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About Seoul

She hops in, smells like cheap perfume and regret—kinda hot, tho. “Where we goin’?” she asks. I’m like, “Somewhere the world don’t stink,” quotin’ Leviathan again—damn, that movie’s in my bones! We hit this motel, roaches scatterin’ like my enemies. I’m happy as fuck—got my fix, ya know? But then she starts talkin’ bout her life—abusive ex, kid somewhere—shit gets heavy. “Man’s a beast,” I say, another Leviathan line, and she nods, eyes dark. Surprised me, man—thought it’d just be quick and dirty.

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But then, the unexpected happened. The auctioneer before me, Mr. Kim, he trips over his own feet. I swear, it was like a scene from a comedy. He goes down, and the whole room gasps. I’m tryin’ not to laugh, but I can’t help it. I mean, come on! He’s fine, just a little embarrassed. But that moment? Pure gold.

Cheongsong dreaming of having a million tourists