How Weak, A Delay (1)

Warning! This chapter has adult-restricted contents such as the use of vulgar languages, violence, intercourse, and might even show the portrayal of harmful activities. Continue at your own risk.

...

Hospitalized after getting into the 'warehouse accident' and rejection from her ideal man, Young Mirae stayed in a private hospital room 201. Her bed's cotton sheets had a distinct perfume, something like a lavender scent. It was too calm that she almost forgot she was expecting a visitor.

"Good morning, Ms. Baek Sunhi. How are you feeling?" asked the doctor, "I am here to tell you, you have three fractured ribs and a strain in your pelvis bone."

That was the first greet she received from the doctor who arrived in her room. It sounded as though she earned a congratulation judging from the tone of his voice.

"Oh, thank you for telling me, doc," she told him as she fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Young Mirae remained relaxed on the bed. She flashed a smile at the doctor while he was giving her a quick check-up. Turned out, she had more injuries from the car crash than she thought.

"Quite impressive for you to hold it in for a week before coming to the hospital. At this stage, it should hurt pretty bad."

"Ah, yes, doc. I'm pretty tough, you see." Young Mirae snickered at his comment. "I will take that as a compliment, doctor."

Letting out a short hum, he replied in a whimsical tone, "It's not a compliment, though."

Following a couple of minutes, the door slid close. The doctor left the room after he finished checking her condition.

Young Mirae sank her back on the bed and released a sigh. She was about to close her eyes when the other person inside the room eventually spoke.

"What were you thinking?" growled he.

"Oh, fake grand-gran. I thought you followed the doctor out of the room. I totally forgot that you're still here. You didn't have to come to the hospital, you know. These are just bruises to me. I can handle the pain—"

The old saggy ball interrupted her chatter with another growl. "Why were you in that area in the first place?"

A line formed between her brows. Inwardly, she talked, 'Didn't his buddy tell him about the job he offered to me?'

Leaning her elbows on the bed as she sought to match his gaze, Young Mirae explained, "That Hwang Joon guy gave me a rather intriguing work. He said, I can earn billions just by inspecting and disposing of dead bodies. I can't turn down such an offer."

A satisfying feeling crept in when she caught the irking expression on his face. "About the money was a lie, 'kay? To be honest, I really don't know how much payment I'll receive—"

"If you're working on the cleaning service, they're gonna give you a 'decent' pay. You'll earn a minimum of four hundred thousand won within a night from that company," he mouthed where Young Mirae could barely hear him speak. 

"There's another service the company offers to its clients. Though, the payment depends on what kind of service the client wants you to do and how you're going to execute it properly," the old man continued.

Her brows raised together, and she exclaimed, "Woah, four hundred thousand — that's twenty times the average salary in Korea! How do you know this, fake grand-gran? Did you... work there?" 

Young Mirae's mind ran wilder than hyena. A service depending on what the clients wished for and a payment's accordance to the performance sounded… "Is that a sex work? Are you telling me to be a prostitute? Wait a minute, were you once a prosti—"

"No, chicken brain! The fuck are you saying?" His face crumpled in disappointment. He claimed, "It's for you to find out why!"

Her mouth parted a bit and shaped a small "o". Young Mirae started believing that the choice to grab the offer was so far the best decision she created in her life. Just by imagining it, she could pick up hundreds of thousands in a 'couple' of turns. With the money she'd receive, she could buy weapons, take in her trusted men, and charge the people who murdered her family of their debts.

However, the complicated part here was having a person who she can trust.

'There's no one I can trust here other than my family. But they're all dead,' she spoke to her mind. 

At the moment, she could only think of one, yet she could not contact him still. An army of two people could not kill an army of a thousand. It would be impossible to execute the plan without the numbers exceeding a hundred at least.

'This is not a movie or a show.' Young Mirae clenched her fists in anger. 'How weak, being hospitalized would only delay my plans.'

The old man clicked his tongue. It was enough to snap Young Mirae from her thoughts. He quizzed, "Have you met 'her' yet?"

"Who?" she quizzed back. The space between her eyebrows showed a line.

"The President," he clarified before pulling his box of cigarettes from his jean's pocket.

"I, um, kind of sneaked into work without meeting her—" While she was speaking, a cigarette he was pulling from the box fell and flopped on the floor. It distracted her.

"Fake grand-gran, that's a waste of good smoke! Please, do it outside my room. The nurse might go cray-cray if she sees you smoking here." She pointed a finger at him. "But… it's another matter we can deal with if you would give me one cig, too. Just so you know, I'm actually good at keeping secrets," she babbled, trying to persuade him to give her a cigarette.

The old saggy ball went silent before proceeding, "I'm surprised you left the company without breaking your neck after sneaking in." He bent to pick the unlit cigarette and marched beside Young Mirae. With a swift of his hand, he passed the cigarette to the confined girl, and he immediately earned a scoff from her.

"Why are you giving me the one that fell on the floor?" she complained, frowning.

"Ah, you don't want it? You should be grateful that I'm giving you one 'cause these things are expensive."

Young Mirae pressed her lips together. She knew, and not to mention, they were good, too.

"Fake grand-gran," Young Mirae began, "If you weren't such an asshole when we first met, we could've been good friends," she said, "It's still not late for you to stop being this hostile and… unfriendly."

But even after her protests, the old saggy ball was stubborn to give a reply.

She simply shrugged his negligence and tried to accept the cigarette by lifting a hand but—

"Ow, that sting," she cried out, sensing a pang in her lower chest. But it did not stop her from inserting the cigarette between her lips. "Can you light it up for me?" begged Young Mirae.

"Light it up on your own."

"Hey, come on, you jackass!" The cigarette in her lips moved up and down as she whined at her fake grand-gran.

In the harmonized moment, the door clicked before it slid open. "Excuse my intrusion, Ms. Baek Sunhi. I am your nurse — Sir, what are you giving to the patient!"