Exiled | Rosékook

Chapter two

I just gawk at the feverish letter. What the Hell? This doesn't sound like my father at all, and if it really were him, he must have gone mad.

I check for an address or a name for the sender, but find none. All I see is a blank envelope with my full name, as if the divine is mocking me, showing just how humorless the world could be.

I let out an unlady-like bark of laughter, tossing the envelope away. Has he finally gained spare time to play with his daughter? Because this feels very much like a game–though not the kind I loved as a child; this one is wicked, mysterious even.

I love it.

What kind of father would threaten to have the heart of their daughter as a trophy? A father who left his daughters with a broken-hearted mother, a father who would put money above family, a father that isn't a father.

I jump into my mushed chair, pointedly ignoring the squashed piece of paper crumpled on the floor–the sender can stop being a coward and bring his ass here if he wants to play for all I care. Turning on my phone, a notification immediately pops up from Andy; my one and only friend.

Andy: Hry? Big news on the boost. Recently got hold of two tickets to the movies tmr. Meet me in front of the canon station at 3?

I frown deeply at the text, typing something I know would screw yet another friendship:

Me: Sorry. Can't :(

Seen without a reply.

I sigh heavily, closing my eyes in exhaustion. I wasn't sure I am a people person before, though now it's clear I'm not. Introvert check operated. What can I say? I'm a bitch and I know it, too.

Finally feeling like my legs are hyped enough, I stand and decide to prepare myself some breakfast. Nothing can fix my mood better than an iced coffee and a croissant.

Knowing that my mother will probably be wandering aimlessly through the corridors, I decide to take the shortcuts to the kitchen instead. Seeing her or interacting with her never fails to ruin my mood.

Our house, thanks to the business man my father is, is dramatically large. With a massive ceremony hall on the first floor, chambers for storage that are all half empty now, numerous restrooms, and the maids' quarters. On the second floor are: my mother's room, my bedroom, and both of Chaeyoung's chambers. That's right, my sister is spoiled enough to have a room specifically for her toys, and another to, well, sleep in.

On the last floor are the boilers. They are a set of multiple rooms opened to each other, like an endless tunnel. It's hot and humid there, making me sweat if I ever hide inside. Though, thankfully, they serve a useful purpose. Where the boilers are settled, there're also infinite doors leading to almost all the other areas in the house–and one of these doors leads straight to the kitchen, hence similar to a shortcut. These doors were made in case of an emergency, making the escaper able to hastily arrive at shelter.

I head towards the boilers. Instantly, as I enter the chambers, hot waves of heat creep through my skin. Noise from the boilers fills my ears, rattling my skull. I pass through the hallway. I find the door leading to the kitchen, and try opening it.

I curse silently. It's locked. Grimacing, I rub my chin as I wonder why it's locked now–it has always been open. Besides, we have no maids to use the keys for that, in addition, my mother probably forgot these doors existed to begin with.

I go all the way back, cursing me and my luck. I make my swollen legs carry me to the kitchens, ignoring the crashing sound coming from my room–it's either an unfortunate thief or Chaeyoung looking for her lost mascara. If a robber decided to head for my room, it would be unbeneficial for him. I have nothing of value there except for my limited edition albums and a spicy sauce collection.