He kicked the pedals in earnest, channeling all his anger for Dongwoon to his bike.  He didn’t know where he’s going.  All he knows is that he wants to be as far away from his cousin as he could manage.

Dongwoon had challenged him to jump into the lake from a nearby tree.  Not one to back out of these “tests of courage,” he climbed up the tree.  As he was carefully sliding towards the tip of his chosen branch, he spotted the old house across the lake.

“Well, go on.  Jump!” Dongwoon called out from below.  His cousin looked at where he’s looking.  “What is it?  Are you stalling?”

His last remark irked Minho and so he jumped unceremoniously from the tree.  A few seconds later, he bobbed to the surface and swam to the small dock.  Hauling himself up, he noticed that his cousin’s interest had totally shifted.

“I think it’s the Kims’ house,” he said absent-mindedly.  “That’s funny.  I never noticed it before.”

Dongwoon’s next challenge was for Minho to go to the Kims’ place.  They argued since Minho refused to do the challenge alone.  And why did he have to do those things anyway, when Dongwoon does not do them himself?  The argument soon turned into a fist fight and Dongwoon  ended up with a bloody nose.  He went home crying to his mom, who went harping to Minho’s mom.  Both mothers neglected the fact that it was Dongwoon who started the whole thing in the first place.  Minho got scolded and whacked a couple of times in the .  And that’s how he finds himself pedaling like a maniac in the open road.

The sun was relentless but the breeze is soothing.  His path is lined with trees whose leaves made sounds like rain when they sway against each other.  The sounds of insects and birds calmed him as he sped along.  He was so engrossed in his peaceful surroundings that he did not realize he had taken a turn towards the much eluded Kim property. 

It’s a sprawling estate, abandoned many years ago by its owners.  It has become a kind of urban legend in their quaint little district, which parents normally use to scare their kids into behaving.

The owner was said to be filthy rich and had only one child.  They say the boy was beautiful, but was also spoiled and wild.  He was rarely seen in town as he studied mostly abroad.  But people heard of his exploits in foreign lands – rumors of drug use, indiscriminate pleasures of the flesh, running with people of questionable reputation.  He died a violent death at a young age, found bloodied and broken in a hotel in Paris.  His parents were distraught and became reclusive in their old age.  When they died, there was no heir for their vast fortune.  Relatives oversaw the estate after they died, but one by one, they started to leave the place, saying that it is haunted.  They were most likely responsible for spreading the rumors that the Kims’ son is often seen prowling the place.  The property was totally abandoned and neglected eventually.  Thanks to the ghost rumors, no one dared to trespass.  Those who did were never heard of again.  Or so the stories go.

Gazing now at the crumbling big house, Minho wondered how those stories survived through the years with such meticulous details.  He does not know when exactly the stories began but he knew of them since he was a child.  And according to his mom, the property has been abandoned ever since she can remember.  It had succumbed to the invading vegetation.  But even in its present state, Minho can see that the house was magnificent in its glory days.

He was about to leave when he distinctly heard a strain of music.  His skin crawled when he realized that the sound was coming from the house.  But instead of running away as fast as he can in the opposite direction, his curiosity won out.  He left his bike lying on the ground and cautiously approached the ruin on foot.

The music became clearer as he neared.  It came from the back and as he rounded the bend, he realized that it’s a modern American rock song.  His curiosity peeked despite the hammering of his heart, and his steps became faster, thoughtless of any danger that may lie ahead.  When he reached what was once a backyard, no one was there.  However, he saw a hammock tied between two trees, a bright orange pillow and a moss green throw lay in the middle of it.  The hammock is slowly swinging, as if its occupant had just vacated it.

Fear overtook him as he heard careful footsteps behind him.  He turned around swiftly and nearly jumped out of his skin.  He found himself staring wide-eyed and gaping at a beautiful boy, with unbelievably fair milky skin and soft blond hair.  He is wearing black cut-off jeans and a white singlet under an open pink shirt.  Stylish shades covered his eyes.

“Hello,” the stranger said, his voice as sultry as the afternoon, his lips slowly curving up into a smirky grin – much like a happy cat that had just cornered its dinner.

He tried to talk, stuttered and tried again.  “I…  I…”  He swallowed.  “What are you doing here?” he asked stupidly.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”  His voice is deep, his face expressionless.  He must have paled because the stranger chuckled.  He found himself staring at the stranger’s bow-shaped lips, fascinated.

“I live here,” the stranger finally explained.  “My name is Kibum, but you can call me Key.”

“I’m Minho,” he said meekly, grasping the hand that Kibum extended to him.