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| Korean Words meaning |

Still none, lol.

Anything in regular font = Korean

Anything in Italics = English

Anything in Bold = Spanish

Anything in Bold & Italics = Any other language besides Spanish, Korean, or English

*Was May ???, Now ???*

As my consciousness teeters on the edge of sleep, the sudden creak of the floorboards snaps me awake. Bongseon stands in the doorway, her diminutive frame casting a silhouette against the light filtering into the room. Her eyes hold a strange blend of conflicting emotions, a cocktail of turmoil veiled by a veneer of cheer. It's an eerie sight that sets my heart racing just a fraction faster.

In a swift reflex, I propel myself upward, unwilling to remain prone and vulnerable in her presence. There's an unspoken understanding—trust has no place in this twisted scenario. She raises one hand, a gesture reminiscent of a soldier signaling truce at the brink of battle. "It's okay, it's okay." she chimes, her voice adopting a soft, soothing tone—a façade she wears in the company of others, intended to calm like a handler taming a skittish animal.

Moving gingerly, almost as if choreographed, she advances into my space, my current sanctuary, until her presence forces me to retreat further onto the makeshift bed. Her movements convey a sense of caution, as though she's worried I might pounce at any moment. It's ironic; I'm the one feeling cornered, as if I'm the danger she needs to keep at bay.

I resist the instinct to lunge at her, to unleash the pent-up fury and desperation that swirls within me. Instead, I sit there, anxious and quivering, observing her every move as she stands by the doorframe, tray in hand. "I'm not here to hurt you. Just thought you might be hungry." she says, her composure unshaken. Her other hand, not free, holds the tray—a neat arrangement of delicate crepes, adorned with powdered sugar and cherries, accompanied by a glass of water.

With a gesture meant to assure me, she lowers herself, the raised hand a visual signal of peace. Yet, it feels as though the roles are reversed—that I'm the untamed force she's trying to placate. I can't help but entertain visions of attacking her, of seizing my chance for freedom. But such thoughts remain just that—thoughts. I remain rooted to my spot, trembling with unease, my eyes never leaving her until she retreats, softly closing the door behind her, a peculiar decision to leave it unlocked, but I'm too preoccupied to contemplate why.

Im exhausted. I wonder if it's due to my ailment, my forced ailment that is. It has been three days since I was brought up in this room. Nothing much has really changed since except Bongseon hospitality had changed significantly. I never saw her much before but now food was always brought to me on a schedule, three times a day, all day. Bongseon had not physically hurt me or gone mad with sanity since my near-death experience. Whether it's a strategic move to prolong my ordeal of captivity and torment, or a prudent decision stemming from a reluctance to add a murder charge to the existing accusations of abduction, her motives remain shrouded in ambiguity.
I don't see her much either, which I cant tell is better or worst. I hear her a whole lot though.

Her footsteps seem to drag by my doorway. I hear the hush whispers during her hour-long phone calls that I can't make out. Her late-night tv shows are a lot less muffled and easily clear to hear through the thin walls. I hear her when she sings in the shower for precisely thirty to thirty-two minutes every morning on the dot before she is quick to make me breakfast and places it gently on my floor or small desk before quickly heading out of the house not returning till hours later. It baffles me someone like that, in a situation she is in is so carefree and not at all scared to leave their hostage in their home and go out and live their life as if there isn't a person locked up in their care. I don't ever question her about her absence though, I never really wish to talk to her more than I have to and as of late she is always trying to chat with me.

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