PROLOUGE

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❝ a million one,
a million two.
a hundred more
will never do

You glare down at the pamphlet in your hands with the utmost animosity, your expression warped with distaste as if you had just bit into something sour. Before you are able to burn holes through the paper, you look up to see the smiling faces of your parents, who seem overjoyed at their supposedly brilliant proposal.

Gyeongju Correctional Summer Camp. Otherwise known as a three month long prison sentence that caters to bands of delinquents, the mentally challenged, and those who failed their courses due to intolerable behavior. And among all of these people, you, undoubtedly, are not one of them. You would actually consider yourself a good student, if anything; you follow the rules, you mind your own business, your teachers like you, and you get average grades that are enough to get you by. But no amount of all-nighters could have prepared you for this—no, this was completely unexpected.

"Honey," your mother starts slowly, her tone gentle and even as if speaking to a toddler. "We just want you to experience new things and meet new people. You're only wasting your youth by holing yourself up in your room like you always do." Your father nods in mindless agreement, completely captivated by your mother's words.

Your lip quivers. You want to scream, holler, and stomp around in protest like a spoiled brat that's just been scolded. You want to tell them it's not fair that they're sending you off to go be miserable at some juvenile prison during your summer break while everyone else is busy sun-tanning, traveling, and having fun with their friends and family. You want to tell them that you don't deserve this punishment, and you want to scream in their faces that you're running away and never coming back.

..But you don't. Instead, you take a deep breath, put the pamphlet down on the coffee table, and excuse yourself. There's no use in arguing with them—you know this fact much too well. If there was anything more stubborn than a mule, then it was your parents. Once they've made up their minds, there's no convincing them. And because of this, they may be the main cause of your demise.

Ignoring your parents' pleads, you hustle up the grand marble staircase and down the hall to your room. Your hand trembles as you grip the door handle, and you hesitate for a moment before swinging the door shut so hard that a picture frame falls from one of your lavishly decorated bedroom walls. You shuffle towards your cluttered desk where your phone lays and you pick it up, ready to tell your friends the awful news.

to SEOUL QUEENS:
you guys won't believe this.. my parents
are making me go to that stupid summer
camp in Gyeongju.

lee jae rin:
OMG are u fr?? i feel soooo bad for you

kwon ji yeon:
LMAO sucks to be you!! 😂 hope you don't get shanked or drop the soap

park do han:
^truuuee. that's like literal prison. I hear some kids get extended stay if they don't behave properly.

lee jae rin:
RIP [name] hahaha

You sigh heavily and set your phone back down. Why did you even think it was a good idea to seek solace from them? Of course they turned it into some stupid joke. They were no better than the rest of the privileged kids that attended your school—all airheads with no common ground except for the fact that they were all wealthy and could afford to eat hanwoo beef for lunch. If nothing else, then that was good enough for them. If you are completely honest with yourself, you aren't sure if you even have any true friends.

If by some miracle this camp becomes beneficial to you, the only thing you want out of it is a friend; even that may be asking for too much. But you hope and pray until you drift off to sleep, your fallen picture still on the floor and resentment still fresh in your heart.

You sleep through dinner time that night but, as always, your parents are too busy with late night business meetings to come home and eat with you. If there is one thing you won't miss, it's the gaping pit in your gut that reminds you of the emptiness that blankets the house most days, along with the sound of housemaids, who are home more often than your parents, tidying up downstairs.

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