Chapter 6 SECOND APPEARANCE

"Penelope!" I was woken by a loud banging on the door outside.

So I jumped out of bed, exited the room, and proceeded to the living room even though I hadn't properly washed myself up. I'm quite familiar with those boles, and I can't be a turtle in front of her.

"Aunt Loling?" I asked as I pushed open the door. She raised an eyebrow at me for no apparent reason until I realized what she was doing here. "Wait a minute, I'll take my cash upstairs."

"Cash?"

I changed my stance about going upstairs when I heard her burst out laughing.

"That's not why I came here. And there's still a week before the payment is due. I simply wanted to let you know that someone's going to rent the other room. He'll be your board mate," she stated.

I scratch on my nape. "All right," I said as I watched her walk away before closing the door and yawning.

Today is Sunday, as I recall. I'm not at school, and I'm also neither working today. I glanced at the little living room's surroundings.

I just found out that I will have someone to be with starting tomorrow, after living in this location for a half-year without anyone occupying the other room.

When I noticed the mess that I'd made last night, I grimaced. One of the couches beside the wooden table is broken. I stepped into the kitchen and noticed the heaps of laundry, as well as the empty pitcher on the dining table. I may be overly cautious when it comes to reading and other things, but when it comes to housework-if it's a subject, I'd probably fail it. That's why I went with the Office Administration course instead of Journalism because I couldn't afford it.

I want to be a journalist, but Harbor University does not offer a journalism program. There are alternative institutions, but most of them are private and the admission is exorbitant. Harbor University is my sole option because, despite being a private institution, I passed the scholarship exam. That's why I've always been anxious about my academics since if I fail, I'm sure even my scholar would vanish.

I shook my head and opted to do the dishes. I need to tidy the house before tomorrow. I'm not sure what kind of person I'll be living with, whether artistic or sloppy like me.

I'm not even sure if it's a girl or a boy, and I'd rather be ready so that whatever that person is doesn't have to say anything.

After cleaning the apartment, I walked straight to my room to clean myself, because, aside from not having a class or work, today is one of the most important days that I will never forget.

I intend to return to that location. Remembering that day three years ago still gives me a pang in my chest.

I had to ride the tricycle for half an hour before I arrived at my destination. The flowers I'm holding lost some of their petals as a result of the tricycle stumbling on the uneven road. But it gives me a sense of accomplishment when I've already entered the cemetery.

Because it was now noon and the sun was sinking, I decided to get an umbrella. I put my bag pack in the location where I had picked it up and began going down the path to my mother and father's grave.

When I found it, I smiled bitterly. I noticed their grave was a little dirty, so I decided to clean it up before I sat down.

"How are you? It's your third death anniversary, and I've made it to second-year college; I hope you're proud of me, Mom, Dad." I'm not accustomed to sharing a tale about my life because I find it dull, but every time I travel to this spot to visit them, I'm used to talking stories about things. Apart from the fact that no one is interested in my life story, I also have nothing to say.

I don't have any friends; however, some want to be friends with me, but I'm not sure if they can tolerate my attitude. I'm too boring to have somebody alongside me.

Is it because I'm modest that when I'm with someone, they'll be spit on because I rarely talk? Maybe that's why I write stories: to say what I want to say; to be who I want to be; to spice up my monotonous life; to live the life I want.

I sighed and reached for my bag, which contained a book I could read. Whenever I travel to see them, I always bring books with me. I want to spend more time with them, so I carry a book to keep me entertained and to bury my head in reverie.

When I couldn't find the book I was supposed to read in my bag, I couldn't help but grimace. The only book I've seen inside my backpack was Russel's novel. I slapped my forehead. Why this story of all the books? I sighed deeply and lay down on the grass, using my bag as a pillow.

Well, I believe it will be worthwhile for me to devote my time to this. Thursday night was the last time I read it. I miss the characters, particularly Liam.

***

Russel was sitting comfortably in his swivel chair inside his office when the door unexpectedly opened.

"Hi, Russell!"

He quickly set straight when he recognized who had entered his office. "What are you doing here, Gwen?" he asked, which elicited a chuckle from Gwen.

"Am I not allowed here then? Your mom told me to check on you, so how's your first day of work as the new owner of this company?" Gwen then approached his table and sat on the couch next to him.

He boringly glanced at her, thinking about how much he despises her presence. He had no choice but to entertain the woman because it was his mother's favorite.

"Fine. Perfectly fine. I can manage everything. No need to check on me."

Gwen's brows furrowed slightly. Although she was used to Russel's haughty demeanor, it was one of the qualities she admired most in a young guy.

"I see, but then your mother-"

"I'll go have a nap," Russel said as he got up from his seat and went out of the office.

It was late at night, and he couldn't help but feel sleepy and drowsy. To be honest, his first day stinks; he just doesn't want to show it to the girl because he'll probably tell his mother about it.

If he could just do what he wants, he'd probably just walk around, go to all the party bars, flirt with a lot of girls, and go anywhere he wants. Why is he his father's and mother's sole child?

Rather than entering his unit, he went to the rooftop to finally relax. He frequently hangs out here when he has nothing else to do, especially when his friends come to visit.

The cool breath of the air greeted him as he lay on the long sofa where he used to sit and sleep. Clouds and stars greeted his gaze at those moments, and he couldn't help but sigh.

He occasionally believes that his life is dull. Things happen just clockwise.

Even though he was the topnotch in college next to Liam, he can't deny that he still has no idea what the true trend of life outside is like. He doesn't know what he wants in the future; perhaps it's because they're wealthy and he doesn't need to find out whether he wants it. After all, he may have it all by spending his money: women, a mansion, businesses, and everything else. The advantages of wealth.

***

Because of what I had read, I couldn't help but think. How else can I make his life interesting if he feels it's dull with those things? Going to school, working, eating, resting, and then back to the beginning. If his life was dull, then how about mine compared to him?

He lacks appreciation in my opinion. He already has everything; if he gets bored of having fun with money, he might as well use it to benefit others. He does, after all, spend a lot of money. And if I were in his shoes, I'd probably do what I'm thinking. What good is my wealth if I don't use it to help those in need?

When I felt sleepy, I yawned. Maybe I'll just finish this later. For the time being, I'll sleep first.

"Tsk. Her again?"

My brow wrinkled as I felt someone adjust my spectacles. My hand crawled to find what it was when I slapped on something.

I opened my eyes only to see a hand poised to touch my spectacles. I slipped only because of the familiar gaze of the man in front of me, who, like me, stumbled slightly on his lip as I stared at the owner of that hand.

His blue hair was battered by the afternoon sun, but I was more taken with the sheer closeness of his face to mine, prompting me to slap her face away.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled as if it had been the most painful slap in his entire life.

I instantly arose from my supine position and went away from him. I couldn't help but raise my two brows as I looked at him, who was now resting on the grass. He's dressed in a white long sleeve tucked over his black slacks.

"You again? Admit it to me, who are you? Last time I caught up with you in my room, and now you've followed me here?" His brow furrowed as I spoke those words. He didn't appear to believe what I was saying.

"Tsk. Don't make too many assumptions. You're not that appealing to stalk, and I never want you to appear in my dreams, especially since I still remember what you did to me in the first

place."

Am I hearing it right?

"Are you on drugs or something? When else has a dream become a reality?"

The drawn bewilderment on his face earlier just got worse after I stated that. I just ignored it and swiftly grabbed my backpack and the book.

"Don't follow me, or even show up in my apartment without my permission; I might even be obliged to call a cop and send you to prison," were the last words I muttered before walking away from him, but it was before then that I first looked at the red book I was holding.

Not in my usual mind, I opened the book pages where I last read it, but then folded it afterward. Maybe I'll just give it to him when he's able to accomplish something in his life and won't bother me again.

"You know what? Just take this-" I turned to my back and was ready to hand him the book when my lips parted slightly and I paused when I discovered there was no one else in here except for myself.

I looked around, but I couldn't find a man dressed in white long sleeves and black slacks. With furrowed brows, I looked down at the book I was holding.

My first memory of him rushed through my mind. I don't want to believe it because it's so unlikely, yet... His appearance and demeanor... He has a similar appearance to Russel.

My heart raced for a moment before I attempted to leave that location.