Seonghwa's Memory

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2017

Goh Hotaek was anxious.

All day, he had felt as though he was being watched; watched by something that wasn't there.

And it was driving him crazy.

* * *

Seonghwa watched silently from the opposite rooftop as the man he could see clearly through the window sat at his desk, writing feverishly in a notebook. He had long, wrinkle-less fingers – though they weren't quite at their prime – fingernails cut short primly and neatly. The man looked no older than forty, and his neatly slicked-back greying hair was slowly starting to become undone. He pushed his gold-framed glasses up his nose, and took a moment to pause and stretch, before returning to his work.

Seonghwa shuffled around a little, and adjusted himself, letting one of his long, slender legs rest in a crossed position beneath his torso, whilst the other was bent at such a position so that his arm was able to rest upon it. His foot, resting flat on the floor and clad in a shiny, black, knee-length boot, tapped out a long, drawn-out rhythm against the concrete roof. His face stayed blank and indifferent as he stared into the window and watched the merchant go about his business.

The two men stayed like this for a while more, both doing their respective jobs – though one wasn't aware of the other.

Occasionally, the man in the window would look up, an alarmed look in his eye, and look out the window, only to find nothing there.

Seonghwa kept watching, his body still and unmoving; seemingly relaxed, but ever-tense and waiting for the right moment to pounce. A black cat, watching a rat in its nest under the illusion of safety.

The sunset was warm and ripe; a perfect time for blood to bloom.

* * *

Hotaek got up and stretched, his ageing bones tired from the excessive paperwork he had received that day; big things seemed to be happening on the money market. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Mr. Goh tensed, momentarily petrified, as he remembered the unsettling and peculiar feeling of being watched he had felt all day.

"C-come in," he said, his voice heavy with suspicion and fatigue.

The door creaked open, slowly and ominously. Hotaek gulped. A black boot stepped forwards and...

"Mr. Goh!" came the enthusiastic and familiar voice of an overexcited young employee. Jeon Somin, his mousy brown hair bouncing with him, bounded inside. "Sir!"

"Oh. It's you," Hotaek said with a sigh, slumping back down on his faded red leather office chair. The chair squeaked in protest as it sagged a couple of centimetres closer to the floor.

"What's wrong sir? You're very pale," Somin asked with concern, his brown puppy-dog eyes widening worriedly.

"What? No, it's nothing, Somin. Nothing to worry about – I'm fine. Just tired, that's all."

"Are you sure, sir?"

Hotaek paused. Was it worth sharing his fears and problems with a mere 16-year-old?

Well, it was worth a try.

"Actually..." Hotaek started hesitantly. "Do you know that feeling when...you feel like you're being watched, but there's nothing – and no one – there?"

"Yes, I do, sir. Why do you ask?" The puppy-like boy stopped and considered for a moment. His eyes lit up in realisation a second later. "Oh! OH! Sir! You've been feeling that way haven't you?!"

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