#exqusuite

• • • VENDETTA WELCOMES BAEK SUMIN. A 21 YEAR OLD JOURNALIST CURRENTLY RESIDING IN SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA.

Learn More About Her Below ↴ and Find Her HERE.

Sleep. That’s what she lacked. She found himself physically drained from the sudden incidences of insomnia. The skin beneath her eyes were slightly bruised, accompanied by a heavy weight. She could feel his lids drooping, snapping herself out of the daze by continuously tapping the black ballpoint pen on the hardwood table. Sumin’s dark orbs scanned through the sheets in front of her, deciphering the details as her lips met a coffee mug. Nothing seemed to stick out to her, other than the fact that this was just another poorly writing article about an irrelevant topic. Face rollers… I’m a journalist who’s writing about face rollers that prevents swelling… I’ve come so far. Her brows knitted together, scowling with frustration. The less inspiration she had, the more agitated she’ll become. 

Her eyes were now fixated on the computer screen, scanning through newspaper archives, bill summaries, credit and debit card statements—anything that would strike up a topic she could use as her headliner. This isn’t going to work. I need to delve in deeper. Sumin scrolled through the phone records, stopping at one particular number, which seemed to appear several times before her last issue was out. 080-978-5193. That was definitely an international number—probably from Japan. Why had she called a Japanese number? Most of her Japanese friends had already immigrated to Seoul, or to California to pursue fashion. Her burst of curiosity lead her to call the strange number; the receiver answered within two dial tones, but disconnected shortly after. Something was up. She called again, this time the phone was shut off. “Alright, that’s extremely rude, who the hell is this asshole…” Sumin snarled, obviously ticked off. Redialing the number, the operator stated that the number was no longer in service. That wasn’t skeptical at all.

The irritation was delving into her thought processes, causing her to slam all of her journals, notes, paperwork, on the floor. She couldn’t think of anything. And what would she do if she can’t think of a good topic? Pizza. Reaching for her phone yet again, she dialed the number for Pizza Hut, ordering a few large, cheese pizzas—just for herself. What’s a better way to unwind and brainstorm than eating three cheese pizzas by yourself?