Chapter 1
Lavender fields
It was quiet. The sounds of cars honking, children playing in a nearby yard, dogs barking and adults cursing were all stopped by special ordered, soundproof windows. The world was firmly being kept just where it belonged, out of sight and out of mind.
Rays of sun were filtering through the cracks in the blinds and they cast a soft pink light on the dust particles floating around in the quiet room. The illuminated specks were bouncing together in a slow dance and it was the only movement visible in the room apart from the steady rise and fall of the white eiderdown on the bed.
In the faint glow of the rising sun the room was washed with colour, the normally white and grey interior seemingly much more alive for those brief periods of time that came with every dusk and dawn. But as always the colours would soon fade and leave behind the plain reality.
The long hand on the silver alarm clock that was standing on a white nightstand, moved soundlessly as it was designed to, quietly ticking away together with the passing minutes. As the hand moved its final step of that hour the clock rang out with a loud obnoxious tone and the noise was almost unbearable in the previous silence of the room.
A thin hand quickly reached out from under the cover to mute the sound.
In the process of withdrawing, the hand nudged a book lying beside the clock and it fell to the floor with a resounding thump. For almost a full minute, the figure on the bed lay still, debating and arguing silently, small shakes of its head making the cover rustle.
Finally the urge, bordering to compulsive behaviour, to check that the book hadn’t landed in a way for it to get crumpled, got too great and with a sigh the covers where finally thrown off and the figure bent down to pick up the now slightly bruised hardcover. After placing the new, bestselling coffee-table book back in its proper place the person took a minute to rub the sleep from his eyes. With the cover off, the form of the man sitting on the bed made for a very pathetic sight. He was leaning on his knees in the middle of the king-sized mattress with the crumpled duvet surrounding him like a cocoon, hair sticking out in all directions and his bloodshot eyes were wearily trying to focus on something.
There were no pictures or personal details in the room and a gloomy feeling of emptiness was ever present as he swung his pyjama clad legs over the edge of the bed, and sat there with his head hung low from drowsiness.
A soft crème coloured rug was placed on the floor just beside the king-sized bed. Even with floor heating he got cold easily and the warmth of the rug underneath his feet was soothing in the early mornings. He finally admitted defeat and rose on slightly unsteady feet. Bending over the bed he fluffed up the white pillows, stretched the sheet and spread the cover evenly over it. His morning routines by now so familiar he wouldn’t be surprised if they were imprinted on the floors and walls of the apartment itself. With heavy steps he trudged towards the immaculate bathroom to relive himself and splash some water on his face.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he seemed to remember a time when he used to sing in the shower. He’d liked to sing, all the time, anywhere, but the shower with its wonderful acoustics had been his favourite place.
But as he was standing in the large shower cube, the glass walls surrounding him, trapping him along with a cloud of steam inside, he didn’t feel like singing. He slowly washed himself, going over his schedule for today and mentally preparing for the meetings he had. His face was scrubbed with his special skincare products, his hair washed with whatever the hairdresser had last recommended and he cleaned his body with the overly prized loofah he had gotten in a gift basket that was last years Christmas present from his boss’s wife.
But as he was standing in the large shower cube, the glass walls surrounding him, trapping him along with a cloud of steam inside, he didn’t feel like singing. He slowly washed himself, going over his schedule for today and mentally preparing for the meetings he had. His face was scrubbed with his special skincare products, his hair washed with whatever the hairdresser had last recommended and he cleaned his body with the overly prized loofah he had gotten in a gift basket that was last years Christmas present from his boss’s wife.
Stepping out of the shower he dried himself with a soft cotton towel before wrapping another one around his hips. After ten minutes his teeth were brushed, his hair blow-dried and styled and he found himself five minutes ahead of his morning schedule.
His walk in closet was in perfect order as he flipped on the lightswitch. Neat lines of shirts in soft colours were dominating the left side and underneath were sections of drawers that held his underwear and socks. There were trousers, black, brown and khaki, all with the purpose of being work clothes but so familiar to him now that he wore them even on weekends and holidays. Cardigans and sweater vests were hung in front of him, colour coordinated without a second thought. To the right were his suits, coats and shoes, and dark blue boxes were used for storing scarves, gloves and other warmer outerwear. In the row of drawers underneath lay his jeans almost completely forgotten along with sweats and sneakers, shorts and wife-beaters. Such clothes had no use in his everyday life.
A hand reached out to grab one of his favourite cardigans of the hanger. The brown soft fabric felt soothing on his fingertips. He coupled it with a navy blue shirt and black trouser, picking out a pair of dark plain looking shoes to go with. Black boxers and black socks got picked up and laid out carefully along with the rest of the clothes on top of his bed. He got dressed slowly, making sure that every fold of the trousers laid neatly, every button of his shirt buttoned and his shoelaces tied in perfect bows. Sometimes he made one bow larger then the other, as a rebellion against his own mind, but it never lasted longer then it took for him to get to his front door before bending down to re-tie them properly. The cologne he wore, moderately, smelled of the sea. Fresh, clean and mellow. A gold watch was settled in its proper place on his left wrist, even though he’d rather wear it on his right and he made his way into the pristine kitchen that any chef would envy, but himself just found unnecessary as he never cooked.
The man poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffeemaker that had been set on a timer the night before just like every night. He didn’t really eat breakfast, never feeling like he could relax enough to sit down. He would eat at lunch and barely then did he take the time to actually taste his meal. Most days he shoved food into his mouth on automatic while reading something work related.
Pouring the last of his coffee down the drain when he realized he was wasting time, he rinsed his cup before putting it in the washer. His housekeeper would be there during the day to hover up what minuscule amount of dust had gather during the weekend. Quickly he gathered his coat and bag, grabbed his keys of the hook by the door and had nothing but work on his mind as his front door closed behind him.
♦ ♦ ♦
His glasses kept slipping down the bridge of his nose. He hated those damned things, but he needed them to be able to see the computer screen in front of him properly. The voices of his colleagues drifted over the walls to his corner cubicle but didn’t quite register in his head. He was solely focused on his work and everyone in the office knew better then to disturb him unless it was important. He wasn’t known as someone who socialized with the people around him, not because he had a higher position then most on that floor, but because he just didn’t seem interested.
He had worked hard to get to where he was, a high paid, highly respected IT-consulter to one of the most prestige publishing companies in Seoul. He held their money in one hand and their reputation in the other and he did not make mistakes. He was the direct supervisor of about fifteen people, all in charge of various IT aspects of the company, and every month he would appear in the conference room, dressed in one of his best suits, and he would tell the top executives about the improvements he had done in words then almost none of them understood but pretended to anyway. He wasn’t just in charge of the actual network within the company, but he also had a hand in running a handful of websites that came connected to it. So far he had done a hell of a good job.
There where times when someone came running in a panic mode over a bug in a system, or a lost file and then he was back to being the ordinary IT-technician he had started as. He himself never really cared what title he had, he was just someone who knew a lot about computers. He liked to keep the systems clean and well structured, simple like his life, perfect and efficient.
The one thing he had always wanted was the money that came with his title. He wanted security, he needed to know that his life was settled in the best kind of way. He had made sure his parents where financially independent first before indulging in the money himself. But it wasn’t long after he bought his car, and rented his apartment that he realized he had nothing else he wanted to spend it on. Instead he would hoard it, saving everything he could for no reason other then the fact that it was a good thing to have.
By now he didn’t even look at his paychecks anymore.
He pushed his glasses up for the twentieth time that day. The bare grey walls of his cubicle were echoing the tapping sounds his fingers were making on the keyboard and he fought the headache he could feel slowly pulsating behind his eyes.
The clock on his wrist told him it was almost time to go home for the day, only today he wasn’t going home. He had promised his best friend to meet up and go for a walk.
Hyukjae’s schedule wasn’t nearly as packed as his own but with a new boyfriend by his side it was still difficult to find time for just the two of them. Pushing down the overwhelming feeling of wanting nothing more then to go home and microwave some dinner, he settled for finishing his work as the thought of leaving anything unfinished made his skin crawl.
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