Scented candles line the edges of the interior furnitures, including the grand piano in the hall and soft classical music plays in the background. The house has an orange-y, warm feeling to it, with a tinge of the golden Victorian era to it. The lights on the chandelier are dimmed to a certain extent, but otherwise, the house is bright. A young girl, just about twelve years old, races down the stairs in the middle of the hall, wearing a bright red track suit and a purple bandana on her head.

"Erin, darling, can you please change out into something nice? A dress, perhaps? We are expecting guests anytime soon," an older woman, presumably her mother, says in her sweet voice, when she sees the girl in the hall.

"But mom! Track suits are comfy... You're not gonna make me talk to them, are you?" Erin asks, with a slight whine in her voice.

"Sweetie, please don't be like that. The guests we are having over, are big business people. Remember Oceania Hotel and Paradise Mall? They own those and bunch of other hotels all around the world. They're bringing their son along, too. It's time to make some new friends, dearie, you can't be sitting in your room all day reading," the older woman says.

"But knowledge is good! I'm pretty sure I know more things than any other twelve year old out there," Erin says.

"Yes, baby, I know knowledge is good. But so is socializing," her mother replies. "Now go and change up please."

"Alright..." Erin says with a little pout etched on her face. She races up the stairs to her room and digs into her closet for a nice shirt to wear. Never ever, will she wear a dress.

Meanwhile, the guests have arrived downstairs. Erin's parents warmly welcome them with smiles and polite greetings. A young boy trails behind them, a solemn expression on his face. He carries a book in his arms and he has a certain aristocratic look to his style, though just being twelve years old. Erin's mother greets him with a smile and tells him that she has a daughter, his age upstairs. And his mother supports the idea too, because the adults want to talk privately.

The boy looks around, scrutinising each framed picture on the wall of the staircase. He takes a step at a time, feeling the carpeted stairs beneath his covered feet. He reaches the top of the stairs and looks around. There are a few rooms on both sides of the corridor and he doesn't know which room this girl they speak of might be in.

"You are... lookin' for somethin'?" An older guy, wearing only a towel around his waist asks, with a sort of a French-y accent. The way he speaks is heavily accented and though the boy has been educated in English, Korean and Japanese, he finds it a little hard to understand the older guy.

The boy nods. "A girl, my age."

"You are lookin' for my sister? You must be the guest, then. She's in that room, over there," he points to a room at the end of the corridor, closest to the stairs.

The boy thanks him with a slight bow and he scurries off to the room near the stairs. He turns around, and watches the older guy disappear into a room on the opposite side. Then he knocks on the oakwood door that has multiple glue residue marks on the outside.

"Come in," he hears a voice and he twists the knob and enters the room.

Quite spacious, he thinks. It has carpeted floor as well, a large bookcase on the left, containing books of all sorts. There is a study table, just up ahead and a telescope beside it. There is a glass door to a small balcony outside, another book case, a beanbag, a window on the ceiling that shows the sky and finally a bed. With a girl on it.

"Hello," she says, snapping the boy out of his thoughts. "I'm Erin. You are?"

"I'm Lee Sungjong," the boy replies, holding onto his book tighter.

"Cool. So, I assume you're the guest," Erin says. "And, one question. I thought your name was LEE Sungjong. Why do you say is as Yi Sungjong?"

Sungjong manages a small chuckle. "The letter L doesn't exist in Korean."

"Anyway, you read Shakespeare? Do you even understand what it means?" Sungjong asks, trailing his finger across the entire row of Shakespeare books.

"Yeah, kinda. I don't particularly like the tragedies. I like the comedies better, like The Merchant In Venice," Erin says.

"Could you speak a little slower? I can't really understand you with your accent and all," Sungjong says a little awkwardly, with a slight shoulder shrug.

"Oh. Sorry," Erin grins. "I'll speak slower. I'm really sorry that I can't converse with you in Korean cause mine kinda , y'know? I need to improve it more. Anyways."

"Do you go to school here?" Sungjong asks, out of sheer curiosity.

"No. I go to school in Korea. I just came back cause my parents came back. I'm going back there in a few weeks," Erin replies.

"Oh. What school do you go to?"

"Cube School of Academics."

"Really?" This is the only time Sungjong's expression changes. "I go there too! What class are you in?"

"6A. The one for international students."

"Aw. I'm in 6B."

"That's like the top class."

"So is yours."

"Hel