Jia’s stomach growled furiously, as she tried to ignore it. She was busily going through some of her course syllabus books for the year.
The truth was that she didn’t know how to cook. The only thing she did know to cook was instant noodles, and somehow she knew that instant noodles weren’t there in the kitchen.
After an hour of trying to fight down the Ghrelin secreting in her stomach, she decided that it’s a lost battle and dressed up to go to eat outside.
She powered up Google, and searched the nearest eatery. Luckily, she found one not far off.
As she walked on the silent road, she realized how much she missed the daily bustle of Singapore, the sweet and fresh air, and the high towers of the Financial District. Most of all, she missed her Spinster Pad.
Seoul wasn’t bad. But it was just not her type. She knew what she was getting into when she had applied for the School, but all she needed was some space to breathe.
After her sister, Mina, had died on-field while working as a journalist last year, the usually over-protective Jina had become almost terrifying. She strangely felt free from her mother’s loving-dictator-like-clutch on her, and at the same time missed her terribly.
She walked over to the deli and ordered for a plate of Pasta with Bolognese Sauce and a glass of Diet Coke to wash it down with.
As she waited for her order to arrive, she played idly with her fingers.
Then when it did arrive, she ate it morosely. This was the first time she was eating her dinner without speaking a word to anyone else.
She looked outside, at the night sky. It was like a canvas covered with twinkling stars. But she immediately turned her head back at her food.
For some strange reason, Lee Jia didn’t like stars. And she’d always felt as though her hatred for star-gazing stemmed from something more traumatic than just a simple childish aversion.
She silently walked back to The Domicile, her house. But something was off. There was a huge Ashton Martin parked right in front of the cranky gate.
She wondered who it would be at such a late hour. Then she realized that it must be Inmate no. 2—one of her two neighbors.
The corridor was pitch-dark. But she heard the moaning sounds. She wanted to call out, but decided not to. She tensed up for a possible fight, as she groped for the switch on the wall, and when she found it, she flicked it up. Immediately the corridor was filled with a soft yellow light.
There were two people pressing against the door beside Jia’s. Then Jia realized what she had walked into.
The boy was the first one to break away from the passionate clutch.
He was wearing a gray beguine coat, and his dark black hair was all mussed up. There was a slight splattering of stubble on his cheeks. He looked more or less like he had walked off from the cover of a fashion magazine. He was not only stunningly, but also dangerously handsome.
The alarm bells in Jia’s head started ringing. She remembered what her mother had drilled into her head ‘Never ever trust a man who’s beautiful. He’ll for sure break your trust into little pieces, strut all over them and laugh while he does so.’
Jia involuntarily stepped back.
The boy’s eyes tracked this movement, and he scowled. He stepped forward, as he demanded in an imperious voice, “Well, who are you?”
Jia’s stomach growled furiously, as she tried to ignore it. She was busily going through some of her course syllabus books for the year.
The truth was that she didn’t know how to cook. The only thing she did know to cook was instant noodles, and somehow she knew that instant noodles weren’t there in the kitchen.
After an hour of trying to fight down the Ghrelin secreting in her stomach, she decided that it’s a lost battle and dressed up to go to eat outside.
She powered up Google, and searched the nearest eatery. Luckily, she found one not far off.
As she walked on the silent road, she realized how much she missed the daily bustle of Singapore, the sweet and fresh air, and the high towers of the Financial District. Most of all, she missed her Spinster Pad.
Seoul wasn’t bad. But it was just not her type. She knew what she was getting into when she had applied for the School, but all she needed was some space to breathe.
After her sister, Mina, had died on-field while working as a journalist last year, the usually over-protective Jina had become almost terrifying. She strangely felt free from her mother’s loving-dictator-like-clutch on her, and at the same time missed her terribly.
She walked over to the deli and ordered for a plate of Pasta with Bolognese Sauce and a glass of Diet Coke to wash it down with.
As she waited for her order to arrive, she played idly with her fingers.
Then when it did arrive, she ate it morosely. This was the first time she was eating her dinner without speaking a word to anyone else.
She looked outside, at the night sky. It was like a canvas covered with twinkling stars. But she immediately turned her head back at her food.
For some strange reason, Lee Jia didn’t like stars. And she’d always felt as though her hatred for star-gazing stemmed from something more traumatic than just a simple childish aversion.
She silently walked back to The Domicile, her house. But something was off. There was a huge Ashton Martin parked right in front of the cranky gate.
She wondered who it would be at such a late hour. Then she realized that it must be Inmate no. 2—one of her two neighbors.
The corridor was pitch-dark. But she heard the moaning sounds. She wanted to call out, but decided not to. She tensed up for a possible fight, as she groped for the switch on the wall, and when she found it, she flicked it up. Immediately the corridor was filled with a soft yellow light.
There were two people pressing against the door beside Jia’s. Then Jia realized what she had walked into.
The boy was the first one to break away from the passionate clutch.
He was wearing a gray beguine coat, and his dark black hair was all mussed up. There was a slight splattering of stubble on his cheeks. He looked more or less like he had walked off from the cover of a fashion magazine. He was not only stunningly, but also dangerously handsome.
The alarm bells in Jia’s head started ringing. She remembered what her mother had drilled into her head ‘Never ever trust a man who’s beautiful. He’ll for sure break your trust into little pieces, strut all over them and laugh while he does so.’
Jia involuntarily stepped back.
The boy’s eyes tracked this movement, and he scowled. He stepped forward, as he demanded in an imperious voice, “Well, who are you?”
