#i will have no skeleton making a mockery of our good movement!

[malicious-spellcaster-420]

What could a wizard possibly know about 420?

you, a skeleton with no lungs, come into MY TOWER and ask what the old men with robes and beards and fireballs could possibly know of 420?? BEGONE FROM MY REALM, FOOL.

[247krp]

— Rejoice, little lambs! We have recovered our own Chae Soobin, spotted prancing about in the Northeast Side. I remember seeing her with The Outsiders back in high school, but I’m not here to spill yesterday’s tea. So straight to the rundown: can you say ruthless and manipulative? Apparently now she spends time as a childcare teacher at Little Stars Childcare Centre, and keeps skeletons buried at Bukdong Apartments, 201. But those won’t stay hidden for long, if you and I have any say on it. Welcome back, Cinderella; we missed you so.

TW: mentions of murder, death, animal abuse, manipulation

In case you don’t remember the devil’s name, here’s to refresh your memory:

she appeared almost as if out of thin air, one of the few on a scholarship to cheongnam who actually needed a scholarship to be there. cheerful, friendly, and clearly intelligent, she spent most of her free time tutoring others for a little (or a lot) of cash, dividing the rest between her friends and home. cinderella, they called her, the poor girl who rose quickly through the social ranks through seemingly accidental connections and her perfect prince charming. the nickname, as innocuous as it was, was always a reminder of her “humble origins”, nothing more than a putdown or a quick know your place.

she didn’t need to learn to fight back against the mockery, refusing to be ashamed of the fact that she needed financial assistance or her more-than-humble background. she would carefully display her bright-eyed, bushy-tailed persona in front of the teachers, even as she got into arguments almost daily with the “royalty” of cheongnam, trying to tear them down. she thought of herself as the people’s champion, more than any cinderella ever could, and fought oh so valiantly against the injustices she thought she saw.

happily ever after didn’t come for her, or her prince; it’s a spiteful, prolonged break up, the instigator watching from a distance. it’s not shame, but something like it that breaks their group apart, even though they still spend time with each other in twos and threes, it’s never the five of them all at once. the halls whispered of cheating and manipulation and heartbreak.

they were right, but they’ve got the wrong person.

Nevermind the memory lane though, the present is always the ripest fruit:

she spends most of her time at the childcare centre, daybreak to dusk, staying late when parents can’t make it, and doesn’t complain. her parents have retired from running the place and so she’s stepped in to replace them both; she’s well-liked by the children and their parents for her ever-smiling nature and forgiving rates. with her painfully long work hours, she rarely has any free time, but when she does she makes sure to make the most of it. most people know her as the nice, smiley girl who works at the childcare place – friendly but bland for the most part, and easily overlooked.

but there’s always something disconcerting about her kindness, even if you can’t quite put your finger on it. it’s not the smile, no, or the way she holds out her hand to steady the elderly lady in front of her. it’s the purposefulness of her actions, the way she seems to do everything for a reason, most of them unknown. then again, you must just be imagining it, for what could a childcare teacher have to hide?

But we are nothing if not open books – my job is to ensure you get to the best pages:

she kills a puppy when she’s six. it’s an accident, everyone agrees, because she cries.

she hadn’t cried immediately. she’d just been curious how far she could squeeze the little one, hands tightening over the thin neck, wrinkly folds of skin. a soft snap, and suddenly there was no movement. then there were questions, loud ones, angry ones, soft ones; the confused, worried faces of the teachers who couldn’t understand why she was so calm, so she cried and they let her off straight away, ushering her to the side with kind words and tissues pressed into her small hands while she sobbed.

she only wanted to see how far she could go, the thrilling terror of the moment. she hadn’t understood what she was doing yet.

—

her parents are caretakers, running a small childcare centre, and they see to it that she’s loved and surrounded by friends for the early parts of her life. education is important, they instil in her, it’s the only thing that’ll help you other than money,and they send her to numerous classes in an attempt to give her the best.

she scrapes into a scholarship suggested by her teacher in middle school, as an attempt to lessen the financial burden on her parents. it’s a good, sound method of ensuring her studies continue, so she applies for a million and one scholarships for high school and succeeds in getting into cheongnam high.

—

she kills a boy when she’s seventeen. not literally, of course, but she sees the light go out in his eyes all the same.

a poor prince charming, they called him. he was popular in the way of good-looking nice boys, and she liked the way he smiled at her. she was not in want of suitors herself, but he seemed the best, and she claimed him. there were others in the school like them, the plebeians hidden in the corners of the school, and she stole them into her own, held in the palm of her hand. she resisted the urge to squeeze, and focused on the people outside instead. and for a while, she did.

she basked in the whispered praise, quiet admiration almost tangible in her grasp. it was too late when she realised her hands had closed over him.

the affair started out small and unassuming; the girl had whispered to her, tipsy, that she’d never been kissed, despite the beautiful rich socialite tag that trails her, and she’d swooped in as if on impulse to press their lips together. she doesn’t tell him, or anyone else, about the kiss, and their first date, or the second, or how it fell into a fortnightly affair. this was how she limned squeezing, the dropped hints and obvious lies. she had two human beings in her hand, and they were warm in her palms.

it would be prolix to show how she squeezed, or for how long she did; suffice to say they eventually broke. the spell had shattered, and she was ready to love either of them back, or both, even, but the end had been a two-way event, and neither of them wanted anything to do with her. the other three decided to leave, too; not all at once, nor immediately, but she’d succeeded in pushing them to the precipice and espied the exact axis at which she ceased to be worthy of love.

—

the aftermath is simple. the rumours know three names, and they’d come to a conclusion that she doesn’t correct. it was his fault, everyone agrees, because she cries.

—

humans are much more fascinating to squeeze; she likes seeing what they would do when she presses on them, to please her. she’s learnt that there are so many ways of making use of a person, far more than there are ways of kindness and generosity, and the beauty of humans is that they are far less fragile than a new-born puppy, and far more adaptable. the contortions she can tease out of a single human being delight her.