The alarm blares in my ear. My eyes are still closed, but I know it's morning. I can feel the sunlight streaming in on my face, the rays only succeed in wanting me to hibernate for another night

The alarm continues to blare, pounding harshly through my eardrums and I reach over with my right hand, feeling for the cheap, plastic clock that I've had since high school. My hands fumble for it, knocking it around on the small table until my fingers finally reached the small switch to shut it off. A groan and a small pop from my lumbar greets me with a reminder of my young, yet rapidly approaching age of thirty as I sit up in bed. The ceiling fan clinks as it makes contact with the string hanging down from the pull switch. Taking a moment to sniff my hoodie and I almost gag at the smell of stale sweat and a hint of cigarette smoke.

I'll have to do laundry soon, but the five minute trip to the laundromat seemed so distant with this pounding headache. The taste of funky substance as I smack my lips together makes me realize that I forgot to brush my teeth before bed again. It's not as if I do it on purpose, sometimes Korean healthcare makes the tiny despairs of cavities seem like a papercut. Another throb from reminding me that late night sessions of MapleStory is a far cry from a proper night of sleep.

I feel around for my glasses, the overly loose frames giving the feeling that a new pair is something that'll have to be fit into the monthly budget, slipping them on, and with proper vision returning to me I look around the room. Clothes thrown on the floor in haphazard manner, instant ramen cups leaving chicken-flavored stains on the carpet from previous nights of gaming. My computer is still on, the fans humming away as it's left unattended for the last few hours of my game session, and the main menu of MapleStory sat with a prompt asking if I wanted to contiue playing. A disgruntled groan escapes me getting out of bed, and slipping on bunny slippers that were on sale in an overpriced souvenier shop from Busan.

Turning off the ceiling fan in my room and lowering the aircon, because paying the equivalent of hundreds of dollars a month for a dainty two-bedroom apartment located in the outskirts of Seoul would be a waste if I didn't abuse the included electric bill.

The living room isn't any better off than my own bedroom, with clothes strewn about on the floor, and empty bottles of soju and cans of beer left on the coffee table, the worn down two person couch already showing signs of tearing at its seams. Wanting some ambient noise, I the TV, a half finished game show where currently the contestants were choking while engaged in downing as many soup dumplings before the timer ran out.

The ceiling light in the kitchen gave off a pitiful blink before turning off completely, signaling it's well past lifespan reaching to the point of dysfunction. Attemping several more times to induce light into the room, and failing each time I gave up and opened the fridge. A half empty bottle of banana milk, and a few cans of beer were all that greeted me in my search for breakfast. Rummaging through the rest of the empty, yet messy fridge accumulated me two eggs found in the back of the vegetable drawer and a small container of kimchi.

The gas stove flickers on with a click, and I placed a frying pan on top, cracking an egg into it. The rice cooker still half full was deemed acceptable with no discernable stench emmiting from it. Scooping two cups and adding it to the frying egg, the kimchi container was opened up and a few spoonfuls added to the mixture, stirring it around as the rice began to heat up.

I looked over at the calendar, a few dates circled in red marker with penciled in appointments. A dentist appointment for a checkup, and a visit to the optometrist for glasses. The rest of the days were blank, a reminder that I've been suffering from this dreaded disease called unemployment for the past three months.

My phone rings in my sweatpants, the tune of some popular K-Pop girl group blaring as I fished it out of my pocket. The screen shows a familiar name that I've been avoiding for the past few days, and it rings for a few more seconds before I decide to answer it.

"Hello?" My voice croaks out and I cough, the first words uttered since waking up,

"Chaewon?" A familiar voice answers back, "It's Minju."

Kim Minju, my best friend from high school, at least that's she claimed us as. She came off to me as one of those dreaded 'popular girls' who somehow managed to befriend the loner kid who wore only black hoodies and sat in the back of the class watching anime on her phone while the teacher was discussing the intricacies of derivatives in calculus. She also begged for my assistance in homework, claiming differential equations were the work of the devil and I, who she considers a math prodigy, should know how to solve them with ease.

Surprisingly, her annoying personality grew and constant pleas for help became something that I looked forward to everyday after school. We hung out more and more, and eventually we were inseparable. Minju was the only one who knew about my dream of becoming an idol, a dream that I had since I was a kid. She supported me through thick and thin, even when she herself decided to go to university instead of pursuing a trainee life.

"Yo." I gave a half-hearted response, "Anything you need? Or are you just calling to waste my minutes?"

"I'm not wasting your minutes, you're the one who hasn't been answering my calls for the past few days." She retorted back, "I haven't seen you in weeks Chaewon."

"Yeah, I know. Been busy with stuff." I lied through my teeth and Minju knew it. If anything she knew my non-existent schedule better than I did.

"Busy doing what exactly? Playing MapleStory all night?" her tone was accusatory, "Let's get you outside Chaewon, even if just for a night."

I groaned in response, the thought of going out to a club or bar seemed like an unbearable task. I've been cooped up in this apartment for the past few months, only leaving to do groceries and run errands. The thought of socializing with people and making small talk seemed like a chore that I didn't want to deal with.

"I'll think about it." I said half-heartedly.

A sigh from the other line, "That means no, why can't you even try Chaewon?" her tone was more of concern than annoyance, "I'm worried about you."

"Because you're not my parent Minju, I don't need to listen to you." I retort and panic seeing the eggs already beyond overcooked and rice beginning to stick to the bottom of the pan. Pulling a rubber spatula from the creaky drawer next to the sink and scraping off what's left of my breakfast into a bowl, "Look I gotta go, I'll call you back later."

"Wait Chaewon-" Minju's voice was cut to silence