RED STRING || 1

Chapter six.

SEULGI WANDERED INTO her modest room, seeking solace from the lingering tension that had enveloped her throughout the day like a heavy, oppressive fog. The grand mansion, with its vast rooms and opulent decor, often felt like a gilded cage to her, a place where the weight of expectations and harsh realities pressed down upon her spirit. Yet within this sprawling estate, her tiny sanctuary remained the only corner that felt remotely like hers-a fleeting refuge where she could momentarily escape the chaos that surrounded her.

As she entered, the familiar scent of her own belongings enveloped her, a mixture of lavender and the faint aroma of aged wood. Her gaze swept across the room, landing on a small, worn teddy bear sitting forlornly on the shelf. This simple toy, with its soft, frayed fur and button eyes that had seen better days, held an immense sentimental value that transcended its humble appearance. Seulgi picked it up gently, her fingers brushing against the fabric as memories of a distant, happier time rushed back to her like a wave crashing upon the shore. This bear wasn't merely a toy; it was her anchor, a tangible reminder of innocence and comfort in an increasingly tumultuous world.

Meanwhile, Irene was walking past Seulgi's room, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished floorboards. The door was slightly ajar, and an insatiable curiosity tugged at her, compelling her to peek inside. What she saw made her roll her eyes in exasperation: Seulgi cradling the teddy bear as if it were a priceless treasure, a sight that seemed absurd to Irene. "What's so special about that old thing?" she thought to herself, a mix of disdain and bewilderment swirling within her. Unable to resist, she stepped inside, her movements cautious but deliberate, like a cat stalking its prey.

"Seulgi," Irene said suddenly, her voice sharp and cutting through the silence like a knife. "What are you doing?" The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken judgment.

Startled, Seulgi turned, clutching the bear tighter to her chest as if it were a fragile secret. "Irene! I... I was just looking for something to play with," she stammered, her heart racing as a rush of panic surged through her.

Irene's eyes narrowed, skepticism etched across her features. "What's that in your hand?" she asked, stepping closer with a predatory gleam in her eye, her curiosity now piqued and mingled with irritation.

"It's nothing," Seulgi replied hurriedly, instinctively moving the bear behind her back, desperate to shield it from Irene's prying gaze. But Irene was not easily fooled; she could sense the tension in the air, the unyielding desire to uncover whatever it was that Seulgi was hiding.

"Don't lie to me," Irene shot back, her tone icy and unforgiving. "What are you hiding?" She pointed accusingly, her posture radiating a mix of dominance and impatience, her curiosity morphing into a fierce determination to unveil the truth.

Seulgi shifted awkwardly, her resolve wavering as she tried to keep the bear out of sight while Irene continued to close in on her. However, Irene was relentless, circling her like a predator cornering its prey, and the more Seulgi dodged, the more Irene's suspicions grew, bubbling beneath the surface like a pot left to boil over.

"Let me see!" Irene demanded, lunging forward with the force of a tempest.

Before Seulgi could react, Irene's hands were upon the bear, and in an instant, a brief struggle ensued, each of them pulling at the toy with increasing force and desperation. "Let go!" Seulgi cried, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger, her heart pounding furiously in her chest.

"Why are you so obsessed with this stupid thing?" Irene shot back, yanking harder, her frustration palpable as she wrestled for control.

And then, in a heart-stopping moment, the sound of fabric tearing echoed through the room, halting them both in their tracks. They froze, staring in horror at what they'd done. The bear lay in two pieces, its stuffing spilling out like the aftermath of a battlefield, a once-cuddly companion now reduced to a mere shadow of its former self.