Vacant place for death[JENSOO]

19[M]

-Jennie, the door!- I shouted without looking up from my laptop.

It's been a few days since I came to her. And, except for Jiyong, who occasionally visits Jennie and prefers to discuss business behind closed doors in the office, only the intrusive concierge broke our privacy with her. The same tall, well-built, with a dark shock of hair and a professional smile, the cute concierge who handed me the key card on the day of my arrival — Suho.

He came in several times over the past couple of days and, smiling charmingly at Jennie, kept asking if she was happy with everything, if she needed anything, diligently assuring that the Ritz Hotel and he, as a representative, were ready to do everything to make her most comfortable in her apartment.

Like Jiyong, Suho preferred to pretend that I was simply not in this penthouse — communicating exclusively with Jennie and looking only at her. If with the first such behavior was at least understandable to me, then with the second it caused only additional irritation...

Since the morning, my irresistible brown-haired girl has been tormenting the treadmill. She would have preferred to run through the park with great pleasure, and I was even ready to keep her company and repeat my shameful race, but the day before yesterday, after another attempt by Jiyong to insist on a press conference, categorically refused to leave the penthouse and make any statements. And she stubbornly and successfully implemented her decision, not wanting to stop her voluntary seclusion.

And while Jennie was tormenting herself and the simulator, I plunged into the depths of the Internet, studying the documents on the murder of her family, which are freely available. To my disappointment, there was very little data. Either Jennie tried to keep the information closed, or something really very creepy happened that night, which is why the police still did not dare to declassify the available information. Therefore, after several hours of fruitless wandering on the world Wide web, I attracted Lisa to my investigation — she is skilled in this matter. If there is something about this somewhere, she will definitely dig up. However, before agreeing, Manoban shamelessly made me tearfully apologize for my next ugly behavior and swear that I would tell about everything at the first meeting. Knowing a friend, the information she obtained will cost me dearly.

Fluttering down the stairs from the second floor, Jennie threw a towel on the sofa, which she used to wipe her hair wet after a shower, and humming some melody to herself, went to open the doors.

I smiled, looking at all this and experiencing a strange feeling of home. In those moments when we did not have to deal with the consequences of her past, driving Jennie into a protective state of aloofness and closeness — she was an amazing combination of perpetual motion and tranquility. She was constantly moving around the apartment. Whether she was doing sports, cleaning, cooking, reading scripts or talking on the phone with Jiyong or Bona (who is kind of on vacation, but prefers to keep her finger on the pulse) — Jennie almost never stopped, not for a moment. And she did all this calmly, steadily, confidently. Yesterday I spent half an evening just watching how Jennie moves. There was not a drop of fussiness, haste or nervousness in her movements, if she tried to distract herself from thoughts about what had happened in this way, it was difficult to guess about it. According to my observations, there were only two places in the penthouse where Jennie froze for a long time: the loggia, where she preferred to smoke, and me. And in those moments when she was quiet, clinging to me — it seemed to me that I was becoming whole, that I was where I should be.

I hear Jennie opening the door, greeting, exchanging a couple of phrases with the newcomer (judging by the voice — it's the same annoying concierge again), thanking and closing the door. For a few seconds, everything is plunged into peaceful silence.