She was quiet for a moment. "Some days… It feels like I'm still that kid hiding under the Ferris wheel. Like someone's gonna tap my shoulder and say, 'Oops, mistake! The park's closed!'"
Her voice softened. "But when the lights flip on at dusk, and I hear kids laughing… it's like… I did that. Me."
I turned my head toward her. "No impostor syndrome with the merry-go-round, huh?"
She laughed, but it faded fast. "I've missed so much. Birthdays, weddings… My mom stopped calling last year. Said I 'chose a metal monster over family.'"
She swallowed. "But when the park's empty at 3 a.m., and it's just me and the rides… It's mine. No one can take that."
Our fingers brushed on the blanket. I didn't move mine. "Would you do it again?"
"In a heartbeat." She turned to face me, eyes glinting. "Even if it meant eating ramen till I'm ninety."
I propped myself up on one elbow, hovering over her. "Romantic."
She shoved my chest, grinning. "Shut up. Your turn. What's your dream? World domination via creepy cliffside dinners?"
I leaned closer, our noses almost touching. "Already dominating."
She rolled her eyes but didn't pull back. "Ugh, you're impossible."
The Ferris wheel lights blinked in the distance. Her breath hitched when my thumb grazed her wrist.
"So are you," I murmured.
The smile faded from my lips. I rolled onto my back, staring up at the stars. "My dream?" The words came out rougher than I meant.
"Not as shiny as yours. My dad died when I was ten. Probably a heart attack. Mom… She worked three jobs to keep me fed. Never complained. Not once."
Isabella's fingers stilled where they'd been tracing the blanket's edge.
"I came home once," I said, jaw tight, "found her crying in the kitchen. Lights shut off, eviction notice on the fridge.
She hadn't eaten in two days so she could pay my school fees. My dad and mom had their savings and insurance but how long can that last when living in an expensive city like Seoul, making sure I get whatever I need.
She did everything she could do to ensure I didn't lack anything, even a single thing. I'd often find her asleep at the kitchen table, still holding her needle."
The memory clawed up my throat. "That's when I decided—no more. I don't need big dreams. Just her. The woman who's done so much for me without complaining, fulfilling my wishes to the best of her capabilities without having to ask for it.
When she's done so much for me, it's my right and duty to keep her safe. Happy. And give her everything just like how she did."
Luckily our neighbours helped us and she didn't have to keep on doing three different jobs.
I don't know whether it was out of sympathy for us, love for me or concern for my mother, or just to make us indebted so that they can get whatever they want out of us.
I don't know but they helped us. The neighbors often brought us rice, paid the bills on our behalf. Mom cried every time they knocked… but she let them help. All for me.
My mom's a very weak person, weak at heart, very sensitive emotionally and can't even stand her ground. She would cry like a baby every time I hugged her and assured her that it's alright and things will be okay.
Yet she's also a woman with a lot of self respect, she hates spreading her hands in front of anyone at all, no matter how much she's suffering, and I respect my mom for that."
Isabella's breath hitched, her eyes moist, but I kept going. "I started working at twelve. Delivered newspapers, washed cars. Mom's hands shook too much to sew. We scraped by.
My mom didn't want me to work, and wanted me to enjoy my childhood, as she said she would work even harder so I don't have to start working from now on, but after seeing her suffer in silence there's no way in hell that I could stay silent, let her overexert herself doing more jobs then she can endure.
And now? I hunt, take jobs that pay enough to keep her in a warm house, good meds, living a life full of respect and dignity, and most importantly no matter how hard life was, she didn't give up nor did she sell her body off to get easy money, she's a real woman who maintained her dignity and respect even in tough times.
That's why whenever I got my pay, I gave it to my mom and the first thing she did was thank god, and then she returned all the money that was given to us out of help. She breath a sigh of relief only when she repaid the debt on her from all the people who had "Helped us,"
That's it. That's why my only intentions are to keep my mom the happiest woman in the world. Seeing her happy and enjoying life is the ultimate happiness I can get in life. No big dreams. Just her."
The silence stretched, broken only by the distant hum of the Ferris wheel.
She didn't speak at first, what I said had stuck with her. Her fingers curled into the blanket, knuckles white. Then, quietly: "Your mom… she sounds like a superhero."
I snorted. "Superheroes don't cry over burnt rice."
"Real ones do." She turned to face me, eyes fierce. "Mine left when I was eight. Took my younger brother and my favorite stuffed rabbit. Your mom? She stayed. Fought. Even when it broke her." Her voice cracked. "That's… that's the bravest thing I've ever heard."
A tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it roughly, like it offended her. "And you—working at twelve? Should've been playing, not… this." She gestured at me, at the city below.
I shrugged. "Had to. Childhood's overrated anyway."
Her eyes narrowed. "Says the guy who probably didn't own a single toy."
"Had a wrench. Same thing." I shrugged it off.
She kicked my shin, but gently. "You're impossible."
I caught her ankle, holding it under the blanket. "Worked because I cared about her more than money. If I hadn't… she'd have worked herself to death by the time I was fourteen. Simple as that."
Isabella's smile faded. "That's… really messed up."
"Yeah. But she's alive. That's all that matters."
She leaned her head on my shoulder, quiet for once. "Still. You deserved better."
"Got better." I nodded at the Ferris wheel. "I have my mother happy and enjoying the best of her life. Not to forget now I can annoy you instead."
She snorted, poking my ribs. "Lucky me."
A breeze swept over the cliff, carrying the distant chimes of her park. Her voice softened. "Bring her to the park. This weekend. I would love to meet such a strong woman like her. Let me thank her."
"For what?" I asked.
"For probably raising the only man in Seoul who's almost as stubborn as me."
I smirked. "Careful. She'll adopt you."
"Good." She tugged the blanket over us, her cheek still pressed to my shoulder. "I could use a mom who doesn't abandon me at carnivals."
We sat there until the stars blurred into dawn, her breath steady against my arm. For once, neither of us had the last word.
"I'm sorry," I said.
Isabella lifted her head from my shoulder. "What for?"
"For threatening your park. You fought like hell to build it… and I tried to wreck it a week after it opened." I stared at the fading stars, jaw tight. "Didn't mean to hurt you. Just wanted to punish the guys who hurt Jin Ah. They needed to learn."
She sat up, studying me. "Jin Ah… the girl you brought that day?"
I nodded. "Yup, They harassed her. Trying to force themselves on her, she's gotten through a lot as well, and I wanted to cheer her up, so I brought her to your park, I couldn't afford to get her traumatized."
Isabella's lips pressed into a thin line. "So you threatened me to get to them?"
"Yeah. Not exactly. Did it 'cause those idiots can't bribe their way out and hurt Jin Ah again. I can't watch her 24/7. Won't let her live scared forever, jumping at every knock.
Keeping her safe is the priority. Same goes for you. You're in trouble? I'll be at their door before they blink. Now? They know if they touch her—*or you*—I'll come knocking."
Isabella's cheeks flushed. She looked away, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Who… who said I *need* your help?"
"Didn't ask if you needed it." I leaned closer, voice dropping. "You're getting it anyway."
Her breath hitched. She shoved my shoulder, half-hearted. "Cocky idiot."
But her lips quirked up, just a little.
"Yeah," I said, clenching my fist. "Those idiots could have had connections. Cops, lawyers… I couldn't risk them slithering free and going after Jin Ah again.
If I'm not around, who'd protect her? Can't let her live in fear, jumping at every knock." I met Isabella's eyes.
"Same goes for you. Cross me, and I'll burn their world down. No one touches what's mine. Now that I've made my point they won't be trying to act funny with anyone."
Her cheeks flushed pink. She looked away, fingers nervously twisting the bracelet on her wrist. "Who said I'm yours?"
"You will be." I stepped closer, smirking. "Once you admit neon green's a crime."
She kicked my shin, but her lips twitched. "You're insufferable."
"And you're blushing." I said teasing her.
"Am not!" She crossed her arms, chin jutting stubbornly. But the pink deepened, creeping down her neck.
I leaned in, voice low. "Relax, Highlighter. Protection's free. No strings."
She huffed, eyes darting to my mouth. "Good. I'd cut the strings anyway."
I tilted my head, studying her. "Isabella. Fancy name for a pure-blooded Korean. Your parents are into Italian soap operas or something?"
She froze, fingers tightening around her bracelet. "Like I said, my mother left when I was 8 and My father got bored of looking after this girl and left when he got involved with the neighbour next door," she said, voice brittle."
Her throat bobbed. "Waited till I was twelve for them to come, but then I moved on realising no one's coming back. "
The air turned sharp. I stepped closer. "What was your name? Before."
"Doesn't matter." She turned away, shoulders rigid. "Changed it the day I turned eighteen. Isabella's mine. Not theirs."
"Tell me." I insisted
She whirled, eyes blazing. "Why? So you can pity me? The girl nobody wanted? The girl everyone left."
"No." I moved closer, voice low. "So I can know you. The real you." My arms around her waist making sure my girl's firm on her.
Her breath hitched. "Soo-Min," she spat, like the name was poison. "Means 'gentle pearl.' Joke's on them. I'm not gentle. And pearls?" She laughed, raw. "They get left behind."
I reached for her hand. She jerked back. "Don't. I'm not some broken doll for you to fix."
"Didn't ask to fix you." My thumb brushed her wrist, as I caressed her face. "Just like the name. Soo-Min suits you better."
She yanked her arm free. "Stop it—"
I cupped her face, cutting her off. "Soo-Min."
She flinched, tears spilling. "Don't."
"Soo-Min," I repeated, softer.
She slapped my chest, trembling. "I said stop—"
Her slap still burned on my chest as I closed the distance. My lips met hers—not soft, not gentle. A collision. She froze, fists trapped between us, her breath sharp and unyielding. I didn't pull back. Let her rage simmer. Let her *feel*.
Then, slowly, her mouth softened. A hitch in her breath, a tremor in her hands. Her fingers uncurled, gripping my collar like an anchor. The taste of salt—her tears—seeped into the kiss, bitter and raw.
I cradled her face, thumbs brushing the wet trails on her cheeks. She made a sound, half protest, half surrender, her nails digging into my shoulders. The world narrowed to the heat of her lips, the faint cherry gloss she'd smudged in her anger.
And then she broke.
A sob tore from her throat, muffled against my mouth. Her body shook, tears streaming freely now, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she kissed me harder, desperate, like she could bury the pain in the heat between us. Her hands fisted my shirt, crumpling the fabric as she dragged me closer.
I kissed her deeper, swallowing her cries, her breath ragged and uneven. Her tears dripped onto my hands, warm and endless. She trembled—not with anger now, but with the raw ache of years spent locking all the sorrows of the past with this kiss away.
Her lips moved against mine, messy and urgent, as if she could rewrite and replace every bad thing that has happened to her, every bit of sorry she has gone through with this kiss.
When she finally broke for air, her forehead dropped to my shoulder. Her tears soaked through my shirt, her voice a shattered whisper. "I hate you. Making me cry after such a good date"
I held her tighter, lips pressed to her temple. "Liar."
She shuddered, fingers curling weakly against my chest.
Her breath hitched when I whispered, "Soo-Min."
She shoved against my chest, voice cracking. "Stop. I'm not— I'm not her anymore."
I held her tighter, ignoring her weak struggles. "Names don't own you. You own them. Soo-Min, Isabella—same woman who built a massive amusement park with her bare hands. Same park that's the source of sobmang people's happiness. Same woman who kissed me like the world was ending."
She stilled, fists clenched on my shirt. "They gave me that name. I hate them. They don't get to—"
"And you took it back," I cut in, tilting her chin up. Tears streaked her face, mascara smudged. "Every time you fight for that park, every time you laugh, every time people laugh enjoying the park you built, you make it yours. Not theirs. Names don't mean anything, it's the person."
She shook her head, trembling. "You don't get it. It hurts."
"I know." My thumb brushed her cheek. "But running? That's letting them win. You're better than this. Why let them control you—even now?
Yeah, what they did was shit… but if they hadn't left, would you've built the park? Found *this*?" I nodded at the Ferris wheel glowing in the distance, its lights flickering like stubborn stars. "Your happiness?"
She laughed bitterly. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one they threw away."
"True." I shrugged. "But I'm here. And I'll say it till you believe it—Soo-Min isn't a curse. It's a wrench."
Her brows furrowed. "What?"
"Something you use to build shit. Like that park. Like you."
She stared at me, lips parted, tears glinting in the dawn light. Slowly, her fist unclenched, palm pressing flat against my chest. "Soo-Min… they named me. How do I—"
"Make it yours," I cut in, voice low but firm. "Every kid laughing on your rides, every light on that Ferris wheel—" I nodded toward the glowing horizon, "—that's you. Not them. Soo-Min isn't their ghost. It's your flag. Plant it everywhere." I said.
"Soo-min can either become a criminal or the most successful amusement park owner—it's up to you. As for your name, hold onto it and achieve all the success your parents could never dream of.
I want you to rise to the top with your original name, so those who abandoned you realize how wrong they were to leave you behind. Show them what you're truly capable of.
"Think about it. Your parents see you on TV, all successful, their faces sour with regret. Then they show up at your park, acting all nice, saying they 'missed you.'
But you? You'd slam the door in their faces. Watch them beg. '*Soo-Min, we're family!*' And you'd laugh. 'Family? You left me at a bus stop. Tickets are $50 per ride.'"
I grinned, leaning closer. "That's your revenge. Not hiding from a name. Making them choke on it."
Her breath hitched. For a moment, her eyes flickered—rage, hope, fear. Then she scoffed, swiping roughly at her cheeks. "Since when are you a motivational speaker?"
"Since now." I smirked. "Got a problem with it?"
She shoved me weakly. "Yes. You're terrible at it." But her hand lingered on my arm, trembling. "What if… it's too late?"
I stepped closer, crowding her space. "Too late? You rebuild a rusted Ferris wheel with a YouTube video and duct tape. You're the queen of 'too late.'"
A laugh burst out of her—raw, surprised. "Duct tape? I used industrial bolts, you idiot."
"Same difference." I brushed stray hair from her face. "Point is, you win by living. By making that name yours. Soo-Min, Isabella—doesn't matter. What matters is they look at your park, your life, and choke on their regrets."
She went still, gaze locking on mine. "You really believe that?"
"I believe you."
A/N: If my story brought even a hint of a smile to your face, drop a comment—I'd love to hear it! Knowing I brightened someone's day fuels my creativity! My only goal is to make people smile and find happiness in this dull world. Not to mention I want to reach Oda sensei's level of storytelling.
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