Elizabeth sighs loudly and rubs the palm of her hands against her face. She waits for a few seconds before grasping her brush again. She sits straighter on her wooden bench and analyzes her painting once more. She draws calculated lines here and then. She lets brush move freely. She resorts to blurring the shadows a bit more.
The painting is still pure trash.
Elizabeth mumbles some insults, feeling absolutely defeated. She looks at the piece- the monstrosity she just made for a few extra seconds before throwing it on top of her failure pile dismissively.
She's ruined. She's absolutely ruined and she will have to move from her already tiny, messy house to a tinier, probably messier one.
Well, she's not ruined just yet. She still has left a portion of the money she won thanks to her last decent painting -almost one year ago. But it's scarce, very, very scarce. So much so, that she has tried to reduce costs by replacing poor-quality fish for plain white rice, just to buy a few cans of paints that she keeps wasting on unsellable art.
Elizabeth knows that money comes and goes. She is definitely worried about the way it is currently only going, for sure, but she's more concerned about something else that has also been lacking.
Her talent. As plain as that. Her works have been bad because she has been bad, her traces have been shaky, her way of mixing colors has been unpleasant. Every single decision she has made on her latest paintings has been wrong, imprecise, ruining.
She remembers with melancholy the times when she didn't seem able to stop painting. Autumn trees, bluish skies, smiling children, the summit of a mountain she has only seen in her imagination, everything seemed to be source of inspiration for young, innocent Elizabeth, who conceived the world as an adventure and a canvas as the only way of expressing the delight to discover it.
Twenty-two-years-old Elizabeth has already seen the world, or at least a considerable part of it. The tenderness, the corruption, the rain, the sunlight. She has walked along the streets of the busy city. She has taken a few months to explore the mystery of nature. She has done everything possible worth of inspiration and yet...
She stares at her pile of unusable works.
She still has nothing to offer back.
Eliza sighs. She tries ties her long, brunette hair in a bun, trying to prevent her mind from returning to the one thought that's been keeping her awake for months.
The only specific thing she remembers about her grandmother, sweet, and gentle whenever her flowers stayed intact, is what she used to murmur into her ear like a secret.
One day, you will depict the beauty of love.
Elizabeth huffs under her breath. She knows what love offered to her parents: multiple headaches, a permanent sense of bitterness, and an unwanted child. She is not even sure if she's ever met an honestly happy couple. Or at least a self-aware, honestly happy couple.
She doesn't need love. She really doesn't. She's just fine with her sketches, and her paints, and her occasional shot of soju-
Suddenly, a loud knocking on her door snaps her out of her thoughts. She feels equal parts relieved and annoyed.
She looks at the clock. 5 pm. Way past her working time. However, the few coins in her pocket whisper the sad truth: you don't get to be picky.
She opens the door, then, slowly, only to find a man staring at her with plain impatience tinting his features. She raises her eyebrow, ready to greet him, but he rushes past her making his way inside of the house.
"Hello?", Elizabeth tries, still surprised.
"Hello. Do you always take such long time to open the door?"
The girl narrows her eyes.
"Anyways, listen, I have a job for you".
Elizabeth takes in the male staring at her once again. A high-quality hanbok hugs his tall figure tightly. He is completely shaved, and has a stern, almost aggressive look in his face. She imagines that women other than herself would find him fairly attractive. He balances his weight from one leg to the other, almost as if he couldn't stand two seconds of silence.
The painter knows right away that she's talking to an upper-class man, which means, well, money.
She's willing to listen.
"What kind of job, Sir?"
He looks at her with an irritated expression.
"A painting", he explains in a tone that it would have been enough for anybody else to be kicked out of Elizabeth's house in a whim.
She tries to remain neutral.
"Indeed, Sir, but what kind of painting?"
"A portrait of my wife", he says, the words rushing out of his mouth, "I forgot our first anniversary, and well, you know women... I imagine", he sets his gaze on Elizabeth almost as if deciding, and then continues, "So I need a gift. Something grand. She told me she likes your works, once... I think. Well, if it's not you, you'll be the next best thing I guess".
Elizabeth feels the urge of slapping the man out of his balance and of laughing out loud at the same time. A complete disaster.
Her grandmother couldn't have been more wrong.
"Well, I can do that, for sure", she tries, "even if I'm just the best next thing".
The man merely nods, content of things going his way yet again.
"How long would it take you to finish a portrait?"
"How big?"
The man scoffs.
"I don't know, as big as it gets. As big as she'd like. I don't care, really. It's just a painting".
Elizabeth imagines red flags flashing across her mind. She also feels how light her pockets feel.
"One month is the usual".
"One month?! It better be a great painting".
"Have no doubts that it will be, Sir".
Elizabeth does have a few doubts.
"Good. I'll pay you as soon as you finish".
Fair, Elizabeth thinks.
"Should we discuss the price?"
"No. I don't care. I just want to stop eating burnt chicken at noon. Here", he extends a well-folded piece of paper to Elizabeth, "this is my house's address. I need to go now. I should've been gone for... half an hour now. Damn it. I will be waiting for you tomorrow at eight in the morning. Don't be late".
With that, he opens Elizabeth's front door on his own and rushes towards the streets.
The painter is left with the piece of paper in between her fingers, her left hand curled in a fist, and the feeling that she definitely does not need love.
-
Nemamiah sits with her knees against her chest and her head hanging low.
She waits eternally between shadows, the bitter feeling blooming inside of her chest only spreading with greater strength.
There is nothing around her; hasn't been for a long, long time, and she's not even sure if the punishment will end someday.
So she keeps waiting, wrapped up in the most dispiriting nothingness.
Suddenly, a voice makes itself present. It calls her name twice.
Nemamiah sits straighter, thinking that may be, may be-
Vos autem non mutantur.
"I have. I learnt my lesson. I have!", Nemamiah half-shouts.
Sine humilitate, inanimis. Sine caritate.
Love, Nemamiah thinks bitterly, and her chest is filled with outrage again.
"How can I win my pardon, then? Staying here? Looking at nothing while I twist in pain in this corrupted body?"
The voice stays quiet for a second.
Sacrificium.
"What?"
Molis in terris.
A task on Earth, Nememiah thinks, I can do that.
"I accept it".
How hard can it be?
With that, Nememiah sees a blinding light that engulfs her weak body.
Before losing consciousness, she hears the voice once again.
Tuum nomen est Kim Jisoo.
Kim Jisoo, Namemiah thinks, what kind of stupid human name is that?
-
Jennifer slices peeled potatoes silently. She does it gently, meticulously, afraid of ruining it one more time.
Across the kitchen, her husband is working with numbers, equally mute.
Jennifer wonders if he feels the tension that she feels, the mixed sounds of the knife on the cutting board and the pencil sliding against paper almost deafening against her own ears.
However, she has learnt during the past months, sometimes her own perceptions of things can be very different from her husband's.
She hears him taking a short breath and braces herself. It's something she has been doing a lot lately.
"Don't burn it this time", Chinhwa merely says.
Jennifer shallows, feeling her lower lip trembling pathetically.
"Alright", she answers when she finds her voice again, and her husband drifts away once again.
It's been like that for years. It wasn't like that when they first met, and it wasn't like that the day they married, whites, reds, and blues playing with each other like a perfect dream, her parents gifting her a small but firm nod of contempt.
Things began changing just the day after, Jennifer considers.
And now...
The woman looks back at the cutting board, hissing loudly. She inspects the small cut on her finger that she has accidentally made and pouts.
Her husband doesn't take his eyes off of his numbers.
The girl keeps looking at her finger as she decides whether the wound is bad enough to require some sort of bandage. Just as she decides that she can definitely keep cooking, cleaning, washing, being as perfect as possible, all with a small cut on his middle finger, a knock on the door echoes in the big kitchen.
Chinhwa stares at his wife half-surprised and half-annoyed, almost as if blaming her for the sudden interruption. However, his eyes widen immediately after, remembering, and turns towards the big clock against one of the walls in the room before standing up abruptly.
"Who is it?" Jennifer asks, quickening her short steps to follow his husband's quick pace.
"A surprise", he answers, "for you", he adds. He keeps walking towards the door without turning around.
Despite everything, Jennifer is surprised. Pleasantly so. The idea of her husband making the effort to prepare something for her, anything, makes her heart warm up against her chest. Maybe they can love each other as they were supposed to. Maybe they can be the happy-ever-after marriage that she's always craved. Maybe she can work just a bit harder to make him content as well.
So Jennifer waits for her surprise just a meter behind her husband as he opens the massive front door with vigour.
Jennifer expected flowers, or candy, or even a cheap, bad serenade.
What she did not expect, for sure, was his husband revealing the figure of a young brunette woman in a slightly-too-big hanbok and a bunch of bags under her arm.
The first thing Jennifer thinks is oh my god, this woman is absolutely beautiful, and the next one is oh my god, is she his lover?
But the absolute disinterest reflected in the girl's eyes as she stares at her husband makes Jennifer decide that there are very few possibilities of that being the case.
Beautiful girl nods in vague respect, muttering a vague greeting as well, and then fixes her gaze in Jennifer. The shortest girl sees the way the expression on her big, doll-like, tanned honey eyes changes slightly, plump lips opening almost as if in disbelief.
Jennifer cannot help but to stare back, feeling her own hanbok suddenly becoming too heavy and tight against her skin.
"Darling", her husband speaks, snapping her out of her trance, "this is...huh... well, your painter".
"Elizabeth", beautiful girl states, and this time, bows deeper.
"This is my wife, Jennifer", Chinhwa states, and motions vaguely to the shortest girl before she can even speak.
Jennifer bows as well, somehow grateful for her husbands' intromission because she needs a few moments to find her voice.
"Good. Come in. Let's discuss the details".
Jennifer is absolutely clueless on what the details would be, since she is not even aware of what the main plan is, so she sits beside her husband in the dining room table with a puzzled expression.
That leaves Elizabeth sitting uncomfortably just in the chair in front of her, the light of the chandelier hitting her features in such an impressive way that Jennifer has to look away to hide the blush in her cheeks.
"So, I imagine that two or three times a week would be enough for you to finish in a month", Chinhwa begins.
Jennifer squirms lightly as Elizabeth's eyes fix on her face, tracing her features intently.
"Probably more than three", she murmurs, "it's really..."
"I'm sorry", the shortest girl interrupts, feeling cornered, "what is going on?"
Her husband looks at her with a deep frown before realizing.
"Oh, this is your surprise. Elizabeth is a painter. Your surprise is a portrait. You like...art, don't you?"
Jennifer and Elizabeth stare at the man with matching expressions of disbelief.
"Yes", the shortest girl starts slowly, "I do like art".
But I am not art, she thinks, but she doesn't want to let it out.
"Well, see? A lovely surprise. Something you will enjoy. Don't you think I deserve some thankful words, at least?" he speaks now, her tone swimming in egocentrism.
Elizabeth looks at Jennifer as if begging her to shout for divorce right there.
Instead, she blinks once, twice, trying to breathe through her nose.
"Yes, darling. I'm sorry. I'm thankful, truly", she tries.
The tallest girl looks down for a second.
"See? Better", he says, "besides, she will be a good company this month".
"Sorry? This month?"
"Yes. I told you I'm going to overseas and staying there for a couple of weeks", he explains, and then, pauses, "right?"
"You haven't", Jennifer answers, her tone dripping harshness.
Elizabeth rises her eyebrows, her eyes fixed on the shortest girl.
"Well, I must have forgotten".
Jennifer grits her teeth before speaking again.
"You forgot to mention your wife that you are going away for a whole month!?"
Chinhwa stares at her with slight reproach, but is mainly unfazed.
"I work", he simply states, and then turns towards the awaiting guest, "Tomorrow at three afternoon".
Elizabeth nods before standing up and moving towards the front door in a rush.
Jennifer feels bad about the situation she put her in. She saves an apology in her head for the next time she sees her. Right now, however, she's fuming in rage.
The tallest girl murmurs some words before leaving, and Jennifer is left with her husband portraying a disappointed expression.
"Jennif-"
"When are you leaving?" she asks.
"Tomorrow morning".
The girl takes a deep breath.
"You better prepare your own breakfast, then".
She moves to one of the guest rooms stomping her feet.
"Really?" she hears shouting, "you undeserving little bi-"
Jennifer closes the door to muffle the sounds.
She's afraid of experiencing things that she can't forgive.
-
Kim Jisoo lands on Earth with a loud thud.
She murmurs a few insults -secretly pleased about the fact that she's actually able to do so- and proceeds to raise her weak, ridiculous body and dust off her cheap, earthly attire.
She's hurting here and there, which is definitely not unfamiliar but nevertheless uncomfortable.
She tries to think about her real name. She doesn't remember it.
I'm really stuck here, huh? Those fuckers, she thinks.
Oh, she can even insult the Ethereal on Earth.
Benefits aside, however, she wants her wings and halo back.
She thinks about her mission again and shakes her head in disbelief.
One day you are the most powerful being in your sphere and the other day you are helping two humans out of millions to live the fairytale dream.
Jisoo discovers, as she thinks about what to do next, that she doesn't even know where that famous Kim Jennifer lives.
She rubs the pad of her fingers against her temples instinctively.
She has some work to do.
-
Elizabeth stands in front of the massive Kim household with her painting tools under her arm. She asks herself for the hundredth time if knocking on the door is a good idea.
She really, really doesn't want to witness another version of the marital discussion she had to endure the day before. It was awful, not because she didn't know how shitty the ideals of love could be, or because she felt uncomfortable with looking at people spitting poisonous words at each other, because, honestly, she has been there before. It was the expression on the wife's deep eyes, anger, sadness, and resignation all mixed up in a heartbreaking cocktail what now makes Elizabeth hesitate.
She licks her lips and puts her free hand on her pocket. She needs the money, and she has already spent half of the few coins she had left on paints and a decent canvas.
So Elizabeth takes a deep breath and knocks on the door.
There is something else that prompts her to do so, something else that makes her feet glue into the ground instead of forcing her to make her way back to her house and take a shot of soju.
The black door opens slowly to reveal one of the most –if not the most, honestly- gorgeous faces Elizabeth has seen in her life.
"Hello", Jennifer tells her quietly, and gifts her a slight smile and a low bow.
Elizabeth imitates her in a rush, trying to hide the delight in her expression as the shorter girl's scent reaches her nose.
Jennifer moves aside, allowing her to enter the house, and under the girl's relaxed presence, Elizabeth allows herself to look around her.
The space is beautiful, and just as she guessed before, it drips wealth.
"How have you been?", Jennifer asks, and guides her curious guest around the house until they reach the living room.
Elizabeth takes a quick glance at the ivory furniture before answering.
"I've been fine", she lies. Her stomach is starting to resent her due to the excess of unflavored food, "how have you been?"
Jennifer moves a silk-covered cushion to sit in the sofa with her legs crossed. She stares up at Elizabeth and then gestures with her hand to indicate her that she can sit on her side.
The tallest girl complies quickly, trying to keep her heartbeats at reasonable pace as she puts her painting tools aside.
Jennifer smiles once again, politely this time, rehearsed.
"I've been great", she concludes.
Elizabeth fights the urge to frown.
"You have a wonderful house", she says instead, and moves her eyes to stare at the room again, "wonderfully decorated".
"Oh, thank you", the shortest girl mutters, a humble blush coating her fluffy cheeks.
Elizabeth smiles for the first time in the day, probably for the first time in days actually, feeling endeared by the girl's sudden shyness.
"Do you decorate the house yourself?"
Jennifer shrugs, blushing more profusely.
"I have a lot of free time".
The tallest girl hums.
"Well, I think you are doing a fantastic job. It's beautiful".
She stares at the short brunette with more intensity in her eyes than intended, but she can't help herself. There is something so enticing, so purely stunning in Jennifer's cat-like eyes that Elizabeth feels the need to compliment her endlessly.
"Well thank you", the girl answers with her lips parting in a flattered, authentic smile, "Oh! I'm sorry. I'm a horrible host. Would you like something to drink?"
She motions to stand up, but Elizabeth denies with her head family.
"I'm good. I just want to discuss some details of the portrait".
Jennifer nods, attentive.
"Would you like it to be full body or just your face?"
The shortest girl thinks for a moment.
"What do you recommend?"
Elizabeth squirms imperceptibly.
"Most clients choose full body. It's more accurate and more smoothly finished".
And you will get to show your body, which honestly-
"Full body it is, then".
"Great. Do you have any style in mind?"
Jennifer denies, smiling almost sheepishly.
"You are the artist".
Elizabeth runs her fingers through her hair and the shortest girl follows the movement with interest.
"Well, you have seen some of my works, right?"
Jennifer looks at her with such a cornered expression that it makes Elizabeth stifle a laugh.
"I'm sorry. I'm not self-centered or anything. I know most of my works are sh- questionable, but your husband told me, that...well..."
"That I was a fan?" Jennifer tries.
"Exactly that", the tallest girl answers.
"It's not... that I'm not appreciative of your art", the shortest girl begins to explain, looking extremely ashamed, "I'm sure that it's wonderful. I'm just not deeply familiarized with it".
"Oh, but then-".
"I must have mentioned some author of one of my books and he... he sometimes does that, hear what's convenient for him".
The bitterness in Jennifer's voice makes Elizabeth soften her eyes.
"Don't worry. It's completely fine. If you don't want to continue with this, I understand. Honestly".
Jennifer stares at the girl for a second.
"No. I still want the portrait".
Elizabeth merely smiles, surprised at herself for feeling more excited than she expected to be.
"Good!", she states loudly, and the shortest girl relaxes her shoulders, "So, I was thinking about going for a realistic style with some magical, or ethereal features, like, hum, a goddess, for example".
"Would you lie to paint me... like a goddess?", Jennifer stammers in disbelief, "I can hardly make the cut".
"Nonsense", Elizabeth exclaims, and stands up to move around the living room with a sharp expression, "Do you mind if I go around the house? I need to find the perfect spot".
"Please", Jennifer murmurs, still stunned by the tallest girl's sudden change of demeanor. Now, coffee eyes shine with a renewed light as she moves her body vigorously but delicately, like dancing.
The shortest girl follows her mutely, as if afraid of breaking the spell.
Suddenly, Elizabeth stops, just in front of the master bedroom. She looks dreamily at the wooden floor and at the big French window that allows the sunlight to coat everything. The walls are creamy, pristine, ideal to contrast against Jennifer's glowing skin once the day is on its golden hours. The blankets of the king-size bed and the cover of the armchairs at the side of the room are of a matching shade of red, and Elizabeth starts picturing the perfect painting in a way she hasn't been capable of doing in months.
She turns around quickly, portraying her best begging eyes.
"Is this room too private?"
Jennifer blinks twice, perplex, but then she answers.
"I'm okay with it".
The smile she gets as a reward, big and glowing, makes her chest feel full.
"Good! Shall we start?"
Jennifer opens her eyes in surprise.
"Now? Shouldn't I change my clothes?"
Elizabeth steals a quick glance.
Could you even look more beautiful?
"No. I will just draw the outlines today. Can I move this armchair?"
Jennifer complies, suddenly nervous, and Elizabeth works for a while, creating some sort of setting. She indicates the shortest girl to sit in the armchair as comfortably as she'd like.
"Is this fine?", Jennifer asks, putting her sided legs on top of the cushion.
"Yes", Elizabeth says, wow, she thinks. "Can you rest your face on your hand, like.... Yes. Like that. Absolutely stunning", she mutters.
The shortest girl blushes again.
Elizabeth begins to work then, tracing lines easily, naturally, inspiration flowing from everywhere as the shadows that hit Jennifer's face change slightly.
She feels her fingers buzzing and her heart pounding hard as she outlines the most charming creature she has ever seen.
"You remind me of orchids", she lets out after some minutes of silence.
Jennifer raises her eyebrows, but doesn't move further.
"How so?"
Elizabeth narrows her eyes, drawing a fine line.
"The intensity. The mystery. The beauty".
The shortest girl licks her lips in a sign of nervousness.
Despite of everything, she feels herself smirking.
Elizabeth keeps working, feeling beyond amazed.