how to be a rich b*tch | han seojun

chapter 3

I stretch out my legs once the captain starts saying random facts about Korea. I stand up and start pulling my carry-on from the overhead compartment. "You really can't do anything by yourself, can you?" Myungho chuckles as he watches me struggle.

"Fuck off," I roll my eyes. He stands up and starts grabbing our things. I pick up my bag and throw it over my shoulder, I look down at it and gasp. "There's a stain," I pout.

"Did you really have to bring Louis Vuitton on an airplane?"

"It's pink," I tried wiping away the stain with a makeup wipe but the stain is adamant on staying on my bag. "How am I supposed to get a brown stain off dusty pink?"

"It's not noticeable," Myungho rolls his eyes, "You'll live, just give it a good wash when we get into the apartment,"

"It's LV, oppa, I can't just 'give it a good wash',"

"Then I'll give it a good wash,"

"Oppa, I'm putting it in dry-cleaning when we get there,"

"You're so extra,"

The drive out to our apartment was dull and quiet. The streets of Korea were full of lights and it kinda hurt to look outside, everyone here was dressed so well that they looked like the rich folk in Chicago, actually even the rich people there don't dress that well, I mean, look at me. There weren't any houses or mansions like back home, instead there were just many tall buildings that practically touched the clouds. Back home, we lived on a street of mansions so we were always surrounded by people of our 'class'—as eomma would call it—but now every 'class' just lived in one area all together, it gave a bit of a homely feel. I started carrying my stuff to the elevator as I watched at least 40 people start carrying our boxes up the stairs. It felt kind of surreal. Sometimes, I just forget how rich we are, I mean, the sheer amount of boxes I had was enough to have me in awe. "What floor?" I asked Myungho, the elevator was a reflective sort of gold and one side was glass so I could see the inside of the elevator.

"Top floor,"

"We have a penthouse?" I laugh as I hit the button.

"Eomma said to just give us an apartment but appa's appa," The elevator starts going up extremely slowly and through the glass you can see all the city lights of Korea. "This is giving 'The Penthouse'," I tell my brother.

"I know, all we have to do is push someone off the top,"

"You know who I would push off the top?"

"If you say Amber Jepson I will push you off the top,"

"I love her but Michael B. Jordan is my man,"

"You couldn't pull him even if you were the same age and he actually met you,"

"Stop crushing my hopes and dreams,"

"You're delusional," The elevator dings open and we make our way to the only door there.

"What's the code?"

"Anything you want," I type in 2-1-0-5-0-6, my birthday. We enter the penthouse and my jaw immediately drops. There's two floors, an elevator and two spiraling staircases. The first floor has a huge living room, floor to ceiling windows and a gorgeous kitchen. I run up the stairs and find a room. It's a bit plain but it's huge, almost the size of my parents' master bedroom back in the mansion, there's a connecting washroom, vanity and a king size bed. I flop down and sigh, "I dibs this room!" I yelled loud enough that my brother could hear.

"That's the smaller one!" He shouts back, "I dibs this one!" He says before I can yell again.

"I don't care!" I shout again, my voice growing hoarse.