In the Kim household there was unsettled dust. All fifty grand rooms were coated in layer upon layer of dust. The furniture remained in their abandoned places. The sweeping stairways of mahogany were touched only by dust. Chandeliers loomed above the floor, shimmering diamonds hidden by veils of dirt. The hallways were
On the second floor, an ominous click-clack rose. Two glossy black shoes with nine inch heels strode across the wooden floor. The woman was in her early twenties. She was adorned in a fitted black dress that was covered in row after row of tassels.
She addressed herself as Mi.
Mi cast her eyes around the deserted hallway. The dusky make-up of her eyes shimmered. She was displeased with the state of abandonment. Her opinion of those who had fled was that of contempt.
They had surrendered their rights. She refused to. Her title of heiress was entirely her own. She turned to her left and descended the stairs. She made no impact on the dust. The particles refused to move. She glanced down at the entrance hall. The marble floor was unseen.
The silence was haunting. It appeared as though no one had been present in decades. The photographs were indistinguishable. Mi despised those who had fled. That day, however, she was drawn to a collection of photographs.
Their faces were barely visible. Some were marred and twisted by fractured glass. Mi smiled at them. Her right hand lingered a short distance from the photographs. She daren't disturb the settled dust. Her eyes shone with curiosity.
A bright smile flourished suddenly. She stepped back hastily. She turned to her right. Her footsteps returned to the click-clack pace of before. There was a large double door before her. One was slightly opened.