42. Fetching the Danger

Starla entered her apartment, carrying a small bag of groceries. She closed the door behind her with a relieved sigh, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. The familiar scent of her home—a mix of lavender and fresh linen—greeted her, providing a sense of comfort and security after the brief but tense trip outside. She glanced around the cozy living room, taking in the soft, warm light filtering through the windows, which cast gentle shadows on the walls adorned with framed photos and art pieces.

"Lucky nothing bad happened to me," she murmured to herself. Her voice echoed softly in the quiet apartment. She unpacked the groceries methodically, placing each item in its designated spot with a sense of routine. The clinking of jars and rustling of bags broke the silence, grounding her in the mundane tasks at hand. She took out a new bottle of shampoo from the bag, its fresh scent promising a soothing shower, and headed to the bathroom.

As the warm water from the shower cascaded over her, Starla leaned against the shower wall, letting the water wash away her tension, but her mind remained preoccupied with thoughts of Ha-neul. The rhythmic patter of water on the tiles created a calming backdrop, allowing her mind to wander. Her thoughts drifted to Ha-neul, his warm smile and the way his eyes lit up when they talked.

She remembered their walks through some places, the laughter they shared over dinner, and the comforting silence when they simply enjoyed each other’s company. His presence had become a soothing balm to her often hectic life, and the idea of him leaving felt like a looming storm cloud on the horizon. Today, Ha-neul was busy with work, which meant they couldn't meet. She felt a pang of longing for him, especially knowing that he wouldn't stay in London forever and would eventually return to Seoul.

"I understand his situation," Starla muttered, her mind playing back moments they'd shared. The memory of their last meeting, with its easy conversation and shared laughter, brought a small smile to her lips. "But I wish we could spend more time together while he's still here."

She knew Ha-neul's visit wasn't just for her but also for his job, and she had to accept that. The thought of him leaving filled her with a bittersweet mix of emotions—gratitude for their time together and sadness for its inevitable end. She found herself torn between being happy for the moments they could share and anxious about the uncertainty of their future.

In the moments alone, like now, with the shower’s steam enveloping her, she felt the weight of her feelings more acutely. Her mind wandered to the future, imagining scenarios where they could make their relationship work despite the distance. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, but the thought of not trying at all was unbearable.

After a few minutes, Starla stepped out of the bathroom, fully dressed with her hair wrapped in a towel. The cool air of the apartment felt refreshing against her skin, contrasting with the steamy warmth of the bathroom. She walked to the kitchen, took some bread from the fridge, and placed it in the oven. The hum of the appliance and the scent of baking bread added to the homely atmosphere, providing a comforting routine. With that done, she returned to her bedroom and continued working on the novel she was writing.

Starla's bedroom in the afternoon was a cozy and inviting space. Soft light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm glow on the wooden floor. The room was neatly organized, with a comfortable bed against one wall, a desk cluttered with notebooks and pens, and bookshelves filled with her favorite novels. A small potted plant sat on the windowsill, adding a touch of greenery to the tranquil atmosphere. The scent of her favorite lavender candle lingered in the air, creating a peaceful ambiance that contrasted with the turmoil of her thoughts.

Settling into her desk chair, Starla opened her laptop and began typing, the rhythmic clicking of the keys providing a temporary distraction from her concerns. Her novel had become a refuge, a world where she could control the outcomes and find solace in the stories she created. Yet, even as she immersed herself in her fictional characters' lives, the image of Ha-neul's smile, the sound of his voice, and the warmth of his touch kept intruding into her consciousness.

A few minutes later, Starla glanced at the wall clock and smiled. The soft ticking of the clock seemed to synchronize with her thoughts, reminding her of the passage of time. She got up from her desk, stretching her arms above her head and feeling a satisfying pop in her joints. Her manuscript lay open, the latest chapter waiting to be completed, but her hunger demanded attention first.

She walked to the kitchen, the gentle light of the afternoon casting a warm glow over the tidy space. The aroma of freshly baked bread filled the air, bringing a sense of homeliness and comfort. Starla opened the oven door carefully, feeling the heat wash over her face as she pulled out the tray. The bread was perfectly golden, its crust crispy and inviting. She placed the loaf on a cooling rack, the sizzle of escaping steam filling the room.

Starla reached for a knife and cut herself a generous slice, watching the crumbs scatter on the countertop. She could feel her stomach growling in anticipation. Just as she was about to take a bite, the doorbell rang, its sound breaking the peaceful silence of her apartment. The chime echoed through the space, causing her to pause mid-action.

Starla set the bread down and wiped her hands on a nearby towel, a sense of curiosity mixed with mild irritation bubbling up within her. She wasn't expecting any visitors, especially not so soon after returning from the store. The doorbell's sudden intrusion disrupted her quiet afternoon, and she couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance.

"Who could that be?" she wondered aloud. She hadn't been expecting anyone.

As she walked towards the door, her mind raced with possibilities. Perhaps it was Luna, dropping by unexpectedly, or maybe it was a neighbor needing something. Despite her logical explanations, a knot of anxiety tightened in her stomach. The memory of Nick's letter and his ominous presence still lingered at the back of her mind, but she pushed those thoughts away, focusing on the immediate task of answering the door. She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm her nerves.

"It's probably nothing," she reassured herself, hoping to dispel the unease that had settled over her. Slowly, she turned the knob and pulled the door open, her heart beating a little faster than usual.

When she opened it, she was shocked to see the man who had earlier mistaken her unit number standing there. The dim hallway light made his features appear more menacing, and a chill ran down her spine.

"Why are you—" Starla began, but before she could finish, the man shoved her forcefully back into the apartment. Her head hit the wall, and she lost consciousness.

"You're mine now," he muttered under his breath, his eyes gleaming with a disturbing mix of satisfaction and madness. The man stepped inside and shut the door behind him, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

The apartment, which had been a sanctuary of peace and quiet moments earlier, now felt like a trap closing in on Starla. The air seemed to thicken with a sense of impending doom. The man took slow, deliberate steps towards her, his eyes never leaving her unconscious body. Her hair fanned out around her head, and her face was peaceful in unconsciousness, a stark contrast to the violence that had just occurred.

The man began to strip off his clothes, his movements methodical and unhurried. There was eerily silent, the only sound the soft rustle of fabric and the man's heavy breathing. He reveled in the control he felt, the power he had over her in that moment.

Just then, the door suddenly swung open, a burst of light and noise disrupting the sinister quiet. The man turned, his expression shifting from smugness to surprise. Before he could react, a hard object collided with his head, the impact swift and brutal. His eyes rolled back as he crumpled to the floor, unconscious. The object clattered to the ground beside him, the noise echoing in the now still apartment.

The stillness that followed was profound, the silence only broken by the sound of Starla's shallow breathing. The tension in the air gradually dissipated, replaced by a strange calm. The intruder lay motionless, a dark pool of unconsciousness. Starla, oblivious to her savior's identity, remained unconscious, her mind drifting in a sea of darkness. In the doorway stood a man, his face a mask of concern and determination.