“Your living is determined not so much by what life brings to you as by the attitude you bring to life; not so much by what happens to you as by the way your mind looks at what happens.”

--Khalil Gibran

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Yongguk’s POV

            There was nothing about room 4021 that stood out from the rest after I descended to near the end of the hallway. After so long, my eyes had already grown accustomed to the nothingness of the building, and never hoped to expect to find something as thrilling as a speck of dust on the windowsill. There were no windows from the hallway into the room, not that I had expected there to be. Beside the room number was a patient card slip in a laminated folder. With no respect for privacy, I pulled out the slip and read,

            “Song Jihoon, Adult onset Parkinson’s Disease,” His name was close to hers, and I was a little relieved that he wasn’t sentenced here for being a total nut job. The details of his diagnosis stated he wasn’t far along with the disorder, so he could probably still communicate. I didn’t know much about Parkinson’s, just that it was a crap disorder to have and that memory loss was a progressive symptom. Hopefully this old man still had a fair share of his memory to entertain me. I slipped the patient’s card back into the folder and took a while to compose myself like a gentleman. I’d never cared about anyone’s impression of me for so long that standing with my shoulders pulled back almost hurt. With my right hand I conscientiously knocked three times, though I knew even if he spoke I wouldn’t hear from beyond the sound proofed doors. Still, I waited a few extra seconds before opening it. None of the doors in this section of the hospital were locked.

            “Jieun-ah, I’m okay you can leave already,” His frail voice sounded almost scolding in response to hearing the door open. His head was facing the blank walls, and after a quick glance around I knew that the patients here were treated no differently than those in the mentally impaired facilities.

            “Go home, it’s almost dinner time.” He continued without turning around or even opening his eyes. Rather that heading his words, I flicked the light switch on and then slid the white-as-the-walls stool towards me with my foot. The door closed silently behind my entrance. He could probably feel the tension between us start to build, because I could see his body shaking under his light blanket. Perhaps it was due to fear of the uncertainty, a sudden epiphany that I was indeed not his granddaughter, or simply just his disorder acting up again. I however liked to believe that it was more than that. Finally, he turned his head around to face me and almost jumped, though that wouldn’t have been possible in his horizontal position anyway. My arms were crossed and I had a satisfied smile on my face.

            “Who are you…?” He probably demanded, though his voice was so small and weak that it just sounded casual. Just by looking into his eyes I knew that he was scared, but he had no reason to be. There was no way that I could be scarier than what this institution would later turn him into; a soul-less, body which knows no difference of life from death except that of breathing. Either this place would do it to him, or his disorder would.

            “Just a friend…” I smirked, trying to get him to overlook his precautionary stare. He himself knew that in here, he was defenseless. The two of us were in a sound proof cell, and he was weaker than an old rusty ladder. Sooner or later he’d have to realize that if I wanted to hurt him, I probably would have already done so. However, there was no reason for me to stain neither my hands nor these white floors with his blood. That was not my intention for meeting with him.

            “Of Jieun’s?” He asked, as if completing my previous comment. I saw how his face lit up at the immediate sound of her name, and I could feel how much he wished that his assumption was so. A small part of me too, jolted when he brought up her name. I saw her for a maximum of 5 minutes, yet her mere name could make me feel this way. It was only further proof for my infatuation with her. It seemed that what her grandfather wished had just become a desire of my own. All I did in response was smile, and he took that as a yes.

Jieun’s POV

            “Jieun-ah, how is grandpa doing?” My mother asked after I settled down in the living room. Though it had only been months, it felt like an eternity since I had sat on this very couch in my own living room. Though nothing had changed about this house since I had left, after being away for so long this place barely felt like home anymore. Beneath my feet were the same creaky floorboards I remembered I loved stepping on as a kid growing up. We hadn’t moved since I day I was born, but this house was a special gift from my grandfather, so he’d be heartbroken if we did.

            “He’s alright, just a little shaky.” I shrugged, wondering why she was so reluctant to just come along with me. I could feel that she hated that building, perhaps more than I did, though even the two of us would have as much of a right to detest such a place as my grandpa. She handed me a cup of tea, and as I grabbed the small handle of her fine china, I shot her a resentful glare. She knew exactly why I was in the mood I was in. There was no excuse for her, or my father, to not have come with me to visit the one person that would always love us unconditionally. Sometimes I felt like the two were so absorbed into their chaebol lifestyle that they had forgotten the kind of struggles my grandfather—their father—had gone through to allow us to live in such ease. Where did their humility go? It was not them who stood on the bloodstained soils of war, yet they treat the riches they possess as proof of their own glory. And in what? They did nothing to glorify the family name that my grandfather worked his entire life to bring honour to. I felt a miniscule pain of regret to admit that I respected my grandfather more than my own parents because of it.

            In Canada, away from them and away from other chaebols I felt like I could finally live life thinking for myself. I got to make my own decisions and build up my own integrity, far different from that of my father’s. Rather than being purposely blinded from the reality that poverty exists, I got to witness with my own eyes the harsh conditions that the less fortunate are subjected to. In our hotel chain in Vancouver, I could see that homeless people frequented the west parking lot begging tourists and hotel guests for change. Back in Korea, my father would just shoo away every bum that dared to step foot on our ‘pristine’ property. To be honest, living abroad on my own opened my eyes to these sick realities, and each passing day that I was gone I could feel more and more disgust for chaebols like them. Chaebols like—

            “You never visited Daehyun today?” My mother suddenly interrupted after sipping her tea, her right pinky lifted up as if it made her look classier. Since I arrived in Seoult his morning, my mother would spend every waking moment trying to convince me to see Daehyun, and I couldn’t understand why. Still a bit immersed in my own thoughts to properly respond, I just gently shook my head and poured myself more tea.

            “A few months ago you were the most ecstatic about seeing Daehyun.” She reasoned, eyeing me with a kind of motherly glare that attempted to condemn me from thinking for myself. This time I wouldn’t be persuaded by her.

            “I’m not obligated to see him every time I come to Seoul. This is just something you want.” I defended, feeling like I didn’t have the energy to argue with her. It wasn’t that I hated Daehyun, but that he was acting… unusual. The past few months that I’d come to Seoul and visit him, I could tell that he was treating me differently. We grew up as best friends, and though there were times when the things he said or thought disagreed with mine, in the end we’d still be inseparable friends. However, my last few visits began to show that he was becoming more… affectionate with the things he did and said. To be honest, it started to scare me a little and deter me from wanting to see him again. When we were little we promised to be friends forever, and that was exactly what I wanted. Even now it hadn’t changed. We’re supposed to be friends forever—nothing more.

            “Honey you know he misses you. You two are best friends.” She whined, reaching to put her hand over mine to persuade me. I pulled away before she could and was ready to head to my room. I felt like I’d heard enough from her for now, and needed a break from her nagging. When I was abroad, away from her, not once had I missed it.

            “Tch, he’s the only one forgetting that.” I whispered under my breath, placing her precious china teacup back on the coffee table. She clearly didn’t hear my retort, because right before I left she yelled after me,

            “We’re going out for dinner when your dad comes home from work, so make yourself pretty!” When my mom says “going out for dinner”, she never means something simple or casual. When it comes to chaebols like her, it’s always a pricey feast at a fancy restaurant, where they scam people to pay more for the ambience than the actual meals. When I was younger I loved places like those, where lights were not just simple 80 watt light bulbs, but grand chandeliers and there were red carpets leading to the tables. It was a kind of princess complex I suffered when I was younger, but now it felt more like a burden than anything else. I was never permitted to wear the same dress twice, and god forbid that I even exit my house without my face caked in brand-name makeup. With a sigh, I entered my room and tried not to slam it closed behind me.

            My bed was positioned diagonally near the middle, just like I had designed for it before I left to Canada. Everything was untouched from as far as my eyes could see, and when I lay down on my soft mattress, all I could see was my reflection in the mirror stand by my desk—and an enlarged photograph of Daehyun and I hanging above. The two of us weren’t together, yet the remnants in my room often made me feel like we were already a married couple. The though continued to pester my mind, so I turned around to look out the window instead. The clear view of a small, man-made lake made me remember just how much we take these aesthetic pleasures for granted. I was never so thankful for such beautiful scenery from my bedroom before visiting my grandfather in his enclosed jail-like cubicle of a room with the oppressive window.

            “Jieun, did you hear me?” My mother’s voice rang through my bedroom door, and I immediately sat up, expecting her to barge in. But she didn’t.

            “Your dad will be home in an hour, go get ready.”  Footsteps followed the sound of her voice, and I waited until I couldn’t hear a sound in the hallway before getting up and checking my complexion in the mirror. There were dark circles under my eyes, probably due to my inconsistent periods of sleeping on the plane ride here. I never did sleep well in high altitudes. In my walk in closet, I noticed that my mother had added new dresses and accessories I had never seen before. Perhaps she hoped that I would warm up to her surprise and thank her excessively for being so thoughtful, but instead I wanted to pile them into a box and burn them. Thankfully, I wasn’t a pyromaniac and knew better than to cause unneeded uproars, so I pushed the new clothes to the back corner of my walk in closet and grabbed an older, more familiar style dress that I had always liked. It was white and simple, with a band of pink ribbon wrapping around the waist. The length was long enough to be considered appropriate for this occasion, and just because it was a little windier than usual today, I threw on my favourite beige blazer I had worn on my flight here.

            I sat by my desk, inspecting my face in the mirror again. Just for reassurance, I applied extra concealer over my dark circles. I had never been a huge fan of make-up to begin with. The idea of waking up earlier than needed every day for it was a reality I would never grow fond of, so I always played it as simple as I could; black eye liner and mascara, for a simple yet elegant look. Just like my mom had promised, when an hour passed my father came home, his arrival announced by the loud slamming of the front door.

            “Honey, are you ready?” My mom asked. I could tell that she was standing directly outside my room’s door from the volume of her voice.

            “Yes,” I replied simply, grabbing a matching white purse that sat on my bed as I opened the door to join my mom. I was surprised that she never protested my choice of dress like she usually did before I’d go in public with her. It wasn’t customary, or permitted, for me to have earphones in during family get togethers, so I was far from looking forward to our ride there. At least in the restaurant I’d have food as an excuse for the awkward silence I’d inevitably create. My father loved talking business to me, but the fact that our cores and values diversified so much makes it far too difficult for me to communicate without starting a disagreement. I later learned that I did have a right to remain silent, only, that silence also meant I’d agree with everything he proposed. Even without earphones, I had developed the ability to zone out their voices.

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            When we arrived at the restaurant, the waitresses ushered us into special rooms, separate from the main dining hall. That wasn’t unusual, considering how my mother loved keeping family time private. What bothered me was the extra setting on our table. Had the waiters made a mistake? Or were we expecting another guest? The setting beside me seemed to stare back at me mockingly, as if there was something everyone else knew that I didn’t. My parents flipped through the menu, scanning the same pages over and over as if they really didn’t know what they wanted to eat. I knew that they were just stalling for time, because this was a restaurant that we’d always go to since I was young, and each time, they’d never fail to order the exact same dish.

            “Shall we try something different today?” My father suggested, still flipping through the pages. I placed the menu gently back on the table and folded my arms, staring uninterestingly out the window. I looked downwards, seeing a limo stop directly in front of the restaurant, and one man stepped out. We were too far up in the building for me to see who it was, so I shrugged and glanced back at my parents.

            “This looks good…” My mother pointed after commenting with her fake voice. She handed her menu to me with her finger still directing me to the dish she had in mind.

            “You can try it if you want,” I sighed, wondering if she was really looking for my approval, or just stalling some more. My feet were kicking up and down impatiently, wondering why the waitress hadn’t come back to ask us to order. Suddenly, the door creaked open and I felt a pang of hope that the waitress had finally come to rush my parents. When we finally made eye contact, my heart dropped. It wasn’t the waitress; it was Jung Daehyun, making his ever so ‘enchanting’ appearance in a full white suit and pink handkerchief in his left pocket. What bothered me more than him being here was the fact that our clothes were matching. Daehyun seemed to notice too, when he responded to my shocked eyes with a smug smile. I had to admit, if prince charming existed, he definitely owned that title tonight.

A/N: I found time to update! Well actually I just felt like today was a good writing day, even though I have a diploma exam tomorrow. I had fun writing this chapter, and I have a feeling the rest of this story will be fun to write too. Hope you readers will enjoy it as much as I do ^^! Please leave some comments below? (:!