Chapter 3 🍊
Milim emerged from her bedroom around half-past eight in the morning and happened to run into her mother and father, who were both getting ready for work.
She greeted them, saying, "Dad, Mom, good morning. Has my younger brother gotten out of bed yet?"
May fixed her gaze on the door of the room her children shared, and her tone almost made it sound like it wasn't a question, but a statement.
Their father, James, simply smiled and said, "Milim, that child is always like this during summer vacation. She'd sleep all day, pretending she wouldn't wake up."
Clearly, they were all accustomed to this.
"When your brother finally wakes up, get him something to eat so that boy won't starve to death," May added as she and James headed out the door and drove off to work.
Meanwhile, Dylan awoke in his hotel bed and instinctively reached for his phone to check the time.
It's ten o'clock in the morning. I've slept three hours longer than usual, he thought.
Thinking about what had disrupted his usual schedule, he immediately turned to look at the other side of the bed — only to find it empty.
He sobered up instantly, lifting the quilt in search of that person, but there was no one.
He went to the bathroom, but again, not a single soul could be found.
Dylan frowned slightly and, after quickly washing up, left the hotel.
The girl he had spent the night with hadn't left her name, contact information, or address.
Obviously, it had been nothing more than an ordinary one-night stand.
Dylan found his car in the parking area. As he started the engine, a sudden ringing from his phone broke the silence.
He focused on pulling out of the lot before answering.
"Hello," he said.
It was his mother, Lucy. "I'm sorry about what happened yesterday," she said.
"I shouldn't have invited so many people to discuss your affairs without asking you first. It was disrespectful."
"Indeed," Dylan replied coldly.
"First of all, I am an individual. Secondly, your son. There's no room for anyone to comment or interfere in my life."
Lucy sighed. "So, we can't even talk about your life at all?"
"Yes," Dylan affirmed bluntly.
An extended silence followed.
Dylan, growing tired of it, finally said, "Let's discuss this later. It's not appropriate now."
Then he ended the call and focused on driving back to his apartment.
The apartment was bright and lively only from Monday to Friday.
Because it was close to the company, Dylan basically lived there for convenience.
Across from his door lived Lucas, an old friend he had known since high school.
As Dylan entered his apartment, he paused, thinking he had walked into the wrong place — Lucas was lying casually on his sofa.
"No need to stare, this is your home," Lucas chuckled as he sat up.
"Your mother called me, said you lost your temper last night and asked me to check on you."
Dylan dropped everything he was carrying and trudged into his bedroom.
"Hey," Lucas remarked, catching a strong whiff of alcohol as he followed.
"You really went drinking? Were you that mad?"
Leaning on the doorframe, Lucas continued, "Come on, it was just your family pushing you to get married. Who hasn't been through that? Let them talk. It won't even cost you a piece of meat."
Seeing Dylan's serious face, Lucas added with a grin, "Alright, I'll call some friends. Let's go drinking tonight — it's been too long. We're not young anymore; everyone's busy with their lives and families now."
Indeed.
Thirty was an age full of pressure.
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Meanwhile, Milim dozed off until noon, finally awakened by her younger brother, Lin.
He stood by her bed, worry etched on his face.
"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked.
Milim, not wanting to frighten her brother, simply waved her hand weakly.
"It's nothing important. I'll get up in a while. Have you cooked?"
Lin, looking relieved, nodded. "Yeah. Come eat."
Seeing Milim sit up slowly, Lin left the room without pressing further.
After sleeping all morning, Milim felt a little better, though her body — in certain sensitive areas — still ached dully.
Nevertheless, it was an improvement.
She had a surprisingly good appetite and ended up eating two bowls of rice beside her brother.
Once full, she put down her chopsticks and asked, "Do you know when big sis will have a holiday?"
Lin, who had always been closer to their eldest sister, answered readily.
"She won't come back for the summer vacation. She's flying to the United States to study."
Milim's mind went blank for a moment.
The United States?
That would surely cost a lot, and put even more strain on their parents.
"Is it organized by the school?" she asked, hopefully.
"That would cost less," she thought.
But Lin shook his head.
"No. She's going with her classmates."
Milim said nothing more, quietly picking up the dishes to wash them.
From the kitchen, Lin called out, "Are you going to sleep again this afternoon?"
"No," Milim said as she walked back out, drying her hands.
"I'm going out to look for a part-time job."
Just like in previous years, Milim wanted to earn some money — partly to support herself and partly to buy things for her younger brother.
Lin, already flipping through a book, simply nodded.
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That afternoon, Milim sniffed her clothes and grimaced.
The strong smell of alcohol and tobacco still lingered.
She quickly changed and washed her clothes from the night before, then headed out.
Although she knew many easy part-time jobs like waiting tables were available, they barely paid enough.
The only way to earn real money was through marketing or sales jobs — even if they were in places she'd rather avoid after her frightening experience at the bar.
Milim came across a well-known nightclub's online ad for recruiting sales personnel.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to try.
At the club's front desk, the receptionist looked her up and down.
Seeing Milim's young, student-like face, she hesitated.
"We don't recruit minors here," she said.
Annoyed, Milim pulled out her ID.
"Do I look like a minor?"
The receptionist giggled nervously.
With Milim's nearly 1.7-meter height and mature aura, she clearly wasn't a child.
"What position are you applying for?"
"Sales," Milim answered firmly.
The receptionist gave her another once-over, then nodded.
"Come with me."
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Milim was led to meet Brother Zee , the supervisor.
Upon hearing she was only looking for a part-time job, Brother Zee frowned.
Temporary workers were troublesome and risky — especially in a nightclub environment.
"We don't usually hire students," he said bluntly.
"But if you're serious, you need to know: customers can sometimes get drunk and... not behave politely. We try to avoid problems, but it's impossible to eliminate them completely."
"I understand," Milim said calmly.
"I can accept customers holding my hand or touching my waist — but not my butt."
The room fell silent.
Brother Zee and the staff stared at her in shock.
They had never heard anyone state their boundaries so seriously.
Brother Zee chuckled, then warned,
"Sometimes you have to compromise your dignity to earn money here.
If you get angry over every little thing, you won't survive in this job."
"I understand. Please let me try," Milim insisted.
"If I can't meet expectations, I'll quit on my own."
Brother Zee sighed.
"If you're serious, come tonight at 8 p.m. sharp."
"Thank you!" Milim said brightly.
Brother Zee couldn't help but smile.
With that face and that spirit, she won't suffer losses — she might even become our new trump card, he thought.
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By the time Milim finished her application, it was half-past four.
She rode a public bus back home.
At dinner, she told her parents she had found a part-time job and would start tonight.
"Isn't it too soon?" May asked, concerned.
"Aren't the exam results still coming out?"
"They won't change anything," Milim replied lightly.
"It'll be an average score — nothing worth waiting for."
"I'll probably be home late tonight," she added.
"What job keeps you out that late?" May pressed.
"Billiard room," Milim answered vaguely.
Both parents frowned.
The billiard hall was full of rowdy young people.
Wouldn't it be better to pass out flyers or work as a regular server?
Milim, however, seemed tired of such menial work.
"I'm sick of those kinds of jobs," she said bluntly.
Seeing her resolve, the couple exchanged complicated glances but said no more.
They understood: with three children and endless expenses, they couldn't stop Milim from working.
At least she was taking the initiative to ease the family's burdens.