Again - MBLAQ

Narrator's POV

"Can we talk?" Donghae greeted as he entered the restaurant. Yoona glanced at her watch and shook her head. "15 minutes late," she sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry," he started.

When Min Yu ran out of his room, he stood there, frozen on the same spot. He plopped down on his bed and wallowed in deep thought. He was going to be a father, and the thought made him very very happy.

"You're always late," Yoona mumbled and looked away. Donghae stared at her pretty face. She deserved more than this. "I want to tell you something," he started and took a deep breath.

For the 15 minutes that he was late, Donghae thought about all the possible ways he could make it a clean break to Yoona. He didn't want to hurt her feelings, but with all the things he will say, he will surely do.

"Let me guess," she replied. "You're going to break up with me." He looked up at her face and saw she was crying. He buried his face in his hands and nodded.

"I knew it," she cried. "Look, I'm sorry," Donghae explained, but she didn't budge. "Tell me something," she wiped her tears, erasing any evidence of her sadness and disappointment.

"What?" he asked.

"When you asked me to be your girlfriend and you told me you loved me..." she started. He looked away and shifted in his seat. He knew where this was going. "Did you mean it?" she asked.

He took a deep breath and hesitated to answer. Whatever word comes out of his mouth, it would make the situation harder. "Honestly," Yoona pressed. "No," Donghae answered truthfully, his eyes were hard and cold.

"It's Min Yu isn't it?" she asked. As soon as he heard her name, Donghae snapped away from his trance and stood up. "I see the way you look at her. I know you care for her. And judging by her eyes, she cares for you too," she said, but he had already walked away.

Min Yu's POV

Another deafening explosion roared over the establishment in the middle of a clearing. The land was barren, exposing the complete effect of using strongly toxic chemicals.

I gathered enough strength from a deep inhale and sneaked inside the building. The metal fence creaked silently as I pushed it open. I snapped a picture of the factory's walls with peeling paint, the doors covered with rust, and the tightly enclosed space.

North Korea greeted me with a big, frightening smile when I stepped off of the rented boat the company had foxed for me to use. I didn't have much with me, only a backpack full of instant food and sufficient water, some clothes, a small first aid kit, my laptop, and a camera.

I crept up discreetly from the shore up to the country itself. Cold winds gave me the shivers and I knew there was no more turning back.

I stepped into the surprisingly quiet streets. I fumbled for the map I had printed from the internet and realized I was in the capital, Pyongyang. Knowing the extreme differences, I began to miss Seoul terribly, despite its unfriendly street noise and increasing pollution.

I tried my best not to look foreign, or else I'd be held captive or worse, be assumed as a spy. If the government gathered proof I was an illegal migrant, my head would be chopped off.

Mothers shooed their children inside the house and fathers immediately shut the windows and doors close when I passed by. The century has made the rich richer, and the poor poorer.

There was no getting out of the system they have known for the last 70 years. I walked across slum areas towards my real destination: the building where each part of the rocket is carefully made and personally examined.

I have tried asking residents about the said building, or as I like to call it, artillery. As soon as I had uttered the word government, the people in question would shiver in fear and scurried away from me, as if I was sick with leprosy or any contagious disease.

Politics was a serious matter in the North. It's either you don't talk about the government, or you only talk about it with pride and honor. But with those two values lacking, the citizens could only succumb to the first choice: keep silent.

I slung my backpack in front of my chest and took my water bottle out. A sip of water did me good, although I didn't see any reason why I conserved my supply.

I heard people talking in loud, angry voices and I instinctively pressed my back against the wall and tried my best to be unnoticeable. I couldn't make out what they were saying, so but I managed to take a picture of the armed men.

Although the sight of guns didn't make me crumble in fear, I calmed my punding heart to stop worrying. When I was sure no one was present, I sneaked up to the only door of the building.

There were no windows anywhere, and the thought of suffocating made my sweat trickle down my forehead. I contemplated on opening the door because I was scared of what I would see, and what would be waiting for me inside.

I gave the heavy door a strong push, and I entered. The smell of fire was evident inside, and suffocating was close at hand. I pushed the thought away and stepped further inside.

The building opened to a narrow hallway, and even though I wasn't claustrophobic, it felt overpowering. The strong scent of alcohol and chemicals made my head spin and for a moment, I lost balance.

The plain, narrow hallway was empty, and if ever someone would come barging in, I'd be dead at first sight. There was no where I could hide into. A lone door opened, and I forgot how to breath.

A heavily armed soldier exited walked towards the other way. I didn't dare breathe and move for the last few seconds, afraid that at any moment, he would turn around and see me. When his figure became smaller and smaller as he walked, I decided to enter.

To my surprise and fear, it was the building's morgue. Dead workers piled up against one wall, some of them were just fresh, with blood still dripping from their tired, wounded hands. Muffled voices grew louder and I had to find a place to hide.

I buried myself against one of the dead bodies, piling them up on top of me. "I don't think I'd ever understand how he thinks. Look here, he shot one of the workers and made his brain explode. The workers don't know why, I don't either," the soldier from a while ago explained.

I covered my mouth with my hand and calmed my heavy breathing. Blood dripped from the man's head to my forehead. The warm, fresh blood trickled down my eyes, to my nose, to my cheeks.

I wanted to scream and run away, but I endured in silence. Complete silence. The two men paced around the room as if looking for something. The soldier scanned through paperworks while the other paced around the room. "What are you doing?" the soldier asked.

"These bodies should be burned already. The smell of dead rotting bodies would draw the attention of the city's sanitation department," he complained and sifted through  different corpses.

When he was about to take the only dead worker hovering over me, "Stop it. Let's leave it all for tomorrow. It's about sunset. We should get home," the soldier interrupted him.

The two men walked towards the door and the soldier was the first one to exit. I exhaled a sigh of relief, but stopped myself. The other was still inside the room and cocked his head to one side, as if he has heard my breathing.

"What are you doing? Let's go!" the soldier scolded and he went out of the room completely. When I was sure no one was inside, I separated from the lifeless bodies.

I stumbled away from the pile and sat on the lone chair. I snapped a photo of what I could see and couldn't wait to tell the world what terror awaits in this country. I opened my laptop and started working.

I wrote everything in detail, starting from my first step on this foreign land to the present, here inside the artillery, where I still don't know what would happen.

After some time, I stretched and yawned. I checked my wristwatch for the time. My fingers brush against my starting bruise, my wrist where Donghae's fingers marked his tight grip.

Could he be possibly looking for me? I closed the article I was working on and stared at my wallpaper. It was a picture of me and Chunji. Is he still mad at me? If he is, then he probably wouldn't care if I died or not.

I rested my chin on my propped two hands. I wonder if Min Young misses me. But I bet the Teen Top members are looking after her, so there's no need for me to worry. I want to go back home so badly.

But I still have two more days to explore this building, then after those 48 hours are up, the boat that took me here will bring me back home. I go back to work and school, like any regular day. The difference is, I already have 20,000 dollars waiting for me, plus the recognition of my homeland for my brave encounters.

That is, if I arrive in the South safely.

While I was still sane and alive, I rummaged through my bag for pen and paper and decided to write a letter, just in case. After writing, I tucked the letter carefully inside my bag. I ate a simple dinner, although it was already late.

My thoughts flicked back to the piled up corpses behind me, and fear showed its ugly face. I could still smell the faint metallic odor of the blood on my forehead although I wiped it away.

My first day in North Korea had been hard. I was an illegal traveller, an outcast. If I hadn't accepted the offer, I would still be stuck inside my pale, four-walled sanctuary, probably contemplating whether I should see a doctor the next day or not. My parents would still be pressing me to get examined, and I would have to brace myself for the results.

I clutched my stomach instinctively and wondered if there really was life inside of me. I never imagined myself to be a mother, let alone a wife. I shook my head and opened my laptop again.

I was here for work, not for an escape. Well...I accepted this offer to get away from my problems in Seoul, so it's probably an escape/work. I grew tired with all the typing and reading after an hour, and I decided to call it a night.

I shoved my things inside my bag and made it a pillow, a hard , bulky one. The smell of rotting dead bodies could be tolerable after some time. I closed my tired, all-seeing eyes.

I should give them a rest, after all the things I've been witness to. Tomorrow would be a more exhausting day, with more running around and hiding. I felt fatigue take over and I fell into a deep sleep.

The time I opened my eyes, it was already morning. But I wasn't in the morgue anymore. I opened my eyes and saw soldiers staring back at me, while I was tightly bound unto a wooden chair.

I didn't dare blink nor move. I knew that if I let just one finger move, it would be cut off from me. Or worse, they'd fire a bullet through my head.

To them I was a spy, an alien, a threat.

I wasn't welcome.