Kyungsoo has an expensive apartment in Gangnam with very effective security. He lives there by himself and finds company in his Pororo DVDs and homemade pasta dishes. There's a piano by the ceiling-to-floor window that he never uses, and he spends most of his days eating on his too big of a dining table alone.

The smell of wet spray paint is heavy as Kyungsoo looks at his wrist watch, phone to his ear as he squeezes through a mass of busy bodies such as himself. When has this happened? When has he become such a slave to the God known as money? He used to be this new kid on the block, wearing a bright yellow cardigan and a hopeful smile, eyes filled to the brim with effortless youth. He stands in the mass of grey bodies, a shining ray of sunlight amongst all the dull colors. But as time seems to pass by, he's gone to navy, then to grey, then to black.

The transformation starts with a damn briefcase, carrying all his files, his laptop, his personal belongings, and eventually he has to wear a suit according to the company's dress code. He starts wearing a baby blue button down, figuring it's refreshing to see a change of color, because all he sees are whites, then changes it to pink, and eventually to navy blue, and he finally wilts into a dull white.

It's the fourth of June when Kyungsoo waits by a Bus Stop, briefcase in hold and again, checking his watch. The smell of wet spray paint makes his nose cringe, but when he looks up, he sees the prettiest mural he has ever seen. It's an eye, the whites are in rainbow, while at the iris is filled with black silhouettes of salary slaves, and a very dull grey as the background. The eyelashes are replaced with the sentence: Open your eyes. For a split second, he remembers who he used to be, the twenty-one year old who wanted to be a writer.

His phone rings, and he melts back into a money-driven slave. 

It's the fifth of June when Kyungsoo sits on the floor, in the middle of hundreds of bodies, staring at the mural in awe. The beauty of it makes him scared to touch, but makes him want to worship it. 

When he takes a picture, fifteen mega pixels of his camera can't even justify the magnificence of it.

It's the sixth of June when Kyungsoo sees a young fellow wearing tattered clothes, skin a bit darker than normal; smile anything but. 

"Can you spare me some change?"

Kyungsoo is caught in the warm sun of a smile, a reminder of who he was, captivated by the way those lips curve, and Kyungsoo spares him his time instead. He buys the stranger a blueberry muffin and coffee (to which the younger poured three packs of sugar in and two spoons of creamer), and he isn't aware of how it happened but the stranger stops being a stranger, instead becomes a Jongin who used to dance, an arts-major drop out.

Jongin is eating his muffin quite messily, almost as if he hasn't eaten in a week (two weeks, Jongin likes to voice out), and then stares at the man looking at him amusingly. "So, salary-slave, what do you do for a living?" Kyungsoo gives him a look to which Jongin grins. "I'm a bank manager." The younger whistles. "No wonder you smell and look expensive." The salary-man sighs and nods to his direction. "What about you?" 

"Me? I live off waking people up from their stupidity." He leans close to Kyungsoo across the table. "Tell, me," Jongin grins, like a c