I stared quietly at Woorim Eun’s face. To state the obvious, he looked very different from Yeonseon. Yeonseon’s eyelashes weren’t as long and his nose wasn’t as sharp. Unlike Yeonseon who was a solo artist, Woorim was an idol singer, so he was skinny, but he had a lot of muscle. But then again, his lips and neck were slimmer than those of Yeonseon.

Woorim’s overall appearance was dazzling as expected of a K-pop idol, but his slightly suggestive look stemmed from his gaze and his smile. His smiles seemed to suggest a hidden meaning. His face probably brought about a lot of misunderstandings throughout his life.

At first, I had the strictly average question of why Woorim wasn’t popular. He smiled easily for others and seemed like he had a pleasant personality, so he seemed to be the popular type of person.

I remembered that when Yeonseon went outside, he always wore a mask, hat, and non-prescription glasses. He always complained that being popular was inconvenient.

“You’re quite handsome.”

“…Me?”

I thought he must have heard that countless times, but unlike my expectations, his eyes widened in surprise. I answered firmly in the affirmative.

Woorim made a complex face. It was a weird in-between of not quite glad but also not quite sad. Even so, his cheeks were flushed, so he must not have felt so bad about it. I was relieved. I wasn’t sure what I should say if he had gotten mad about it.

“Do you like this face?”

“A bit.”

“More than Yeonseon?”

I looked at Woorim again. His eyes twinkled expectantly, waiting for my answer.

Whether I liked his face more than that of Yeonseon, or I liked Yeonseon’s face better—whichever answer I chose, I had a feeling he would like either one anyway, so I suddenly felt my mood sour. It was always unpleasant to deal with people who acted like they understood everything about another person, even though they hadn’t known each other for long.

For this very reason, when Yeonseon first tried to talk to me in a friendly way, I was just a bit bothered.

I saw my mother die before my eyes, and after I lost my grandmother, who I had relied on to some extent, I had to move around between my uncles’ homes. To make matters worse, I was an outcast at school. Given my experiences, Yeonseon practically lived in a different universe from me. We just weren’t a good fit for each other. I didn’t know when I started liking Yeonseon.

I also had no idea why Yeonseon liked me either.

I said, “If I could see Yeonseon’s face again, then I’ll answer you.”

“…That would be difficult.” Woorim seemed to have understood the meaning behind my words exactly because he stayed silent for a moment before he replied.

From Woorim’s answer, I could guess at his personality. He was probably completely different from Yeonseon. Just like his dissimilar appearance, his personality, preferences, habits, and past were probably all absolutely different—yet his attitude was reminiscent of when I first met Yeonseon.

I furrowed my brows. ‘A well-maintained holding cage,’ I mumbled inwardly as I threw my gaze to the ground. If I looked up, I would lock eyes with the thing clinging from Hyehyun’s back, which made me want to vomit. After Yeonseon died, my world transformed more than I could ever have imagined.

We arrived at a room with an elevator. The elevator was in the middle of the room. On the wall opposite to the entrance we came in from was an average-looking wooden door. That was probably the exit that we would look for. Everyone seemed to think the same because they stared holes into the door, trying to memorize its appearance.

“Staring is pointless.” One of the staff members chuckled as they approached the door. He opened it and showed us the inside. Beyond the door was darkness without a trace of light. But before that, I saw a flight of stairs. The people around me groaned, understanding what that signified.

“There’s another hallway inside. The door everyone will look for isn’t this door but the door at the end of this hallway. That’s why there’s no point in memorizing this door’s appearance.”

“True, I guess it wouldn’t be that easy, since it’ll take a whole week to film this show,” someone said in a disheartened voice. People’s gazes broke away from the door.

The elevator could only fit six people, so not everyone could ride it at once. People split into groups to board the lift, and the line cut off before me. Hyehyun, who got on the elevator before me, stated that he would be waiting for me upstairs. He didn’t forget to throw a cautious glance at Woorim. What a tedious guy.

Once Hyehun’s elevator had left, I said to Woorim, “…You said last time that you’d tell me if we got closer.”

About the person who dreamed about the mansion with 101 doors.

Woorim seemed to remember because he lightly nodded. “Oh, right, I did.”