COMFORT PLACE | bang chan.

[ 01 ] safe

It's been thirty minutes since I waved goodbye to my cousin and left her house. Thirty minutes of walking down constant dark streets and taking unnecessary turns.

The man behind me has been following me for thirty minutes.

I'm terrified, as what I assume everyone would be in this kind of situation. I knew I should have taken Nao's offer on letting her drive me to the train station. After noticing that there was a strange man following me, I took so many turns that I have no idea where I am now.

The blurry image of a map presented on the screen on my phone doesn't really help. There are tears forming in my eyes, causing my phone to seem nothing but a blurry light as it sits in my shaking hands.

I should call somebody, but there's absolutely no one to call. It's half past nine in the evening and Nao would probably be asleep by now as she's got a job interview the next morning.

To top it all off, the rest of my friends and family are on a two hour bullet train trip away from here. Tokyo is such a big place and all I want to do is return back into my nice, warm apartment back in Osaka.

I hear the man breathing heavily behind me, his steely gaze piercing right into my back. I try my hardest to suppress a shiver and I try not to make it obvious whenever I wipe a tear from my face.

It's empty. Why is this part of Tokyo so empty? All I see are drunkards wandering the streets and people rushing home so quickly that I can't get a hold of them to help me.

That's when I turn a random corner and I nearly heave a big sigh of relief at the sight. Just down the street, under the dim light of all the street lamps, I see a group of people. I don't really think about it, all I know is that these people can probably help me and I instantly jump at the opportunity to get away from the man behind me.

I rush over, my heartbeat in my ears as I approach the first person I see. I notice absentmindedly that they are all wearing masks, so I don't really see their faces, but I don't really care about that.

All I want is to be safe, safe, safe.

Before I could latch onto the man and try my best to subtly let him know I'm in danger, I'm stopped by two other men. They put an arm between me and the man I was going to approach, glaring at me and telling me off.

My heart freezes because the syllables and words falling from their lips sound unfamiliar and different. They're not speaking a language I understand — they're speaking Korean. I nearly freak out at the thought.

I instantly sink into myself as they wave me off, and even with the language barrier, I can still tell that they are telling me to walk away.

I feel the stalker distantly staring into my back, and that's when I start to get desperate. I finally begin to process the scene in front of me, realising that there is a filming camera and a few people on their phones with books and tablets.

I notice that there are about thirteen people present. A man with a camera, two women with bags and two other men — the men who stopped me from approaching another man. The camera seems to be filming the eight other men in front of them, and I then notice that I have seemed to gain their attention.

I must have stumbled into an important film session of some kind, but I don't really care. I need to get away. I want them to help me.

"Please help me," I tell them in my second language. When they don't respond, my heart sinks. Despite that they don't understand Japanese, I'm at least a little relieved when they seem to notice the fear in my tone.

I try not to make it obvious to my stalker that I'm asking for help. I don't want him to approach me whatsoever.

By now, I think I have the whole group's attention. I notice the men who are being filmed are subtly looking over, but they're still interacting with the camera and to each other. It kind of looks like they are live streaming.