The soft rhythm of a ballad flowed calmly through the air. Tragic, melancholy, moving: or at least that's what he tried to convey when he recorded it. It was Hyesung's own voice that bellowed out the sorrowful notes, escalating higher during the bridge of the song. He'd taken some material home to give it a careful listen before finalizing the last track of an album he was working on.

Disconnected and discontent he raised his hand to his mouth, taking in a long drag of nicotine, releasing a puff of smoke a moment later. Digging the cancer stick between his fingers into an ashtray beside his laptop, he snuffed out the remaining kindled flame. The song wasn't to his liking. Too sad? Too over-powered? Something. He didn't know.

His left temple throbbed and he hissed a curse word under his breathe in response to the palpitation. He cut off the music to remedy the pain, but even in the still silence of his apartment it did nothing to calm it. Was he working himself too hard again? Perhaps it was the pressure of the impending deadline. Maybe after reviewing the same song for an hour it was just getting under his skin. Maybe he was just tired and hungry.

He rose from his seat, sending the gray office chair gliding away from beneath him. Sliding back into the white fleece slippers beside the desk he dragged his feet across the plush gray carpet. Wondering into the kitchen he made his way over to the refrigerator. The steel door was cold to the touch and a gust of frigid air escaped the appliance as he pulled it open. His stomach grumbled in disappointment as his eyes studied the limited contents within. A bit of kimchi, bean sprouts, some lean pork, and a bowl of miso soup. 3 bottled waters and 2 glasses of soju. Seaweed, lettuce, radish and a pot of rice.

He sighed and his stomach howled again.

“Eish! I get it.” he barked back. One by one he proceeded to take out random dishes and sat a big bowl on the counter beside them. Moments later he was sitting on a bar stool in front of the elevated platform that divided the kitchen and dining room, ready to eat his lazy cluster of a meal. Twisting his chopsticks into the pile of randomness, he lifted the food to his mouth and opened up to take a bite when suddenly he heard knocking at his front door.