CF Chapter 2

Her gaze slowly traveled upward, starting from the tips of his polished shoes.

 

It climbed, higher and higher, until finally, something came into view.

 

Yudam blinked, startled.

 

She hadn’t meant to look. She was crouched down, watering the flowerbed, and her head had only tilted up as far as her position allowed.

 

Just above the loosely unbuttoned collar of his shirt, a sharply defined collarbone jutted out. Though mostly obscured by the black fabric, the strength of his frame was unmistakable, broad, solid, and quietly powerful.

 

At a glance, he was just a tall man with a commanding presence.

 

But then she saw it.

 

A black flower. Embedded in his collarbone.

 

As dark as the shirt stretched across his chest, that flower, or rather, the thick stem just beginning to bloom, was too real, too vivid to dismiss as an illusion.

 

No, Yudam was certain.

 

It was a flower.

 

A thick, jet-black stem, curling upward along his bones. As if, at any moment, it might blossom in full across his chest.

 

It looked strong. Resilient. Yet there was a strange elegance to it, as if some master painter had dipped his brush in ink and carefully rendered it across living skin in a single, fluid stroke.

 

Then it hit her.

 

The scent.

 

Beneath the crisp aroma of fresh flowers was something darker, smokier. Something… burning.

 

Burning flowers.

 

It was a strange blend: the gentle fragrance of blossoms mingled with the cold, charred edge of something slowly turning to ash. Like incense made from petals and fire.

 

Her chest lifted in a shallow breath.

 

Was such a scent even possible?

 

It was delicate and haunting, like it could vanish in an instant, or engulf every flower around her in flame. The sheer contrast was so striking it made her throat tighten. She swallowed hard, a dry click in her throat.

 

She couldn’t see his face.

 

A primal instinct warned her not to look. As if meeting his eyes would unravel something she wasn’t meant to touch.

 

Her body stayed frozen, whether from awkward posture or the gravity of his presence, she couldn’t tell.

 

He was a towering silhouette, cutting off her air, casting a shadow over everything.

 

And she was shrinking beneath it, overwhelmed by something intangible, something she couldn’t name.

 

– Zone 6T. Still not finished?

 

The voice in her earpiece broke through the haze like a splash of cold water.

 

Yudam flinched. The stiffness in her body loosened, like she’d snapped out of a trance. She lowered her head slightly and touched the thin wire at her ear. Her fingers were trembling, just barely.

 

– Guests will be arriving any minute. Some of them get impatient, you know. We really need to wrap up soon.

 

The manager’s voice was firm with a hint of urgency.

 

“Yes, almost done. Just five more minutes.”

 

Yudam replied quickly.

 

She moved faster, hands working in rhythm again.

 

Eventually, her breath steadied, and she lifted her head to check again.

 

“….”

 

The shoes were gone.

 

The man who had stood parallel to her along the flower path had vanished, without a sound or a trace.

 

 

 

⚜︎ ⚜︎ ⚜︎

 

 

 

After finishing a meal she couldn’t tell if she’d eaten through her mouth or nose, Yoo-dam was thrust into a shift change and swept into motion, rushing drinks and dishes to and fro. The moment in the garden, when she’d encountered the faceless man, slipped to the far corners of her mind.

 

Life aboard the cruise was a string of endless parties.

 

She’d once thought, Wouldn’t that get boring? But only someone who had no idea could say something so naïve.

 

Luxury, it turned out, had endless variations. The shipboard festivities surpassed themselves each night in dazzling excess. To Yoo-dam, it was all blinding, surreal.

 

The hall was growing more crowded by the minute. She kept her senses sharp, bracing for the next order to fall.

 

“You’re the new hire, right?”

 

She’d finished her assigned tasks and was waiting in her designated area when someone spoke. It was a woman, just slightly taller than her. A familiar face.

 

“I didn’t get a chance to say hi earlier. You looked about my age.”

 

The woman smiled as she looked at Yoo-dam.

 

“I’m Lee Do-hee. You’re Jin Yoo-dam, right?”

 

She gestured at the name tag on Yoo-dam’s uniform. Yoo-dam nodded, eyes still fixed on the floor of the grand lounge.

 

“Yes. Just call me whatever’s easy.”

 

“How old are you, Yoo-dam?”

 

Turned out, they were the same age. Do-hee had joined a month earlier. She suggested dropping formalities, and Yoo-dam agreed.

 

With a brighter smile now, Do-hee began chatting more easily, where she was from, what school she went to, the usual small talk.

 

“I was wondering what that actor was doing after their last drama, and here they are! That’s wild.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

 

Yoo-dam wasn’t even sure who she was pointing at, but she responded politely. The two kept their voices low, forming their words with the smallest movements of their lips so as not to be noticed by other staff.

 

Still, it wasn’t hard to hear each other. Their hushed tones felt almost like ventriloquism, and despite the tension, a small smile escaped Yoo-dam’s lips.

 

It might’ve been the first time she smiled, Do-hee paused mid-sentence and looked at her.

 

“Hey.”

 

Yoo-dam was about to ask what was wrong when a voice sliced between them. It was the manager assigned to this section.

 

She wasn’t sure who the call was meant for, maybe both of them. Worried they’d been caught chatting, Yoo-dam quickly composed her face.

 

But the manager said nothing. Just looked her over from head to toe. Unlike Do-hee’s gaze, his was weighing, calculating.

 

It seemed clear now who had been called.

 

Yoo-dam tensed, clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

 

“Do-hee, you’re assigned to Lounge B. You, to Lounge A. Go to Kitchen Zone 1, there should be a tray freshly prepared.”

 

“Yes, understood.”

 

“Just follow instructions once you’re there. Be quick.”

 

“Yes.”

 

It was meant to be reassuring, but only made her more nervous, because she still didn’t know what exactly was expected of her.

 

Yoo-dam glanced at Do-hee and began walking.

 

Lounge A was reserved for passengers of the highest tier, an elite space even more exclusive than the party below. It was Yoo-dam’s first time being sent somewhere so high-profile, and she felt the tension rise in her chest.

 

The people there, she’d heard, were elegant and powerful, guests of real standing, not just celebrities.

 

In the kitchen, she carefully pulled a loaded trolley and moved with care.

 

The food was clearly different in quality from what was served elsewhere.

 

I wonder if oppa is eating well…

 

The expensive fruit and mouthwatering dishes made her think of Yu-ha. She might be eating three meals a day here, but he, alone out there, was another story. At least the hospital had provided meals. Loan sharks wouldn’t be so generous. He was probably saving every penny for medication, skipping meals to make ends meet.

 

I’ll call him after work, she thought, and before she knew it, she’d arrived.

 

“Take that off.”

 

“Ah, yes.”

 

The guard checking her ID and service details pointed at her earpiece. Probably because it had a recording function.

 

He handed her a new one. You couldn’t wear your own equipment here. Only the ones provided on site were allowed.

 

Security was tighter than she expected. Her heart thudded louder now. Just don’t make any mistakes, she reminded herself, straightening her uniform as the guard opened the door.

 

“…that’s what I’m saying.”

 

As soon as she stepped in, she heard a voice, someone on the phone, pressed against the wall. An undercurrent of anxiety laced his tone.

 

“You know what that snake’s like. What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Fuck.”

 

Yoo-dam flinched but walked forward, pretending she hadn’t heard.

 

Why is it so dark in here?

 

It felt like a completely different world from the brightly lit party below.

 

Like being trapped in the night sea.

 

Had she not double-checked, she would’ve thought she entered the wrong space.

 

“Service from the lounge, I’ve…”

 

She reached the final doorway, guided only by soft lighting, when,

 

Thud. Thud.

 

Unidentifiable sounds cut her off.

 

Yoo-dam shifted her gaze. Unsure if she was supposed to enter, she looked at the guards standing like statues on either side. One of them gave a small nod.

 

Beyond the archway, shaped like a monstrous, gaping mouth, was a heavy, dense darkness.

 

Just drop this off and go.

 

Taking a deep breath, Yoo-dam checked her uniform and stepped forward.

 

The deeper she went, the heavier the noise became.

 

Though dim, the space was intricately decorated, richer, even more cinematic than below.

 

And it was full of people. Oddly silent people.

 

There was something eerie in the hush, as if everyone had been holding their breath.

 

Thankfully, it didn’t last long. Soon came the murmur of conversation, soft laughter, and faint music.

 

Not rowdy, but just enough to feel natural. Yoo-dam let out a quiet breath of relief and moved carefully toward the tables.

 

Whack. Thud!

 

Still, the harsh, violent noises cut through everything.

 

See nothing. Hear nothing.

 

She recalled the rules drilled into her from the moment she boarded: never react, never acknowledge.

 

She clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to turn her head. Her fingers trembled with tension and fear.

 

She just had to serve and get out.

 

That’s all.