Yesterday felt like a dream; this morning felt like a dream. It never felt real, which could explain why she woke up in a state of confusion. Did it really happen; the news about the sudden murder of Yoon Daewon, her fainting not long after and the personal talk she had with Hongjoong?

She didn't even remember how she went back to her room after her conversation with him. She seems to have drifted off to sleep again on the platform, protected by the full moon and the scattered stars. Everything felt unreal, accompanied by her racing thoughts and it ended with her waking up in her room, tucked in under - much to her relief - a blanket that doesn't smell like it was fermented.

Did Hongjoong really just...?

She shakes her head at the thought, feeling silly for even thinking about it, slapping her hands to her cheeks to scare the blush away. Maybe she did walk back to her room with her two feet but she forgot about it or she was too drowsy. In all her life she had never been surrounded by too many men her age that seemed to make her flustered every time they do something remotely simple.

"I really am a lonely potato aren't I? Thinking about all this stuff when they're probably just being nice. Stop it, Han Byul!" she scolds herself, putting a finger at a distance in front of her nose until she looks at it cross-eyed. "This is real life, not some unrealistic drama."

She tidies up the mattress and blanket, folding them neatly at one corner of the room. The clothes she bought yesterday were still in their bags because she had no time to take them out when they returned to the dorm. She feels like she wants to laugh the moment her eyes land on the transparent box, but her mouth is tugged downwards at the sight of the opaque box beside it. She should have buried it deep somewhere in the room, just like how she did back in her flat; she doesn't even know what made her to ask Jongho to bring it back.

What made her change her mind?

It has been three days since her supposed 'death', but they had to confiscate her handphone and had bought a new one since they didn't want anything that could track back to her. She doubts she would receive any notification from anybody on her old phone anyway.

Nobody would notice that she had disappeared, and truthfully - although it hurts - that makes it easier for her. She doesn't own any social media accounts because she lacks the excitement of sharing anything with people online; the only use of her phone is to call, message, probably do some reading and watch some dramas anonymously online. Even her contacts aren't that extensive.

Her life has been very bland, dedicating her life to studying that caused her to drown in debt. She keeps mostly to herself, not even having a single friendship that could last a lifetime. It could be because she could find no one that could click with her, or maybe she is the one pushing them away because she just wants to live a quiet, unmarked life. Her life goal isn't very ambitious; it's to work in a lab, secluded from others and minding her own business.

Would my life be different if I didn't make that choice? But would it be for the better or worse?

The numbers on her phone screen flips to show that it's already 7:30 a.m. and again, she feels embarrassed for not waking up on time. She's sure that the rest of the occupants have woken up and gotten ready for the day; when she was still sleeping on the mattress, mind blank. She tries to take a glimpse through the gap under the door to catch any moving shadows, but find none and soon realizes that it's quiet - too quiet for the group named ATEEZ.

A calm morning? Something's definitely up.

Without thinking, she swings the door open, revealing herself wearing yesterday's clothes to anyone who would be at the living room. The whole area is deserted; she can't even spot Hwayoung anywhere. She steps out of the room and freaks out when someone suddenly rises from behind the sofa, holding a butterfly-shaped pin in his hand.

"Good morning sleepyhead," San greets her while smiling. "Sorry I startled you; I was looking around for Hwayoung's pin."

"Good morning," she replies, suddenly conscious of her appearance. She hasn't taken a shower since yesterday... morning. Great, amazing, spectacular. Just what she needs. "Where are the rest of them?" she asks, trying to deviate the attention away from her.

She hopes that he doesn't notice that she's actually wearing yesterday's clothes - but did he even see her after her transformation? If it is his first time seeing her, he doesn't seem too surprised. Not that she can confirm it since she's knocked out cold yesterday.

His expression is different - not the one he had put on as he looked at her and disappeared behind the washing machine the day before.

"We're on a roll; we received three new requests to be done today. All the others are already suited up and prepared to carry out the missions at the headquarters. They are occupied; I'm the only one free of any jobs."

"Including Hongjoong?" she finds herself asking, before mentally slapping herself. She could have asked about the others too, but why particularly the leader?

"Yeah, including him..." A cheeky smile appears on his face. "Why are you asking about him? I thought both of you are like, repelling magnets."

"I just- he didn't seem like he had gotten enough rest. What if he ended up failing his mission because he was too tired or fell asleep?"

"Nah, Hongjoong runs on coffee; he can go days without sleeping. Even just a little bit of rest charges him for the whole day." He grips the pin before shouting, "Hwayoung, I found your pin!"

Hwayoung comes running out of her room, her bag strapped to her back. San hooks the pin to her hair and tidies it up.

"Thank you, Uncle San! Byul-ie I'm going to go to kindergarten, I'll meet you after I'm done. Please don't be sick anymore."

She runs up to her, hugs her legs and does a little bow before going towards the door and putting on her shoes. She jumps up and down, eagerly waiting for her uncle to accompany her.

San puts on his cap that he laid down on the sofa. "Hwayoung really likes you, she's like a tiny version of Yeosang to the rest of us but she's so affectionate with you. Before you wonder, that's a huge honour." He takes Hwayoung's hand in his. "I'll be sending her to the kindergarten, then I'll open the cafe. I think it's the right time for me to show you around our headquarters later on, since you must be really bored not having anything to do."

"But then no one would be around to man the cafe." She didn't mean to sound like she's refusing to spend time alone with him, but it turned out into something exactly like that.

He doesn't notice it, or he takes no offence with her tone. "No worries, it's not like we'll have much customers anyway. I can set up an alert on my phone if anyone ever does come; the least I can do." He takes no answer from her before he walks out of the house with the little kid waving at her enthusiastically right up to the point the door has closed.

It gives her enough time to shower and put on some comfortable clothes; by the time San is done with his morning errands, she's waiting at the living room with a washed face and a grumbling stomach. Her attempt at concealing the sound turns into a failure as he opens up the fridge, takes out a container of leftover fried rice and heats it up on the stove. The moment he does turn on the fire though, she recoils, making a point to stay away from the ignited fire.

He stirs the rice in the pot with a wooden spatula, putting a hand over the food to see whether it's been thoroughly heated up. "We had an early breakfast today because we had to get ready for our jobs. We wanted to wake you up but it seemed that you were really too deep in your sleep, so Yunho cooked the rice and left some portion for you. Try and have a taste; if it's not to your liking I can whip up something else for you. Cooking's not exactly Yunho's forte."

He takes one spoonful of rice, waiting by the stove with his arm outstretched to feed her. She hesitates as she eyes the fire, careful not to get too close. As she's on the side where she has to pass the fire to get to him, she decides to circle the island to appear behind a bemused San. Quietly, she taps his shoulder and he turns around, almost dropping the rice on the spoon from the fast turn.

"Why did you take the long way just to come here? You were literally right in front of me."

"Just because."

"You're really cute, do you know that?"

Her hands fly to her face, covering it and she's becoming pretty sure that her hair is not the only thing that's red. "Wait stop, don't speak anymore. I'm not used to this much attention; I might melt if you compliment me again."

"Alright, I won't say it again. Come on, try the fried rice and see if you'd like anything else." He pushes the spoon into her mouth and her eyes widen as soon as she tastes the fried rice. Looking panicked, he asks, "Is it that bad? I swear if Yunho gives you food poisoning-"

She flaps a hand and slaps it onto his chest, tears appearing at the corner of her eyes and looking like she's currently choking on the food. She shakes her head before forcefully swallowing it, pouring herself a cup of water and gulping down the contents in less than a few seconds. She sticks out her tongue before flapping her hands again directed towards it. After she has calmed down, she takes a deep breath and he looks at her, concerned, the spoon in his hand held like he's ready to beat Yunho up with the cutlery.

"That was freaking hot," she breathes.

"Thank you," he automatically replies, before his lips purse. "I mean- sorry. I should've cooled it down for you first," he bares his teeth in an awkward smile. "So is the fried rice edible?"

"It is, but I don't think it's going to be anymore."

"What do you mean-" his nose sticks up in the air, sniffing furiously as he smells something burning. Smoke starts to fill his vision and the whole kitchen; he curses loudly then yelps as he cuts off the gas supply. The aftermath is disastrous; the fried rice is stuck to the bottom of the apparently non-stick pan, the whole area is engulfed with light smoke and both of them are coughing as San throws open the windows, waving his arms around to chase the smoke away.

Under normal circumstances, she would be crouching, her body shaking as the smoke envelopes her body, imagining disastrous things the fire would do to her and feeling her chest constricting as her tears well up.

Under this circumstance though, she feels amused watching San runs around the kitchen with a wet towel, hissing as his hands touch the burnt pan and exclaiming that Seonghwa will kick his butt for doing this to his kitchen.

For a moment, she forgets the pain and trauma she associated with smoke and fire, the feeling drowned by the amusement as she sees San trying his hardest to air out the smoke.

The smoke has visibly thinned but he is already exhausted, his limit of getting the kitchen back to its previous state spent. He manages a weak smile to her, his dimples making her forget that they just had an accident that could've burned down the whole house.

"Well that went well," he says. "I know that we have 8 other people in this house but they don't have to know about it, alright? Let me cook something else for you." His tone makes it sound like he's about to bribe her with food, though she has no intention of doing so in the first place.

She giggles looking at his embarrassed face, in which he later beams as she keeps on laughing, unable to stop especially since they are still shrouded in smoke, making the scene look like they're in a noir film.

"Byul, what would you like? No fried rice please, because that seems to be a very bad idea." He bangs the pan against the side of the trashcan, the veins on his hands and temple popping up as he tries to pry away the stuck rice. He opens the fridge, notes what's still inside and nods. "Since we now have 10 people in this house who eat like monsters, it's natural for the raw materials to be used up fast. We're left with... eggs. How about some scrambled eggs? I can do that much."

Receiving no disagreement from her, he whips out another pan, breaks two eggs into a bowl and beats them up, with her looking at him in slight wonder from the side. Without tearing his attention away from the eggs, he enunciates, "Am I that good-looking you simply can't look away?" He pours the eggs before scrambling it with a spatula, puts away the bowl and leans against the counter to face her.

He catches sight of her looking back and forth from the fire to him as she shrugs, "I can't cook so I always appreciate it when other people do."

He turns off the fire, lifts up the pan and serves the scrambled eggs onto a plate. "I'm not that of a great cook but I can survive. It's easy once you learn though, we can learn how to cook together." He wiggles his eyebrows as he presents the plate to her.

"It's not that I don't want to, but I can't," she emphasizes as she takes the plate from him. She goes over to the island to sit down to eat and he sets down a cup of water for her before taking a seat next to her. "I mean I wish I could learn but..." she trails off as she munches on the scrambled eggs.

"Am I allowed to ask or is it something that you don't want to talk about?" He does notice her flinching as he turns on the fire, but he didn't want to push it onto her so he decided to pretend to be clueless.

Her eyes fall to her hands, still bandaged, but underneath it she could feel as if the scars are contracting. The scars on her back too feel tight, as if someone is squeezing and pulling her skin apart at the same time. At times, the old scars would feel like fresh wounds, and they come together with the exact pain she experienced as she acquired them.

"I feel like I won't be so calm if I were to talk about it. Since I've cried and fainted multiple times ever since I got here, that wouldn't be such a good thing to bring up."

"Understood." He reaches out a hand to pat her head out of habit, but stops himself and silently chastises himself for almost touching her. Luckily, she didn't notice. "Plus, if you're ever hungry just call any one of us, except Mingi. Please don't let him cook any food or even brew coffee for you. He almost killed us all when he brewed coffee one time."

She chuckles, amused.

"I'll be here if you ever feel like talking or if you decided to pick up a pan one day. Until then, I can wait."

"Thank you," she says simply, but in her heart she muses, if I'm still here until then.