Japan. A beautiful house in the prestigious address. Time: 5.45PM. Six hours after the tragedy.
In the lounge, the air was fraught with tension. People stood in small groups. Some were speaking in lowand muffled voices, others were letting slip sobs or comforting each other. Some even stayed away, walled on silence and stillness.
They were waiting.

Chaerin was part of them, sitting alone on one of the sofas. Eyes on the carpet, ignoring those around her, she seemed calm and cool.
But it was only a facade. In fact, every movement, every sound, reverberated painfully in her, and she remained seated and, straight and rigid, because it was certain that if she moved even if a muscle, her whole self -control would abandon her.
It had almost happened once, when they announced her the terrible news. In shock, she uttered a cry of despair, and perhaps her nerves would have dropped if they didn't force her to lie down and swallowing tranquilizers to calm her anxiety. To forget.

Forget! She refused, of course! How a woman - a mother - could have sought refuge in sleep, at a time like this?