On campus, in between the eerie silence, zombies roamed free; limp and stressed, their distant eyes were dull against their painfully dark under eye circles. Okay, no, the story hasn’t suddenly turned into the premise of Train to Busan. By zombies, I mean students. Yes, it was that week. Dead Week. Well, Mini Dead Week since it was just midterms next week. For all those unaware, Dead Week is the week before finals; the week where everyone dies on the inside, the week where the only pick-me-up is a cup of coffee mixed with a whole can of either Red Bull or Five Hour Energy, the week where everyone wants to rip out their own hair.

Taehyun had a demanding work load. For one, she’d already missed out on a lot of work to begin with. Papers were due, books had to be read, poems to be read into laid in wait, humans—who were long dead—were waiting to be understood, group projects had to be turned in—and to add insult to injury, her ‘Narcissus’ film had to be shot soon if they wanted to meet the final deadline in December.

For the most part, she was surviving and doing fairly well juggling everything; but, we can’t escape those moments where we just can’t get anything into our heads, no matter how hard we try. This was her current predicament. The daunting Homer piece was staring at her, and she stared back at it, reading the same line over and over again. In her frustration she was able to clean her room, vacuum the carpeted floor, make her bed, arrange her desk and all of its stationary, and hand wash her delicate clothing. By the time she was ‘ready to study, for real.’, it was already time for dinner.

Suho tentatively knocked on her door, quietly allowing himself in.

“I made grilled octopus tentacles,” he said, “With the sesame sauce you like. There’s kimchi fried rice, too.” Suho smiled, opening the door wide, motioning for her to come downstairs with him. Taehyun stretched her back, grinning widely.

“That’s it!” she exclaimed, “Just what I need. A nice warm homemade meal. You’re always keeping me full. I might cry. I’ve never been heavier or happier.” Taehyun gladly—shamelessly—rewarded herself for accomplishing nothing important in the span of the entire day.

Taehyun prayed and thanked God for the food on the table, and for the people around it. Also, she prayed real hard for Homer to stop making her life so unnecessarily difficult.

The usual banter was interrupted by the ringing of the landline which Jonghyun totally forgot to rip out.

“I’ll get it,” Suho offered, getting up. He made a dash towards the phone, and quickly answered it. Upon hearing who was on the other line, his face fell. Taehyun looked up to see him agitatedly explaining something inaudible. Suho came back to the table.

“It’s for you, Taehyun,” he said, “From a Cho Jaehyun.” There were mixed reactions ranging from ‘Oh ’ to ‘Wow has the floor always been this interesting?’ to the ever popular ‘Gotta blast!’

As they mistakenly explained to her before, they had already looked up everything about her. Her family and their business empire, her parentage, and her siblings. And they knew, for a fact, that her and her siblings were not on good terms. Her relationship with this specific brother became even more strained after her jailing incident. Little recap: the same estranged brother who said something along the lines of: “Cho Taehyun, you disgrace. Did my mother die for you to become a delinquent? Did my father, who followed her soon after, leave this world just for you to insult the name he left you with?”

Taehyun got up without any hesitation, and answered the phone.

“Prof. Cho,” she said, voice clear without a trace of uncertainty, “How can I help you?”

“Don’t talk to me as if you’re a receptionist,” a flat, husky voice answered back, “I am your brother after all.” Jaehyun stressed the word ‘brother’, as if it were comical for him to even mention.

“Then, brother,” Taehyun replied, “What do you want?” there was a moment of silence.

“Nothing in particular,” Jaehyun responded, “I just wanted to know how you’re doing.” Taehyun narrowed her eyes, furrowing her brows. He was acting considerably different to the last time they spoke (which was basically him yelling at her, scolding her until her ears bled. Fun wholesome family bonding.) and it concerned her.

“I’m okay,” she said carefully. Jaehyun hummed lowly.

“And your studies? Have you been using your inheritance well this time around?” Taehyun was confused. The only inheritance she’d received was her house. Unless…

“Midterms are next week,” she informed him, “I have a lot to catch up on. I don’t want to waste my time.” Pretty ironic since that’s all she’s been doing today.

“What a good mindset,” Jaehyun said, “You… are a Cho after all.” Taehyun wanted to regurgitate her dinner as she heard his words. All of the stress from Mini Dead Week, combined with all of the stress that suddenly compiled within the last three minutes, bubbled together to make one flaming hot, extra spicy serving of Angry Taehyun.

“Let’s cut to the chase,” she snapped, “What do you really want?”