When we arrived, I paid the driver and walked toward the building. It was old, with ivy crawling up the cracked walls, looking like the last place anyone would want to live. The security booth sat at the entrance, where a man dozed off with his cap pulled low and soft snores escaping his mouth.
Just like me, huh?
I knocked on the desk, and he startled awake.
I looked at him blankly, my face a mask of no emotion.
"New here?" he asked, settling back into his chair.
I only nodded.
"Room 106?" he continued.
I nodded again.
"Mute?" he raised an eyebrow.
I shook my head and made my way inside. The only thought in my head was the movie I wanted to watch later.
I hurried into the elevator—and wasn't alone.
"Hello," a voice squeaked, like a rat. Great, I hoped I wouldn't meet any actual rats here.
"You're new, right? I'm Lee Seo-yeon, room 108. Lawyer," said a woman in her twenties, with short black hair and tanned skin. She wore a white shirt, black suit, black pants, and Mary Janes.
I never expected a lawyer to live in a place like this dump.
Why would a rich second-generation even be here?
She looked surprised when I didn't answer, so she fell silent.
The elevator stopped, and I marched toward room 106, wanting nothing more than to hide under my blanket and disappear—if possible.
Death wasn't an option. I had to live, for myself. Life still had surprises, and I wasn't ready to give up.
I twisted the knob. The door creaked open, releasing a strong scent of earth and moss, hitting my nose like a truck.
I immediately shut it again. Yep, definitely a dump. The hallway was dark, lit only by a sad, yellow bulb swinging lazily above.
I pushed the door open and closed it behind me with a click.
The room had a bed, a desk, and a bathroom.
That morning, I stood on the veranda in my bathrobe, my long white hair flowing wildly in the breeze. Born with white hair, I'd been mocked for it all my life—but honestly, I think it's pretty cool.
I stared out where the city met the skyline and felt a rare moment of peace. For so long, I'd been trapped in my own room—the warden? Me.
But today was different. It was only my second day here, and I was actually glad I stayed.
Then, something flickered in the corner of my eye...
I turned to look and spotted a boy, probably around nineteen, standing on his veranda. Shock hit me like a rogue wave.
His balcony was a good distance from mine, but I could tell he was seriously considering jumping. Part of me wanted to storm over, drag him back, and give him a good scolding for being such a drama queen. But the words got stuck somewhere between my throat and my brain.
He looked hesitant—like a puppy unsure if it should chase its tail or nap instead. Then he turned to glance my way, and my heart skipped a beat... or maybe it just tripped over its own feet.
He had this weird mix of baby-faced innocence and confusion—soft brown eyes, messy dark hair that looked like he'd lost a fight with a ceiling fan, and a lip that quivered like a cartoon character about to cry. Honestly, he looked like someone who couldn't even decide what to eat for breakfast, let alone end his life.
Why on earth would a cute kid like that want to jump off a balcony?
Time froze like an awkward pause in a bad sitcom as we stared at each other. I was tongue-tied, and I'm pretty sure he was too.
My eyes begged silently, screaming "Don't do it, dude!" but my mouth? Nope. Not a sound. Just me, frozen like a statue in a museum of awkwardness.
Then I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, and hoped he'd get the message. I could *feel* his eyes still locked on me—probably wondering if I was a ghost or just a very weird neighbor.
Slowly, he stepped back from the edge, shuffled down from his veranda, and disappeared inside his room.
Did I just stop him from killing himself? Eh, I doubt it.
Maybe he just wasn't quite ready to take the plunge yet. Or maybe he was just indecisive, like the rest of us.
I shrugged it off and decided to watch a movie to distract myself, but my mind kept drifting back to him.
Well, at least I didn't make things worse... right?