"Will it hurt if I die?"   Moonbyul felt the abrupt need to upchuck the sweet taste of vanilla milkshake lingering on her tongue due to the sudden raised inquiry of the woman in front of her, who seemed to be really enjoying her cookie dough, making the question she just thrown right at her face carry no weight at all. She wasn't sure what this woman meant exactly; and out of all the bizarre questions she had to put up through the years, she knew right then that this will be the one she will never forget.    "W-what do you mean?" The bare question itself triggered her unspoken feelings, and all Moonbyul needed at the moment is clarification; and she wasn't in any way surprised to be greeted by more than what she had expected.   "Whatever you heard was what I meant."   Moonbyul contemplated for a while. Based from experience, she knew that she needs to provide utmost care in choosing her words; the way they are ordered and delivered, for she might interpret it as something else. Again.   "Well. I don't know. Really. You see, I haven't felt it yet. I might be able to answer your question if I'm dead. And you know very well that I'm not. So, I don't know." She tried her best to explain and make her understand her point regarding the subject.   "This cookie dough made me figure out something I've always wondered about."   "And what is that?" Moonbyul pressed, leaning her body forward, hands clenched on the table, anticipating very well for whatever her response will be.   "Death plays very well."   "W-what do you mean?"   "You'll only know how it feels like when you experience it. So, there's no way for the answer to see the light of the world. Dead people are really brave people." She said while twirling her milkshake's straw between her fingers.   Moonbyul waited.   "The reason why a lot of people choose to take their lives on their own will. They all are just innocent souls seeking for the truth; and when they finally find the answer they are looking for, the door back to life isn't open anymore."   "They are brave people. They are free people."   All Moonbyul can do was nod.   For a minute, nothing was heard aside from the sound of milkshakes forcing their way out of their straws, driving straight to their lips.   "I want to be free."     ************************     To the people who met the young Kim Yongsun throughout the years, she was nothing but the peculiar lady who has the most deviant fascination on death. A few people would consider her attractive at first glance. Long, black, waves caressing her muffin-like cheeks; her fresh and gentle face equipped with the brightest smile. There's no doubt that she is the type of woman books and movies describe as the perfect head turner. But then once the lady parts her pale lips to exhale the most extraordinary organization of sounds normal people call words, they start to fear.   To the person who had been with her since the incident, she was the wisest and the most exceptional in countless ways. Moon Byul Yi started adoring her from a distance for so long that she could not even remember anymore. The ignited affection only continued to build itself piece after piece since the day she first approached her to bravely ask if they can be friends. And when she was greeted by the warmest of smiles as a yes, she felt the need to be by her side; to guard her; to protect her from them. After all, what is there not to love about a woman whose mind is as vast as the galaxies up high?   Almost everyone perceives her as someone odd, but, Moonbyul thinks otherwise. Hearing the words "weird", "freak", and "Yongsun" in one sentence is enough to trigger her subtle senses. Her safety then became one of her utmost priorities; and so, protecting her developed to be her body's reflex action, and it always left her wondering if it's something she has learned by spending most of her days alone with her or she has always been meant to do that all along.    Is it fine to call a person "weird" just because she thinks differently from what the society expects her to?   No, it isn't.   It will never be.   It is not her fault that she was born with a mind capable of encompassing boundless questions, asking the same inquiries the greatest thinkers in the history of thought cannot solve. It is not her fault that she doesn'