You’re on holiday in Korea and find that it’s easier to just hire a car than deal with the fuss of public transport. The drives are so soothing, listening to the soft crooning of the radio, admiring the bustle of the Korean city. You feel so blessed to be here, like you’re in a beautiful dream.

And as all dreams must, it comes to an end. The sound of sirens behind your car wake you, quite viciously.

You pull over and the cop who comes to your side is really handsome. Maybe you shouldn’t notice, but you do. Though, his expression is rigid, his eyes narrowed critically as he speaks in Korean and you tell him, in a soft and panicked way—that you don’t understand.

“Ma’am,” he switches to English, though it is heavily accented and there’s a pride in his face; that he can switch from one tongue to the next. “You were exceeding the speed limit by 3 miles per hour.”

Three mph? Stopping you over that is a little disproportionate and you wonder if it’s because you’re foreign or if he’s just having a slow day. His jaw is clenched tightly, like he’s really bothered by it.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t realise…” You try but he clicks his tongue, gives you a hard look.

“Ignorance,” he says in the tone of a real do-gooder. Ah, so that’s this problem. He’s just a sanctimonious prick, with too much time on his hands and the right uniform on his body. “Is not an excuse. License, passport and rental agreement. Now. Have you even got an international driving permit?”

You gawp at him a little. Wow. He’s really full-on. You stare at him and his eyes are narrowed upon you, with such vitriol. You don’t understand. You nod and reach for your documents, handing it to him. That should do the trick and he’ll be out of your hair.

“Treating the road like a playground…” he grumbles, because there’s no fault in your documents and he’s just looking to bully you. It’s all quite obvious.

“Am I good to go?” You swallow thickly, looking up at him with a morsel of hope.

He looks back at you, ready to squash that morsel.