[Jung Sanghyun and Lacey Piazza]

I have to be honest. Malls here are even bigger than I saw on TV. Well, I'm used to high towers and other imposing buildings in Seoul. However, there I could sense safety and protection. Here, what I feel is a mixture of majesty and thrill.

I don't have a purpose for being here. I just want to mingle, even though I know it's close to impossible. My sister and stepsister believe going shopping is the best way to meet new friends or, why not, find love. To date, they haven't been proven right, at least not yet.

It should be an easier task, I suppose, since Americans tend to be friendlier and not as detached as Koreans. Well, some of them. If I meet the wrong people, I'm dead meat. With 'wrong people,' I don't mean a typical crazy ahjussi, but someone who could even pass off as a criminal.

If this trip through shops is a bust, I'll find a way to gloat to my beloved noonas about the failure of their stupid little theory.

***

I'm twenty-five, single and on tight budget, so I shouldn't be at a bridal dress shop. Well, unless I'm desperate enough to want to find love here. Dohee once claimed she met a man there while taking a friend shopping for a dress. It didn't last though. His mother had an extremely unfavorable opinion of my sister. Nonetheless, she believes it could work with me.

Anyway, I walk through stands, closely examining the details of each dress exposed, until a redhead approaches me and taps my shoulder, startling me. "Sir," she says, "I think this is the wrong place for you. Suits are on sixth floor." She isn't even sure that I'm a man. It's definitely because of my long hair.

I stutter. "S-sorry... I... I w-was just looking..." I try to come up with a convincing lie, but nothing in my mind is good enough to pass as the truth. So, I just stand there like an idiot, laughing in a manner she perceives as creepy.

I'm embarrassing her, as well as myself. I need to stop. She must already think I'm some creep. "You are funny, sir, let me tell you," she comments. I'm surprised and delighted that she has such a positive impression of me. I suspect she's into dorks like me.

"Anyway, I'm Lacey, and I'm here to assist you in case you want to... uhm... surprise your fiancée," she adds.

"Sorry, madam, I'm single. I haven't even got a girlfriend. Like, I'm just here to look and that's it." She frowns at me. She can't believe I, a random man, am at a bridal dress shop just for fun. "By the way, my name is Sanghyun." I pronounce my name slowly and clearly, but, as I catch her extracting a pen and paper from her pocket, it doesn't look like she understands it.

"Would you mind repeating, please?" she asks politely. I suspect she might call security on me, but I have nothing to lose here. I didn't steal anything or do anything even close to being a crime. No, being here as a bored single man doesn't count as such.

"Sanghyun."

"So, S-A-N-G... That's easy. There's an H, then, right?" She shows me what she's written so far. She apparently tried to erase the H, as shown through the half assed cross she drew on it.

I partly ignore her question. "H-Y-U-N. This is how it's written." She scribbles on the paper and then hands it to me. I check it, then return it to her. "Perfect. I'm sure you'll remember it... Leslie, right?"

"Lacey." I need to do better with names. It's an issue that caused me a lot of trouble when I arrived in the States last year. I remember I even called my first English teacher 'Dohee' because she's the carbon copy of my sister. Same large nose bridge, same thin lips, same hair length.

Even though she wasn't upset by that, I ended up apologizing ten times for that mistake, considering that someone else wouldn't have taken it lightly.

Fortunately, she seems an understanding person and doesn't make a big fuss out of it. "It's okay, barely any returning customers remember my name. Even two or three of my colleagues get it wrong. It's okay. It's okay." She repeats those words like a mantra, as if she wants to convince herself she isn't the problem.

I don't see why she thinks of herself as a liability. She has to learn to value herself more. I have an idea of how her low self-esteem affects her, but don't share it out of respect. I don't know her well, and making such daring assumptions is something I usually perceive as lack of tact, if not of respect.

I'm about to bow and say goodbye, when I overhear heels clicking. This is not a good sign. Maybe it's someone from the security. Still, even Lacey is caught by shock.

It must be the store's manager. Her ice cold glare freezes Lacey. She's in for a huge reprimand. There's no way this Karen will let her scot free after I attempted to fraternize with her.

The manager barks. "You're here to work, Lacey, not to make friends! You've sold nothing over the last three days! You're a disaster! Everyone else did better than you, even the rookies!" Her distasteful look brings the poor employee to tears. I can't understand how they can make such a scene in front of customers! 

Okay, technically I'm not a customer; but, even as just a bystander, I shouldn't see a manager yell at her employee like that in public. Where's common decency?

The manager grabs Lacey's name tag on her uniform and then violently tears it. "Enough with your bullshit! You're fired! Pack your stuff, leave, and don't you dare come back again. Loser." She pushes her and is about to strut away, when she notices me.

She stares at me with a disgusted look. "The same goes with you, weirdo." She turns her back at us and leaves, probably to act snotty with some high profile customers. I help Lacey out as soon as I see her crying her eyes out. That woman might've just ruined her life.

I try to reassure her. "You're not a loser, Lacey. Don't listen to that Karen. She doesn't know she's in for a terrible surprise..." I rub my hands and stifle a wicked laugh. I can be an asshole when it comes to payback. It has happened even with my family so far; getting my revenge on a total stranger is going to be easier.

While Lacey runs off to wash her face, I find a customer who seems to be lost in her choice. Taking advantage of her indecision, I ask her, "May I suggest you go somewhere else, madam? I don't think the store's manager has any more patience left. Sorry."

She glares at me, then points out. "What do you mean, sir? I'm just trying a dress. Since you're not even part of my entourage or the staff, could you leave, please?" Her brash tone doesn't affect me at all. If anything, it makes my revenge more bittersweet.

I concede. "Okay, I'll leave, but on one condition. You'll have to leave too, empty handed. You don't owe any financial support to someone who abuses their staff." I don't mention directly how that snake treated Lacey, but everyone else around me quickly understands that.

Instead of calling the Karen, the assistants who are passing by confess. One of them says, "Yes, sir, what you've just seen with Lacey is only the tip of the iceberg. No-one is safe in Leanne Betts' reign of terror."

Another one adds, "I quit. I've endured this shit for too long just for the fucking paychecks, but enough is enough. I have two daughters to raise, but also a dignity."

More and more voices join us, chanting for revolution or countering the stories of mismanagement and abuse in what is wrongfully labeled as the paradise of bridal gowns.

No, this is Hell, and I'm happy to have unleashed the real truth behind this place. I can't wait to be out while it crumbles from its foundation.