Yeah! First chapter! This one is short, but i will get to the real deal next chapter, to keep the anticipation. :p Anyway, enjoy this chapter. Any critics & comments are welcome. 

Don’t be afraid.

You are not bound by anything anymore.

You can live for yourself now. 

The way you want it to be.

Live your life in happiness.

I truly wish for your happiness, Junghyuk.

A loud huge gasp fills the soundless bedroom. Certain black haired man sits in the middle of broken white coloured bed with sweats trickles down his temple, struggling with his shortness of breath for several seconds until he can breath freely again on the next.

A dream. The black haired man rubs his palms across his tired face, discarding any trace of sweat on his skin. Noting the over brightness of his usually-dark bedroom, the man glances to the side, only to see sunlight shines through the white curtain, which makes it even brighter. He spends his next 10 minutes just staring off. His eyes then sweep around the same and too-familiar-with room he has stayed on for the last three decades. His eyes stops skimming as it finds an old silver flip-cellphone on top of small desk besides the bed. Reaching for the cell, it informs him the days has passed by so late. 

11.24.

Almost noon already?

That is his cue to get up and start his meaningless life all over again, beginning with making the bed as flawless as if it was a brand new bed. He then preps his clothes to wear for today, despite the fact he doesn’t have any schedule today. Or in any day.

Entering the medium size bathroom, he peels his clothing one by one. He continues his usual ritual, having cold shower in the morning, freshening up his mind. It has been a while since the last time i’ve dreamt about that. He thinks while boring his eyes to the water that runs slowly under his feet, making its way to the drainage holes. He keeps gazing on with empty mind, its movement and its dull colour, whilst the water shower hits him countless time from above his head. 

It might be around 15 minutes he stays that way, until he feels he’s soaked enough and his body starts to feel sluggish with the shower’s constant downpour on him. Grabbing two dry towels stacks beside the bathroom, he wraps one around his waist and other just plainly put on top of his head. With every inch of his body still in wet condition, he walks out from bathroom towards the small living room. 

Despite having cold shower, his sleepiness is still apparent in his eyes. With drowsy eyes, he gazes around again throughout the living room. 2-man-size sofa faces an old squared screen TV, multiple genre books all over small wooden table top with black old house phone. Round red burgundy carpet placed underneath the table, empty vases untouched besides the TV, and more books besides it. No decoration, no photo frames, nobody else besides him resides in this 4LDK apartment. Obviously, an apartment that is too big for a sole resident to live in. But he can’t leave it. And he won’t. 

Without anything to humour him, strangely, he chuckles softly to himself. I probably will live the rest of my life here, alone, until i rot to death or turn into ash.

Eventually realising droplets of water from his body have already wetted the floor for quite some times, he starts to wipe dry his hair with the towel. His brain begins to build a to-do plan for today. All areas around his neighbourhood already had visited by him. Even cities around this city don’t incite any interest in his head as he had explored them before as well. 30 years is a long time to stay in one place. And when a man is alone for 30 years, it feels like an endless time. 

Of course, he can start to warm up with neighbours in the building. Meet several times for housewarming maybe, even enter neighbourhood events that had passed by too many times to count. Maybe he can hook up with a woman, get into a serious relationship, nurture it and have a family of his own. But he doesn’t want it. Simply, because… I can’t.

Just then, his eyes are fixed on the small remote control on the sofa. It is then for the first time he actually feels like he really wants to watch the old machine box. He used to turn it on just for the sake of filling room with sonance. He has to admit, it’s pretty eerie being in the apartment alone all day without any sounds.

Pressing the upper big red button, a scene immediately reveals itself through his old tube. To be precise, breaking news program. He turns up the volume as if the news has awakened something from the back of his mind.

‘Remains of an unidentified woman has been discovered underneath an old traditional house, built on old Shinjuku’s area which was scheduled to be rebuilt next week. The cadaver was found as government officials were inspecting the said area. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department has been pointed to lead the investigation on this case. According to a source close to the investigation, the unidentified woman was brutally murdered, hence placing this case in criminal investigation section. There are very little informations regarding the traditional house’s owner. But after doing an initial swipe, Tokyo Metro Police believed that the house has not been lived in for over three decades. At the same moment, government’s preparation to rebuild the old Shinjuku’s neighbourhood has been halted. The plan will be put in action, presumably after the homicide case is solved. This is 12 o’clock breaking news, Sakaki Naomi.’

Another minute passes by, yet the black haired man still has his eyes wide as a size of saucer plate, standing statued with TV remote dangerously close to fall down from his palm. Many memories flash in his mind as he absorb the informations that was broadcasted on a minute earlier. That news unknowingly and easily establishes his schedule for the day.

With wide steps, the man hurriedly walks to his bedroom again, running towards his cloths and wearing them in a speed of light. Packing his backpack with essential things to last throughout the day, his mind is moving with the same speed as his movement. All he can think of is to get to that place as soon as he could. He needs to confirm his curiosity before everything is gone. 

He slings his backpack unto his right shoulder. Again, he marches back towards the front door, making the floor resonates of his heavy steps. Fetching car key placed on top of small high table top by the door, the black haired man opens the front door hastily. 

Then his actions are stopped, as two men are standing in front of the door. One of them is standing exactly before him, wearing an ed beige overcoat, dark brown shirt inside, along with fit black pants. The stranger stares back at him a pair of unique iris colour. An unique shade of mauve grey that he hadn’t seen for a very, very long time. Along with same confidence, tenacity and innocuous aura inside it. For a moment, he feels like he’s meeting that person once again through that irises. 

Next second, his sight of that nostalgic orbs are blocked by a gold emblem on a black leather wallet, shown by the stranger to his face. “Mr. Eric Mun?”

“Y-yes?”

“Inspector Shin Hyesung, Tokyo Metro Police.” The stranger says as he lowers down his badge. 

A bit of shock is apparent in the his features, “Tokyo Metro? Is… There something wrong?”

The other guy that has been silent this whole time, moves closer to his standing while pulling out a silver handcuff from the inside of his coat. Turning the man namely Eric to his back—quite harshly which drops the owner’s backpack to the floor, the man grabs both of his hands. Sound of handcuff clicking shut and tingling of coldness from the metals circling his wrists bring confusions to his mind. 

“What is this about?” Eric speaks as calm as he can, despite many questions arising in his head.

“We have a warrant for your arrest, regarding the murder case in Shinjuku.”