Prologue
Unraveling CrimsonSix in the morning and the sky is an ombre of colors, varying from soft lavender to vibrant peach. While the general population of Seoul is only just beginning their day, Myungsoo has already made his way along the Han River with a cup and a ball of yarn in his hands, a loose thread trailing behind and continuing on for what seems like forever.
Being the adolescent that he is, he’s expecting the morning to be fun and filled with all sorts of surprises that could perhaps enlighten him, although somewhere along the way he conveniently forgets why he’s even there. In spite of that, Myungsoo knowingly continues to make his way down the riverside, only constructing a much longer trail of yarn.
“They say that a person meets around 30,000 people in their lifetime. Of those people besides your family, you will intimately know 300. Among all these encounters, it is said that God has arranged a special one for you, connected by a red thread.”
Once Myungsoo reaches the end of the riverbank, he drops the items and plops down beside them, his eyes anxiously gazing into the distance toward the point of origin. He knows it’s impossible in today’s ever-changing society, but he wonders anyway if anyone at the other end will respond.
“However, that bond of fate is invisible to everyone.”
Young, usually effervescent Suzy encounters a cup attached to a red thread when she arrives at her place of escape. She tugs her sleeve over her hand and wipes her tears away, before kneeling beside the awkward pair of items.
Suzy finds it ridiculous at first, because who in Seoul—or in any other part of the world, really—does this anymore? She remembers the first time she had been introduced to the idea of communicating through cups and strings a couple of years back. She doesn’t buy any of it though, because she has common sense—and she has the sense that a mere piece of string isn’t efficient enough in delivering verbal messages.
Yet she runs her finger delicately over the rim of the cup, as if it holds some kind of importance that she isn’t aware of. Anyway, with it only being six in the morning and nothing around other than these items to impress her, perhaps this time around she doesn’t want to have any common sense. Maybe she wants to pretend that there is such a thing as contacting people through a cup and a string.
After much thought, she reaches for the styrofoam cup and holds onto it tightly. A part of her is nervous for unknown reasons, and another is convincing her that there isn’t anyone waiting at the end — but she won’t know if she doesn’t try. Inhaling a deep breath, she brings the cup to her lips before uttering a soft, “Hello?”
“And the other person at the end of the bond is your destiny.”
Being the adolescent that he is, he’s expecting the morning to be fun and filled with all sorts of surprises that could perhaps enlighten him, although somewhere along the way he conveniently forgets why he’s even there. In spite of that, Myungsoo knowingly continues to make his way down the riverside, only constructing a much longer trail of yarn.
“They say that a person meets around 30,000 people in their lifetime. Of those people besides your family, you will intimately know 300. Among all these encounters, it is said that God has arranged a special one for you, connected by a red thread.”
Once Myungsoo reaches the end of the riverbank, he drops the items and plops down beside them, his eyes anxiously gazing into the distance toward the point of origin. He knows it’s impossible in today’s ever-changing society, but he wonders anyway if anyone at the other end will respond.
“However, that bond of fate is invisible to everyone.”
Young, usually effervescent Suzy encounters a cup attached to a red thread when she arrives at her place of escape. She tugs her sleeve over her hand and wipes her tears away, before kneeling beside the awkward pair of items.
Suzy finds it ridiculous at first, because who in Seoul—or in any other part of the world, really—does this anymore? She remembers the first time she had been introduced to the idea of communicating through cups and strings a couple of years back. She doesn’t buy any of it though, because she has common sense—and she has the sense that a mere piece of string isn’t efficient enough in delivering verbal messages.
Yet she runs her finger delicately over the rim of the cup, as if it holds some kind of importance that she isn’t aware of. Anyway, with it only being six in the morning and nothing around other than these items to impress her, perhaps this time around she doesn’t want to have any common sense. Maybe she wants to pretend that there is such a thing as contacting people through a cup and a string.
After much thought, she reaches for the styrofoam cup and holds onto it tightly. A part of her is nervous for unknown reasons, and another is convincing her that there isn’t anyone waiting at the end — but she won’t know if she doesn’t try. Inhaling a deep breath, she brings the cup to her lips before uttering a soft, “Hello?”
“And the other person at the end of the bond is your destiny.”
Author notes: Yay, the prologue has finally been posted! Chapter 1 will be up this week, my lovelies. :)
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