Crystalline.
Chapter 01: Nice People.
Some people think being nice and kind is a waste of time. My mom used to say that people can't appreciate other's people's kindness, which leads to disappointment in the long run...
You end up being like everyone else, rude.
I didn't agree with her.
My mom believes life has smiled her way bigger since she cares a fuck about other people. I just think that she has put way too much emphasis on her words, on her actions, on her everything.
Don't misunderstand me, I am not the most positive person, the nicest and sweetest in the town, but the truth was that being a cordial person with the bare minimum manners got me a good one:
Mister Jeon.
Or better known as Jeon Robert.
He was a sixty-seven years old millionaire, with a great "crew" at his back. A noble, generous, smart, and kind person. In the media, his great personality was known but not everyone take it into count. Jeon was somehow private and lowkey before the cameras. That makes nothing, though, because people kept talking about him. After all, he had a great history in his legacy, and that included RoJeons.
That was the simple and predictable name Robert put as a brand to his blog when he was a young man. A blog that talked about the social problems from day to day, and how he survived those little things, with the most perfect grammar and spelling, and quotes that today at day were copied and pasted down teenager's Instagram posts.
Mister Robert had captivated a big part of the population with that blog. But let's be real... it was the ninety.
Even when he had that certain public, the Internet wasn't part of every citizen from the country.
It was then that things started to turn serious.
Mister Jeon looked at the blog as a relief method. He wasn't an eighteen years old youngster wanting to be somebody in social media. He was around thirty years, and a major part of his life was believed to be "made". But suddenly, a television network contacted him and offered him a plan to expand the project he already initiated with his blog.
The contract was so much more interesting than he thought, not only because they would spread his words around, but because the salary was bigger than his actual real job.
It was stupid to reject it.
And that's how his life changed. Overnight, his voice and his words were on the radio and tv, reaching every United States citizen, with the name of "RoJeon" getting to be known.
Mister Jeon didn't stop there.
It went to a point where his name, his show, and his blog were so much more important than the same television network. His absence would mean a big loss for the owners. So Jeon bought it all.
He became the owner of the television network, and he started a series of projects that elevated his equity to the cloud. Beginning with his advertising company, his editorial, and his audiovisual streaming production company that earned millions, to his most "human side" with the Apprentice Academy where all the activities before mentioned were developed for young people.
Worth to mention, the Academy was not a means of profit... but it did elevate Jeon's reputation.
Whatever... With something that he definitely haven't planned, Mister Jeon had created part of the industry.
And you may wonder..., Where did I fit here? A simple twenty years old girl who doesn't even go to college?
Well, we could say I was just a lucky bastard.
My mom was almost disinheriting me when I told her I would drop college. I think she already saw it coming, but that didn't stop her from opening her eyes like I was telling her I assaulted a bank. She didn't even wonder about my reasons, she just assumed I wanted to be a hippie hobo with no wishes of progressing in life, which was nothing true by the way!
Basically, she gave me an ultimatum.
"You can't leave university, Lisa. My God! You already have a year there! It's only three left and–"
"Ten, actually."
"—...and you'll be a professional with academic degree! Isn't that something amazing? Isn't that what I have told you to do your whole life? Studies are first, darling. You've already paid a lot! And you've also paid the next year... You're throwing money into the trash!"
"It's just money..."
Note, never say that to someone who grew up poor.
"Just money?!"
"Mom," I interrupted," I understand what you say but... it's my decision."
She looked at me with sorrow reflected in her face.
"Your decisions are wrong, Lisa."
Well, then... how supportive.
She denied once and again with her head. I let her. I didn't say anything. Because, just like I said, this was my decision and I wasn't going to give in no matter what she says.
Of course, I wasn't expecting she would kick me out.
"I don't approve of this. I won't let you do this, not in my house."
"What do you mean?"
Oh... Past me knew what she meant, you knew what she meant, everyone knew what she meant!
"That if you don't study as you always swore to me that you would, you, this house, will leave!"
My mother closing the doors of my house was something I definitely didn't expect. I wasn't including it in my plans, and it would destabilize everything for me.
I did know she wouldn't take it well, but... kick me out? From the house where I lived my whole eighteen years of life?
However, there was something characteristic in me, and that was my pride. I wouldn't lower my head and go back to my room moping, whining, and crying. I don't blame anyone whose reaction was that because I know the situation could be terrifying and many people wouldn't dare to such a risk as being homeless. Maybe just nodding and playing along would be the safest for anyone.
But no, there was no chance for me to give in.
Also... for every B plan, there was a C one, and for the C a D.
"Great! Enjoy paying the bills alone then."
"What?! But— Lisa!"
I was not thinking clearly, and this was not even close to the wisest decision I could take. Being completely alone in the world was never an option.
But then that's how I was in the United States. Alone.
I just couldn't linger on it anymore. Staying in my mother's house meant being someone who I was not, nor I wanted to be. It's not possible to live faking to grow in something when you know better than that. You know that's not you.
I knew I had to look for a place, so I took the liberty of staying in the space that would soon cease to be my home. I also admit that I was waiting for my mother to change her mind. A part of me wished that she would let me do what I want without having to be like this to me.
Spoiler, she didn't.
So, with no more left to say, I grabbed my bags and left my room a week later.
We are not going to fool ourselves, living on my own couldn't be compared to having free lodging. Knowing that I could maintain myself was giving me mental peace but that was worth nothing when the worries of can't paying rent were added.
I had a job, even before moving... Two actually.
The first one was a part-time job in a fast food local, where mothers with their kids attended. I was going there only three times a week in the morning. The other job was in a cafe in which I work from Monday to Friday, in the afternoon. The place was serious and quiet. You could spend hours there to finish projects, or just read without any shit sound around. The cafe and chocolate smell filled the adult's nostrils who were looking for tranquillity in between the noisy city.
Adding both jobs, I could earn a good salary that assured me to don't die from hungriness or coldness.
But what it did take out of me was time. Sometimes I couldn't avoid feeling tired, and that was keeping me away from working on my own projects.
It was then, in that blessed cafe, that my salvation came. The answer to all my prayers, Mister Jeon.
In the majority, they were people in their thirties that visited the cafe. And I was excited from the beginning when I understood that many were writers, journalists, or screenwriters. But I knew, and I had clear, that I shouldn't approach them or bother them in any way. It was written in the contract. A wrong move and my feet would be in the street once again. I would never risk myself for that.
BUT—
It was Jeon Robert! My GOD! Nobody in this damned world could blame me.
"Excuse me, miss. Can I ask you something?" was what that man said, grabbing my attention.
He looked a little unusual to the people recurring there. Wearing a pair of black glasses, and a hat of the same color. His outfit consisted of baggy jeans and a simple dark blue T-shirt.
It was a little informal, to be honest.
"Yeah, do you need something?"
He nodded, eying his coffee cup.
"Why is the coffee so bitter here?"
What?
He looked at me this time. I didn't know if he was mad for real because his glasses were still on, but judging by his voice he sounded just truly concerned.
"B-bitter, you say?"
"Yeah. It is toooooooo bitter. Are you guys maybe lacking in sugar? Is it too expensive?... I can pay more if you just—"
Was he calling us stingy?
"No, no, Mr. It's not that," I interrupted with a nervous laugh. I hoped to don't grab someone's else attention to the table. "People use to ask for coffee and drinks in low sugar. That's why we take it as a basic rule."
"Oh... Really?"
"Yeah, that is."
"All these old men drink bitter chocolate?"
My eyes opened a little bit more than usual, and the only reason why I didn't laugh was because I was fearing someone else heard him.
I approached more to the table.
"Actually... they drink coffee. And, no offense but... most of them look younger than you, Mr."
Just as I expected, he chuckled.
Sometimes, it was easy to read people's vibes. I really didn't want him to be offended by my comment, I wanted him to laugh.
Of course, I did it.
Which meant...
Guaranteed tip.
"They can be younger, but they live on the basis of bitter black tea," he laughed.
"I know, right?"
It was just then when both, in a surprising and emotive act, dropped the same line:
"What mischief!"
That was so unexpected and uncalled for that none of us laughed, we just looked at each other, surprised and confused.
(a/n: it says "surprised and confused". Don't you let your wild thoughts go somewhere else. Don't be like that, lmao don't ship the kid with the oldie, guys)
A sided smile was formed on his face and he proceed to take off his glasses.
It was when I realized...
I knew this person!
My perplexed state was high, and it was nothing dissimulated. In his eyes, I could see the amusement he felt for me recognizing him. My God! I couldn't even think about trying to dissimulate. The surprise was too real to just try.
Because... fuck. I never thought that I would meet the one and only Jeon Robert in my workplace, drinking hot chocolate and dressing like he was going to a golf class.
"Using my quotes, Miss? Or is it only a coincidence?"
Oh, of course. The expression was of his authority and I just adopted it.
"Well... the blame comes from you for creating it, to be honest."
"You're right. I guess I can't accuse you of plagiarism."
"That's not how plagiarism works, Mr."
He laughed once again, and then he pointed at the drink.
"Do you think you can do something about this?"
I nodded, taking the chocolate cup from my tray and thinking it'd be better if I don't stay here. The boss wouldn't take much time in coming for me. It was such a piece of luck that the cafe was big and with so many walls in between, that avoided that she would already see me talking more than I should with —I still couldn't believe it— Jeon Robert.
"How much sugar exactly?" I asked before leaving.
"Until it stops being depriment."
This time, a chuckle escaped my mouth.
"Isn't it bad for your health?"
He shrugged.
"We have to die anyways."
It was an open-minded thought. My mother would have a stroke, meanwhile, I realize this person is the same one from the writings. The familiarity of his words was clear to me.
"And what better than doing it with a sweet hot chocolate cup?"
He smiled, satisfied.
Finally, I turned around to undertake my task, but then, his call stopped me.
"Miss?"
"Yeah?"
pleasedon'tbeadirtyoldman, don'tbeadirtyoldman!
"Could you tell me your name?... You can invent one if you want, it's just to ask you something."
If he asks for my number or some shit like that, I swear I'll lose hope in humanity.
"My name is Lisa."
"Tell me, Lisa... do you like your job?"
Why is he telling me this? Is he thinking about offering me "another" type of job?
Nobody could blame me for thinking that way. There were perverted people everywhere, and all my alarms were on now that I was defenseless and alone in the world. If something bad happens to me, there wouldn't be a person to go to.
But, at that time, I decided to imagine that we lived in a harmless world, and that this man was the same man that I used to read since I entered my teen years.
I decided to trust.
"I don't hate it... It's calm and quiet, there aren't many discussions, and I don't have to take chewing gum down the table. And when interesting people come, I feel like..." I shrug. "it's not that bad."
He looked at me for some seconds before nodding with a smirk.
"I see. Congrats, then."
I nodded thankful, and turned around to finish my task once for all.
Arriving at the machine, I realize that I told him "I understand" when I really don't. How many sugar teaspoons mean "until it stops being depressing"?
Fuck, I should ask for a number instead of trying to be a poet.
Old Jeon, I read your language but I do not understand it.
That was the first time I saw him in my life, one week later of leaving my house. I didn't think I would get to see him again. Judging his writings, he seemed to be an adventurous person, the kind of person who moves from here to there in search of new experiences. Actually, before becoming RoJeons' owner, he used to be a tourist. He didn't look like the type who steps into the same cafe twice.
But one week later, there he was.
"Good morning, Miss Lisa. I hope you didn't forget the special characteristic in my drink."
"I won't, Mrs. Jeon."
For me, he seemed like a nice and funny person to have a conversation without feeling uncomfortable. I never felt that way talking with him, however, I was not going to lie in saying that the possibility of him having double intentions with me didn't flash in my mind, because it did at some point.
Especially because of his attachment to asking me this or that thing. Of course, nothing private. He never asked for some private data, and neither I would tell him in that case. His questions were more... on the philosophical side.
How do you think a drink can affect a person?
Is smiling a waste of time?
What about the weather...? Do you think it affects people's mood or do humans only use it as an excuse to feel in a certain way?
It was a little bit strange that he asks those questions all of a sudden, but it was even more strange the fact that I was fascinated by answering them.
I had never talked with someone as I did with that author. I couldn't even believe that I was talking with the owner of a millionaire brand.
It was damn crazy.
Nonetheless, those short talks felt like something honest and with no pressure. It felt normal to do it.
I got to know the reason behind them three weeks later, when he came and the first he did was saying he needed to talk about something important.
Generally, I was careful when it comes to my boss. The talks with mister Jeon didn't last more than five minutes in which he received answers to his out-of-topic questions. There everything ends, and that avoided the boss to see something weird. I would never risk my job. That's why I worried a little when Mister Jeon made me sit at the other side of his table.
"I promise that it's nothing bad, Miss Lisa," he started to take out of his cartoon bag a plastic folder with sheets inside. "But I need you to check out this."
(a/n: adoption papers yeii!)
He slid the folder towards me, and I just stayed looking at it. Suspicious that I've got into something fishy alarmed me for a second.
"U-uh... Mrs. Jeon, I don't want to bother you b-but–"
"Please, Miss Lisa. I promise that it's nothing bad... oh, well–", he frows. "At least it's not from my point of view."
Was it supposed to calm me?
I looked at the folder in front of me, reading over what the title said.
"Nice People" by Jeon Robert.
Old Jeon wrote an essay about me.
Oh, well.
Being specifics, he wrote an essay, one of those which he writes since decades ago, based on the answers that I gave him during those weeks.
It was somehow different from his other writings, he wasn't narrating in the first person but in the third. He was talking about goals, about dreams, the job, the family, of how you could live the life being spontaneous. He was telling my point of view without revealing my identity.
"You... you–"
"I wasn't planning to use you as inspiration," he sighed saying. "The truth is that I entered this cafe in search of that because my life has been overly quiet these last years... I don't have many things to do, and for that, I don't have much to write. However," he raised his gaze to me. "your answers reminded me of my young self."
I didn't know what to say, of course, I would come up with a shit of answer.
"Are you saying my mind is forty years older than my age?"
A laugh escaped from him.
"Don't you worry, they used to tell me that when I was young too, and look at where I am!"
Now, he was a life motivation.
"Perhaps the reason for my answers is that I have read you a lot during my adolescence, Mrs. Jeon. I remember one day when I started high school, I found a book of yours... Since then, I have read a lot of your works, I bet that's why my mindset has been molded to yours."
If right that was the truth, I also knew to differentiate which ones were my thoughts and which ones I adopted from others.
"I realized that some time ago, Miss Lisa."
Mister Jeon wasn't showing me nor telling me that for no reason.
What he wanted to do was to publish that work.
I, being a great admirer, didn't see any problem with it. Even when I thought I was a smart and cunning person when it comes to my "rights", I didn't realize I could claim something from there until he mentioned it.
"Your name is down there."
And yes, it was there, at the end. He was giving me part of the credits.
Involve myself in the work of one of my favorite writers and producers wasn't something I expected to fall on my plate.
I loved to create.
Maybe it was his writing that had awakened that passion, that I think I can call "talent", inside me. That sounded logical. I never connected with something as much as I did with that job not-so-easy to name. Write? Screen write? Direct? Produce? All of those definitions fit, but there wasn't an official one that could easily describe what that job meant. If I use one of them, I would be minimizing another important one.
Create was the perfect word to describe my passion.
And it was complicated... Saying to my mom: "Mom, I want to be a doctor" was so much easy than saying "Mom, I want to be a creator".
Moreover, everything the word "creat" involved, was pure art. All products sprout from the impulse of wanting to express something through works of art. And for many, that was a risky path. You could reach the top of The Everest and be the winner of this career called life, win trophies and make people emotional with it, inspire thousands of artistic young people, and die as a great one, praised by many.
Or...
You could flop on the try. Try just as hard as everyone else, or even more, but inevitably dive into the painful failure, hearing until the end of your days how you were someone talented, worthy of a great future that you couldn't have.
Or that's how people see it, because many, despite having failed, didn't regret the path they chose. I am happy, they say, I have always been, and it's what I am. I didn't fail.
But those who didn't have art in their beings would never see it as something else than a... unlucky dreamer.
The thought of their child wanting to be an unlucky dreamer was terrifying.
But! I was not in that phase anymore. I wasn't in the phase of wanting to fulfill other expectations that weren't my own.
"It's not a great thing... If you don't want me to publish it, I won't. But if you accept, know that your name will be there."
It didn't take long before I say yes.
Mister Jeon thought it wasn't a big deal. At the end of the day, we were in the year two thousand twenty-three, and the young people weren't as into reading as past years.
But I was a viewer. I've always seen everything from the outside, from the public's view. And I could assure very firmly that the community that man built was big. It survived new trends and was unable to die.
So, when things started to happen, I was ready.
The article was published. It did right, not phenomenal, and it didn't break records before established. It just did good. But the most important was that Robert was satisfied with his work. That impulsed him into wanting to work with me once again.
And again, and again, and... again.
Three months went on. Robert asking the most random things someone could ask, and me responding weirdly entertained by doing it.
The articles keep doing it good, but they weren't furiously exploding.
That was... until he found one of my drafts.
I had a lot of them, some were fictional, some others telling life's stories, and I was giving myself the freedom to try humor in others. The last one with little success.
He didn't even ask this time. Tsk... My God, this person was feeling too comfortable to take my drafts and just use them!
He mixed them with a new book he was writing. The books were the ones with the best sales. Young people loved to read online, and this book was at the top of them all.
It became a hit.
Suddenly, everyone started to wonder who was this blessed person with the luck of having his name beside the great Jeon.
Nobody knew this person's name.
Of course! Who could even know my name when I was one of the loneliest person on earth? The only person who knew my name was my mom.
And speaking of the devil...
"Lisa!"
Her yell through the line made me regret having accepted the call.
"Hi."
"I am calling you since yesterday, why haven't you picked up?"
"Because I didn't want."
"Lisa!"
What? I wasn't going to lie.
"What happens, Mom? Are you okay? Do you need something?"
I really expected that, whatever she has to say, she does it quickly. A Netflix and ice cream night was waiting for me.
"It's a joke, right?"
"Pff, you know I don't know how to do that."
"I need you to explain to me why your name is on the tv along with that stranger's!"
I hang up.
Yes, it could be rude but giving explanations at 11 pm. didn't sound good.
It was then that my identity was given to know by the media. Somebody found my Instagram profile, that one in which I followed Mister Jeon and an infinity of writers, shows, and productions. At laalisamanoball went from two hundred followers to fifteen thousand within a day.
Many said that the curiosity grew seeing that I was so pretty and young. And it's that... my profile was full of pictures of me even though I barely get some likes. It was like that until they started spamming me.
xxx: She's really pretty.
xxx: hey, you have written "flowers". It's you, right? I want to say that I loved it sooooooo much! I am becoming a fan!
xxx: Will you two work on a new book together?
xxx: good legs, mamma. BEAITUFUL LADY
xxx: do you have something with Mr. Jeon?
And that was the part that almost made me give in.
Before, I didn't have inconvenience... I was enjoying it all. The fame, the recognition, the mystery of nobody knowing of me. I was a total Hannah Montana.
The problem came when people started to relate me to Mr. Jeon.
Nobody knew who I was. My Instagram didn't have data of me going to college, it only had my age, eighteen, there. Not counting the editors and advertisers, Mister Jeon used to work on his writings alone, on his own. So it was very weird that a chick appearing from nowhere suddenly had so much credit as it was the co-writing of one of his books.
The rumors were quite a lot, one of them even suggested I was a kind of... unrecognized daughter?
It wasn't that bothering at first, or it wasn't until that morning my mom appeared in the cafeteria at least.
"Lalisa Manobal!"
Saying that I freaked out was little.
What was she doing here? It was, at least, nine months since I left home, and she came to talk to me twice... but that was long five months ago. Why is she back?
I couldn't avoid my surprised reaction, the tray I had to take to the table eleven fell, and the cups break into pieces against the floor. The noise grabbed the attention of everyone in the cafeteria if it wasn't that the black-haired woman already didn't.
I looked at her, puzzled, meanwhile her gaze just yelled angriness.
"M-mom? Wh-what a-are–?"
My words shut as she jogs towards me and throws a magazine on my chest.
"You are the only one having to explain what the hell this is!"
This couldn't be happening to me...
"Let's go out," I whispered, in my despair for the mess this woman was creating in my workplace.
"Out nothing!"
"Lisa, what is happening?"
Hearing the voice of my boss and knowing she was witnessing all of that made my anxiety grow. My eyes were stinking.
"Is this why you dropped college?"
"Mom–"
"To be a whore around a pedophile?!"
Three things made noise in my mind as soon as she yelled that.
One, Mister Jeon was entering through the door.
Two, she really didn't know me if she thinks I could end up in something like that. It didn't matter how much time it was since I left home, if she'd known my mindset and my ideals, that would never even cross her head.
Three...,
It was reasonable that it crosses her mind, which clearly contradicts point two, but it was true. I left home, and she didn't know anything else about me, I didn't tell her what I was doing and she suddenly sees me in magazines with my name noted down in the book of a famous writer.
I should have told her. I should pass by home at least once. I was selfish and inconsiderate. I left my family behind.
But wait.
Because it does not end here.
There was a fourth point, one that would directly affect my salary. My firing was a fact. There was no way my boss would let this slide.
Everything went through my head in a second, in which I assimilated it to correctly process it, just to know that if a job was leaving, a better new one would arrive.
And it already arrived earlier that day:
"Mister Jeon? No offense but it's very early to be calling—"
"Come to work with me."
It's been many months for me to assure that Robert Jeon was not a pervert. We had publish a lot of articles and a book together. I think I already had the trust to know that he was seriously talking about working together.
That didn't make me stutter less.
"W-w-what d-do you say? Mister Jeon, w-w-w-work?"
(a/n: lol.)
"I know it can seem rushed and nonsense, but saying you have the potential is little... I don't think you are learning, I think you have a lot of potential to be part of my great-great team."
"You want me to--?"
"Come to RoJeons, Lisa."
"I accept, Mrs. Jeon."
Even being aware of what I was talking about, he still looked at me like I got a monkey above my head. Not even mentioning my mother, who was close to grabbing me by my ear for having willfully ignored her.
"Miss Lisa..."
"What the hell are you talking about, Lisa? We'll go home in this exactly–"
"I accept the job proposal, Mrs. Jeon. I accept to be part of RoJeons company."
Maybe it wasn't the best advice, or the most logical one, but as the moral of this first chapter, I can say..., yes. Being kind had worked for me. Otherwise, how would I get this nice oldie to offer me a job in my dream industry?