12. INVERTED TABLES

Ko returned to the same florist where he had bought flowers before. That day, there weren’t many customers, so he didn’t have to wait long inside the car. As he got out, he didn’t waste time and scanned all the flowers: some already arranged in bouquets, others tied in round bundles. Yet, he still had no idea which flowers to choose.

“Are you looking for something in particular?” asked an employee, noticing his indecisive demeanor and offering help.

The tall man approached the counter and showed her a photo of Jira’s drawing he had saved. The image included three types of flowers: tulips, irises, and daffodils.

Ko didn’t know anything about flowers-absolutely nothing. “Do you know which flowers are in this picture?” he asked. The employee looked for a moment before responding. “These are daffodils, and these others are irises.”
Ko nodded, withdrew his hand, and then consulted his AI to understand the meaning of both flowers. Daffodils symbolized narcissism, while irises represented hope and communication. In art, they were often linked to the inner feelings of the artist.

After obtaining this information, he turned back to the employee. “I’d like a bouquet of each, separately, please.”
“Understood,” she replied.

Once the order was confirmed, the employee brought out a selection of flowers for him to inspect before preparing the bouquets.

“Do you like them?” she asked.

daffodil. Iris

Ko looked at them with satisfaction and gave his approval for them to continue. The flowers were arranged with skill, but with great care. The bright yellow in the center of the daffodils and the vibrant purple of the irises were attractive even to someone like him, who had no interest in flowers. If he liked them, for someone like Jira, who was obsessed with them, they would surely be irresistible.

Both bouquets were finished without adding any other flowers as decoration. The employee highlighted only the flowers Ko had chosen. Once paid, the tall man took the bouquets and returned to the car parked by the curb.

Through his earpiece, he could still hear Thames’ presentation in the meeting. Just as he was about to finish answering questions, Ko started the engine. His deep voice resonated through the earpiece, giving direct instructions to Jira. [Press the microphone button and repeat what I say.]

Jira obeyed, and all eyes in the meeting room turned to the representative of Memento Couture.

[In Memento Couture’s opinion, no member of this committee, regardless of the business they represent, should receive these funds, as it would constitute a conflict of interest. That is the first reason.]

Jira avoided Thames’ gaze, speaking only into the microphone with his head down.

[If that argument is not sufficiently solid, allow me to add two more points. According to the name of the project, the purpose of these funds is to support emerging designers.]

[But, according to the financial flow presented by Mr. Thames in his budget distribution plan, it is clear that all funds would be allocated to the secondary brand of the Library company, something with which I completely disagree.]

As he spoke, Jira’s confidence almost completely vanished. His body seemed on the verge of being entirely consumed by tension.

[I believe we should support brands entering the fashion world, not those merely trying to renew their image.]

The room fell into a deathly silence. Thames looked around, but no one intervened to contradict. Everyone awaited his response, but since there was none, Ko continued attacking relentlessly, leaving Jira barely able to keep up, mispronouncing some words, but fortunately without affecting the main message.

[It is well known in the industry that Mr. Thames does not truly support emerging designers and often appropriates their work as if it were his own.]

“Do you have anything to say about that, Mr. Thames?” asked a committee member, but Thames did not respond directly. Instead, he pointed to Jira, trying to divert attention. “Everyone knows that, with Memento on this council, you shouldn’t even be in this room.”

Jira swallowed hard, nerves at their limit. Only Ko’s voice, giving orders from afar, kept him standing. Ko spoke one last time.

[If the committee considers the first two arguments insufficient and still decides to grant funds to the Library brand, Memento Couture will resign its position on the council.]

After Jira’s words, the room erupted in murmurs. Then, a cold, tense silence took over the place.

[Turn off the microphone. Do not answer any questions,] ordered Ko.

That was the final instruction, the only lifeline that allowed Jira to breathe after feeling half dead. He wanted everything to end quickly, and it seemed his wish was about to come true.

With trembling fingers, he turned off the microphone as instructed, trying to stay calm despite the whirlwind inside him. But in the end, he could see a ray of light at the end of the tunnel.

…

The bathroom door closed with a loud bang. Thames, although trying to maintain a neutral expression, muttered a curse under his breath, frustrated that the meeting had not gone as he expected. After venting, he left the bathroom and quickly approached Jira, ready to confront him.

“Tell your boss…”

Jira remained still, not responding.

“If he’s so cowardly, let him come himself instead of sending his lackeys to do this kind of dirty work.”

“Understood, I’ll tell him,” responded Jira, suppressing his emotions and keeping an indifferent expression while watching Thames walk away until he disappeared from sight.

The mission was accomplished, but it was more exhausting than carrying a hundred-kilogram sack with one hand.

He screamed in his mind without making a sound: ‘Damn it!’ “At last, what a relief,” he sighed.
Jira returned to the luxurious car waiting for him with the engine running in the parking lot. Sometimes he felt guilty for smiling after doing something wrong, but even so, he asked Ko like a child expecting a reward after doing something well.

“Was it worth it?”

“You did well,” replied Ko.

While Jira fastened his seatbelt, Ko took the opportunity to hand him the bouquet of daffodils as a token of thanks. However, instead of feeling happy, Jira was left bewildered, distrusting Ko’s kindness.

“Are you still playing at guessing hearts? They’re pretty, but they’re not my favorite flowers.” “Wow, I lost! Then I’ll give you tomorrow off,” said Ko.
Jira smelled the flowers and made a grimace. “They smell weird, right? Is it fragrance or stench?” “They’re daffodils, for the egotistical.”
“I think you didn’t try to guess my heart, you rather bought these to mock me,” said Jira. Ko burst out laughing at the insult and took the opportunity to surprise him again by handing him the bouquet of irises from the back seat. This time, Jira froze.

“Did I guess right this time?” “How did you know?”
“I deduced it from your drawing.”

That morning, Ko had tried with tulips, but Jira didn’t like them. Then he tried daffodils and irises. If he had failed again, everything would have been over, but luckily he got it right.

“Since I won, today you’ll do overtime. Draw me something.”

“Can’t it be another day? I don’t want overtime, I have things to do.”

In reality, Jira wanted to reconcile with Pheem, clarify things, and start over. That night had been a disaster, full of confusion, and he thought a deep conversation could make things better.

“What do you have to do? Is it important? Tell me so I can decide.” “I have a date with a friend.”
“What friend? The friend you were talking about?” “Yes.”
“I’ll talk to her, she’ll surely understand.”

Jira, cornered, hesitated. He didn’t know how to reject Ko’s pressure. “Alright, I’ll cancel the date.”
“Perfect, do it quickly,” said Ko, and called the butler to ensure Jira had no escape.

“I’m returning to the hotel. Please prepare the drawing materials: paper, pencils, watercolors.”

Ko kept the call going and looked at Jira.

“Anything else?” Jira shook his head, letting Ko finish talking with the butler. “All set, leave everything on my desk. Thanks.”
Jira swallowed nervously. That day had been an emotional whirlwind, from the meeting to that moment. He was on the verge of collapse.

…

The butler checked that everything was in order. The hotel staff had brought a framed drawing by Jira and placed it in the center of the room. Meanwhile, a professional florist carefully arranged the purple irises at various points in the room.

“It’s better not to move anything,” warned the butler upon seeing an employee try to move a box with documents and other objects near the computer.

“Understood,” replied the florist.

The irises were distributed throughout the room: on the desk, on the coffee table, and even in small aligned planters. The place looked like a field of flowers, beautiful and immersive.

If it weren’t for Ko’s characteristic mess, which contrasted with the softness of the flowers, the butler would have been completely satisfied. Even so, he felt the space reflected its owner’s essence.

Soon, both arrived at the hotel. Jira frowned upon seeing the butler waiting at the door, bowing slightly as if welcoming someone special.

A shiver ran through Jira. Exhausted, he just wanted a moment of peace. ‘It won’t be another terrifying surprise, right?’ After a day…
“All set?” asked Ko.

“Everything is ready, sir,” replied the butler.

The butler observed their reactions as they opened the door. Jira’s face lit up with a smile.

In front of him was his own drawing, placed in the center of the room as the focal point. It showed Ko sleeping deeply on a pile of clouds, inspired by Equality Before Death. Around it, the irises filled the space with their soft fragrance, reminiscent of baby powder.

“Did you order this just now and it’s already ready? The power of money is incredible,” said Jira, surprised, as he looked at Ko.

“What is this? What mood are you in?”

Ko didn’t respond immediately. He walked slowly toward the desk, where the drawing materials were, before speaking.

“Do you like it?”

“The flowers are beautiful, but the rest is still a mess.” “I asked if you like it.”
“Yes, I like it… It’s an interesting contradiction.” “How?”
Jira walked around the room, touching the flowers and explaining his interpretation.

“It’s art, you know? Flowers aren’t just flowers. Like Georgia O’Keeffe, who painted irises to resemble female sexual organs, or Van Gogh, who used them to heal his mind.”

“Then paint something of me with irises to heal your mind.”

“Ha, it would be worse. Just working with you already exhausts me, how am I going to heal?” “Since we brought the flowers, aren’t you going to draw something?”
“I’ll draw, but I’m thinking. I have my own version of the irises.” Jira stopped at the desk, took a piece of paper and a pencil.
Ko, used to posing, didn’t worry about his posture. He walked in long strides to sit on the sofa, where clothes were scattered. The table in front of him was full of wine glasses, water bottles, and papers strewn about, but in the center stood a vase of irises, a strange beauty amid the chaos.

Ko leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with fatigue, as if about to fall asleep. Jira intervened while preparing his materials.

“Are you going to fall asleep so I can draw you again? Do something more dynamic, I’m not in the mood to draw something flat.”

Ko slowly opened his eyes and sat up, his black hair slightly tousled.

“And how do I inspire the gentleman?” he asked with a surprising “gentleman” that left Jira stunned.

“You look very handsome,” added Ko. “What?” Jira tilted his head.
“When you’re with the flowers.”

Ko, with perfectly shaped lips, took a glass of plum liquor from the table and drank. Seeing Jira with the irises in the background was captivating. Unfortunately, he wasn’t an artist, nor did he have the skill to describe that beauty in words.

“Come here,” he said, gesturing for Jira to approach. “I’m not going to do anything to you, come quickly.”
Confused, Jira obeyed. They came within inches of each other. Jira’s pale face looked down while Ko watched him calmly, silently. Their eyes met, cold… Then Ko took Jira’s hand and brought it to his face. Jira’s hands caressed Ko’s cheeks, moving down to his perfectly shaped lips.

“How can I help you?” Ko asked in a deep voice.

Jira let himself be carried away by the atmosphere Ko created. Slowly, his hands moved from the face to the head, stroking the slightly wavy hair, while Ko placed his hands on Jira’s waist, trying to pull him closer.

Jira didn’t dare ask what he was feeling. Ko wasn’t his type, neither by appearance nor personality, but he always ended up giving in to that cold gaze and those lips. Or perhaps it was that carefree attitude toward the world that attracted him.

Jira wasn’t a saint, and he didn’t expect to fall in love with someone perfect. But Ko wasn’t just a villain; he was the kind of character who appears to cause chaos and then disappears, leaving a trail of destruction. He had no heart, didn’t know how to love. And when someone let their guard down, the result was only pain.

While both were trapped in that dreamlike moment, the sound of the door opening interrupted them. Jira regained his composure and stepped back, his mind in chaos. Seeing Pheem staring at them, he felt as if he had been thrown into an abyss.

“What the hell is this?” Pheem didn’t know what to be surprised by first. Love? The flowers around? The drawing in the center? The two of them embracing? Or the intertwined gazes like lovers? He didn’t understand anything…

“Oh, you’re here!” said Ko, standing up at the sight of Pheem, with an indifferent attitude, showing no trace of surprise.

“I was just going to call a meeting with the company staff. Lately, I’ve been a bit distracted, and some things slipped by me.”

Ko’s attitude changed completely, even his tone became cold, very different from what he used with Jira minutes earlier. ‘Damn villain! He just put on a show.’

Ko alternated his gaze between Pheem and Jira, with a satisfied expression, as if enjoying a game of uncovering secrets.

“Did you really think I didn’t know?”

“What do you know?” responded Pheem, anger about to explode.

“About your relationship, obviously. You don’t need to deny it anymore. I know you’ve been secretly seeing each other, and don’t deny it because I saw you meet in the room.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? Just because I didn’t answer a call, you already suspect?”

Jira froze. Ko had orchestrated this entire scenario to expose them. At first, he only suspected because of the flowers and the attention he gave, but he had fallen into the trap without realizing it.

“Finish this. If you can’t, both of you resign.”

Pheem lost patience. At that moment, he was at his limit.

“This is too much already. It’s threat after threat. Don’t think I wouldn’t dare.” “You wouldn’t dare, I know you well.”
“Maybe I’ve changed.”

“Really? Are you going to abandon the whole team over this?”

Pheem didn’t respond. It wasn’t just about Jira, but about years of friendship with Ko, which collapsed in an instant. Just thinking about it, he let out a dry laugh.

“Do you want to threaten me? Go ahead, I’m not afraid. I resign.” “Then leave!”
Pheem looked at Jira with hope, but seeing him keep his lips pressed and eyes teary, he couldn’t say anything. He didn’t dare ask if he wanted to resign with him, fearing the truth. The only thing he accepted at that moment was his own decision.

“I’m leaving, idiot! You don’t need to kick me out.”

With long strides, Pheem left the room, slamming the door behind him. Jira jumped, tears slowly running down his cheeks.

Only Ko seemed to enjoy his victory. He circled Jira and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I don’t like being betrayed. It sucks, right? Now you know how it feels.”
“Was this all a plan?”

“Yes. Did you really think I would love you?”

Seeing Jira remain silent, Ko changed his tone, acting as if nothing had happened. He took another sip of plum liquor.

“Well, it’s decided. Stay, Jira.”

 

“I’m going to take a shower, then I’ll come back for you to draw me.”

The robust body shrugged off the T-shirt and carelessly tossed it onto the sofa. He walked away, leaving Jira still standing there, tears in his eyes from sadness and pain.