Ria blinked, her brows drawing together as she squinted and looked around. The dominance of black and white around her made her feel as though she were inside a newspaper.
She rubbed her eyes again and again, but the colors still didn't change. Besides, where was she now?
Her eyes searched the room, though all she could see were shades of black and white. She could tell that she was inside a fairly grand and luxurious house.
A painting of a beautiful woman hung in the living room. Ria stared at it without blinking. The woman's makeup and distinctive updo made her look elegant.
Who was this woman? She didn't know her at all. In fact, this was the first time she'd ever seen her face. It made her mind race, giving rise to all kinds of questions.
Whose house was this?
And... why was she here?
Crash!
Ria jumped in shock. The large door with its antique carvings had flown wide open, the sound deafening. Ria even had to cover her ears when she heard it.
“Answer me!”
A woman with the same face as the one in the painting walked behind a man in office clothes. More accurately, she was chasing him. The two of them went up the stairs.
Ria was slightly startled when the two people casually walked right through the spot where she stood. They didn't even seem angry about the stranger in their house.
Ria began to think of one possibility: perhaps she really was invisible. She chased after the two people embroiled in the argument, reaching for the woman's hand to prove it.
Her hand passed right through.
She covered her mouth, eyes wide with disbelief. It had passed through the woman's hand? What was actually happening? Had she become a ghost or something?
Confused about what was happening to her, Ria decided to follow the two people involved in the argument. They entered a bedroom, and the door closed just as Ria reached it. She raised her hand and was startled all over again when her body easily passed through the door.
“I've told you over and over that we're just friends!” the man shouted at the woman in front of him. Ria had just entered and, startled, immediately moved to the side.
“Friends? Hmph!” the woman scoffed. She looked at the man, whom Ria assumed was her husband, with a crooked smile. She held an envelope or some papers in her hand. Ria couldn't tell; her vision wasn't clear enough.
“What kind of friends stay at a hotel together?” the woman demanded.
“Don't pick a fight, Alia!” the man roared.
“Pick a fight? I just want to ask you something. What were you doing with Citra at the hotel? But your reaction is making me think something else.”
“You're not asking. You're accusing me. Citra and I were just having a meeting. Can you stop it?”
“No! Not until you tell me the truth. What were you doing with that slut?”
Smack!
The slap rang out so loudly that Ria flinched. She saw the woman named Alia collapse onto the bed.
“Don't you ever call her a slut!” the man said, planting his hands on his hips as he looked down at Alia, who was still sprawled out.
“Alia!” the man called. But the woman didn't move.
Ria covered her mouth. “Is that woman dead?” she said as she walked closer.
“Alia, wake up!” the man shouted, slowly shaking Alia's shoulder. At first, he did it gently, but the shaking soon turned into forceful jolts.
“Alia!” he shouted again. “Tsk...” The man clicked his tongue in distress and raked a hand through his hair. He shook Alia's body again and again, but the woman still wouldn't wake up.
“Alia, wake up!”