The smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air as Ha-Yoon's mother, MRS. HU, sets the table for breakfast. Ha-Yoon enters, still in her pajamas, her hair a wild mess from sleep. She looks out the window, the same eerie sense of foreboding from the day before lingering in the air.
MRS. HU
(hands Ha-Yoon a cup of coffee)
You okay, sweetie? You look a bit pale.
HA-YOON
(nods, taking the coffee)
Just a weird feeling. Like something's off.
Mrs. HU's gaze lingers on Ha-Yoon, her eyes filled with a mother's intuition. She knows her daughter too well to dismiss her fears as mere nonsense.
MRS. HU
(concerned)
Are you sure you don't want to stay home today?
HA-YOON
(shakes her head)
No, I'll be fine. Just a bit shaken from the tremors, I guess.
Mrs. HU nods, her hand briefly touching Ha-Yoon's cheek before returning to the breakfast preparations.
The door opens, and Ha-Yoon's father, MR. HU, steps in, his doctor's coat already donned. He looks tired, the shadows under his eyes speaking of a long night at the hospital.
MR. HU
(kisses Mrs. HU on the cheek)
I'm off.
Mrs. HU nods, her eyes following him as he grabs his umbrella and heads out into the misty morning. The door closes with a soft click, leaving Ha-Yoon and her mother alone in the quiet house.
Mrs. HU sighs, her eyes lingering on the spot where her husband once stood. Ha-Yoon notices the worry lines etched into her mother's face, a silent testament to the unspoken tension that's been growing between them.
HA-YOON
(swallows her fear)
I'll be okay, Mom. Promise.
Mrs. HU nods, forcing a smile as she pours Ha-Yoon a bowl of porridge. Ha-Yoon takes it gratefully, the warmth of the food seeping into her cold hands. She scarfs it down, the comforting taste of home a fleeting reprieve from the dread that lingers in her stomach.
With a final glance at her mother, Ha-Yoon bolts up the stairs, her bare feet slapping against the cold wooden floor. She flings open her bedroom door, the room a disaster zone of discarded clothes and textbooks.
Her eyes scan the chaos, searching for something to wear that won't scream 'disaster'. She grabs a clean uniform from the back of her closet, the fabric whispering a promise of normalcy.
Her hands shake as she pulls on her uniform, the fabric feeling stiff and unyielding against her skin. The rain patters against the window, a reminder of the tumultuous day that awaits her.
The clock on the wall ticks away, each second a warning that she's running out of time. Ha-Yoon's heart races as she buttons her shirt, her thoughts a whirlwind of what-ifs and fears.
HA-YOON
(whispers to herself)
I have to go.
With a deep breath, she ties her hair into a ponytail, the elastic snapping against her skull. She grabs her backpack, the weight of her books a reminder of the escape she's leaving behind.
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Ha-Yoon rushes down the stairs, her school shoes squeaking against the floor. She pauses at the door, her hand hovering over the handle.
MRS. HU
(from the kitchen)
Remember, Ha-Yoon. Be careful.
Her mother's voice is a gentle push, a reminder that she's not alone in this. Ha-Yoon nods, steeling herself for what's to come.
HA-YOON
(turns back, smiles bravely)
I will, Mom.
The door opens, and Ha-Yoon steps out into the grey morning, the rain a light mist that kisses her skin. She pulls her hoodie up, the fabric sticking to her damp forehead.
The room is bathed in early morning light, the curtains fluttering slightly with the breeze. Si-woo's mother, MRS. PARK, sits on the edge of his bed, her hand on his forehead, checking for fever.
MRS. PARK
(whispers)
You're not going to school today, Si-woo. You're not well.
SI-WOO
(weakly)
But... brother...
Mrs. Park's gaze is firm, but her voice is filled with a gentle resolve.
MRS. PARK
(softly)
Ye-jun can handle himself. You need to rest and heal.
Si-woo nods, his eyes drooping with exhaustion. He watches as his mother pulls the blankets up to his chin, her touch a silent promise of protection.
The house begins to stir as Ye-jun gets ready for school, his footsteps a reminder of the battle Si-woo is about to face without him. The sound of the shower echoes through the walls, a symphony of his brother's preparation.
The sound of the shower turns off, and Ye-jun emerges from the bathroom, towel around his waist, water droplets still clinging to his skin. He notices Si-woo's door ajar and walks over, a look of concern etched on his face.
YE-JUN
(whispers)
You okay, Si-woo?
SI-WOO
(weakly)
Yeah... just tired.
Ye-jun steps into the room, his eyes sweeping over Si-woo's bruised form. He opens his mouth to speak, but Si-woo cuts him off.
SI-WOO
(swallows hard)
I'm sorry, Ye-jun. It's all my fault.
YE-JUN
(firmly)
Don't say that. It's not your fault. You didn't ask for this.
Ye-jun walks over to Si-woo's bed, his eyes filled with a fierce protectiveness. He sits down next to him, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly.
YE-JUN
(softly)
You don't have to deal with this alone anymore. I'll talk to the teachers, to the principal, to anyone who'll listen.
Si-woo's eyes widen, a spark of hope igniting within him. He nods, his voice a mere whisper.
SI-WOO
(nods)
But don't fight them. Please.
Ye-jun's expression tightens, but he nods in understanding. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Si-woo's forehead.
YE-JUN
(promises)
I'll be careful. But I won't let them get away with this.
The room fills with a heavy silence, the only sound of the rain's steady beat against the window. Ye-jun's hand rests on Si-woo's shoulder, a silent pledge of solidarity.
Ye-jun stands, his hand lingering on Si-woo's shoulder for a moment longer before he turns and leaves the room. The door clicks shut, leaving Si-woo alone with his thoughts.
Si-woo lies there, listening to the rain's lullaby, his mind racing with the events of the previous day. The tremors, the fight, the look on Jung-ho's face when he realized the tremors were real and not just a ploy to escape.
…
Mrs. Park's soft footsteps approach, the scent of homemade soup wafting through the crack in the door. Si-woo's stomach growls, a traitorous betrayal of his anxiety.
MRS. PARK
(whispers)
Lunch is ready, Si-woo.
Si-woo forces himself to sit up, his body a symphony of protests. He takes the tray from her, the warmth of the food a clear difference to the coldness he feels inside.
SI-WOO
(swallows hard)
Thank you, Mom.
Mrs. Park sets the tray down on the bedside table, her eyes filled with a mix of love and sadness.
MRS. PARK
(softly)
Rest, my love. I'll be downstairs if you need anything.
With a gentle pat on his back, she leaves the room, closing the door behind her. The click of the door echoes through the silence, leaving Si-woo with nothing but the rain's serenade.
Si-woo takes a tentative spoonful of the soup, the warmth spreading through his body like a much-needed balm. The TV in the corner of his room flickers to life, the news broadcasting images of the city in chaos.