A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Chapter 8: the Bed Room

Son Naeun

        Yoon Bomi was wrong. Someone other than her realized that Eunji needed more comforting… I saw her eyes; actually I was keeping my eyes on her most of the time. Ever since that private talk I’ve had with Bomi, I can’t help but look after her and make sure nothing wrong is happening. I don’t want to lose her, even when we are in a fight at this moment, and even if there’s tension between us. I wanted that tension to go away but I was the type to not back down easily. I don’t know what to do that moment, so I ended up with the easiest and less vocal way… I held her hand.

    And when I held her hand, I realized how I was thankful that I did, for her hands were reassuring enough in the dark path. 
 

    Bomi finally opened the door and walked in into another hallway, with doors on each side, revealing the bed rooms. We were all supposed to go in pairs, and well I guess since I’m holding unto Eunji already, that means we are roommates.
 

    Bomi closed the door behind us and turned the candle light off already, as torches and lights were already installed in that hallway. We all didn’t go in the bed rooms just yet as Eunji continued the story this time.
 

    “The real deal happened two years ago. It turns out that the old house, where the teens were thrown off, opened once again by an unknown man. He was a guy who collected haunted things and stuffs, from dolls, to riches, to junks… and old houses…”
 

    “A collector…” I muttered, finally seeing where the story was leading.
 

    I guess Eunji noticed my expression too and nodded her head.
 

    “He invited fourteen teens on the mansion, each one known for collecting things too. And as the story goes, it was an auction. The teens thought that it was an auction for them, not realizing that it would be an auction about them. The fourteen teens aimlessly ventured on the house around, finding themselves in the endless maze of windowless rooms, getting killing one by one by the collector, who collected their bodies…”

    “Something like what the Canadian did.” Hayoung noticed.
 

   “Yes. He killed them, but that wasn’t all, he wanted to create the greatest collection of them all. And he almost completed it, that night… for he collected the bodies of collectors… and stored them for his amusement…”
 

    “Their bloods were spilling in a manmade pond below the surface, in the basement of the building… and the bodies were left frozen, for display… I don’t have to explain to you everything right?”
    
    I felt my throat restrict as I put the pieces together. The story she was saying two years ago… that was the same thing Bomi unnie had told me. Solar was one of the victims… her best friend was… and that’s why the three of them here, Bomi unnie, Chorong unnie and Eunji unnie… they were a part of it too, and witnessed it.
 

    “E-eunji unnie… two years ago… how many teens survived the killings?” I asked in a barely audible whisper.
 

    Her eyes were left ghostly… “Four, Naeun… Only four of us survived… I don’t have to pinpoint who they were, right?”
 

    “Hey! Our brains weren’t as smart as Son Naeun’s! Tell us!” Hayoung tried to complain but Namjoo just shook her head and dragged her in their room. Bomi unnie gave me a considerate look, before nodding and going in their room with Chorong unnie…
 

    Eunji was the last one to look at me, her eyes questioning something inaudible…
 

    “It was you, Bomi unnie, Chorong unnie… those were the three… who was the fourth? Is it Solar?”
 

    Eunji shook her head and opened the door to our room.
 

    We went inside and I lied on my bed already. She sat on hers, and on the back of my mind, I wished that she would sleep right next to me. She didn’t… instead, she just gave me those look in those eyes…
 

    “It was Lee Taemin… He was the fourth one… five people went out on that house… the four teens and the collector…”
 

    “The collector… the collector didn’t even show up tonight… Is the auction supposed to happen tomorrow? Or is this really that story on repeat?”
 

    Eunji shrugged.
 

    “I don’t know… what I know is that the collector is among us right now… I only know his name… it was Bomi who remembers his face.”
 

    
    “What is his name?” I asked lowly.
 

    I thought Eunji wouldn’t answer me. Not until she stepped forward and planted a kiss on my lips, “I'll tell you... tomorrow... Now go to sleep… and well, hope that this will all just be a dream when you wake up… Bringing you here with me was the biggest mistake on my life… I don’t want to lose you too.”
 

    
    I was not able to tell her anything as she succumbed on her bed and slept right away. I stayed awake, staring at her sleeping figure in front of me, as the moonlight from the window was shining down on her body. It was beautiful, really beautiful… 
 

    But the expression on her face was sad… and probably missing someone else… Probably that Youngsun.
 

    If only I can wipe away the pain from her… if only everything was just normal between all of us.
    
    It was a few minutes later when I remembered something. I don’t want to disturb Eunji’s sleep so I shook her and asked her a question I really shouldn’t be asking. Well, I shouldn’t really have disturbed her sleep at all, and woke her up. I shouldn’t have done that, but the question was disturbing in the back of my mind.
 

    “Eunji answer this question, please! You said that the fourteen teens were collectors, and we were all are… then what is it that I collected?! How did I became a collector?!”

    Eunji stirred for a bit but was only half conscious… her words were like a free verse poem, something that is hard to decipher…
 

    “You are a collector… you collected the things you do… and I collect dreams, like what you did have… I-isn’t that why we met like serendipity almost like a year ago? I collected dreams… and your dream was something more special than anyone… for it is a memory of the night I lost her… except that you were never in the house, and so the setting changed… into the nearest setting you could have, our school… our old school…”