Room No. 779

Chapter 1

It's quarter past five in the afternoon. The dainty sunlight casts soft silhouettes on the living room floor as the thin satin curtain swayed lightly with the billowing summer breeze. A faint tapping of heels can be heard from the outside followed by a soft click of the door knob and a short creaking of the door. "I'm home", she said—voice almost inaudible. She bent forward and took her black school shoes off and placed them on a plastic shoe rack which stood by the small gap behind the wooden door. She took the khaki indoor slippers from the other compartment of the rack and walked quietly across the tiny hall of their house. It was a wooden floor polished to perfection that you can almost see your reflection as you walk past it. The hallway was only a few meters wide, walls on both sides with two doors each, separating the living room from the kitchen, the dining area and the receiving area. At the end of the hall is an L-shaped staircase which leads to the second storey of the house where there are three rooms- one for each children, a guest room and the master's bedroom.

As soon as she reached the foot of the staircase, she heard a loud crashing sound coming from the kitchen, followed by breaking noise which seemed like glass of sort, plates or drinking glasses, perhaps? She tucked her earphones securely in her ears. She pulled her mobile phone out of her skirt's pocket and scrolled through her music gallery and blasted the volume to maximum. Her parents are fighting again.

Every day, Yoonji had to come home to a place where the only sound that welcomes her is the screaming voice of her mother, angry with her father's gambling problems and unpaid debts and loans. Her only salvation is music. The music that her twin brother makes. She kept them all in her phone and listens to them so she wouldn't feel alone. But sometimes, when the loneliness feels unbearable, she'd call him. Just to sound of his voice is enough for Yoonji to get back on her feet again. And right now, that's what she almost needs. Almost.

She dragged her red backpack idly up the stairs and into her room, her slippers, leaving prints on the dusty floor. Her other hand, inside her gray hoodie's front pocket. She heaved a deep sigh before she went inside her room, locking the door with a barrel vault and the lock on the door knob, too. She tossed her backpack at the foot of her bed and flung herself on to her bed. For a short moment, she stayed there, arms spread on both sides, as she stared blankly into the ceiling. The corners of the ceiling started to gather cobwebs. It was getting dark outside but she didn't turn the lights on inside her room. Instead, she stripped her school clothes off leaving her just in undergarments and black thigh-high school stockings on. She scrambled inside her bag, searching for her phone's charging block, feeling the things inside with her fingers. The phone screen begun to dim, probably on power saving mode. The battery life indicator shows 14%. She turned around, as she lazily tried to reach for the outlet to plug in the charger. She scooted over a little more, dragging the thin pale pink blanket under her stomach. Now, the bed looked like a mess. She laid on her back again, her head tilted down the edge of her bed, letting her long black hair flow carelessly down the floor. She reached for the AC remote and turned the humidifying function on. Then she turned again, now laying on her tummy. She pulled one pillow near her, one arm under it, and her head leaning atop on one side, gently squishing her cheeks into a tiny puff. She turned the television on. Her right leg resting on another pillow, her knee bent as if hugging the pillow underneath.

The blue light coming from the TV screen casted eerie glow into her pale white skin. Her skin was silky smooth that some of the light bounced off of it. The shadows from her face accentuates the curves of her shoulders and collarbone.

There was a loud bang at the lower floor. It must be the door. She didn't even faze. Not a sign of anxiousness on her face. She stared at the TV screen but not really watching. Her earphones, still on. Suddenly, her music was interrupted by a call. She looked at the phone screen. It's Yunki. She breathed in and composed herself before she answered the call. "Oppa..." she mumbled. "What's wrong, Yoonji?"