CHAPTER 4
The day was dull. So dull that no one could actually comprehend with clarity whether it was morning or evening already.
The corridors were cold and empty. A strong, chilly wind whistled through the windows, making their old panes rattle. The grey walls seemed to shake and the entire structure of the domicile looked twice as dull as it usually looked. It felt gross.
A little boy walked through the corridors, a huge box of discarded materials in his hands. They were too much for his small grip and his little figure, but he had no other choice.
Orphans cannot be choosers, can they?
And so he waddled across the floor, trying his best to not let anything drop, because if he did, even though unintentional, everything would scatter all over the place, and he would have to sit down and gather them all once again. He had already done this twice previously, he had no urge to do it once again.
Little Seonghwa stood in front of a room, doors left open. The six year old had noticed it, even though his vision was almost blocked by the huge box in his hands. He walked inside the storehouse, feet almost loosing balance, as he quickly put the box down to where he was supposed to keep it and stood upright, heaving a loud sigh and swiping all the sweat off his forehead. Seonghwa, thinking he had finished his work, rubbed his hands vigorously upon his tattered trousers, and was about to walk out, when suddenly, he heard something.
He heard carefully.
It was a cry.
A soft, muffled, unclear cry.
Someone was in the room...crying.
Seonghwa was too scared to go investigate where the sound came from. But had had within himself the heart of a child, cogitative and curious, and in the end, curiosity always wins over fear.
He slowly walked around the room in order to locate the sound properly. Soon he realised where it was coming from. Seonghwa cautiously walked towards the farthest and the darkest corner of the room, his heart beating faster. His conscience told him to flee, and that this might be a trap, but his heart ordered him to move forward. Finally, the little boy came and stood in front of the huge boxes that were deposited there in a tumultuous disorder. He wondered, How can someone be...here? Not sure of what to do next, he plucked up courage and slowly called,
"I-Is anyone h-here?"
"H-Help..."
Seonghwa was stunned to hear a faint, low voice coming from somewhere in the darkness between the boxes. In the poor illumination of the room, he could hardly see much. Still, he decided to venture.
Not wasting a moment, he quickly started moving the boxes with all the strength he had in his little body. Once it was clearer, he looked up and his eyes finally met the source of the cry.
It was a little boy, somewhere close to his age. He wore tattered clothes too, his shirt barely hanging from his bony shoulders. He was hugging his knees close to his chest and his tiny form was shivering, complete with muffled sobs and cries. He was so small and frail, you'd think he was made only of bones. His face was buried in between his knees, so Seonghwa couldn't see his face.
He slowly approached him, not wanting to scare the fragile human.
"Hey," he softly whispered, drawing closer to him. But the other boy was too busy crying to notice his presence.
Seonghwa gently tapped his shoulder to get his attention, and suddenly his face shot up in surprise. Seonghwa was surprised. The boy looked quite young, judging from his facial features. His caramel brown eyes were glassy with tears, as they looked up in awe at his savior. His delicate little face was covered with dark tear stains and thousands of cuts and bruises, and his lips were constantly quivering. Even though the boy was crying, looking messy and covered with snot, nothing could hide the fact that he was...beautiful. And Seonghwa had already noted it.
Seonghwa did not speak after that, too invested in the boy's beauty. But he couldn't stay in that storeroom forever. If he wouldn't be back on time, people might suspect. So finally, he asked, "Why are you crying?"
The boy did not answer. Seonghwa, not sure of what to do next, stretched out his hand and he immediately, the other boy flinched, quickly raising his hands over himself as a sign of protection.
"I-I'm not going to hurt y-you," Seonghwa hastily convinced him, "Let's get you out if here, okay?"
Seonghwa took the boy's thin hand in his own. The crying lad tried his best to get up, but soon fell back on the floor, crying miserably. Seonghwa, at first, could not understand why he was unable to get up. But then he noticed. There was a huge cut above the boy's right ankle and for that, he could not stand up.
"No..."
Seonghwa was horrified after viewing the cut. He did not know what to do, nor did he know where he could take the boy. His heart swelled at the thought of what hideous acts this poor boy might had gone through. Who on Earth had trapped this little one here? And who had hurt him?
"What's your name?" he asked softly, looking at the boy with a tiny smile upon his face.
No response.
Seonghwa sighed. The little lad had a good heart, and so, he did not want to leave the injured boy all alone in that suffocating environment. He then tried what finally came to his mind- to carry him all by himself. Even if the lad was frail and light like a feather, Seonghwa himself wasn't strong enough. He tried, but failed miserably, making the boy cry even more, and himself confused.
"Oh heavens! What are you two doing here?"
Seonghwa flipped his head at the sudden intervention of a new voice, to see a lady standing behind him, looking at them with a shocked expression. The six year old couldn't describe his happiness, as he left the injured boy upon the floor and ran to her, hugging her at her waist.
"P-Please- please Miss," he begged, "Please take this boy out of here. He's hurt...a-and," he pointed at the horrible scar, "H-He's bleeding. Please take him and care for him. Don't-Don't tell anyone...p-please...."
Seonghwa was almost on the verge of tears himself. The lady sat down on her knees in front of the little boy and pulled him into a loving embrace. If there was anyone in that entire hell of that orphanage who actually treated the children right, then it was this kind hearted lady.
"Oh no! Don't cry Hwa," she assured him, gently rocking the boy in her arms, "I'll take care of him, honey. Nothing will happen to him."
The lady came forward and gently picked up the injured child in her arms, simultaneously speaking words of assurance and comfort . She walked up to the door and motioned Seonghwa to leave the room. But before she could go, little Seonghwa had already stopped her by holding her skirt.
"Please Miss, I want to know his name."
The lady looked at the boy in her arms, who peeked at Seonghwa from the gaps of his fingers which covered his face.
"Wh-What's your name?" Seonghwa asked.
After what seemed an eternity, the boy whispered between his sobs, "S-Star..."
"What?" asked Seonghwa, a little confused. How can someone's name be Star?
"He was just a baby when he was brought here. We didn't know his name or anything about his whereabouts then," the sweet lady explained, "So everyone started calling him 'Star'. Coz he is our bright little star, isn't he?"
No! Seonghwa thought in his head but kept his mouth shut. A star is supposed to be treated like a 'star', not like a slave. But come again, it's an orphanage.
"Y-Your n-name," the boy named 'Star' faltered, looking at the other boy with his tear stained eyes. Even though he was sobbing, his eyes didn't deny the fact that he was beyond grateful to his savior.
"Seonghwa."
"D-Deong-ha-?" The boy responded in confusion, hearing such a difficult name to be pronounced.
"Uhh....Hwa," came the quick response from the owner of the name, "Call me Hwa, okay?"
Star nodded.
As the lady walked away, Seonghwa couldn't help but stare at the corridor path down which the lady walked with the boy in her arms. He suddenly felt lonely, as if the boy had taken away all his attention, and he couldn't help but feel restless to meet him again.
"HwaHwa," A little child called him from behind, "C'mere."
"Y-Yes SangSang."
And then he suddenly felt the entire world around him go black, in a whirlpool of darkness, as every memory dissolved in it, and he felt far away, so so faraway from everything, from his dreams, from the boy.
"No...No...NOOO-" Seonghwa sprung up, panting. His breath was heavy and erratic, in quick successions without a break, and his chest heaved up and down gasping for more breath. His hairs and forehead were damp in sweat, as it cascaded down his face, drenching his attires as well. The dream felt so real, too real to bring back all his buried pains into life once again.
Once again, he felt helpless and lonely.
At first, Seonghwa couldn't understand where he was. He looked around, scanning his surroundings. It was a plain room with white walls, from which the plasters had peeled off in places. There were no furniture, just a table and a bed upon which he was currently sitting. There was a door, which was apparently closed. Everything looked clean and dustless. Two windows were veiled by thick curtains, and a single light hung in the centre from the ceiling, illuminating the room with it's faint yellowish glow.
"Where is-" A sudden feeling of restriction rose upon him as he tried to move and his gaze quickly snapped at his wrists.
Seonghwa noticed that his hands and feet were cuffed, so hence he couldn't move about. Within moments, everything flashed in his mind along with the face of his kidnapper. His hairs stood on an end.
Even during this tremendous hour of being trapped within a petrified emotion, one thing Seonghwa still couldn't help but contemplate about was- Why has the kidnapper kept me in such a room? It isn't luxurious, but definitely hygienic and habitable. Why didn't he directly kill me? I-Is this how he kills people? And where is Yeo- SANGIE-
"Oh. You're awake."
Seonghwa looked at the door and his blood ran cold in an instant. The owner of voice that had intervened his train of thoughts stood at the threshold, languidly leaning against the frame, the most feared individual within the entire city.
A nightmare, a serial killer, The Masked Man.
Seonghwa couldn't have given a proper description, provided the state he was in at that moment seeing a bloody murderer in front of him. But honestly- what else could he say? The man wore a white mask veiling the face, with two holes for the eyes. Rest complete black. A black hoodie, with the hood around his head, black trousers and black shoes. Nothing special and all incognito.
"Wh-What do y-you want?" Seonghwa asked, his voice shaking and unstable. He was too afraid to think anymore, and as the man drew closer, chills cascaded down his spine.
"Nothing," The man shrugged, his voice in a low octave, husky and dry, his shoes making a tapping sound against the floor while he slowly drew closer to the bed.
"Th-Then why...."
"Gosh! What an interesting victim," he spoke, looking at an absolutely freaked out Seonghwa in amusement, "No one has ever asked me so many questions."
He went and sat on the bed right at the edge, getting a better view of the boy. Seonghwa did nor know whether he was breathing or not. His heartbeat had weakened and his hands were already cold. His mind went blank and his mouth went dry. He desperately thought about Yeosang, where was he? He felt restless, tears clouding his vision. Stupid boy! I told him not to come with me! Not to come with me. Still he-
Even though Seonghwa was living his worst nightmare, one thing didn't go unnoticed by him. His eyes travelled down the masked man's hand, and on the upper side of his palm, he noticed a scar which seemed oddly familiar to him. He noticed, the scar wasn't a recent one, but the feeling still didnt leave him, why does it look so familiar?
"So then...." The man spoke, swiftly edging close to Seonghwa and quickly bringing his finger up to his face, trailing it down his cheek and feeling his jaw, "How should I kill you, hm? My little pet?"
Seonghwa wanted to throw up.
"J-Just k-kill m-me-"
The man gripped his jaw tightly and Seonghwa felt a horrible pain. He couldn't help but gulp it all in, as tears streamed down his eyes in a row, his mind echoing a single thought that this was perhaps his last moment. He felt useless and absolutely helpless, and even in his deathbed,that one singular thought haunted him like a restless spirit- Will he ever come looking for me?
"Oh no honey," the man slurred, bringing his lips close to his ears, almost breathing into them. The feeling of his warm breath upon his skin gave the victim an immediate sense of goosebumps all over him, "I'll not kill you. You're just the one I wanted. The most interesting one. The one I was looking for."
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