#dalsvn

“it’s so stupid though. don’t you think? i fuckin’ hate it.” it was just the two of them in his store. after hours it was usually like that since hyejung refused to go home, it was how stubborn she was. and besides, he usually had a few things to do before going home. a sigh slips out of her lips, head resting on top of the table she was using to read, a worn copy of some kind of book was now in her view. taking a better look, she lifts up her head and reads the title. “frankenstein.. i’ve heard of this. i haven’t read it.” tapping her fingers against the cover, she purses her lips into a tight line. “i think i’m average looking. so i go through both advantages and disadvantages.”

eyes scanned the backs of the books on the shelves before they stopped and she randomly let her hand reach out and grab a book with a fancy font but a plain background. opening to a random page, she skimmed through the words before she found herself interested and reading the pages, fingers flipping the pages slowly. she hadn’t released that she was reading allowed, let alone that someone had come to the area she was at. dayoung nearly jumped from her skin, heart thudding rapidly against her chest while she looked up at the person who had startled her. she blinked several times in a quick manner, trying to calm herself somewhat. “ o-oh? is that so...? “ was all that she could manage out in her shocked state. 

His brows remain furrowed as he looks down at the book he’d spent the past half hour trying to sell to Moonchul. It seems as though he’s finally considering it, but that could just be the way he’s been admiring the outward beauty of the novel. “Others think I’m spooky...” It shouldn’t come as a surprise. Pale skin, brooding gazes, and to top it all off -- surrounded by items that hold age in its every crack. He should feel rather triumphant at the descriptor, but he knows it’s not good for business. “Fine. Maybe I can be a little bit spooky.” His tone is stubborn, clearly still unsatisfied. It doesn’t take long for curiosity to wipe the scowl off his features, lips curling up at the thought of being talked about in the neighbourhood. With elbows propped atop the counter top, he leans forward, fingers tapping against the edge of the book that leaves a barrier between them. “What else do they say about me? Any interesting rumours?”