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The dim light of a lone light bulb hanging from the ceiling flickered at the end of a dark, narrow corridor. The old floorboards on the floor creaked with a pitiful squeak under the cautious, quiet footsteps. The rubber soles of old sneakers left muddy, damp footprints on the dark floor, stretching down the hallway and stopping at the rickety door to his room.
A familiar female voice barely breaks through his thoughts, coming from the other end of the corridor, addressing him, calling him, saying something, but he can't make it out. Looking down at his feet, Jongwoo examines the muddy footprints of his shoes, looks at the small key he clutches in his fingers. He slowly turns his head and catches a greedy glance.
"What are you looking at, you fucking pervert?", Jongwoo hisses under his breath, not even sure if he'll be heard.
A soft laugh makes him turn around to look at one of the twins, who looked like disgusting rats that were poking their noses everywhere.
"He called you a pervert," the other man's giggle is irritating, making me clench my fists and feel the sharp prongs of the key digging into my pale skin.
Yoon slowly backs away from his door, craning his head up to see the paint hanging in husks and the numbers sloppily nailed on. With his teeth, he grabs his lower lip, biting it weakly, peeling off the dry crust of a fresh wound that has barely had time to heal. With the short nail of his index finger, Jongwoo scratches the skin on his thumb, clings to it, scratches it, tries to tear it off, even though he feels a painful burning sensation. He brings his finger to his lips, catches the skin with his teeth, and pulls, grimacing as he tears off the skin near his fingernail. Bright red blood stains his lips and Jongwoo spits on the floor, at his feet.
He sways, rolling from heel to toe, still clutching the metal key in his fingers, its sharp teeth digging deeper into his palm. The light of the lone light bulb at the end of the corridor blinks several times until it goes out, and the corridor is plunged into sticky darkness.
"Oh, dear!" Madame Bok-soon claps her hands, and her piercing scream makes Yoon jump in place and shudder. "Wait, I'll get everyone some candles," Jongwoo hears her slow footsteps echoing off the walls of the dark corridor, making the floor creak and bend pitifully.
His whole body is petrified, filled with lead, and he feels that even if he really wanted to, he would not be able to take a single step. Yoon stares meaninglessly into the darkness in front of him, puts his palm on his door to steady himself on his weak legs, and counts the seconds.
One. Two. Three.
There are no sounds of Madame Bok-soon's footsteps, nor her usual chatter, chanting, or strained laughter. Instead, Jongwoo listens to the stranger's breath, which seems to be getting closer and closer, about to touch his temple, cheek, neck, and the cold blade of the kitchen knife that the pervert holds behind his back, to enter his ribs. The other man's whisper sounds like a loud scream, and Yoon turns his head to where the twins' room was, listens to their quiet conversation, but he can't make out the words. He hears nothing but this rat's disgusting laughter.
Jongwoo feels his fingers begin to tremble, and the key slowly slips from his hand and hits the wooden floor between his legs with a resounding thud. A desperate sob escapes from his chest, and Yoon reaches for his phone with cold, trembling hands. With difficulty, he pulls it out of his pocket, taps the screen twice with his index finger, presses the unlock button, but the screen in front of him remains as black as the surrounding corridor. It turned off, running out of power. Jongwoo hoped in vain for even one pitiful percentage to find the key and open the damn door.
Another sob escapes his chest at his own powerlessness, at the way his knees buckle in fear of those who are now hiding in the darkness of the long corridor of Eden. Jongwoo rests his forehead against the door in front of him, clutching the phone in his fingers and barely holding back the shameful sobs that are tearing from his chest.
For a moment, everything stops, and Yoon listens only to his own rapid heartbeat until he hears a door creak somewhere to his left.
"Madame Bok-soon?" his own voice trembles on his lips, sounding raspy and weak. "Madame Bok-soon, is that you?" Jongwoo asks hopefully and sobs shamefully again, putting his hand over his mouth. - "Did you find the candles?" Yoon mutters through his palm, but he doesn't hear an answer.
Another man's stinking breath touches his temple, and the blade of the kitchen knife he imagined seems to touch the fabric of his soaked shirt. He is going to be killed. He is about to be killed.
Jongwoo pushes an invisible shadow away from him, slams his left shoulder into the wall, and feels the air cut by the blade of a knife above his head. His legs don't obey him, but Yoon stubbornly moves them one by one, trying to escape the shadows in the darkness, until he hits the wall at the end of the corridor, where a lone light bulb hangs from the ceiling. He turns to the right and, holding his arms out to the side to walk in the darkness, he sees the faint movement of the dim light in the kitchen.
A pale face, covered with bizarre shadows from the dancing candlelight, emerges from the darkness, looking at him with eyes as black as the surrounding darkness, and barely visible thin lips stretching into a bizarre smile.
"Moonjo," Jongwoo breathes out in confusion, his voice trembling, and his cheeks damp with the treacherous and shameful tears that Yoon allows to fall from his eyes. - "Moonjo," he sobs desperately and presses himself into the other man's warm body, clutching the soft fabric of the black raglan on Moonjo's back in his trembling fingers.
A wide palm rests on the back of his head, damp from the street rain, stroking his damp hair, combing through the short strands. Warm fingers slide down his neck, burrowing under the thin collar of his wet shirt, and pull him close, letting him snuggle in, hiding from the surrounding darkness in the faint, dim light of the single candle Moonjo holds.
"You look scared, baby," his warm breath tickles his temple, blowing his damp hair lightly.
The other man's raglan is covered with dark spots of salty tears, crumpling in Jongwoo's clinging fingers as he insistently pulls Moonjo closer to him, wanting to hide behind him from the shadows that haunt him in the dark.
"What are you afraid of, Jongwoo?" Moonjo whispers in a low voice, and his voice echoes inside Yoon's head, reverberating in his thoughts. - "Are you afraid of the darkness?"
He touches his cheeks, and his thumb wipes away his tears, smearing wet, candlelit paths down his face. Jongwoo sobs, holding his head up to look into his eyes, which are dark as two black beads. Is he afraid of the dark? What scares him even more is what he can't see in the darkness of Eden's long corridor with its single, wobbly light bulb hanging from the ceiling.
Before Jongwoo can say a word, a light breeze blows the candle out of Moonjo's face, returning him to the devouring darkness. His heart is pounding in his chest, crashing against his fragile ribs. His breath catches and a strangled sob escapes his chest once again. Other people's footsteps seem closer, rat-like laughter fills the kitchen, darkness engulfs Yoon, and he desperately clutches at Moonjo, sobbing loudly.
"Don't let them take me, don't let them take me," Jongwoo mutters under his breath, rubbing his tears harder on the other man's raglan.
There is a soft click behind him that makes Yoon flinch. The burning darkness parted before the light of a lone bulb at the end of the corridor, before the dim glow of the kitchen ceiling lamp.
"Jongwoo," someone else's deceptively gentle voice says, and a warm hand touches his cheek.
Yoon lifts his head to look at Moonjo, barely able to see him behind the veil of his own tears that have just begun to dry. He looks around timidly, but sees not a soul behind him. Only the cheerful, mocking voice of Madame Bok-soon comes from the kitchen doorway.
"Oh, dear, I completely forgot that I hid all the candles in the kitchen. My head is full of holes," she says with a laugh and, taking a few candles out of the drawer, shakes them almost triumphantly in front of Jongwoo's nose. "I'll put them in my room, so I don't lose them again."
Jung-woo stares silently into Moonjo's black eyes, unconsciously moving closer to his hand, which is still touching his cheek, his thumb still wiping away invisible tears.
Is he afraid of the dark? No, he is afraid of what those who hide in it are capable of.