< episode four ; & @lgcsua >
for some reason, he’s not exactly sure why, but he has a good idea who this one is—his guest for the day, that is. the name, the face, comes almost too easily to him after that first round—the most unique of fun facts that would have the common person stumped, but not for him, no, certainly not for jang taesung.
(it comes almost too easily, as if he can’t wonder and think, doesn’t she know how obvious she’s being?)
but, of course, his suspicions hold no real ground of proving true, no, when he’d rather not expose their personal history for the sake of winning a stupid game—he knows who she is, probably, but it’s not like he can reveal how he knows that exactly.
so instead, he opts to follow his own rules, confidently waltz into the next round of the show with raised shoulders, mischievous smirks. eyes glance down ever so briefly in the cue cards in his hard before he clears his throat, stifles the slightest of laughs.
“i wonder if anyone else can guess right now because i’m completely clueless—” the lies just drip ever so effortlessly from his lips “—like, i don’t even have any guesses for my final guess, ya’ know?” a coy smile to the camera as he shakes his head, readjusting his attention the curtain beside him to address the person resting beyond.
“but that’s okay! because now it’s time for my favorite round: the talent round. miss!—or mister—guest, what do you have prepared for us today?”
this is how you know god is fair. that he’ll give you youth and beauty, luck and charm, talents and a perceptive eye—but take your luck in relationships, in people, and as of right now—in gigs. sure, it had been an opportunity—and any reason to get her face out there is a good one isn’t it?—but she hadn’t taken it in consideration the repercussions when she’s first agreed. or the fact that it was with him of all people. and, at the end of the day, her own greed outweighed everything else.
but still. sitting here now with jang taesung made her skin crawl. is 15 minutes of fame really worth sitting on his vlive show?
well—it’s too late to back out now—there’s nothing else to do beyond making the best of this situation. although sua has an inkling that she’s already lost the game from the moment she stepped foot onto the set and learned of the concept. how well does taesung know her, you say?
she wants to say zero. wants to deny the existence of anything ever between them to the ends of the earth. (but even then, even then, she wants him to know her. to have remembered her. and that, my friends, is god’s cruel twist.)
“oh, haha...” her warbled and distorted voice sounds foreign, but that’s the point after all, and sua struggles to keep her usual mannerisms down to a minimum. but taesung reads her like a worn book, she’s sure, with fond excerpts of old habits dogeared. still, in order to throw him off her scent, she’s prepared the most un-sualike ‘talent’.
“today...i’m going to play a piece for you," in her hands holds a soft yellow ukulele, fingers strumming over the strings idly. she’s not the best at it, but sua is at least decent—at least has picked a few pieces here and there. though, maybe in hindsight, she should’ve trimmed her nails a bit more. “please don’t laugh if it’s horrible...” she tacks on the end statement before she starts playing, parts genuine and parts a throwaway attempt at hiding her identity (self-conscious, her? never).
