Let's Kill Her (Book #1)

(ﾒ￣▽￣)︻┳═一(1)

My name is Bae Suzy and I was born in October. When my dad, Appa as I called him, describes how I came to this world, Jeongsan nights were unusually cool that summer, and the day I arrived the tree in front of our house burst with color reminiscent of late fall. He claims the leaves shone so brightly in the morning sun that it looked like our front yard was on fire. Appa also says that's part of the reason I'm obsessed with the forest. I'm not sure there's any connection, but I enjoy the comfort of that story - a reminder of a time when the world was safe and so was my family.

The most bewildering thing about safety - for me - is that it never crossed my mind before. My ex-NIS (National Intelligent Service), now financial manager appa often tells me I'm too trusting, all the while shaking his head like he's shocked that we're related. Which I, of course, remind him is 100% his fault, since I've lived my entire life in the same small town with the same friendly people, who pose about as much threat as a basket of sleeping kittens. Appa argues that I want to believe people are good and that while that's admirable, it's also not realistic. To which I asked him how it helps anyone to believe that people are bad. He claims that having a healthy sense of suspicion prepares you for every possible danger. But until now, it was all a theory. And if I am being honest, even yesterday, with Appa insisting there was an approaching threat to our family, I still wasn't convinced. Nope, there was absolutely nothing that indicates danger in my life until a few minutes ago, when I woke up in this old-fashion . . . medieval-looking . . . lounge?

I frown. A man I'm assuming is a guard stands against the wall next to me. He's staring forward, clearly ignoring me, as I consider the door. I push as hard as I can on the iron latch and even throw my shoulder into the dark wood, but it doesn't budge. I let out a breath from the effort and scan the room. There's a roaring fire in the fireplace and dark red velvet furniture that probably cost more than my house. But there are no windows and the door in front of me is the only exit.

"I know you can hear me," I say to the guard, who so far hasn't answered any of my questions. he's dressed all in black, with a leather belt and leather armbands that put to shame the Roman gladiator costume I wore last year for Halloween. I danced in front of him and even snapped my fingers in front of his face, but he's taller than me and his arms are more muscular than my legs.

He remains silent.

I try another tactic. "You know I'm a minor, right? That you can't keep me locked up in this . . .Uh, well, I'm assuming this is my new boarding school. But what kind of school locks up their students?" Appa told me this place would be different, but I have a hard time believing he meant I'd be trapped in a windowless room.

Suddenly I heard a key slide into the door and it swings outward. My shoulders drop and my hands unclench. Another guard, dressed in the way outfit as the first, gestures me to follow him. I don't waste a second. Unfortunately, the room guard comes, too, and walking between them, I feel almost as cramped as I did in that room.

The guard in front pulls a lit torch off the stone wall and I take inventory of my surroundings - the lack of electricity, the arched ceilings, the heavy wooden doors that has latches instead of door knobs. There's no way I am still in my hometown. This place looks like something out of a documentary I've watched in class about medieval Hanok buildings. However, I find it nearly impossible to believe Appa would sent me somewhere faraway from home and civilization, not to mention be able to pay for it. We almost never leave Jeongseon, much less the country.

As we continue to walk, I notice impressive hanging tapestries depicting knights, royal courts, and bloody battles. It is also dead quiet, no sounds of people talking or cars driving by.

The hall has a distinct chill, and I pull on the sleeves of my sweater over my fingers for warmth. I have no idea what happened to the coat, gloves, and scarf I wore onto the phone; they weren't in the room with me when I woke up. We pass under an archway and climb up a staircase with worn, uneven steps. I count two landings and three flights before we come to a stop in front of a door with iron rivets. The lead guard unlatches it and warm air exits.