Work Text:
CLINK!
Raise the bar.
Spring and gear.
A screw there, another here.
Tink. Tack.
Tink. Tack.
Again.
Again.
Again.
She holds the handle she has finished modifying. A firm grip, testing its durability.
It should be satisfactory for the client’s order.
“Eugenie.”
A knock on the door. She turns around, spotting a co-worker poking her head through.
“Hey!” the other greets. “We’re about to open gifts. Don’t you wanna join?”
Gifts. A holiday party, that’s right. That is happening today, she supposes. She’s been stuck in her room all day catching up on orders for the stalkers. This one she had just finished had taken up a good chunk of her time.
“Oh, you go back and have fun,” she says to her co-worker, brushing a strand of hair out of the way.
She does not have the drive to join such activities.
“You’ve been cooped up here all day! Would it kill you to catch a break?”
She waves off the statement with a laugh. There wouldn’t be a point to joining in. She already knows there isn’t anything down there for her.
“No, I insist,” she says. “I still have work to catch up on after all.”
“Ah…alright, suit yourself.” The other bows her head and goes back to shut the door.
Eugenie turns back to face the sprawled mess of nuts, bolts, and screws on her desk. The drawers of the desk clumsily pulled out and empty, for her tools were now arranged as best as she could in front of her.
She looks to the side, spotting the weapons she will now have to set up to be ready for delivery or retrieval on display. The blade handle she had modified was the last order from this batch she had to complete.
She leans forward, laying her head on her resting arms. On a day like today, she and her family would be gathered around a table, eating tteokguk. She tries to laugh as she reminisces about moments where her brother would try to sneak her an extra piece of bukkumi.
Such memories instead make her feel like her throat is being choked. As much as she tries to hold back her tears, she silently lets them fall. Her vision blurs from her fogged-up glasses.
KNOCK!
“Um…Eugenie.”
She bolts up from her desk, rushing to wipe the tears away.
“I said-”
“I know, but um…there’s a gift for you.”
She turns back towards her co-worker, eyes still puffed from her cries.
“What do you mean?”
__
She had retrieved the gift from downstairs, bidding the others of the Workshop Tower a good day on the way. A circular box, wrapped with a bow, and a tag that reads ‘To: Eugenie’, with no indication of who the gift was from.
She clears her desk of her tools and other trinkets with a sweeping arm. Curiosity consumes her as she goes to untie the bow. Lifting the box’s cover, her eyes widen at what lies inside.
A music record, titled “Far East Princess”.
As she inspects it, she lifts it gently with the tips of her fingers from its box. In the corner of her room, not too far from her desk, is a gramophone. Lifting its handle, there is a slight creak and wobble. Its worn-down state is why she rarely uses it. But right now, it’s the only thing she has to be able to hear the record’s song.
After winding the gramophone, she watches as the record spins. Some static occurs as the song begins.
Then, she is struck by the first pluck of strings, a wave of nostalgia washing over her swollen heart.
“One day, I’ll teach you how to play the gayageum.”
These are not the same instruments used to play that song from long ago. From the far-off depths of her mind, she remembers someone playing this on that promised instrument.
As she lays her head again on her desk, she hums along, a smile on her face.
‘You’re out there, aren’t you…brother?’
One day, she thinks to herself.
She will be waiting still.
But at least she has this song to keep her company.