C H A P T E R   I

2015, Seoul

It was nearly unbearable to keep walking as the rain poured harder, especially when I was spared with no umbrella. Even hugging my body wasn't helping; I was still freezing cold. The uniform I wore was wet all over.

Perhaps using the public transportation was a great choice at the moment, but not when the streets were in chaos: loud horns were exchanging endlessly, cars stopping right here and there, people jaywalking to escape the crowded street - it was all a miserable mess. I doubted I'd arrive home in time.

The sky was had once been bright. The clouds were hiding no sun, letting the sunlight penetrate through them. I could even say it was hot as I was sweating when I entered the bookstore. Look at how fast the sky could change this drastically.

Upon reaching a bridge - a sign indicating I was almost there - I brought my hand above my head again as I fastened my pace. But goodness, did the people here look like they were preparing for World War III. The deep frown formed on my face turned into a death glare, directing it at everyone who had his arm brush mine.

An irritated groan left my mouth; having to walk far was never my favorite, especially in a crowded place. But what could I do when the nearest bookstore was undergoing renovation and you were in need of a History textbook? Urgh, homework- now adding another reason why I couldn't be very happy right now .

As I stepped out from the elevator, I didn't bother running toward the large chamber I called home. The coldness had taken control all over my body; punching the password had become a challenge. God, I needed a warm bath now.

When I succeed giving the correct password, the door groaned open. I exhaled a breath of relief. Finally... Without wasting another second, I ran in, not forgetting to slam the door closed.

"I'm home!" despite the fact that there was no one else here, I didn't miss greeting tiredly as I climbed the stairs, heading to my bedroom.

I had this small habit before, when my mother was still alive. I would always greet her when I came back from school. She'd stop whatever she was doing to give me a smile, gladly asking how my day went. Then she would serve me lunch, or dinner. And lastly, we would chat about literally everything until she tucked me to bed. It always felt so good. Unfortunately, it stopped when I reached the age of nine. I was left with nothing but the habit of greeting the empty chamber.

My father adopted a son two years after my mother's funeral. No matter how many times had I asked for the reason, his answer remained the same, even until now. "You need company, it's not good being alone," he would say, offering me a convincing smile. "He's a good kid. You will like him."

And he wasn't lying. Indeed, having Chan Woo around was enjoyable. His presence made me less lonely, less moody. Since we were only a year apart, we could talk about everything and anything. Like right now; I didn't remember being irritated before.

The night had become calmer since the rain had stopped not long after I arrived home. Both of us were having a dinner without my father. He informed that he had an important meeting to attend, and spending time with us was not an option for today. I was, of course, all right with it. But Chan Woo didn't seem to share the same thought. One thing I quite disl