"We won't." Deok-Su states. "Those two never leave their side of the building and we're not close at all. We're acquaintances. Probably why the guy didn't trust me when I told him about you. But oh well, too bad." The elevator dinged and Amber's heart jumped into her throat. Oh, God.
"Come on. Let's go to my studio."
They walked across the hallway and Amber watched as Deok-Su waved to other staff members. She bowed to each one of them, showing her respect. The staff working on this floor looked nice enough, albeit a little surprised at seeing a new face.
Thankfully, none of them were part of the group who had sent her to the police.
They approached a translucent door with a classy metal plate ingrained with the words 'RibidK's Well'. Deok-Su stopped at the door, quickly scanning his fingerprint to unlock the door. He worked with the thing for a bit, taking his time to register Amber's thumbprint before pushing open the door.
The place was empty of human presence, which lifted a phantom weight from Amber's shoulders. It was, however, surprisingly larger than she expected and lining the walls were hundreds of technological devices intended for music producing.
Her uneducated mind could only name the microphones, studio monitors and the digital piano. She spied a few guitars and other musical instruments propped up against the wall. Everything else could only be described as boxes and flat rectangles with lots of knobs and sliding bars.
It would have looked really cool if not for the concentrated mess at the very centre of his studio full of crushed paper, loose documents and files. They were stacked over one another in a huge heap and some had spilt over the side forming an avalanche of books, papers and food trash.
The whole pile rose to her knees and flooded over the furniture, consuming the coffee table. Amber stood watching the mess, unable to speak, her eyes widening with her horror.
"Don't you have cleaning service?" She managed to voice out.
Bloody hell.
"Uh..." Deok-Su cleared his throat. "I tell them not to just in case they mess up my equipment."
At the state this place was in, she was surprised the trash hadn't materialised and messed with his equipment by itself. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry over the duality of this room. The area where the equipment laid was well kept and clean. It was a stark contrast to the centre, and supposedly, recreational living space of his studio.
"So, you're telling me...You've been piling this trash up for months."
Amber stepped up to pick up an empty carton of juice, shaking it with a grimace at the sound of sloshing expired liquid. At least the cap was closed.
"Um. Maybe, we should start organizing," Deok-Su hummed, shifting around on his feet.
"I'm just glad you don't have leftover takeout in this trash pile, then we won't have to deal with cockroaches." Amber waddled through the muck.
The guy inhaled sharply and coughed.
"I might have...Some."
"What?" Amber stared at the guy, leaping backwards. No cockroaches up her jeans, please. "Deok-Su! You slob!" She grimaced.
Disgusting, he was creating a whole habitat here. The lack of smell from the trash was probably due to the high-quality air circulation system in the building.
"Sorry," Deok-Su cleared his throat. "Please don't tell my wife..." He coughed loudly. "Let's...clean?"
"YES!"
*
Amber sighed, lifting the buckets and mops as she trudged down the pristine hallway of the company.
The two of them had spent hours cleaning his studio and they had unearthed all kinds of crap. When they neared the end of it, Deok-Su had to run for a meeting with his boss.
On the bright side, at least the guy had helped her to clean his studio despite being her boss. He could technically order her to do it by herself since he was paying her an hourly wage.
Amber had been left to finish up with the cleaning which wasn't that hard. It got kind of therapeutic at this point when she could see the fruits of her labour.
The cleaning helped to calm her frantic nerves of being so close to her soulmates. It got rid of the fears that hammered through her mind. The domestic work somehow made the place feel more familiar and less foreign and she was thankful for that.
It was still a little disappointing that she had yet to meet any of her soulmates.
Amber pushed the storeroom open with her elbow and shoved her body forward. She was met with the strong scent of cleaning detergent as she stepped into the dark room.
Amber blearily inched her way through with small shuffles, just in case she tripped over something. She was familiar with the place. She had been here a few times, going back and forth to get cleaning equipment. And so she was able to manoeuvre around the room in the darkness.
She was fumbling in the dark, putting back bottles of soap and propping the mops at their respective corners when the light suddenly flickered. She was startled by the flood of light, tripping over some chairs when she turned her head back to look.
Her eyes travelled across the room, darting across the furniture. It didn't take her more than a second for her eyes to rest on the tall figure standing at the light switch. Her heart stuttered at the sight of him, fingers moving to cover lips in an automatic response of shock.
Sieon.
She noticed his hair first. His messy bed head that fluffed and curled up at the edges. He was clad in a soft dark green cardigan, casual t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans. Despite the tame getup, there was something dangerously sexy about him.
It was in the cock of his hips as he rested his weight on one leg. The curve of his well-defined jaw that closed in on a heart-shaped face. Maybe it was in the stretch of his t-shirt over his flexing pecs.
His pretty doe-shaped eyes were round as he stared at her in shock, pink lips parting to hang open loosely.
The dangerously beautiful boy before her looked as if he had seen a ghost. His eyes were growing wider by the minute. Then his eyes dipped, lowering into a hooded gaze as his eyes travelled across her skin.
She couldn't help but fixate her own eyes upon his collarbone, trailing over his neck and the bob of his Adam's apples. He swallowed, lips parting as his tongue slowly dragged across the supple muscle. He was staring heatedly at her.
In fear? In shock?
Amber didn't want to give herself hope that he was looking at her with eyes that seemed to say:
Give me that snack!
What snack?
"You—" He began to say, his voice naturally husky, low and sweet. It shot her out of her bewitched daze. The scene somehow felt like a repeat of the one in the toilet.