Chaos Theory

Dunk clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on the bag slung over his shoulder.

Without looking back at Joong, he pushed the heavy door open and stepped out of the room - the cold air of the corridor hitting his face instantly, helping him cool down the burning embarrassment still lingering on his skin.

Outside, a woman in a sharp, clean uniform was waiting at a small desk.

She looked up, smiling politely, as if she hadn't heard or seen anything that just happened inside.

Without a word, she extended a small, sleek keycard toward him.

Lady (formally):
"Room 2107, Tower B.
Your belongings have already been sent upstairs."

Dunk took the key from her silently, his fingers brushing hers for the briefest second.

He gave a curt nod - no smile, no thank you - then turned on his heel, heading toward the elevators.

His steps were quick, almost desperate, as if he could somehow walk away from the weird, heated moment that had just happened behind that door.

Dunk (thinking, scowling):
"Stupid club. Stupid rich boy. Stupid everything."

Dunk stood there for a moment, the crowded elevator doors sliding shut in front of him .

He looked at the wide staircase just a little further down the hall.

Dunk (thinking stubbornly):
"I'm not squeezing into that tin can with all those people."

Without another thought, he slung his bag tighter and made his way toward the staircase, pushing the heavy door open.

The cool air hit him immediately - quieter, emptier, definitely better than the mess he'd just left behind.

He climbed up, taking the stairs two at a time.

First floor... second floor... third...

By the fifth floor, his legs started burning.
By the eighth floor, he was breathing harder, his shoulders aching under the weight of his bag.

Dunk (gasping slightly, annoyed):
"What the hell was I thinking...?"

He paused at the landing, hands on his knees, glaring up at the endless flight of stairs still left.

He thought about his dignity. He thought about his pride.
And then he thought about the fact that he was going to die before even reaching his dorm.

Dunk (gritting his teeth):
"Screw it."

He decided to change plans - he would get back into the elevator when it stopped on his floor.

By the time Dunk dragged himself to the ninth floor, his legs were shaking, and a fine layer of sweat clung to his back under his jacket.

He stopped by the stair railing, panting, looking up at the endless climb still ahead.

Dunk (thinking, exhausted):
"Only idiots try to act cool with the stairs."

He heard the faint ding of the elevator stopping a few feet down the hallway.

Without a second thought, Dunk slipped through the door and into the hallway, blending in as a few students got off the elevator.

He waited until the crowd thinned a little, then casually walked toward the next elevator arriving, acting like he had been there all along.

The doors opened with a soft chime, half-empty this time.
Dunk finally stepped inside, pretending nothing unusual had happened.

He leaned against the back wall, fixing his expression into something calm and unreadable - but inside he was already dying of embarrassment.

Dunk (thinking sarcastically):
"Survival first, pride later."

As the elevator moved up toward his floor, he caught a glimpse of himself in the elevator mirror - slightly flushed, hair a little messy.

He fixed his jacket, straightened his posture, and closed his eyes to ignore the couple whispering loudly next to him.

The elevator dinged again, and Dunk opened his eyes just in time to see the glowing "21" above the door.

He adjusted the strap of his bag and silently stepped out, the soft carpeted floor muffling his footsteps.

The hallway was long, clean, and ridiculously luxurious - golden lights on the ceiling, expensive-looking paintings on the walls, and the faint scent of something fresh and expensive in the air.

Dunk (thinking, unimpressed):
"Is this a dorm or a five-star hotel?"

He glanced at the keycard still clutched in his hand.

Room 2107.

Dunk set off down the hallway, counting the room numbers.
2101... 2103... 2105...

Finally, he stood in front of 2107, a sleek dark door with a tiny golden nameplate.

He hesitated for a second, feeling the weight of everything that had happened today - the interview, the stupid rules, Joong's cold eyes, the crazy security check - and now this.

He swiped the card.
A soft beep.
The door clicked open.

Dunk pushed it slowly, stepping inside-

And froze.

As Dunk stepped inside, his breath caught in his throat.
The room was... breathtaking.

High ceilings with glass chandeliers, a huge window wall showing a glittering view of the city skyline, a king-sized bed with snow-white sheets, and even a small living area with a plush sofa and a private study desk.

There was a walk-in closet and - was that a marble bathroom with a bathtub big enough for three people?

Dunk slowly closed the door behind him, staring in disbelief.

Dunk (thinking, deadpan):
"Maybe losing my phone and my freedom isn't that bad after all."

He tossed his backpack onto the bed and flopped down, sinking into the impossibly soft mattress.

A small tired smile tugged at his lips.

For the first time that day, he felt a little victorious.

Dunk:
"Finally".

Thank you for reading! I'd love to hear your thoughts-please leave a comment below. Stay healthy and take care!

<3