The insistent chirping of Eunji, his eight-year-old sister, sliced through Junhwo Lee's sleep. "Junhwo! Umma wants you to wake up for school! It's your birthday!" Her voice was muffled, punctuated by the rhythmic chomping of what sounded suspiciously like rice.
"What time is it?" Junhwo mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He cracked open one eye, the morning light assaulting his vision.
Eunji, a whirlwind of youthful energy, had already vanished, leaving the door ajar in her wake. Ughh, that little demon. He thought.
His room was, as usual, a disaster. Socks lay strewn across the floor like fallen soldiers, shoes were scattered haphazardly, and the duvet lay in a crumpled heap. The air hung heavy with the scent of teenage boy – a potent mix of sweat and something vaguely resembling laundry detergent. Junhwo groaned, the sight of the mess further dampening his birthday spirits.
His gaze landed on a discarded pair of his underwear on the floor, a small smile briefly touched his lips. He stood, his movements sluggish, and headed towards the bathroom, the need for a shower outweighing his general disgruntlement.
After a quick, refreshing shower, he descended the stairs, the scent of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee pulling him down. His parents, their faces etched with the warmth of a loving family, greeted him with hugs and happy birthday wishes. Eunji, cheeks still stained with rice, presented him with a lopsidedly drawn card.
He grabbed a quick sandwich – ham and cheese, his favorite – before heading out the door. As he stepped onto the street, the crisp morning air kissed his face, chasing away the lingering sleepiness.
In the distance, he spotted Ha-jun Nam, his best friend, already waiting. Ha-jun, tall and lanky with a perpetually mischievous grin, approached Junhwo. "Happy birthday, man! Ready for another year of dodging homework and surviving Mrs. Kim's history lessons?" Junhwo chuckled, the sound momentarily chasing away the lingering remnants of his grumpy morning.
"Let's hope so. This sandwich isn't going to dodge itself, though." He took a large bite, the taste momentarily distracting him from the day ahead.
Together, they started their walk towards school, their conversation a mix of casual banter and the unspoken anticipation of whatever the new school year would bring.
The morning air crackled with the energy of students heading to class. Junhwo and Ha-jun, deep in conversation about last night's soccer game, barely registered the figure hurrying towards them until it was too late.
A collision was imminent. A flash of pink hair, almost unnaturally vibrant against the drab school uniforms, caught Junhwo's eye. The boy, who looked like he'd stepped straight out of a K-pop music video, stumbled, his books scattering across the pavement.
Junhwo reacted instinctively, grabbing the boy's uniform to prevent a fall. His fingers brushed against something hard and metallic beneath the fabric at the boy's waist. Was that...A knife? The thought jolted through him.
"We're sorry! We weren't looking where we were going…" Ha-jun began, his apology trailing off as he noticed a small group of girls swarming around them, their eyes glued to him.
"He's just pretending he doesn't know him," one of the girls giggled, her voice laced with thinly veiled sarcasm.
"That's Ha-jun Nam from B-class, right?" another chimed in, her tone bordering on adoration.
The pink-haired boy, seemingly unfazed by the sudden attention, sighed gently. "Hey, don't be so mean, they said sorry." He said politely, disarming gesture. "Eeeeek!! Please give me an autograph!" One of the girls squealed, as Jinoo reached into his bag and pulled out a pen.
He signed something on a piece of paper one of the girls offered him, his composure almost unnervingly calm given the situation.
Ha-jun, visibly irritated by the girls' attention, tugged Junhwo away, muttering something about avoiding fangirls. Junhwo, however, found himself unable to shake the image of that knife hidden beneath the boy's uniform. His unease lingered as they walked towards their classroom.
The bell rang just as they entered, a wave of students filling the room with a cacophony of greetings and chatter. Junhwo exchanged nods and smiles with familiar faces. Then, Mr. Lee Sanggeul, their homeroom teacher, strode in, his presence instantly silencing the room. Everyone stood, showing their respect.
After a brief moment, Mr. Lee Sanggeul spoke. "Class, we have a new student joining us today. Please make him feel welcome. Meet Jinoo Kim."
The pink-haired boy, Jinoo, walked in, a slight nervousness flickering in his eyes. Mr. Lee Sanggeul gestured towards the empty seat in front of Junhwo. "Jinoo, please take a seat there."
Mr. Lee Sanggeul paused, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed, reaching into his desk drawer. With a dramatic flourish, he pulled out a small, brightly colored box.
With a loud pop, a shower of colorful confetti erupted from the box, raining down on the students.
A wave of happy shouts filled the classroom. "Happy birthday, Junhwo!" Mr. Lee Sanggeul announced, his voice booming with cheer. The class erupted into a spontaneous rendition of "Happy Birthday," clapping their hands and tapping their feet to the rhythm.
Even Jinoo, the new student, joined in, his initially reserved demeanor melting away as he sang along with the others, a small smile playing on his lips.
Junhwo felt a blush creep onto his cheeks. The unexpected burst of celebratory confetti and the heartfelt singing from his classmates, including Jinoo, warmed his heart.
He felt a surge of gratitude. "Thank you, Mr. Lee," he said, his voice slightly choked with emotion. "Thank you, everyone." The warmth of the moment momentarily overshadowed the lingering unease about the knife he'd seen earlier that morning.
The afternoon sun cast long shadows as Junhwo walked home, the happy memories of his birthday celebration still fresh in his mind. He reached his house, a small, two-story building nestled amongst others on a quiet residential street.
But something was wrong. Immediately, he noticed the front gate stood wide open, a stark contrast to his mother's usual meticulousness. Did mom forgot to close the gate? His heart skipped a beat. He cautiously approached the house, his footsteps suddenly hesitant. The front door hung ajar, a chilling invitation into the unexpected.
He pushed the door open, the hinges groaning a mournful protest. The familiar scent of home was absent, replaced by a heavy, unsettling silence. "Mom? Eunji..? Dad?" He called out.
His eyes scanned the living room, his heart sinking with each passing second.
There, sprawled across the sofa, lay his parents, their lifeless forms a horrifying tableau of violence and death. Three gunshots were on his mother's chest and one on the head while on his father... To unbearable to explain. The scene was jarring, brutal; the color drained from his face as a scream tore through his throat, a primal sound of grief and terror.
"M-mom... Dad..? Eunji..?" Junhwo mumbled as he trembled. A metallic click sounded behind him, "Happy Birthday." a thuggy voice said.