KING

一 16

"What's your name?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.

He was fidgety, eyes darting all over the carpeted floor, not looking at her. She swallowed, wincing slightly as a jab of hot pain flared in her throat, before pressing the pen to the blank sheet of paper as she scrawled the answer to his question, hands trembling.

Kim Rina.

She extended her hand towards him, eyes on his hands, that shook ever so slightly as he took the sheet of paper, the hue of his skin matching that of the white sheet in his hands.

He didn't look at the answer at first, almost as if he knew what was written there, and instead chose to rest his gaze on her.

His eyes were a small window to the inner turmoil he was facing. Rina thought that if she was standing any closer, she would be able to stare right into his soul, see the waves of curiosity, terror, disbelief and uncertainty that pounded relentlessly on the shores of his stability and sanity.

He let out a breath through his mouth, and dropped his eyes to the paper.

His expression smoothed over, a ripple of calm passing over his features as he raised his eyes back to meet hers, this time the windows closed, thick curtains drawn over the fragile glass.

But there was a chink in his facade, which she could see in the way he nibbled at his lip, as if he was nervous, in the way his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. She could see the gears turning in his mind, hands crushing the edges of paper with his tight grip.

And then he whispered, "Where were you all this time?"

It felt like a punch to the gut, all breath escaping her lungs in a single breath, her lips parting as she struggled to draw in breath. Johnny took a step forward, lower lip trembling. "Do you remember me, Rina?" He asked, swallowing.

"It's me," He whispered.

She didn't want to hear it. She didn't want the scenarios in her head to be true. She didn't want those awful yellow flowers in her chest to have another reason to thrive, but she couldn't stop herself from watching as he pressed the notepad into her hand, eyes glassy.

"It's me," He repeated. "Youngho."

Time stopped. She could feel the seconds freeze, grains of sand trickling in an hourglass stopped in motion, as she stared into the sincere eyes of the man in front of her claiming to be her dead brother.

The brother she had admired for all her life, the one who's body she had clutched, cried, screamed and wept over as she denied all evidence he was dead despite being the one to caress his cold face as he lay on the forest floor.

Her mind used to wander in the prison, daydreaming about how one day he would come to rescue her from the cold cell she had been imprisoned in, but she'd quickly kill all fantasies with the knowledge that he was dead, gone, forever.

How dare this man give her hope?

She snatched the notepad, taking a step back as her nostrils flared, and she made sure to give him a glare so heated she wished he would burn and crumble to ash then and there.

Do not joke about that, you bastard.

She wrote, shoving the notepad into his chest, making him step back in surprise as he read her reply. "I-I'm not joking," He said, looking at her, and she could begin to see the signs of desperation on his face. "I wouldn't joke about this, Rina."

She shook her head, anger bubbling in her veins as she turned around, grinding her teeth so hard she was afraid she would break them, but it didn't stop her from continuing to do so. Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she took in deep breaths to calm herself, before deciding this wasn't worth her time.