A soft reverberation of sound in the distance, a rumble of soft growls and mournful moans barely audible beyond the walls and the window. The sun, as distant as the sound itself, grasped upon the lines defining the horizon, slowly climbing and reaching up high, where she belonged.

The other side of walls and the window, resounded a different sound, but altogether alien; it was a medium of natural romantic ambience: the sound of a string quartet playing a gentle melody in andante and piano. The sound did emanate from the grand mass that were the sky and the sea, but a small rectangular box set upon a short night-stand.

A pale, and sluggish arm rose, and began to slap at the box with imprecision, striking far from the off button. It was before the musical piece burned to the 16th bar that the music ceased and the room was contained in silence.

From the floor, rose an even sluggish upper body barely able to feigned conscience. Hands reached for eyes and rubbed and palmed them, seeking to awaken the brightest of senses awake, bidding them to grant full awareness before being taken over by the desire to lie again and sleep the day away.

Reluctant but pushed by his mind's reminder of the day, he rose from his futon on the floor and stretched his body up high, arms reaching up and feet tip-toeing. He let out a roaring growl, expressing the sensation of his body awakening.

He gazed around his room, a 4-walled space, of a modest size, enough to fulfil one person's desire for assertion; where his futon lied, along with the night-stand beside it, overhead was a window with two opening doors. To an adjacent wall was a wardrobe, and opposite it, a desk and a chair. This was his space, and he was content with it.

He stood before his wardrobe, undressing his loose, oversized white shirt and white shorts and replacing them with proper clothing; a white dress shirt, brown trousers, a green and blue jumper, and black socks – an ensemble of a typical uniform. He folded his sleeping outfit and set it inside the wardrobe.

Standing by the window, he opened the window widely, allowing a cool morning breeze to enter his modest room and seep into his skin. To reside in one of the few houses that rested atop the town hill and overlooked the ocean, he felt wealthy every morning he woke up, even if his room was bare, in personality and possessions.

After placed the futon and duvet on the pane and beat it a few times, he allowed to remain there, to air it and prevent moisture from building within the fabrics.

He exited his room with a yawn and sluggish steps, eyeing the corridor before him. The house consisted of two floors; in the second, where he was at that moment, found 3 bedrooms, the bathroom and a storage room. His room was found at the end, along with the bathroom across his door, and the storage room to his right. And to the left of his room were the other two room parallel to one other, where his sisters still slept quietly.

He walked across to the bathroom, where he followed a relative routine of brushing his teeth, washing his face and applying moisturisers and other fresh-face-keeping beauty products. Then, he arranged his black hair into a neat bob, a hairstyle that epitomised his neatness and his submissive nature.

Feeling fresh, he took soft steps to the staircase and descended them with the intention to start preparing breakfast, seeing as he was the only one in the household who could hold a ladle properly. As soon as his steps carried him to the linoleum floor of the kitchen, his inner gears kicked into action, causing him to hasten in an automatic manner. Pots and pans flew out of the cupboards and into the cooker, ingredients gathered on the counter, and even the radio found itself mixed into the teenager's swift methodology and , blaring a feel-good song.

Humming to the sound of song, he chopped and sprinkled whilst the water boiled and the oil warmed up. Before long, sizzling, and steam joint the mess of a domestic orchestra that was found in the kitchen.

With the food prepared and placed upon the table, the teenager's eyes set to the roof, or specifically, the first floor, wondering if his sisters were awake. During the moment in which he roof-gazed, he sensed nor heard any noisy steps in wooden floors, and therefore concluded that it was his time, as it has always been to wake them up and announce morning and breakfast.

When he ascended the stairs, he found himself to be almost correct. As soon as he reached the floor, the room of one of the sisters opened. Out came a messy-bunned, pink-pyjama-wearing, fair-skinned girl rubbing her eyes and complaining about early mornings.

“Morning, Soo,” he yawned, as she walked down the corridor to the bathroom, “Breakfast ready?”

“Yes, Soojung,” he replied, exasperated, crossing his arms, tapping his foot and pouting at the young girl “so get ready quickly, it's already quarter past seven. What about Sooyeon-noona?”

The girl looked back, shirked her shoulders and closed the door behind her as she readied herself in the bathroom.

He leaded the back of his hand against the door of the elder of the siblings and struck his knuckles against the wood, “Noona! Wake up, it's breakfast time!” he leaned towards the door and keened his ears for any sound. Soft rustles of fabric could be heard vaguely from the other sides “Sooyeon-noona!” he yelled again.

“...Yes...” he heard a soft voice utter from the door, “I'm awake, I'll go down, just give me five minutes...!”

“Alright.” he declared, knowing truly that it would be fifteen minutes, but understood that the woman would come down nonetheless.

Back in the kitchen, the cutleries and plates were set upon the table; a place for three people was set in t