeled his phone off and hid it beside the cushion as Uncle Mojo paid attention to the boy solely.

If you caught him in an ugly mood, you would get a mouthful for no fault of yours.

"Did I ask for your opinion?" He lifted his head, boredom marking his action. "We have to encourage the idea of being hospitable to a guest. This is how it works in Korea." His brow puckered up imperiously. "This is not your California-"

"Okay, fine." I further muttered in a threatening tone, looking sideways, "In which corner does his hospitable characteristic die in Taehyung's case? He's always fear-stricken to enter beyond the threshold of the living room, and is treated like a housefly."

Holy crap. I closed my eyes tightly and before Uncle Mojo could break each word of each sentence, and push Taehyung and me one step closer to the gallows, I implanted a quick and heated question, "What do you know about his family!?"

My high-pitched voice resulted in Yoongi flickering his eyes at the ceiling. He tilted his head and spoke from his abnormal sitting position on the couch, "Family . . . . my fa─mily is very . . . big."

I rolled my eyes and stamped my hand on the sides of my head. He looked like a yellow dog with double standards, overlooking his red jacket that reeked of wealth. This had been proved thereof, every wealthy person was not politically and socially correct in everything. For example, although, Taehyung overcame poverty daily, that hadn't made him into a roadside drunkard or a bluff master. Instead, he thrived on becoming a golden-hearted man who walked on the pure path of civility and compassion.

Uncle Mojo motioned me with his eyes, meaning, Look! He's a reputable man from a big family.

Yoongi summoned his energy to sit straight, but his voice still slurred, "Over six months, I got w-ith a lot of women, and made quadruple b--abies with them. So, yeah m-y fami-ly is big and distant. Yesterday I added o-ne more hot stuff in my . . ." he continued to blabber and I touched my throat as if I were to puke over my lap after hearing him reveal his controversial remarks. "Now it's not a f-amily tree, but a j-ungle." He tittered, his head fell on the armrest.

I acted a strangling scene about Yoongi's neck and came back to my spot as Uncle Mojo forbid. In the meantime, his retainer came and served him that hot-piping hangover soup. "Sir, please get up."

Yoongi hated the taste of it but kept on slurping like a cat as we kept our glances away from him.

Uncle Mojo called Molan to know about her whereabouts before respectfully shoving Yoongi and his manager into his wonder car and calling for a meeting tomorrow. His strategy was to purvey a safe plan. "What? Is there a problem with the car? Okay. Did you call a mechanic? Wait, give me the address I'm coming there."

Surprisingly, Yoongi quaffed the soup and clamped his head as relief started to settle on his mind. His face completely hid behind the bowl's bottom as he threw the spoon across the table and glued his hand on it like a savage foodie boy.

Uncle Mojo bolted in his direction and paid him with some sympathy. "Son, how are you feeling now?"

"Better." He tried hard to open his eyes as though acid had been poured into them, wiping his mouth off with his tongue.

"Yoongi-ssi, I just had a word with Molan, the battery of her car died and she's stuck on the Korea Hybe market. I think this is the right time to win over her heart. What's say?"

He blinked and suggested, "Like you said before we began to um . . . drink." He cast a sharp gaze at me and my breath hitched. "She wants to marry an inferior man. And I think, I'm more excited than ever for this tryst."

I offered him a tight-lipped smile he pushed his hair off his forehead and bowed down at me. "Hello," he said with deference.

"Finally, you are awake." I mocked.

***

I drove my convertible cherry red car into the drafty night with Yoongi and Uncle Mojo jam-packed on the leather backseat, certainly having trouble keeping up with their hairstyles. Whereas, his manager drove in his sports car that was seemingly enjoined with my tail lights.

After overhearing Uncle Mojo's two-minute speech, since he had squarely dismissed my participation in this plan, I cheered in the possibilities of this plan tasting the dust. According to Uncle Mojo's sloppy plan, Yoongi would wander across the street like a peddler, touting with a basket of cheap makeup products, and suddenly he would approach Molan and spill the beans on his sequestered lifestyle.

I recalled that I had given my tongue to Seokjin that I would do something about them, so this time, I had to coax Molan to somehow garner hate for this man.

"This is weird, are you two hiding any of Molan's deformity or mental illness from me? See, I don't want her to hit me with a whip for trivial things." Yoongi folded his fingers to acquaint us with his standard.

"Hello? For your incessant drinking habits and hanging around with girls, a whip wouldn't do poetic justice. You need to be punished more severely." I mirrored his reaction, clutching the steering wheel.

"This is a lifestyle of a legend entitled with all sorts of comfort from around the world." He snickered.

"Anyways, you left your phone at the dining table, so don't forget to take it as you return to your home."

Suddenly Uncle Mojo's voice broke like a loud siren. "Hanuel-ah, stop the car! Stop the car!"

I pressed the breaks and it came to a complete stop. We all jerked off on cue, thanks to the belts wrapped around our chests. Uncle Mojo's attentive eyes hobbled over Molan, Somi, and her car.

I saw them and an idea popped up. I attempted to call for her attention as I half stood on the seat, "Molan! Somi! I'm here!"

Yoongi quickly got off with his basket and took refuge under the shade of one shop. Uncle Mojo yelled to upturn my place, "Hanuel! Shut up! You are gonna ruin everything."

My face twitched. I along with his manager parked our cars into the parking lot before crossing the road to get on the other side along with Uncle Mojo.

A sigh of relief escaped Molan's lips. "Oh, thanks for coming through."

He piped, "No problem. Is Somi asleep in the car?" After he had checked through the car window felt contended.

I coughed and told hesitantly, "You could have called Taehyung since he's a driver he might have a trick or two to fix the problem."

"Yeah, I did. But he has taken a leave for two days." She huffed out.

The ground beneath my feet cracked and began to convulse. He has taken a leave? That's strange. Never had he informed me about one in our texts from not more than two hours ago. "Why did he take a leave so suddenly?"

I gaped at their faces but no hint touching their features gave me a definite answer. My heart ached and if it were not to for any mission, I would have driven my car to his place.

Meanwhile, my eyes widened as Yoongi approached us. His baggy brown shirt, which was borrowed from Uncle Mojo's pile of dirty laundry; his pants had a similar round fall.

He showed Molan a randomly picked item from the basket, starvation waking up in his once red eyes. "Ma'am, look at his red lipstick. It's is perfect for your full makeup look."

Buttoned up, she took it from his hands. Uncle Mojo started familiarizing the two. "Where do you get these products from?"

"Ah, from wholesalers . . ." his erred, and a streak of anxiety threatened in his eyes. "Ma'am this pink lipstick for your no-make-up look."

Molan picked the two and took a slight turn, "Hanuel, tell me which one will suit my lips?"

"The red one gives a sultry effect on plump lips like yours and that excites a man like crazy," Yoongi recited quietly and then looked down, clamping his excitement.

She narrowed her eyes at him and I whispered in her ears, "He appears to be deprived. Ask him about his whereabouts?"

She adhered and rummage through his basket, "Okay, so where do you live? Surviving in Seoul must be hard being a daily wager, isn't it?"

"Ah . . . I." He rubbed his neck with one hand and transcended into calmness and emotions in a blink of an eye. "I don't have a specific place to call home. The owner of the butcher shop nearby allows me to spend a night there."

What he was doing so good. Now I had to do something.

Uncle Mojo extended a card from his coat pocket. "Hey, give me your phone number, I want to do something for you."

He stood alert and right after scribbling his number on the backside of the card, he quickly vanished from her sight. In the meanwhile, a worn-out mechanic came to our rescue, and Uncle Mojo lorded him over.

According to my calculation, Yoongi would have been in the parking lot, ready to get into his car and return to the mansion to fetch his quintessential phone. I grabbed her hand as we haphazardly crossed the road, ignoring Uncle Mojo's loud protests.

"Hanuel where are you taking me? Somi is there alo─"

"I'm going to show you something unconventional that will open your eyes wide." Sorry Uncle Mojo, but I had to change the ally in the mid-course.

We hopped into my car and I scanned for his car but it wasn't anywhere in the parking lot. He must have left for the mansion. I took on an exceptional speed, dashing past other cars, and tailing the car. "Hanuel! Just watch the speedometer."

"I can't Molan. I've to show you the truth before you are destroyed." My jaws clenched tightly.

"What? Can you tell me why are we going back to the mansion?"

My laugh started to reverberate as I spotted his sportscar two minivans ahead of us halted at a red signal. "Now you just keep your eyes on that blue car."

"Why? Who's in there? Is it that suspicious man selling makeup items?" Her eyes were quizzical in doubt. I turned on the blinkers.

Suddenly his car stopped at a lonely lane near a huge garbage box between two tall buildings. That was a matter of surprise for me too.

As Yoongi got out, Molan slapped her mouth. He began to unbutton the damp shirt and tossed it in the bin carelessly. Next, when he opened the zipper of his pants Molan covered my eyes. I didn't know what happened next, but she removes her hands when he was dully dressed in his dapper-boy clothes. "God, he was a cheat! Should I report him to the police?"

His car moved like a sly tiger through the street and finally halted at the main gate of our mansion. "Hey, what is he doing outside our mansion? Hanuel, tell me exactly what's happening here?" She pointed at him, baffled.

"Uncle Mojo has fabricated this entire fake arrangement of a wealthy boy, disguised as a needy man. You know he has held his point real tight."

"I never thought he would go to this extent."

I kept mum as this was a half-baked truth. "And if this guy fails to lure your attention, there is one more on the list."

"If that's the case. I'll be going to make it memorable," she said darkly.

A/n

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