Chapter 3
Sunlight streaked into my room and slapped me right in the face. I grumbled and turned away from the window, but a strange feeling twisted in my gut like a warning bell in a horror movie. Something weird was going to happen—my instincts never lied, even if my alarm clock did.
Dragging myself into the bathroom, I let a cold shower shock my soul awake. Cold showers are like emotional Ctrl+Alt+Delete. After toweling off, I threw on my signature black hoodie, blue jeans, and sneakers. My white hair, which people often mistook for dye or a curse, flowed down my shoulders like silver silk against my dark hoodie. I looked like the edgy side character in an anime, and honestly, I was fine with that.
With one last flick of my wrist, I pulled on my sunglasses, shoved my hands into my hoodie pocket, and left my apartment. Elevator time.
Unfortunately, waiting at the elevator was the very last person I wanted to see—Lee Seo-yeon, the ever-bubbly lawyer. But this time, she wasn't alone.
Standing next to her was a new face: a tall woman with pale skin, sharp features, and long black hair tossed into a chaotic bun that somehow looked like a Pinterest tutorial. She had clear skin, almond-shaped eyes, and the kind of natural beauty that makes you instantly suspicious.
"Morning, neighbor!" Lee chirped like we were besties.
I didn't reply. The elevator doors opened with a *ding*, and a woman rolled out with a stroller holding a baby so cute it could end wars. We stepped in.
I'd already seen more people in two minutes than I planned to see all day. Hopefully, that was it.
When we hit the ground floor, I made a beeline for the exit. It had been a week since I moved in, and I'd spent most of that time indoors, secretly hoping I'd bump into Mr. Almost-Committed-Suicide again.
There was a convenience store on the first floor, but I decided to wander further, hoodie pulled low over my face. My fear of people matched my fear of spiders—irrational, overwhelming, and completely my parents' fault.
Still, I'm a good person. I forgive easily. Even if the trauma's still chilling in my bones.
That weird feeling crept in again, like a cold finger trailing down my spine. I turned around and walked back to the building. But surprise! The elevator was dead. Perfect timing.
I dashed up the stairs, driven by instinct, and as I reached my floor… I froze.
There it was.
I couldn't breathe. My chest locked up. My heart pounded like it was trying to escape. My vision blurred, and all the air seemed to vanish from the hallway. My knees wobbled, and I nearly collapsed.
Then, someone grabbed me and pulled me into a room.
I gasped for air, tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. My hands trembled. My head spun. It felt like my soul was trying to flee my body.
A soft hand gently patted my back. Another hand offered me water. My mind was a foggy mess, but slowly the panic ebbed.
And then I looked up.
Mr. Almost-Commit-Suicide.
No kidding.
He sat in front of me, his expression unreadable as he handed me the bottle. His features were delicate—like a doll sculpted too carefully. Big sleepy eyes, pouty lips, soft brown hair falling over his forehead. He had the face of a baby deer that saw too much war.
"T-Thank you," I whispered, taking the water.
He stared at me like I was the first person he'd seen in years. It was awkward.
So, I did what awkward people do best—I stuck out my hand.
"Han Yoon-ah. Thanks for saving me from passing out and emotionally combusting."
He blinked and stared at my hand like it might explode. He didn't shake it. And I understood.
He was just like me.
Afraid. Tired. Lonely. Needing something—anything—to make him feel alive again.