I walked unhurriedly towards the elevators. There was no point running towards the practice rooms when all of them would most definitely be taken. And I was SURE that they would all be taken.

When I strode past the elevator doors and pressed the 2 button, I realized something rather peculiar. I brought my right fist against the left side of my chest, only to knit my eyebrows together. My heart was beating at twice its regular speed.

‘Weird.’

I scratched the top of my head as an act of incomprehension, and my wrist was all of a sudden wet. I realized why a moment later: there were beads of sweat at the sides of my forehead. A few moments later, I noticed that I was short of breath.

‘Double weird.’

I took a quick glance behind me but immediately shook the thought away.

‘Probably just the anxiety of being in a new place,’ I concluded.

Then again, Yunho DID look absolutely dashing in his suit. I remembered seeing the outlines of his arms under his long sleeves, and blushed at the mere thought. What a man Yunho was! Everything about him screamed out MANLY. Oh, and his smile! I almost fainted remembering his self-assured smirk.

I snapped out of my daydreams and immediately denied it. ‘No, it couldn’t possibly be that. Yunho is my professor, nothing more. I am just excited, no, scared about living here, and the pressure is driving me crazy. Yah, that’s it. I am just scared.’

As if on cue, the elevator doors opened and I heard an ear-piercing cry, the same scream you hear in a cheesy horror movie when the protagonist first witnesses the mysterious ghost make its first move (usually by slitting some unfortunate chap’s throat). Sure as hell, I walked out just in time to see a young lady in her early twenties holding some red liquid towards her chest. Yep, definitely horror movie material.

Thinking that she spilled something, I jogged towards her. “Are you alright, Miss?”

She looked up with fear-stricken eyes and ran the other way, disappearing behind the door bearing a ‘Ladies’ Washrooms’ sign.

I heard a door open behind me and a familiar young man of twenty-three years old emerged.

“Jaejoong? Is that you? What are you doing here?”

I snapped out of my surprise. “Junsu! You have no idea how I glad I am to see you here! I haven’t seen you in such a long time!”

Enter Kim Junsu, my surrogate big brother. I met him in France (the same festival where I met Changmin, now that I mention it), and he was basically the prototype definition of a perfectionist. He never let his piano playing become sloppy, and would rather play his best and lose than play horribly and win. He was one of the most hardworking people I have ever met, and called what most people would call “living hell” his “way of keeping discipline.” He, too, was part of Professor Jung’s brilliant studio, and was arguably the best of his students.

Junsu laughed his unique laugh but his cheerfulness was short-lived. “I thought I heard a scream. Was that you? Because if it was, you sound so much like a girl that it’s demeaning to the male population.”

“Me?” I pointed to myself. “No! It was this other lady.”

“Oh. What did she look like?”

“Rather short, lithe, curly black hair, in her late twenties. She was holding something that made her hands really red, though. I wonder what it was.”

Junsu’s face was suddenly filled with comprehension. “Oh, I see” was all he replied after several moments of heavy silence.

He started to turn around to continue his practicing but I stopped him just in time. “What do you think happened to her?”

The man with the squeaky voice sighed and fretfully scratched the back of his head. “Let’s just say that the music world is a tough world. The girl you described was most likely Ayumi Kitamura, one of my closer friends. Amazing pianist, really. Known around the school for her light touch and flawless accuracy. She was one of the candidates for the finals of the school’s Concerto Competition. It’s tomorrow, actually. You should go and listen. It’s very enlightening to listen to other people play, you know.”

“But what do you think she was holding? Perhaps tomato sauce?” I insisted on knowing. It was obvious that he was stalling, and I just abhorred secrets no matter how trivial.

Junsu exhaled impatiently. “If you really want to know what happened, just step inside her practice room. You’ll know what I mean.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, he walked back into the room and locked the door. That dude practiced for at least seven hours a day. When I said that this guy worked his off, I was not lying.

Shrugging, I made my way towards the open practice room door, and to this day I still wish that I hadn’t.

It was subtle, but my eyes were sharp. In between two of the piano keys protruded what seemed to be a thin sheet of grey paper. I cautiously walked towards the grand piano as if it were a wild animal, and carefully pulled it out. My eyes widened in shock and I dropped the object, recoiling at the sound its impact made on the hardwood floor.

Oh. My. God.

It was the blade of a Japanese knife. There was fresh blood all along its sharp edge, which smeared against the floor.

‘The music world is a tough world,’ Junsu’s words reverberated in my mind. ‘She was one of the candidates for the finals of the school’s Concerto Competition.’

I looked through all of the other keys and found five more blades. I dropped each and every one of them to the floor, horror flashing through my face as each blade was pulled down by gravity.

It was then when I realized that this was the environment that I would have to be facing every day of my life if I ever became a concert pianist.

With that repugnant thought in mind, I dashed out of the room and back into the elevator, hurriedly pressing the 3 button to get back to my dormitory.

Somehow I just didn’t feel like practicing anymore.

```

Out of breath, I ran towards my dormitory room in hopes of calming myself, and fumbled with the key for a few minutes before finally realizing that I was actually trying to open Room 308.

‘There goes calming myself,’ I mused.

By the time I finally entered the room (stumbling over several objects, may I add), my face was blue with the lack of air intake. The fact that there were no windows did not help at all. I felt as if I was suffocating, like I was in an airtight room with walls that seemed to move closer together every time I looked around in panic, each of my breaths becoming shorter and shorter until I would finally collapse in a heap of frothing asphyxiation.

Throwing myself onto the bed facedown with my head squashed against the pillow, I tried in vain to pull myself together.

‘Calm down, Jaejoong,’ I mentally coached myself. To a normal person, finding a blade in a piano would not be that big of a deal; to a pianist, it was completely different story ‘You are overreacting; it’s not that big of a deal. Some loser was just desperate enough to eliminate some competition, that’s all. That Ayumi girl must be one hell of a pianist! Just be careful, Jaejoong, and it’s all going to be alright. You will be alright. Yunho will protect you.’

I froze at the thought. Yunho would protect me?

Thinking about it for a moment, it seemed possible, even realistic. That guy looked strong enough to battle six strong men and get out unwounded. I imagined him in those Chinese Kung Fu movies starring Jackie Chan (Bah! He would beat Jackie Chan any day!) and giggled in amusement. He also had this voice that was authoritative enough to send shivers down your spine. It was practically impossible not to do what he said. Not to mention, I was officially his student! Yah, he would be able to protect me.

I smiled involuntarily. ‘Yunho would protect me. I’m sure of it.’

With that comforting yet disturbing thought in mind, I fell asleep in that position with Yunho’s face crystal clear in my mind.

‘Yunho would protect me.’

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Hope you like it!
Comments are loved and cherished.
@kira_kitamura: Yes, this is based on a true story. It is not totally accurate, of course, but the whole setting, situations, and characterizations are true.

DBSK hwaiting!!!