"Soojin-ah, how is he like?" Mother asks as they're seated on the maplewood custom dining table graced upon by The King.
Soojin fiddles with her thumb, contemplating whether she should tell her mother all that she knows about the man or exactly what she wants to hear.
She's at a loss of words, her self.
Besides, how could she even assess the kind of man he was, all when she'd known him little time and all through that time, she'd been met by mixed signals.
One minute he was hot and the other, he was cold.
One glance of his narrowed eyes filled with abdominal rage and she was on her knees, begging for mercy.
