Chapter Text
CHAPTER ONE
It’s 2:32 am. It’s raining and quite chilly outside for the usually gentle May. Jeongyeon has no particular desire to go outside, get drenched, and punch someone’s nose during the process, but she knows that statistically, this is very likely once she notices the orange light on her cellphone.
She has a color code for messages from Jihyo. Jihyo is orange, Nayeon is blue. Everyone else is green.
When she sees the light casting ember shadows against the wall behind her nightstand, outlining the silhouette of her small alarm clock, she gets up and starts getting dressed.
“Navely,” Jeongyeon calls out, setting her striped pajama pants on the bed. “Play last message by Jihyo.”
The display of her phone comes to life. Navely, her personal virtual assistant, whom she definitely did not request for and is more than just annoying, comes to life and brightens the screen. She can see its overly eager face and the vaguely heart-shaped form of it, eyes and mouth and all. Navely’s voice instantly grates on Jeongyeon’s nerves.
“Certainly, my love!” Navely chimes happily. “Playing message by Jihyo open parenthesis only sane person close parenthesis. Send at 2:31pm from Signal Night Club. Seoul. Korea.” There’s a click sound, then Jihyo’s voice fills the apartment.
Jeongyeon puts on black slacks and shrugs on an immaculate, white shirt.
There’s voices, faint music and a bass line in the back. Signal Night Club, she’s sure.
Jeongyeon stares at her broad collection of black jackets and settles on … a black jacket.
“Hey, Jeong, sorry to bother you this late. I’m at Signal Night Club, as Navely has probably told you. There has been a bit too much alcohol around here and Nayeon … well. Hear for yourself.”
The tie comes last. Jeongyeon puts it around her neck as she continues listening.
There’s a rustle and then the music starts to seep through the speakers, suddenly gaining rhythm and a melody that is not watered down by ambient sounds. Both the melody and Nayeon’s voice are unmistakable.
It’s a drawn-out, shaky rendition of “I Will Always Love You”. Jeongyeon has to commend Nayeon on her range, the color of her voice, the slight vibrato and the enthusiastic rendition of the classic song, but there are few things that are more painful than a singer that is missing the right tone only just.
“I’m two people short of the customary three persons that are needed to drag her into the car and back to her house and you are her one and only emergency contact and her bodyguard, so …”
Jeongyeon has already picked up the phone and is on her way down to her car in the parking lot.
“... please come, help me pick her up.”
“End of message,” Navely announces happily. “You look very dashing in that black suit. You’d look more dashing out of it, though!” Navely winks excessively while throwing finger hearts, an open smirk now forming on its (not so) lovely face.
Jeongyeon groans and wishes for Jeongvely to come back. Jeongvely, the LaburiOS’ previous version before the update, had been green, grumpy, no-nonsense and hadn’t tried to flirt with her. She has no idea why Navely turned out like this.
It was created by the OS’ data on her, her needs and wants. Apparently.
“Thanks, I guess.”
“You are welcome!” Navely answers, way too excited for Jeongyeon’s taste.
That bug in Navely’s OS after the last update had started to get out of control, but on the plus side, Navely’s basic functions have improved tremendously.
For example, her ability to anticipate Jeongyeon’s wishes before she can even voice them:
Jeongyeon has two cars: A Toyota Prius, her own private car, which is battery powered, green, boring and good for the environment, a car she loves more than anything else, and the Other Car.
The Other Car is called the Other Car for two reasons:
- It is not her beloved, boring Toyota Prius that fits into each and every parking spot whenever Jeongyeon goes grocery shopping.
- Jeongyeon refuses to use it’s designated denotation: the Naymobile 2000 (Mark V).
It’s black, bulletproof and stuffed with all sorts of electronic devices Jeongyeon has no use for. She doesn’t need a navigation system, because she doesn’t get lost. She doesn’t need a built-in fridge, because she likes her beverages at room temperature. She doesn’t need a 7.1 sound system, because if she needed her eardrums destroyed, she’d listen to Nayeon’s discussion with Sana about integrated circuits on bite-sized topology since 1975.
The car though, does come with a plushie hand protector made from fake blue fur around the steering wheel which is kind of nice.
And currently, Jeongyeon watches, as the Other Car, on its own, moves out of its parking space, drives down the aisles between the rows of cars stopping right at her feet. The door lifts open automatically like a wing and Jeongyeon gets in.
The temperature inside is just right, not too warm and not too cold. The chair has a comfortable temperature against her back and the scent is a distinct sea breeze. Slow jazz plays from the speakers, just as she likes it.
God, she hates this thing.
Setting Navely down into something that looks like a cupholder, the virtual assistant ( Your best friend, ready to chat with you in case your other friends don’t want to because of your grumpy personality, Yoo Jeongyeon! ) plugs into the car.
The previously green color scheme changes to a happy blue on all of the Other Car’s displays. The main display shows Navely’s face.
“Sweetie,” Navely asks. “Where do you want to go?”
“I’ll drive there myself, thank you,” Jeongyeon says. She grasps the wonderfully soft fur attached to her steering wheel. “Thanks for picking me up, though.”
“You are welcome,” Navely winks at her.
Jeongyeon can’t bring herself to be impolite to the assistant, even though it’s just a thing , not even alive; merely a collection of ones and zeroes.
The car moves out of the parking spot and into the glittering streets of Seoul. The strength underneath the steering wheel, pulsing like an animal trying to get out of its cage and dragging Jeongyeon along, immediately strikes her. The Other Car, no doubt, is a stroke of genius in the design department of Nayeon’s company:
It’s a sleek, black sports car, vaguely based on the Maserati Alfieri concept car. It’s a nice car, Jeongyeon has no doubt, but she just doesn’t need it.
Like so many other things.
Plus, in Seoul, where you can only drive faster than 70km/h in the dark of the night, when everyone is sleeping, the Other Car is completely overpowered with its maximum speed at 370km/h.
It takes Jeongyeon twenty-three minutes to arrive at the Signal night club (Navely compliments her on that and calls her the Michael Schuhmacher of her generation), then parks and gets inside.
The dark, glowering glance she serves the bouncer at the entrance serves as her ticket inside.
It’s late (or early) but Signal is still filled with late party goers, all in different states of sobriety.
The club’s interior is comprised of a large dance floor on the ground level, presided by the DJ in the back. Jeongyeon likens Signal to a techno church, with the DJ’s large table like an altar, the dancers all worshipping in a mass of moving bodies. The light is flickering, illuminating only every tenth of a second, giving it all the feeling of a movie that has lost too many frames.
Or of a Youtube video with a really bad connection.
A long counter leads along the left wall of the room (the bar), the right side features a staircase leading upwards to several more levels filled with couches and tables, where customers can enjoy the drug of their choice. Mostly alcohol, but Jeongyeon knows sometimes other stuff is smuggled in.
However just left to the DJ’s altar is a double door, leading to the private rooms in the back.
Jihyo spots her immediately and emerges from the bar.
“Oh, thank God.”
They half hug - and bless Jihyo and her sanity being intact in all kinds of situations.
“How are Sana and Chaeyoung?”
“Quite well,” Jihyo says, as they start to move. “Sana got picked up by Dahyun and Chaeyoung by Tzuyu, so I think we are good there. But Nayeon …” She shakes her head.
“Did something happen?” Jeongyeon asks, as she follows Jihyo into the back of the club, where the private rooms are located.
Jihyo hesitates. “I’m … not sure, she hasn’t said anything. About … you know. But ... “ She takes a deep breath. “She went through three cans of pringles, around half a pound of Skittles, then downed half a bottle of Vodka, threw up and added the other half of the bottle. I stopped her from stripping, singing and trying to smooch Sana.” Jihyo hesitates once more. “I’ve rarely seen Dahyun angry, but today she was ready to stab her boss.”
Jeongyeon resists the urge to rub her face. She’s tired and Nayeon is already difficult to handle when the sun is up. But when she’s drunk, it usually takes at least three people to take care of her.
(Or one Jeongyeon , but she chalks that up to the fact that she’s just a really, really well-trained bodyguard.)
Jihyo leads them inside with several keycards and when they enter the long corridor with doors left and right for all the private rooms, Jeongyeon can already hear her boss.
The rendition of “Wake me up before you go-go”, the seminal classic by Wham! creeps toward them, Nayeon’s voice providing the vocals:
“But something's bugging you
Something ain't right
My best friend told me what you did last night
Left me sleepin' in my bed
I was dreaming, but I should have been with you insteaaaaaad!!”
When Jeongyeon opens the room door, the only surprise would have been if her expectations hadn’t been met. But sadly, everything looks exactly like she had expected it to be:
The room is furnished with couches and tables; a big screen with music videos and text attached to the wall on the left side; the speakers are playing the desperately upbeat song, while Nayeon, standing in front of the screen, holds on to her microphone like it’s her lifeline, her eyes closed, belting the lyrics with utmost dedication.
She’s wearing a pink, glittery dress and her hair and make-up is a mess. When she sees Jeongyeon, the brightest smile splits her face, bunny teeth and all as she stumbles toward Jeongyeon. She’s heavy and warm and smells like alcohol and her perfume, Jeongyeon finds, as she looks at her, steadying her with an arm around her waist.
“What happened?”
Nayeon is way too happy to properly answer. “Are you here to sing for me? Or I could serenade you!”
Jeongyeon leans down and sniffs at her, then grimaces. “You reek .”
“Of perfume?” Nayeon asks, batting her eyelashes.
“Reek doesn’t exactly imply a good kind of smell.”
“Then maybe you don’t like my perfume?”
“Your perfume has too much of an alcoholic base note then,” Jeongyeon answers, and when Nayeon wobbles again, both of her arms circle around her to make sure she doesn’t fall.
“Tell me I am pretty nonetheless,” Nayeon demands and Jeongyeon feels some tension roll of her shoulder to make way for a bit of sadness.
“Is this about a break up?”
“No! No! No!” Nayeon struggles to stand and Jeongyeon lets her go, hands hovering in an open circle around Nayeon’s midsection; not touching her, like she requested, but ready to catch her again, should she falter.
Jeongyeon huffs and follows the other girl to the karaoke machine. She half turns to Jihyo. “Get the car ready.”
Jihyo mouths a thank you and hurries away.
“So … you got completely drunk just because?” Jeongyeon asks. She hesitates and suddenly fears something worse considering Nayeon’s relationship. “Did he … cheat on you?”
Nayeon huffs and rolls her eyes. “No. Of course not. He was way too nice, too friendly and too perfect to cheat on me.” She picks up one of the microphones and taps it, then turns to Jeongyeon, speaking into it. “Know any good break up songs?”
“No.” Jeongyeon reaches out and turns off the karaoke machine. “What happened?”
Nayeon huffs and turns it on again, starting to scroll through the library. As Jeongyeon reaches out once more to turn off the machine, Nayeon moves her body between her bodyguard and the beeping piece of electronic equipment. When Nayeon has chosen a song (“ We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together ”), she turns around to grab her microphone. It’s gone.
She looks at Jeongyeon who holds the mic, shaking it like a bell. “Nayeon. What happened?”
Nayeon comes closer, starting to reach for it, but the lack of her sobriety and the fact that Jeongyeon is taller dooms this venture from the get go.
“Nothing! Happened!” Nayeon huffs, trying to reach for the mic, while Jeongyeon moves away from her, holding it high above her head.
“Tell me.”
“No!”
“I have all the time in the world.”
“You are such a hater of my singing,” Nayeon says, continuing to dance around her bodyguard.
“I have heard nothing in this room that resembles music in any way!”
“Okay, rude!” She slightly elbows Jeongyeon in the ribs. It’s not much force, but it’s enough for Jeongyeon to bend forward, folding slightly and Nayeon snatches the mic away. Then she smirks at her. “I thought my bodyguard came to pick me up. What happened to her?”
Jeongyeon, caught by surprise and hating it, watches Nayeon, more sober than expected, move back toward the stage.
“She got woken up by your best friend and Head of Human Resources, informing me to come and get you,” Jeongyeon said. “What happened?”
“How does it make any difference if I tell you?” Nayeon half sing-songs the words to Time of my Life , squeezing way too many syllables into such short refrains.
“Every therapist will tell you differently.”
“He was perfect, perfect, perfect,” she sings to a bittersweet melody that Jeongyeon doesn’t recognize. “But why did my heart not go boom boom boom when I saw him?” She hesitates, then picks up the bottle of vodka by the karaoke machine. “I should have become a singer. Navely?”
Navely’s voice sounds from the speaker system inside the room. “Yes, Oh Queen of The Universe?”
Jeongyeon’s eyebrows lift upwards. “You hacked the karaoke machine? Again ?”
“Fun fact,” Nayeon says. “Karaoke machines, because of their lack of sensitive data stored inside of them, have surprisingly low defenses against cyber attacks.”
“I am well-aware,” Jeongyeon says.
She’s getting a bit annoyed because these kinds of stunts - Nayeon hacking something while being drunk - usually end up with Jeongyeon having to face angry ex-girlfriends or ex-boyfriends of Nayeon’s. Them coming to her place and screaming at her for hacking any kind of electronic device in their house for cheating on her. Jeongyeon allows any kind of pettiness toward cheaters from the cheatée, if that’s even a word, but Nayeon takes it to an entirely new level.
*
(“Why is my electric toothbrush trying to imitate Katy Perry’s Part of me and why is my toaster trying to provide the beats, you bitch?” She shakes her cellphone furiously at Nayeon.
Jeongyeon steps between Nayeon and ex-girlfriend number #34, just in case she wants to throw that phone. It’s an Im Technologies Constellation Aries phone, which is unbreakable and weighs 132 grams. It wouldn’t be Jeongyeon’s weapon of choice - that honor would go to the tremendously high stilettos the girl is wearing - but if the girl would throw it at Nayeon’s head, it could do some damage. Plus, Jeongyeon wants to detain her, because she never liked girlfriend number #34.
“Why have all my ringtones been replaced by Shout out to my ex and Should’ve said no , you fucking psychopath!?”
Nayeon is not impressed. “First of all, your toothbrush is an Im Technologies product and no product of mine would even breathe toward a Katy Perry song, digitally or otherwise, and second of all, why would you even buy a toaster that has bluetooth? What does it need bluetooth for? Did they produce too many bluetooth modules and then decided: Hey, why not add one to our toaster line, just because? That’s bad, bad artisanship. And thirdly, I have no idea who came up with this admittedly,” Nayeon smiles way too brightly here. “Brilliant idea.”
Jeongyeon then has to drag the girl out, because she starts screaming and God, is that saliva flowing from her mouth, spraying all over?
When Jeongyeon comes back to her boss, even though that title has been mutilated beyond recognition in the six years Jeongyeon has been working for Nayeon, she can’t help herself but be critical. “Did you hack any of her devices?”
Nayeon is staring at her phone, working on something and doesn’t even look up when she answers. “I’m hurt you think I’m not above violating other people’s privacy.”
Jeongyeon huffs at that, but Nayeon continues.
“She uploaded herself making out … and doing other stuff on her Instagram story that night,” Nayeon says, holding up her phone. The pictures are in 4K and blatantly graphic. Navely’s newest routines are able to pick just the right details. It’s a gift and a curse.
Jeongyeon flinches away and wishes she could unsee that. “I haven’t had my coffee yet!”
“No shaming going on here - everyone should do whatever they want, but I’d prefer my girlfriend’s tongue in my throat and not in the throat of,” Nayeon swipes, checking the videos and pictures. “Oh. Six … seven … eight women and three guys.” She lifts her eyebrows. “Quite the night.” There’s a pause, then Nayeon turns on her heel and marches toward the staircase leading to the lab. “I deleted all the embarrassing CCTV footage, so she should be grateful, for God’s sake. Katy Perry on her toaster is her smallest problem, if you are asking me.”)
*
“Tell me.”
Nayeon stares at her and Jeongyeon stares back. There’s a silent struggle for a moment, then Nayeon shrugs. Her smile is about as fake as her competitor’s announcement of developing a phone thinner than the Im Technologies Constellation Aquarius X9 cellphone.
“Nothing happened,” Nayeon says. The smile grows even bigger and at the same time, it turns bleak. “He was perfect. He was funny, attentive, had decent hygiene, could sometimes understand what I was telling him, had a stable job, a sane family, wasn’t intimidated by my looks, wealth or background, he genuinely cared and he cried when we broke up - not too hard, but hard enough that I knew he was genuinely interested.” Nayeon sways. “He was perfect. It didn’t work out. So by process of elimination, if he was perfect, then he wasn’t the problem.”
The conclusion hangs heavy between them.
It’s times like this that reminds Jeongyeon that Nayeon, despite her flippancy, her sometimes off-putting personality and her ability to make everyone uncomfortable with a single comment, has a pretty fragile heart and is human, after all.
“I should just go and build a robot - the perfect boyfriend. Or girlfriend.” She still smiles at Jeongyeon, but this time the smile is so wide, it keeps the tears at bay.
Jeongyeon eyes her and keeps the fact that she knew Nayeon and her latest conquest wouldn’t last, to herself. If the people Nayeon truly, really loves are any indication, Nayeon’s future, significant other needs to be someone extraordinary.
Not perfect . Extraordinary.
Her friends are by no means perfect - they are loud, impossible, difficult, brilliant, caring, loving and crazy - but they all wield an ability that is currently only possessed by seven individuals on the planet:
They can keep up with her and they love her so hard, so much, so indescribably stubbornly, that it actually gets through Nayeon’s massively thick skull - and that makes a big difference.
Her ex was perfect, no doubt, as perfect as a serene mountain lake, surrounded by snow-tipped mountain ranges and deer grazing in the distance.
Nayeon, on the other hand, is a bomb disguised as a disco ball, and when she goes off, you’re either able stand the force thrown at you, or you run away, scared, perfection be damned.
Jeongyeon sighs, then turns around, showing her her back. It’s a gesture reserved for emergencies and this is an emergency. “Hop on.”
Nayeon stares. The smile slips away. It’s a good thing, because the tears will come in no time and if she keeps them in, they will only water her brain unnecessarily.
“Let’s get you home. Jihyo is waiting.” She looks over her shoulder, her hands stretched backwards at an uncomfortable angle, fingers wriggling encouragingly as she repeats: “Hop on.”
Nayeon sets down the karaoke machine’s mic and then reaches out, wrapping her arms around Jeongyeon’s neck. She’s very warm and her breath smells like vodka.
“I don’t think I’ll ever find someone,” Nayeon says softly, miserably.
“We both know that’s statistically unlikely.”
“No, I know that’s statistically unlikely. You just thought I knew what I was doing when I came up with that statistic, chose to believe me and nodded along.” It sounds more tired and less snappy.
“Result is the same. I know because you told me.”
“Don’t believe all the things I’m telling you, Yoo Jeongyeon.”
Jeongyeon smiles. “I’m good at vetting, thanks to you.” Her nose crinkles in disgust. “Why do you smell like tuna and popcorn?”
Nayeon is almost asleep when they leave the room. “For me to know, for you to find out.”
*
When Jeongyeon arrives at the lab the next morning, carrying a paper bag, it’s suspiciously quiet.
The lab, situated on the 82th floor of the Im Tower in Seoul, houses Im Technologies’ Special Development Department.
Technically, Jeongyeon has an office here as well, as an honorary member of the Special Development Department, but she has experienced a variety of incidents up here, ranging from explosions, nano robots running amok, a nurse robot trying to kill first Chaeyoung, then Sana, then Momo, and Dahyun’s plants transforming the entire floor into a greenhouse over a weekend and the thing with the flamingo nobody talks about.
Today, it’s quiet enough for a pin to drop on the floor. Sana is in her glass box, happy with all her chemicals and dances to whatever song her headphones are providing, two flasks with colorful chemicals in her hands. She gives Jeongyeon a wave when she sees her pass by and Jeongyeon waves back. Jeongyeon sets down a singular paper cup with caffeinated contents (Pumpkin Spice latte with a bit of caramel and lactose-free milk) that says Crazy Chemical Lady. She’s not going into that box that contains Sana. She knows better than that.
The northwestern corner of the warehouse-sized lab is completely covered by monitors, and at hip height, by keyboards. An office chair the size of the Iron Throne moves in between several keyboards and screens, as someone hums softly in their seat.
“Chaeng!”
The Iron Office Chair stops moving, but the hums persist. Then a voice: “Jihyo’s two assistants are …”
“Language,” Jeongyeon warns.
“... having an indecent relationship in their office rooms.” None of the screens shows anything like it, but Jeongyeon doesn’t question the information. It’s also none of her business.
“Does Jihyo know you are snooping in her CCTV again, Chaeng?” Jeongyeon asks and removes a cup from her paper bag that says H.A.L.
Chaeng chuckles at the black writing on the Myoui Coffeeshop cup. “You are such an oldie.”
“You love that movie,” Jeongyeon says, as Chaeyoung picks up the cup and turns around in her chair.
The chair almost swallows the girl entirely, the faux leather surface groaning at every movement. Nobody in the office likes this chair, except Chaeyoung.
Chaeyoung looks up at her. “You look like you had a rough night, oppa .”
Jeongyeon cringes at the nickname. “As if you don’t know everything about it already.”
Chaeyoung shrugs. “I may or may not have algorithms that inform me of such things.” She takes a sip from her cup. “Ahh. Best coffee in the world.”
“You are not exactly impartial.”
“Neither are you,” Chaeyoung says and shrugs.
“Who else is in?”
Chaeyoung doesn’t even turn. “Chaengvely -”
“That’s the most stupid name …”
Chaeyoung shoots her a sharp glance. “It can hear you! Don’t be mean, you’ll hurt its feelings. Chaengvely, you heard her. Can you tell me who is in?”
“Most certainly, greatest human being on the planet: Minatozaki Sana and Son Chaeyoung,” Chaengvely announces. Its voice does, indeed, sound slightly miffed. “Kim Dahyun has just entered the building.”
Jeongyeon flinches only slightly. It takes her quite the amount of self-control. “Greatest human being on the planet?”
“You can shorten it with g.h.b.o.t.p. but it doesn’t have the same ring to it, right?” Chaeyoung shrugs and then stabs her coffee cup with a straw made from a sort of metal, before slurping from it loudly. “It was that or Queen of Darkness, but I think that title belongs to the eonnie upstairs.”
Jeongyeon nods slowly. “Chaengvely, is Nayeon in?”
Chaengvely doesn’t answer.
“See? Now you have hurt its feelings. Say sorry.”
Jeongyeon huffs. “I’m not going to apologize to your personal virtual assistant.”
“One day artificial intelligences will have rights, like the rest of us, and then you are going to regret being rude to your microwave,” Chaeyoung says, but has already turned halfway toward her wall of screens.
Jeongyeon leaves her be. She sets down cups of Myoui Coffee on each table she passes that’s left: Dahyun (sweet chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles atop) and Momo (black, “just like her heart”).
At the end of the lab, the entrance to an elevator is located. She presses her thumb on the pad next to the door. Her own face and personal data appears on the small screen above the pad. Then, after a moment, her file is replaced by Navely’s face:
“Hi, hot stuff. I’m so glad you are visiting. You look fantastic today.”
Jeongyeon takes a deep sigh. “Just let me in.”
“Anything you wish for, lovely,” Navely says and the doors part. The cute face on the screen smiles and fills up the screen inside the elevator as well. “Just so you know, compared to Chaevely, I would never, ever refuse a request from you.”
She presses a button inside the elevator. The small cabin starts to move. “That’s … good to know,” Jeongyeon says and bemoans the fact that the only person - thing - that seems to like flirting with her in all earnestness is her boss’ glorified chatbot.
The doors part again. The space that’s filled with the lab beneath, is Nayeon’s penthouse up here. The ceiling is slightly higher and the walls are a subtle kind of off-white, warming the color slightly. The apartment has sprung from the mind of some world-class interior designer and is pristine; no thanks to Nayeon for that, as she is the most disorganized person Jeongyeon has ever met.
How she gets any kind of work done is absolutely beyond her.
Jeongyeon ventures further into the lion’s den, passing two Jackson Pollocks and an Andy Warhol. Jeongyeon doesn’t exactly share Nayeon’s taste for art - the things she buys are often as loud as her own personality - but she admires the brilliance behind them.
The light is slightly dimmed, the curtains drawn, and in the distance, she can hear some rustling. Someone is in the kitchen.
Jeongyeon draws closer. The open floor plan makes it easy to survey the entire apartment: she can see the living room, the kitchen and the bathroom, surrounded by glass walls that turn milky when there’s a need for privacy.
The only bright light comes from the open fridge door, where a dark figure is illuminated.
Jeongyeon reaches out and turns on the light.
The figure shrieks and lifts her hands to shield herself from the light, like a vampire. “Navely! Lights! Out! Now !”
“Yes, Queen of the Universe,” Navely says sweetly and the lights dim down.
The figure slams the fridge door shut and turns. “Are you trying to kill me?”
Jeongyeon comes closer and takes a seat on a high bar chair by the kitchen island and sets down the paper bag to take out two cups. “Killing you with your kitchen light? That would be a new one, I guess.” She pushes the cup toward Nayeon. “I brought you coffee.”
Nayeon is still somewhere crouching on the floor in front of the fridge. “I have coffee. I have a coffee machine. I have a coffee machine that’s more expensive than my haircut and my haircut costs more than the GDP of a small country.”
“We both know that’s a lie, because one of your robots cuts your hair, because you don’t trust humans with it.” Jeongyeon nods at the inconspicuous white cup with the dark orange lettering. “It’s Myoui Coffeehouse’s Cold Brew Latte with ice cubes, whipped cream, soy milk and the Secret Ingredient.”
There’s silence for a moment, then Nayeon rises from behind the kitchen island like a dead person. Her hands creep over the corner of the surface like a vampire taking hold of its coffin, uselessly clawing into the indestructible surface. She makes quite a production of it, groaning, before finally managing to drag herself to her feet.
“Navely,” she calls out. “Twenty percent light.”
The lamps come to life.
Jeongyeon is only mostly immune to her now: Nayeon is wearing a white dress shirt and nothing much else, Jeongyeon suspects, and black glasses from some famous, expensive brand. Her hair is in wild disarray and her skin is paler than usual. She’s shorter like this, because she’s barefoot and Jeongyeon’s sneakers provide her a tad of a height advantage.
She looks younger like this as well, the absence of make-up emphasizing the tiny constellations of freckles on her face. Nayeon frowns for a moment, holding on to the kitchen island, before directing her gaze at Jeongyeon behind the large sunglasses that make her look like an insect. She smiles and her brows slant. It’s the bunny-toothed smile like she’s genuinely happy to see Jeongyeon. She’s terribly pretty, prettier than Jeongyeon has ever seen any person capable of being.
“I’d say you are a lifesaver, but I died at least twice last night,” Nayeon groans, her smile disappearing. Then grasps the cup and takes a sip, part of her tension rolling away. “Oh, thank you.”
“Jihyo informed me that you should not be allowed to talk to people before you have your morning coffee,” Jeongyeon said, taking a seat on the high bar chairs in front of the kitchen island.
“Why would she even suggest something like that?” Nayeon asks, innocently, over the rim of her cup.
“Because you tend to make your personal assistants cry,” Jeongyeon says.
“Well.” Nayeon shrugs and moves her cup in a kind of cheers motion toward Jeongyeon. “That’s why we have the LaburiOS now - who needs human assistants if we have computers?”
“It’s … not the same.”
“Says you of all people, who barely leaves her home when she’s not working,” Nayeon shrugs. It doesn’t sound like criticism, just stating the facts.
Jeongyeon can’t entirely reject the idea, however she still tries. “I do have a private life,” she says, defensively. “Plus, I have you guys. Babysitting you fills up my day quite nicely. Speaking of personal assistants: I need you to fix my virtual one here.”
Nayeon lets her cup sink to the surface of the island. “Is it not working? Is it broken? Did it order pineapple when you wanted mushrooms?”
“Pineapple is an excellent choice for pizza -”
“Heresy!”
“- and no, that’s not it.” Jeongyeon takes out her cellphone. “Navely?”
The face immediately fills the screen. “Yes, my princess charming?”
Jeongyeon lifts her eyebrows and points at the screen with her index finger. “Hear that?”
Nayeon’s face is completely blank. “Hear what?”
“My … my princess charming ,” Jeongyeon says. “I want it to stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Calling me my princess charming ,” Jeongyeon says. “It can call me Jeongyeon or eonnie or … or chingu , if you insist, but not … that.”
Nayeon takes a very long and appraising glance into the insides of her cup, before she looks up. “It’s not a bug, it’s a feature.”
“Nayeon -”
“What? It does everything you want it to, right? It takes care of your appointments, it makes sure you are on time, it charges the Naymobile …”
“You mean The Other Car.”
Nayeon ignores her. “- and it provides excellent navigational support.”
“But I don’t need all that! I can take care of my appointments, I am on time - always - and the Naymobile is an abomination, because it’s so … sleek and perfect and so … so … Italian .” Jeongyeon takes a deep sigh. “Doesn’t matter. I want Jeongvely back. It was grumpy and didn’t want to do small talk. And it doesn’t call me hot stuff or cutie pie or … whatever.”
Nayeon sighs. “I’ll see what I can do. I gave you Navely, because it has the most administrative rights in the entirety of the LaburiOS and I figured you, as my bodyguard, might find that useful.”
“Don’t make me feel bad. You know I’m grateful, it’s just … sometimes it’s just too much .”
“I see. I’ll try to update Jeongvely or have Chaeng do it. In the meantime, just try to bear with it.” Nayeon takes off her sunglasses. Even when tired, she’s the prettiest girl Jeongyeon has ever seen. “What’s up today?”
“The presentation.”
“Which presentation?”
“The one for your latest cellphone. The one for the Constellation Aries X10.”
“Oh. The one I developed two years ago. Yes, I remember. Right.” She cracks her knuckles. “Guess I have to dumb myself down a bit.”
“Don’t - they can try harder. Plus, in exchange they’ll get a cellphone that will trump the competition,” Nayeon says. Jeongyeon points at the coffee. “Drink up first.”
Nayeon smiles at her, happy and bewildered. “You are so nice today. How come?”
Jeongyeon presses her lips together for a moment. “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”
“Yes. So?”
Jeongyeon hesitates. “You broke up. You were devastated. You drank your bodyweight in alcohol.”
“And today is a new day.”
“It’s alright to be sad once in a while, you know?” Jeongyeon says. “The secret is to maintain a healthy balance.”
“We don’t sell sadness in this company.”
Jeongyeon lifts her cellphone, a half-smile on her face. “You don’t sell happiness either.”
Nayeon returns the smile, mirroring it perfectly. A moment passes. Then: “I thought this time, it would be good, you know? Perfect.”
“I know.”
“And he was really nice.”
“I know.”
“And then … we broke up.”
“You know what your problem here is?”
“That I am the statistical exception of being intelligent, beautiful, witty, successful and brilliant and therefore it is almost impossible to find someone to cater to my particular needs, therefore dooming me to a life of barfing at the happy relationships of my less capable - or more capable, depending on how you measure it - friends, while dying in complete and utter solitude?”
“Well. Yes. That and you want too much at once. Be less unforgiving. Sometimes falling in love takes years.”
Nayeon looks at her over the rim of her cup and stares for a long moment. “Sometimes falling in love with someone takes years?”
Jeongyeon shrugged. “I’ve read about it. What do I know?”
Nayeon stares at her and Jeongyeon can feel her searching for something. It makes her uncomfortable and retreat. She rarely speaks about what’s in her heart and when somebody tries to poke into the depth of what is hidden there, it rises and makes her face it herself.
And Jeongyeon, for all her badasser-y, can’t look that pink, pulsing happy thing in the face, that has Nayeon’s breath and Nayeon’s smile and her sense of humor and her bright personality all over it.
So Jeongyeon shuts her down.
“You have to get ready. Your presentation is in three hours and you haven’t even chosen your lipstick for the day.”
Nayeon still stares at her and Jeongyeon can see the gears in her head turning. She wishes her boss slash bane of her life would stop doing that. “I’ll go with peach. You like peach, don’t you?” she finally says.
“The color of your lips isn’t exactly high on my agenda,” Jeongyeon says dryly.
(Nayeon likes five shades of lipstick: Peach, strawberry, cherry, nude and the purple one that Jeongyeon hates. Jeongyeon loves peach though.)
Then Jihyo comes in (“How come you aren’t even dressed yet??”) and saves Jeongyeon from further conversation with a girl that can impale her heart with a glance alone.
*
Private Discord Server - Fifty Shades of Awesome.
OneJin [ingame: Sims4]: I shot someone today. Twice. ::sademoji::
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: Was it in the face? ::evil::
OneJin [ingame: Sims4]: What?? No!
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: :(
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: I shot some1 today. 3rice. ::wickedemoji::
OneJin [ingame: Sims4]: Did your guy die?
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: No. Was just a tazr gun. He twitchd tho. No1 is touching my girl while Im on b-guard duty.
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: I didn’t tazer anyone in a rly long time. ::sademoji::
OneJin [ingame: Sims4]: Because you are working in that shopping mall! As a mall guard!
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: Nothing wrong being a mall guard!
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: U literally protected a prezident onze!
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: It was the president of a toothpaste company!
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: Talk 2 the accounting gurl alrdy, get her nmbr, stop wrkng at the mall, protect a real prez again! ::angry:: I dunt wanna eat shitty Chicken Alfredo at the food court wth u anymore n watch u cry!
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: ::expressionless:: Anyway. How’s your thing going, Jeong?
OneJin [ingame: Sims4]: Don’t change the topic!
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: ::tonguestuckout::
OneYeon: My client broke up with her boyfriend.
OneJin [ingame: Sims4]: Miss Bunny #2 broke up with her boyfriend? ::shockedemoji::
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: Th perf bf? ::shockedemoji:: ::shockedemoji::
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: The one that looked like his smile was from a toothpaste commercial? ::shockedemoji:: ::shockedemoji:: ::shockedemoji::
OneYeon: Yeah, that one. And she’s Miss Bunny #1, Hyun. We’ve talked about this. You already stole my nickname.
OneJin [ingame: Sims4]: ::zippermouthface::
OneJin [ingame: Sims4] changed their name to EpicBloodbathArchitect.
OneYeon: Dude. No.
EpicBloodbathArchitect [ingame: Sims4] changed their name to AeongCat.
OneYeon: But Hyun is right, @Seul2Bear. You gotta get your shit together. You are able to to incapacitate a person in nine different ways only using a spoon. And the chicken Alfredo *does* suck there.
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: I’ll get my shit together, if you get your shit together.
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: Yeah, that will nvr happen!!!1
OneYeon: I have my shit together.
AeongCat [ingame: Sims4]: ::sideeye::
Seul2Bear [ingame: Stardew Valley]: ::sideeye::
ChuuProtector [ingame: Sims4]: ::sideeye::
OneYeon: I hate all of you.
OneYeon has left the chat.