SUPER SPECIAL SEQUEL FROM THE WONDERFUL WENDERPUL 

It’s 7:21AM when she jolts awake - all frantic breaths and heaving chest - from the all too familiar nightmare that has plagued her for months.

Can it even be called a nightmare, when there are different variations of a dream that leads to the same conclusion?

Always a faceless stranger, one whose name she knows by heart but would never answer when she calls. Some nights, she chased after a man whose strides are long and purposeful while other nights, she spent being rooted in place, unable to make a move towards a pair of pink lips that curved into a sad smile before she walks away.

Sometimes, they’re older. In another, they’re younger. They’re students, professionals, somebody’s partner, a criminal, an angel, everyone and no one at the same time. During the day, she sees them in every person she comes across but feels hopelessly blinded as she tries to pin the culprit down.

In the end, no one turns her blue like the first time.

Just like most days, she was woken up by the sun rays peeking through her half drawn curtains. A groan escapes her when the mini pounding in her head is amplified when she tries to look directly at the only source of light in the room.

She turns to her side, nursing her headaches and belatedly finds that the other side of her bed has been emptied, cold to touch. It has probably been a while since the girl she brought back from The Velvet Club left. It doesn’t matter, she could barely remember the girl’s name (Soojung? Sojung?) anyway. All she knows was that her name isn’t on the girl’s skin and that’s all she cares about. That, and the fact that none of the girls she brought back week after week bore a script that spells out her name.

Almost by reflex, her hand flies to her collarbone. Her fingers runs over the marked skin she thought she knew all too well previously, but could not be sure anymore now.

is bitter and she wants to blame the alcohol running through her bloodstream for it but she knows it’s not the reason why. She grabs the pillow by her side before throwing it to the wall in front of her, hard.

you.

you, Son Seungwan.

you for turning the previously silver script to blue, you for not showing who you are when she has been waiting for 25 years for The One to show up, like the fool she is.

No. Maybe the one who deserves it is herself. She’s the idiot who has been expecting that her life would turn into snippets of a fairytale once her soulmate appears when all along, she has been a Fool, just an instrument in the King’s court.

And Son Seungwan, whoever it is, doesn’t want her back.

She lays back and stares at the ceiling, wide-eyed. Her mark tingles, or maybe not, because she has never heard a mark that can do that but it continues tingling, persistently reminding her that it exists.

Slowly, she closes her eyes again.

It will be another restless day of getting over someone she doesn’t even know.