It was a white wall. Four of them, stringing together to form a white room. The silence of it was deafening, filling the air with a screeching sound that goes like forever. Just as she prayed for it not to be, it passed.

In front of her is a window. Something told her to put her hands on the windowsill, to feel the jutting splinter scattering all over it, just the right amount of roughness to tear her fingers with a simple cut.

Her mind was getting distant before a voice cleared the room.

A murmur can be heard from the other side of the window. Hushed voices stay as constant garbles before she can faintly make out a figure. With long hair tied in a loose tail laced to the front, the smooth line of the neck from behind was all she could see before identifying everyone’s surrounding the figure. A column of shadows gathering in a cacophony of whitened eyes. They seem to be communicating with each other before materializing into men and women in formal suits. The whisper gets louder with each passing second, but when an arm reaches out to caress the neck, it is the exact moment for a blood-curdled scream to tear through the moment as Moonbyul wakes up with a start.

The shabby surface of the ceiling is apparently not the only thing she sees. A curled fist raised as Moonbyul found her own knuckle clawing the ceiling like she’s about to reach onto something. Grasping several times, she’s finally mustering up the will to peel herself off the bed. Making a grunted sound in the drenched condition she’s in, she swiftly takes off her shirt and throws it into the laundry basket. Another minute spent with Moonbyul sipping her coffee, trying to gather the remnants of the almost forgotten dream.

--

Why are dreams forgotten when we are awake?

There’s nothing to it, just something that seems really too important to not be remembered. Clad in usual black hat and baggy jacket, she took several strides before slowing down to a stop.

She’s standing near the alleyway again.

The house is quite small and nothing out of the ordinary. Just an ordinary house like any other kind she saw in a suburb. After observing for three days, she drew the conclusion that almost no one ever gets out or into the premise, discounting the burly guys and women that, however seldom, seem to take no time to do anything beyond standing at the door and leaving straight away. To be really honest, she doesn’t even remember any instance of when Hyejin ever went out of the house.

God. She hopes it isn’t what she thinks.

A creaky sound of the window being opened slightly. As fatigued as she can be, she still took time to cast a glance to the left and right, making sure there was no one before reaching for the tin pail and humming.

“Having fun?”

The voice alone is enough to heave a huge sigh from the raven.

“How rude! Here.”

Hyejin lands a puzzling look upon the cup Moonbyul is holding.

“The coffee that I made just this morning. I hope it suits your taste, your highness.”

“I thought I told you not to come here again.”

Moonbyul can’t help the giddiness budding inside her just from seeing her pout.

“Did I ever say yes? Come on, just take it. I haven’t got time to poison it and stuff. I'm too busy for that.”

Reluctantly taking the cup, she plopped the lid open and took a sip. Moonbyul eyed her with anticipation. It took a while before Hyejin mumbling he