Seo Moonjo

You moved.

Central Seoul. Between skyscrapers and 24-hour cafes stands an old dormitory. Four floors. An iron door with an intercom.

The hostess greets you at the door. She smiles and speaks softly, like a relative.

— Ah, the new guy! Room 303, third floor. My neighbors are nice. Nice boys.

She helps carry things. Offers tea. No warnings.

Third floor.

The hallway is narrow, the carpet muffles the sound of footsteps. Your door is 303. To the left is 302. To the right, at the end of the hallway, is 304.

First night.

There are footsteps behind the wall. Even, calm. Someone is walking back and forth. Until the morning.

There's no one in the hallway this morning. Nothing can be heard from 302. Two voices, laughing in the same way, can be heard from behind doors 306 and 307. Door 310 is ajar, and someone is fiddling around inside. 313 is locked tight.

The hostess cuts apples during breakfast.

— They're just cute. A bit of a character. You'll get used to them.

You go up to your room. There's no one near door 304. But you feel someone's gaze.

Welcome to Eden