It was yet another day when he wandered to the yard again when a sight of a little girl made him drop his jaw- inwardly, of course, he would never drop his jaw openly for everyone to see.

There was a girl-looking not much more than his age. She was sitting against the fence, calmly reading a book. A hater of South Korea doing something her parents probably told her not to do a million times. She was within a yard of those 'wretched buildings'.

The boy walked over there slowly, unaware of his own actions, slowly inching closer to this brave soul that had dared to venture where she was not welcome. Weird, why didn't he feel any hate towards her? His parents, before he had been taken from them, had instilled in him that he was to hate anyone who held any hostility towards South Korea. It meant anyone who wasn't inside of the prison grounds...most of the time.

"Hi."

The boy flinched. He hadn't realized that he had been standing behind the person of his thoughts all this while, and he had been noticed.

"H-hi," he stuttered the word out, having taken a look at the girl's face.

She had a round and beautiful face. Maybe paler than most, but still pretty. Her whole being teamed up with innocence and naivety, her large chocolate-brown eyes devoid of any evil. Her shorter-than-the-norm caramel wavy locks fluttered gently with the breeze that had just come by. Her dress was by no means fancy, consisting only of a simple design and a light pink shawl. A white, slightly wide-rimmed hat sat to the side of her-he assumed that it was to go with her dress.

He didn't understand. How could a hater of the gentle South Korea be so innocent? Could it be an act? No, she looked truly innocent.

"You look really silly with that dumbstruck face of yours."

The prisoner snapped out of his thoughts with a playful poke from the girl across the fence. Once again, he had not realized the girl had long put away her book and had stood up, staring at him from across the fence, then gazing upon him. It was a gaze that showed a tad bit of defiance. It was not heartrending at all- it was simply the gaze of one who had just met a friend.

The boy had often heard his mother speaking of the days when she as a child would roam free, then as a teenager who found love. He had also heard of her speak of the first time she met his father, and how it was love at first sight. Looking at the girl before him he held onto her gaze. He was going crazy, he didn't even know the name of the girl and he already longed to know more about her.

"What's your name?" she asked innocently, tilting her head to the side.

He paused for a second before answering, "Minho. Choi Minho."

He had finally understood what his mother meant.