The SecondSkin office has been abuzz with the news of an Indian recruit. Nobody seems sure of what to expect, aside from the marketing team leader, Choi Seongjae. It’s a gloomy, grey Monday morning and Timira is expected to join today.

“Bujangnim, are you sure this was a wise call? She doesn’t know our language, has no experience of living or working here … couldn’t the bosses have scouted a Hanguk saram?!” Mr Choi had been inundated with such questions since the PR and marketing teams had found out about the new hire.

“Don’t waste your breath on unnecessary questions and baseless doubts. Wae? Are you lot insecure because she is an English-language expert? This is why I keep telling you guys to take English lessons. Not everybody is RM of BTS that you can pick up a language just watching a drama!” Inspired by global star RM, who is somewhat of a pop culture hero for learning to speak English by watching Friends, the SecondSkin girls and boys had taken to binge-watching American shows ever since the new project involving Timira was greenlit, in the hope of a crash course in English. Unfortunately for them, they hadn’t made much progress.

“… unless, they have real-life ‘friends’ to teach them!” chimes in Timira in a slightly high-pitched, albeit pleasant voice, taking herself and everyone else by surprise. Timira had been quietly eavesdropping after arriving sooner than scheduled and being ushered to her department. Unable to follow most of what the man who looked like he was in his mid-to-late forties – his dubious Nick Carter hair a dead giveaway of the generation he, most likely, belonged to – was saying to the eager-eyed motley group of smartly dressed young-looking people around him, she had been about to turn away and go about her business when she caught words in Korean that sounded familiar and opened a door that she quickly decided to put a foot in. Thanks, Alice, she smiles and recalls all the nights when Alice made her watch Korean teleserials she had grown up on and they danced to BTS playlists in their pyjamas, drunk on makgeolli Alice had sourced from a Korean family settled in Bombay.

“Sorry, it was too hard to resist!” she adds in a cheery voice. Nonplussed faces stare back at her, her pun clearly lost on them. She wonders if she should explain, but decides against it.

Why let them know on the very first day that I’m eccentric? Well, seccentric, really. Sexy and eccentric, hehehe! Let them figure it out.

She decides to play it safe. “Hello! I’m Timira!”

For hours, over days, she had perfected her “Annyeonghaseyo” – the Korean way to greet politely, but performance anxiety has gripped her and she decides it’s safer to stick with “hello”. As if to compensate, she bows what feels like a million times, and feels a little dizzy. The fresh, young faces in front of her look unsure and shyly mutter their hellos. She is sure that the ones in the back are whispering. Could they be bitching about me already, she wonders. The time difference, the change in air, the unfamiliar language in her ears – all of it seems to have suddenly come together and engulfed Timira in a daze. She’s still deciding on how to break the ice with her new colleagues when she feels a slight tug. Before she realises it, she’s been taken away, her feet feeling heavier than usual. She waves at the young Koreans who look back at her with amazement and amusement.

WHY AM I WAVING? WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY HAND? ARGH! Great start, Timira! Idiot!

A short walk later, Mr Choi and Timira arrive at the destination. They knock on the door and Timira is asked to step in first. It’s a glass door that clearly says “Push”. Timira pulls with all her might.

“Ms Marak, allow me,” General Manager (Bujang) Choi offers in a kind voice. Cheeks flushed, Timira steps aside, gaze lowered and head bowed in embarrassment.

The door is held open, and Mr Choi gestures at her to step inside.

“He’s been looking forward to meeting you,” he informs her in a hushed voice. “He pushed a lot for you to be hired,” he whispers into her ear, and Timira wonders what to make of that information. Looking at a figure that looks tall even while seated, Mr Choi says, “Daepyonim, Ms Marak is here.” Putting his tablet PC aside and lifting his head up, the tall figure pushes his chair back and gets up to greet Timira.

“Good morning, Ms Marak. Welcome to SecondSkin,” he says in a slightly nasal but honeyed baritone, bowing just a little. “My name is Baek Haneul. I’m the CEO of this little company and I hope you will enjoy working with us over the next three months,” he adds in fluent and only very slightly accented English, his luminous, almond-shaped eyes boring into Timira’s soul.

O teri!

Timira has not seen a more handsome man. She opens her mouth to greet him back, but appears to have lost her voice. She clears her throat, hoping for her voice to come out of hiding.

Is it even possible for a human to be this beautiful? Is this a vampire? Am I an offering to satiate his appetite? I have yummy O-positive blood, too!

Her imagination runs wild as she continues to gape at the tall figure who calls himself Baek Haneul. She sees a small head with straight hair, longer on the top, closely cropped otherwise, generously gelled and carefully styled to reveal a small forehead with zero lines (at last count, she had five). His nose is long and sharp but slightly crooked (she has a sudden urge to pinch the tip). High cheekbones under skin so dewy and pink that it immediately makes Timira regret having passed over the sheet mask this morning for an extra ten minutes of sleep. His chin is so sharp and jawline so prominent that Bulgari’s V would be embarrassed to call itself so. His eyes seemingly betray no emotion; shaped like medium-sized Californian almonds, they give nothing away as he introduces himself. As he waits for Timira’s response, they squint a little (Is he trying to focus on my face? Which part of my face? Has my lipstick strayed? Is my mascara clumpy? Did I forget to blend the contouring lines?). His mouth twitches (is he trying to not laugh at me?) – a small mouth with perfectly balanced lips, upturned just enough for a wee pout, full enough to …

Stop, Timira, stop! Get a grip! You’re a professional. This is your boss. He’s “pushed” for you! He’s paying you to work, not assess him like an apex predator on the prowl.

Haneul gazes at her intently. His first instinct is to push her fringe aside so it doesn’t hide her large, curious, dark eyes. Her cheeks are a shade of blush red that no make-up can achieve.

Should I have been warmer? Friendlier? Is she nervous? Have I made her uncomfortable? Right, she’s in a new place. I ought to be more welcoming. But should I? Can I? What am I even doing? I’ve sought her out, brought her out here … what will happen when she finds out? Is this cheating? HEART! STOP FLUTTERING! Geurae, man up! You’ve got this!

She’s biting her plump lower lip, and Haneul wonders if he should crack a joke so she can relax and he can, perhaps, see her smile.

Her smile. How he has longed to see that delicious, dimpled smile. I wonder if she recognises me …

Excerpted with permission from You Had Me At Annyeong!, Malini Banerjee, Penguin India.

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