97 — A Monster’s Love II

Mia's POV:

"Isn't he incredible? You guys should see him live. This, ladies and gentlemen, is the rising South Korea National Team's player and upcoming idol, Cha Jae-Il. Look at him, he's unstoppable."

And then, without realizing it, without realizing a simple thing as to what could have a negative impact on Mia's current circumstances, the owner of the establishment blathered on about her dearest brother's impressive football skill.

Of course, his actual presence did most of the advertising, even if he was unaware of that fact.

She sipped her tea—lightly, her straw never reaching the bottom of her plastic cup. Her foot tapped softly but incessantly, a sound against the plush rug, one-two, one-two. The words were blurry, white noise. She only registered that they were still talking about Jae-il as the women nodded and smiled in front of her, and Mia tried not to let her irritation show.

So he was a public figure. People talked about him. That wasn't his fault. Mia didn't need to keep letting herself get hung up on these stupid things. She brought a hand up to push some errant hair off her face.

But, honestly? It was really hard, truly and utterly hard.

Her previous bad mood returned full-force, like a vortex, an unwelcome visitor of its kind.

And when a woman she barely knew, a girl, barely more than an acquaintance, openly ogled her baby brother with a look of something Mia didn't even want to think of, a vicious, ugly twist started in Mia's stomach. Getting stabbed couldn't have made her feel worse than this. She chewed the straw between her lips, trying to take her mind away from her steadily mounting urge to drag that Soo-jin girl, with all that creamy skin, smooth, slender body and eyes as innocent as a saint, and toss her into a dumpster somewhere.

But...

She saw the way Min-ji's eyes lit up, the way her lips parted in a small 'o' of surprise and awe, the way her body seemed to lean unconsciously toward the television screen. She saw Soo-jin blush, looking from Jae-Il's face on the screen to Mia, as if seeking permission, as if trying to gauge her reaction.

Joon just whistled, low and appreciative. "Wow. So that's your brother? Mia, you're sitting on a gold mine. Seriously. You could make a fortune just selling his used socks on the internet."

Of course, they would know. Who, in uni, didn't know that Cha Mia's brother was that Cha Jae-il. Stupid rumor mill. Stupid fan girls.

Mia slowly dropped her eyes to her lap.

"He's fucking hot." Min-ji stated, a little too loud, a little too breathless, her voice hushed with reverence. "Like, damn."

"H-he's very handsome." Soo-jin added quietly, her gaze fixed on the screen. "And... talented. I watched the match yesterday. That freekick was... unreal."

Jae-Il's face, his post-match interview face, filled the screen.

A faint sheen of sweat made his skin glow, his dark hair mussed as if he'd just run his fingers through it. His eyes, those strange purples, held an intensity that pulled you in, and a smile played on his lips, just enough to show the edge of his teeth.

Under the studio lights, he looked like a young god, dropped from the heavens to make mortals remember what true desire felt like.

He was talking, but Mia couldn't hear a word he was saying over the rushing sound in her own ears.

Her blood was bubbling.

Fucking hot.

The words echoed in the sudden, suffocating silence of her mind. They were ugly, crass, cheap. They shouldn't belong in the same sentence as Jae-Il. Not if they came from some bitch's mouth.

They didn't have the right to even look at him, let alone vocalize their shallow, fleeting little crushes.

"Wow." Min-chul added, his own eyes wide. "I knew he was good, but... man. The charisma is off the charts. I'm not even gay, but..." He trailed off, chuckling, and obviously joking.

"Focus, you idiot." Min-ji nudged him, her gaze never leaving the screen. "Seriously, Mia. You get to see that every day? How do you even function?" She let out a low whistle, shaking her head in disbelief. "I'd be in his room 24/7."

Soo-jin frowned. "They're siblings." Her voice was soft, a gentle reminder.

"And?" Min-ji shot back, a challenging glint in her eye. "He's still a man. A very, very attractive man."

"Right." Joon drawled, swirling the ice in his empty glass. "Because every woman wants to fuck her brother. Very forward-thinking of you, Min-ji."

"Fuck off, Joon."

A roll of the eyes. "What? I'm just saying. There's a line. And some of you are dancing all over it. Like, what?"

"Is there anything wrong with that? You think Soo-jin or Joo-ri right here aren't undressing him with their eyes?" Min-ji gestured lazily at the other two girls.

Soo-jin's face turned a soft shade of red as she took a deliberate sip of her drink.

Joo-ri, seeing the shift in Mia's posture, the subtle tightening of her jaw, tried to steer the conversation. "Alright, alright, let's not drool over Mia's little brother. It's a bit creepy. He's fifteen years old. Underage. Un-der-age!" She made sure to enunciate the last two words. "We're not a bunch of predators."

"......" The word hit Mia more than she'd ever care to admit, because she hadn't only predated on someone younger, but also someone from her very own family. And the guilt that came with that was not a fleeting one. It was a constant hum in the back of her mind, the kind that made her feel like a villain in her own story, except the villain was also the one who got to fuck the hero—while the heroine watched in despair.

Then again, for all the guilt, she'd still do it again in a heartbeat. Because a monster's love, as twisted as it was, was still love.

"He's not that young." Min-ji huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm barely twenty. The age gap isn't that big."

"It's not about the age gap, you weirdo. It's about him being her brother." Joon pointed a well-manicured finger at Mia, who was now staring at her melting cake with an unnerving stillness.

"Wait, it's about the age gap too..." Joo-ri sighed.

The vibrant colours of the television, the chatter of the cafe, the clinking of cutlery. Laughter. Smiles. Chatter. All of it tapered off into an annoying buzz in the back of Mia's mind.

The only thing that was sharp, that was in high-definition, was the image on the screen. Jae-Il. And the words that were being flung around him like cheap confetti.

Fucking hot.

In his room 24/7.

A monster's love.

A monster's love was also a protective one. A territorial one. And right now, Mia felt like a wolf that had just heard another animal howling too close to her den.

It was like watching a pack of hyenas circle a gazelle.

They were all laughing, all teasing, their words sharp and playful, but all Mia could see was the gleam in their eyes. The predatory gleam. The glint of 'I want'.

Joo-ri's hand on her arm brought her back, a gentle squeeze. A whisper. "Mia? You okay? You look a little... out of it." Concern was etched on her friend's face. She was trying to steer the ship back to safer waters.

Mia slowly lifted her gaze from the congealing cake. Her eyes, usually a warm, playful amber, were now dark and fathomless, fixed on Min-ji.

Min-ji was clueless as she rambled on and on. There was no real malicious or even deep affection in her words. It was just a casual, thoughtless appreciation of a handsome face.

But to Mia, it wasn't casual. It wasn't just any face.

It was hers.

"Ahh, Mia, I know I'm a bit shameless here, but do you think you could introduce us? I would just die for a picture with him! Maybe get his number?" Min-ji giggled as she rubbed the back of her neck in embarrassment and eagerness.

Joo-ri, seeing the absolute stillness that had overcome her friend, tried to intervene, her voice strained. "Min-ji, that's really not—"

"Oh, come on. What's wrong? It's not like I'm trying to get him to bed—"

That's it.

The world snapped back into razor-sharp focus.

Mia stood up so abruptly her chair scraped against the floor with a screech that cut through the cafe's ambient noise.

The small table, precariously balanced, wobbled. Joon, who had been leaning back on his chair, almost lost his balance.

Every pair of eyes turned towards her.

Mia's smile was a thin, sharp line. It didn't reach her eyes. "Die?" She repeated, her voice deceptively sweet, laced with contemptuous calmness. "You'd die for a picture? That's a strong word, Min-ji. I suggest you be careful with it."

Min-ji blinked, the boisterous energy draining from her face, replaced by confusion. "Huh? I was just joking...?"

"Were you?" Mia tilted her head, her yellow hair catching the light. "Joking about my brother. About wanting his number." She took a step closer to the table, rattling the table once more. "You have a very vivid imagination. Must be nice. To see something you want and just... say it out loud. Without a fucking second thought."

The air grew thick. Min-ji visibly recoiled, her hand flying to her chest as if to shield herself. The other boys at the table exchanged wide-eyed, panicked glances.

This was not the Mia Joo-ri had described.

Mia leaned down, her palms flat on the table, her face inches from Min-ji's. She could smell the cheap perfume on the other girl's neck, the faint scent of coffee on her breath. She could see the fear swimming in her eyes.

"Let me be very clear." Mia's voice was low. A hiss. A dagger sheathed in velvet, for even in her anger, it still sounded beautiful. "He's not a piece of meat. He's not a prize to be won. He's not a fantasy for you to play out in that empty little head of yours. He's not an opportunity for you to feel special. He is not 'fucking hot'. He's my little brother. And he is not. For. You."

Her blood was on fire.

Her mind, a battlefield, was screaming, screaming. 'Mine. Mine. MINE.' It was a primal, guttural roar that eclipsed all rational thought. 'He's mine. He was mine before he was famous. He was mine when he scored his first goal. He was mine when he held my hand in the dark. He will be mine when he's old and grey and his bones ache. He will be mine in the next life, and the one after that. This bitch, or any one else, won't get to have him.'

"Mia…"

It was odd, hearing the usually calm and composed Joo-ri sound so frantic. So fearful.

Min-ji was frozen, her face pale, her mouth agape. She looked like a cornered animal, realizing too late the danger it was in. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"No." Mia cut her off, her voice cold as a morgue slab. "You don't get to mean. You don't get to have an opinion. You don't get to look at him. You don't get to think about him. You don't get to say his name. You will erase him from your mind. You will forget you ever saw him on that screen. Because if I ever, ever, hear you talking about him—"

"Mia!" Joo-ri raised her voice so sharply, so forcefully, it cut through Mia's crimson haze. "Please, Mia. Put that down. Now."

Mia blinked, as if waking from a trance.

The world rushed back in. The smell of coffee, the murmur of conversations, the gentle clinking of cutlery. The panicked faces of everyone around her. And then she looked at her hand.

Her hand was holding a fork.

And the fork, its silver tines gleaming under the cafe's lights, was hovering just a breath away from Min-ji's perfectly made-up face. The prongs were aimed directly at her right eye. The same eye that had been looking at Jae-Il with anything but innocence.

She had lifted it from her cake without even realizing. Without thinking. An instinct. A tool. A weapon. Coated in frosting.

It would have been so easy. Just a little push.

A flick of the wrist.

To take that eye. To ruin that face. To leave a permanent, physical mark to match the one she wanted to leave on her soul. To show everyone what happened when you looked at what belonged to her.

The thought was a black, viscous poison, sweet and terrifying.

She felt the muscle in her forearm tense, the urge to complete the arc, to feel the resistance of flesh and bone against the steel.

And then...

She saw.

She saw Joo-ri's face, not just panicked, but horrified. She saw the reflection of her own face in Min-ji's wide, terror-stricken pupils—a stranger's face twisted in terror.

She saw Soo-jin, who had shrunk back in her seat, looking like she was about to cry.

She saw Min-chul, his jaw clenched tight, ready to intervene.

And Joon, his fashionable mask of nonchalance completely shattered, replaced with fright.

They weren't seeing a protective older sister.

They were seeing a monster.

A slow, creeping cold seeped into her veins, extinguishing the fire. The roaring in her head subsided to a low, pathetic whimper.

Her hand began to tremble.

Slowly, deliberately, she lowered the fork. It clattered onto the ceramic plate, the sound shockingly loud in the sudden, suffocating silence. A smear of strawberry frosting stained one of the tines.

She didn't say a word.

She just straightened up, grabbed her purse, and ran off.

"Mia! Wait!"

Joo-ri's voice was a desperate cry from behind her, but she didn't stop.

She pushed open the glass door of the cafe and stepped out into the bright afternoon sun.

The air was cold against her hot skin.

She felt like she was going to be sick.