[Sim Daejung and Breanna Fairchild]

Fuck those thugs. Not only their leader fractured my wrist during an arm wrestling match, he also attempted to break my soul. I just wanted some peace, to steer clear from trouble for once in my life. Why always me? Am I really that bad of a person to get in such sticky situation all the time?

Worse still, after they put a cast on my arm, I asked for Della, but the answer I received is shocking at best. By then, she had already left the hospital. She was right indeed: what happened to her wasn't as serious as I made it out to be.

Now that I'm back at the hotel, I can check on her to see if I'm okay. I find Room 304, where she stays, and tap on the door. I wait there for five minutes, but I receive no answer. She must be already sleeping.

I go back to my own room and prepare myself for a hellish night. With that fucking cast, I won't be able to turn as much as I'm used to. I have a hard time staying still when lying in bed, especially when I'm nervous.

And, right now, I am.

***

Daehwa notices the cast on my arm and asks me, "What the fuck did you do this time, Daejung? How many times do I have to tell you not to engage with those delinquents?" She raises a finger and waves it in my direction as she reprimands me.

I don't want her to worry for me. I want her to get out of my life. She isn't my caretaker, let even my girlfriend. I don't need anyone to make me feel more guilty than I already am. I'm not stupid enough to follow in those thugs' wayward path.

Daehwa sounds cheesy when cheering me up, which makes me puke. I just refrain from doing so out of politeness, not because I care about her. She tries to plant a kiss on my forehead, but I avoid her. She's dumbfounded. "Why, Daejung, why? What have I done this time?"

She knows better not to provoke me with the unwanted attention. She knows why I'm still diffident around her. I don't like her, I have no feelings for her. So, why is she putting herself through misery to chase after me? Shouldn't she have the decency to admit defeat and give up?

Or should I be the one to admit she does care about me, but has displayed her feelings the wrong way? I'm confused now. I want to get out of this trap, but, at the same time, there's no exit.

***

I've barely slept tonight. Between the excruciating physical and emotional pain caused respectively by that damn arm injury and, as if I didn't expect it, Lee Daehwa—always her!—I'm not sure what's worse. I'm still exhausted. I could use a couple extra hours of sleep under normal circumstances.

But I have more pressing matters to take care of. First of all, I need to check on Della. I go back to the third floor, where her room is, and knock at her door. However, to my shock, someone else opens the door.

I excuse myself. "S-s-sorry... Wrong door, I guess." It's obviously a lie. Della must've left, either in the middle of the night or earlier this morning. Check-out takes place until 11am, so her departure is a possibility.

The girl who has opened, to my surprise, doesn't send me away but rather invites me to stay in. She's a black woman, with her hair collected in a bun. She wears a purple robe, along with the slippers provided by the hotel.

"Come in, I want to show you a thing." Even though her request takes me aback, I follow her inside. We don't know each other, so why the confidence? I guess I look familiar to her. She must be acquainted to someone who knows me—well, I'll only know when I ask.

She makes me sit on her bed and introduces herself. "Sorry for not telling you my name before, you caught me by surprise. Anyway, I'm Breanna Fairchild, Bre for friends. You can call me as you wish." Noted. She seems the kind of person that doesn't easily let you into her close-knit circle, so I must've left her a good impression.

I offer her the hand that hasn't been injured, the left hand. "Sim Daejung. Nice to meet you." She frowns at me. Has she ever heard of my name before? Have I made such an impact in the state for so many people to know me?

"You know what? Lacey Piazza, an ex employee at Atelier LB, told me once she has a sister, and she used to live in the same apartment complex as some weird Korean man with long hair-" I raise my hand to cut her off. I've already heard of that surname.

Oh, gosh... So, this Lacey is related to Ashley... The grumpy redhead from Haute Heights. Yeah, that woman used to give me headaches at the beginning... Fortunately she didn't pester me anymore, even when I left. I wonder why she never told me about her sister.

Instead of asking Breanna how she knows Ashley, I just state, "Oh, yeah, the 'weirdo' is me. By the way, that phase has been over for, how long, at least eight years." I change subject, eager to know what she wants to show me. "So, about that thing..."

She extracts a huge file from a suitcase that's left on the floor. "Yeah, this. I have a plan, and I need someone to help me enact it." She hands me the file for me to go through it. It contains a lot of bridal pictures, photos of bridesmaid outfits, and receipts.

The last three pictures, however, are the ones that pique my interest the most. I ask, "What's that? It looks like the future bride and groom are having... a little too much... fun..." There's something that doesn't convince me. The angle, the lighting, the poses... Something's off.

"That's because he isn't the groom!" exclaims Breanna, startling me. Is she planning to expose the bride for cheating? She continues, "Yeah, she claims she's a good friend and all that shit, but some acquaintances and I have been keeping an eye on her... She's fishy."

"Do you know the groom?" The urge for payback grows as I take a further look at the picture. This makes me think this wedding is staged, and that poor Breanna was unaware of it, believing that her so-called "friend" had good intentions instead.

"No. She never introduced him to the rest of us. Anyway, since I'm the honor bridesmaid, I'm in charge to instruct the others. But I have a few tricks up in my sleeves to catch that cheater redhanded." I mumble as she mentions the word 'tricks.' She really does want to put her plan into her action, so why am I not to help her?

As much as I hate to admit it, the search for Della can wait.

***

For some reason, I end up at the mall, more precisely on the sixth floor, at Breanna's order. "Get yourself a tux," she demands. "Even the cheapest one, as long as it fits you. If you can't afford one, ask for a discount, rent it, I don't care. But you need a suit, okay?"

"As you wish." I like the idea of posing as a best man. Even though I have no idea of who the groom is, I'm sure he'll just let my unwanted presence slide. After all, the wedding will never happen.