Cheesecake. Almost.

We went to a dessert cafe in Myeongdong that I read about in a blog recently. It was a so called hot-place. A must-visit place for the socialites of Delaygram, where anybody could become - or at least, act like a socialite. Self-worth validated and amplified by the number of likes, and virtual thumbs-ups that seemingly felt better than thumbs up a certain entrance in female human anatomy.

I never felt that thrill though. 

"What's up with all these people?", Miho asked, looking irritated at the long queue we were standing in. 

"This is a popular place. A hot-place."

"What for?"

"Dessert here is supposed to be very good. Especially the cheesecake."

"Have you ever tried?"

"No."

"How do we know it'd be worth it?"

"They sure looked pretty on Delaygram."

"Are you into that?"

"No."

"Right."

The conversation has run dry, with Miho starting to grow impatient and agitated by every minute. 

It was then that a massive bulky man cut the line right in front of us. Tatted up all over his arms, the arms that looked like they could burst any time with a slight flex of muscle, like the upper thighs of a racing horse. Strong, masculine, menacing. 

"Excuse me."

Miho wasn't one to stand around and let someone jump ahead of her. 

"Yeah?"

The man turned around to face Miho, his pretty plastic girlfriend dangling onto his arm, insincerely begging her boyfriend, "Please don't get into a fight."

My killer companion didn't miss that. 

"You want a fight?"

The man laughed, let out a loud 'Hah!', and scorned. 

"What's wrong with you? What do you want?", he asked Miho, menacing. 

"You just cut the line. I was here first."

Spitting facts. Spitting fire. 

"I'm sorry about that."

The man turned his back on Miho as if that was enough. 

But it wasn't. 

The killer lady wasn't one to ask twice, or even someone a second chance. She landed a strong jab on the man's kidney. That would probably have made anyone fall in pain. But this man didn't. Armored with his taut muscles. 

"What the fuck?!", he turned around, squared up to Miho, looking down on her. 

She didn't like that. 

Without saying a thing, she kneed his nuts. 

He didn't seem to have much muscle there, he groaned and bent his knees like a girl about to hold herself back from peeing. 

"You bitch…"

But he recovered. Maybe he didn't have much of the nuts down there. I thought a man couldn't normally recover that easily. 

He straightened himself, and his arm swung, fast as a flash, landing a slap on Miho. 

His girlfriend squealed, more like in excitement than in shock.

But what shocked everyone who now looked on with one hand covering their open mouth and another one taking videos with their smartphone was that Miho stood still after only a slight flinch. 

It must have stung. Her cheeks turned instantly red. 

Instead of addressing the man who just slapped her though, she turned to snatch the phone away from the nearest girl standing by, threw it on the floor, smashing it. 

"You all put your phone away. I will kill any and every single one of you who take a video and put it on your stupid fucking social media!"

Another girl among the crowd did not listen, actually even raising her phone to take a good shot at Miho. She didn't like that, so snatched it away from her again, bit one corner of it and snapped it, and spat out the pieces. 

"Anybody else?"

Now everyone seemed to have put their phone away and covered their mouths with both hands. 

"You crazy fuck."

The man mused. Poetic. 

"Do it again."

Miho finally turned to face the man again and commanded. The man was quick to understand. He raised his hand again and swung it. 

"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

This time he squealed as Miho stabbed his armpit with her fist. He fell to the ground immediately. 

But she did not stop. She kicked the man in his face.

Again. 

And again. 

The girlfriend squealed again, but the excitement was gone. But she wasn't going to offer her plastic face as a sacrificial shield. She just stood there watching her boyfriend's face turn into mashed tomato. 

I don't know what came over me, but I hugged my crazy killer from behind around her waist. 

"Please stop…"

Miho was in a frenzy though. She did not listen and kept on kicking the man. 

"Please stop", I said again, this time firmer. 

And she stopped. 

"What for?", and she asked me. 

"You are ruining the new jeans we bought."

That was right. The blood that splashed from the lump of meat stained the brand-new jeans. 

And we put in so much effort to pick out a cool pair. 

What a waste. 

"Fuck this shit."

With that, Miho landed a final stomp on the man's head, right on the temple. I turned my head away as his eyeball seemingly popped out of its socket. 

I pulled Miho by the side of her brand-new T-shirt, which thankfully didn't get tainted by blood. We needed to get away. 

We walked fast. Through the crowd. Screams abound. 

We sped up. Ran down the escalators. Out of the building, into the afternoon sun.

We ran and ran. I don't know for how long, but it was exhilarating. 

"I'm sorry we missed out on that cheesecake."

Miho apologized, wiping sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

I was dying. I have never run so much since the high school fitness exam. 

"You alright?"

"No."

I puked out the ice-Americano I drank on an empty stomach earlier. 

This girl made me vomit twice already. Something grew in me when I was with her. Fear and joy. Thrill and disgust. Is this how a pregnant woman feels?

She rubbed my back to help me. Comfort me. Her hand was warm. Unexpected. 

"I'm really sorry, Sohee."

I looked up with a long strain of spit hanging out of my mouth. 

I think I smiled. 

She spoke my name for the first time.