Soundbox Studios presents â  SHIN YUNA ( @rkyuna ) â as a Soundbox student. She has been attending Beginnerâs Hip-Hop for 7 months and is a new student for Girlsâ Hip-Hop.
Feel free to ask her for your dance projects!
RKSOUNDBOX is a fictional dance studio made entirely for Rookies KRP and is in no way affiliated with the real Soundbox Studios.
  ă»Â  MBC DANCE CONTEST UPLOAD  ââââ       âș  DONâT CALL ME ANGEL  â
to say yunaâs father had reservations ever since her stint on the mgas was an understatement. sure, yuna had thought heâd get over it sooner or later. but she didnât think heâd be so against it up âtil now -- she was still enrolled at hanlim, a place that cultivated the next, brightest stars on their generation so itâs come to be expected that yuna would find herself back onto her star-filled path sooner than later.
what yuna doesnât expect is her father, in all his not-so-stern glory, sitting her down the day after her birthday with his doubts about the mbc dance contest flyer he had seen loitering by the floor of her bed.
âyou were a wreck after you were eliminated, what if it doesnât turn out the way you want it to again?â
yuna deadpans, a sudden sourness filling her mouth. âwhat -- you donât believe in me, dad?â
it hurts, yes -- to be reminded of her blunder. after putting it all behind her, yuna had thought sheâd been renewed. that after months of contemplating what would be her next step, for this to come falling into her lap just days before her sixteenth birthday, yuna could only deduce it as something called fate.
âitâs not fair for you to be treating me like some baby! jessica and yoona unni were able to send in their videos, what makes me so different?â
just because she was the youngest of her family -- didnât mean she liked being babied. if her own siblings were allowed to join the contest, why couldnât she? her arms stay crossed as she leans further into her seat, staring dejectedly at her father as he stared right back ; grimness filling in the lines that had grown around his face in the last few months.
âi just donât want you to get hurt, yuna.â
âi wonât, i promise.â
not like itâs a promise she can keep -- but she crosses both her fingers behind her back, just in case.
                           ââââââââââ  Â
sheâs not born with it. that is for sure, from her experience at mgas, to revisiting video upon video of her performances, one could tell from one look that yuna had a long way to go when it came to dancing. but it didnât negate the fact that -- despite her missteps and rigid movements -- she looked good. and thatâs what mattered, right?
( at least thatâs what yuna liked to think )
but opinions change and somehow needing something to stimulate her interests back into its right path, she had signed up for some dance classes. to fix the rigidity, to up her visual fluidity and somehow translate it practically into dance.Â
it didnât help that the ahjummas that lived next door would not let her live down the embarrassment that was getting eliminated so early on in the competition. she wanted to be remembered but not for losing. even for yuna, there were some limitations to negative press. and that had been hers.Â
she had grown dim, and while she didnât love the arts, didnât feel any romanticized attachment to it -- she enjoyed them enough to want to still try. a huge sigh as she stares longingly at the advertisement playing right before another one of the choreography videos she watches, mbcâs flashy logo appearing right before the dance contest details and the fast-approaching deadline end the ad.
ugh. there was no choice, was there?
and while she didnât love dancing, nor did she believe it was her god-given birthright to somehow be good at it -- with her birthday coming in just a few days, and the deadline for the dance contest falling close behind -- yuna had to figure out something, quick, before her time was up.
                         ââââââââââ    PRESS PLAY .
she scours the web for a choreography that benefitted her in two ways: befitting of her skills -- figuratively speaking -- and was aesthetically pleasing and powerful enough to make a mark. because if she wasnât remembered, what was the point?
if yuna had a say in what she wanted to portray herself as -- she wanted it to be impactful, memorable and well-ingrained in the minds of her viewers. she wasnât a youtuber by any means. if tiktok or vine counted -- sheâd call herself more of an influencer, than anything else.
but with the few videos sheâs put up, and the following from her other social media accounts, somehow the subscriber list had grown to a point that yuna knew to be anxious for whatever she put up next. as a young girl who made a point to heavily ignore the critics on her comment section, she was also still a young girl with a sensitivity streak that rivaled no other.
( which adds to the reason as to why her father feared for what to come )
but itâs something she canât have weighing her down.
the moment she turns on that camera to perform the choreography she had spent days searching for ( and even a few more learning ) thereâs no turning back.
would this make up for her blunder on the mgas? probably not.
but it was worth a try.
kyle hanagamiâs choreographies are challenging. they require a skill that yuna does not have but she fesses up all of what she can manage in favor of star quality -- and that was just what kyleâs choreographies all held. a spunk of individuality and rebelliousness that yuna felt was so deeply embedded into her own being that even her father couldnât help but agree that it had yuna written all over the steps the moment she had shown him the choreography she was going to cover.
relying on confidence alone was risky but she thinks sheâs improved enough in the last six months to shake the nerves that pelter through until the very tip of her nerve-endings. it wasnât like she couldnât just edit out her mistakes, right?
( or would that be cheating? )
the beat is heavy in the dance room, secluded among the rest as some of her peers loom behind the phone camera to watch her from the screen ; making sure she stays in frame rather than running off the side. itâs happened before when she had tested the lighting ( and while she didnât have any professional equipment, and she couldnât really trust her friends to hold the phone steady enough -- this would have to do ) and found that she wasnât even in frame for the first 30 seconds of the song ( a majority of the choreo considering how long it actually was: if she recalls it was barely a minute ) .
itâs a lot of attitude -- she realizes, as she goes through the motions in her head before she signals for the song to play. itâs a performance of not only her body, but her face and she feels it reflexively stiffen at the sound of ariana grandeâs chorus fading to welcome miley cyrusâs verse.
itâs definitely more sharp moves than any of the other choreographies she had practiced before -- a lot more hitting the beat of the song, never a misstep -- something yuna realizes she does often if she feels herself quickening in pace rather than keeping in tempo.
and unlike exoâs namesake song, yuna had taken ages to make sure she didnât mess up her own tempo with the song. Â
she breathes in deeply right before the beat jumps and sheâs sauntering forward ; fast movements ensue for sharper movements. so fast that she feels the whip of blonde locks against the nape of her neck ( a part of her regrets not tying her hair up ) as she spins and her arms are moving this way and that -- a languid motion sped up to match the rhythm of the song as she crouches then rises.
as fingers run through her hair ; she feels the smile finally break -- the breath in her lungs ripped out of her as sheâs moving from one side of the frame to another. each step bringing another motion to ripple through her features. she grows in confidence as the lyrics finally hit its core -- a nail to the coffin, empowerment stemming from the very breadth of her hair to every smile she flashes at the camera. the haughtiness in her expression running through her fingertips as she moves in the way her girlsâ hip hop teacher had taught them just a week ago -- sensual, but powerful.
it didnât need to be sexy -- not for yuna, no. she just wanted it to be impactful.
memorable.
because wasnât that the point of it all -- just as she turns one last time to face the camera, as the song fades, and her smile is dripping with confidence, chest heaving with the need to breathe --Â
( if she could help it ) yuna just wanted to be remembered for trying.
these days, haruto did find himself struggling to sleep most nights and he didnât quite know why. maybe it was the stress in school starting to build up, maybe it was the fact he still didnât like his new room and wanted his old bedroom and old bed back in tokyo, maybe it was the stress of applying to high schools to attend next year. but, no matter what it was, haru was still awake and watched as the clock ticked over to a nightmarish 3am. he would have to awake for school in a couple of hours and he hadnât even managed to grab a wink of sleep.Â
the walls of his fake home was not very comforting this time of evening, either, and it was rather easy to sneak out and get past the alarm. but he wasnât going to wander far from home, finding himself with his hands shoved into his pockets and hood pulled up over his head to try and keep out the chill. but it was nice out here this time of night, quiet and peaceful, no much traffic in this area and the path lit by the pale moonlight.Â
he really wasnât expecting to suddenly bump into someone at this time of night, so when he rounded the corner and almost walked straight into someone, he was a little surprised. also a little worries as to who else might be out at this time. âsorry!â he almost squeaked, awkwardly bowing in apology, âi didnât mean to.âÂ
Â Â Â Ï Â Â âââ  㻠  㻠   +  stuck in an unknown city is as foreign as it could get.Â
maybe it was the fact that no matter what she did -- this place didnât feel like home. and as much as yuna tried to pretend it did in the face of her fatherâs. nothing felt like home and it was eating at her psyche. friends were easy to come by. most of her classmates were beautiful, funny and talented ; but yuna didnât feel as much of a connection with any of them outside of school and their ambitions. sure, invites to cafes after school were a dime a dozen but did actually going make yuna feel good? momentarily but the after effects were short-lived.Â
itâs after another one of those cafe haunts that she strays away from home. still not having memorized the path to where her home led to quite yet. sue her, but she was a prime example of a generation z who was bad at directions outside of her frequent use of siri and google maps.Â
âoh!â her hand flies to her chest at the shadow. maybe walking in the dark wasnât such a good idea. the squeal, on her part, is mostly tame -- a hand trying to soothe the hammering of her heart on her ribcage. yuna wasnât usually a scaredy-cat but when something just jumps out from the corner ( not like he went and flat out jumped her but still -- ) , not even she could stop the repercussions of her heart. âno -- youâre ... itâs okay, you just scared me.â it didnât help that she had been so focused on her phone and the confusing directions on it that she wasnât really paying attention. âitâs my fault, too ... i wasnât looking where i was going.â
Send me a â« and Iâll put my music on shuffle and write you a drabble about our characters based on the first song that plays! Remember RP karma and send, send, send if you wish to receive!
âi love you,â it was not a line he ever really said and meant it. but this time he was sure it was going to work out regardless of whether he meant it or not, he needed the love back and was willing to say anything to get that.Â
the stray cat continued to sit there and stare at him.Â
jordan pouted, âbut i said i love you, kitty.â he had been following this cat for about half a mile at this point, completely off track from where he was planning on going in the first place and now the only thing in his head was getting this cat to let him pet it. that was all he really wanted, to pet itâs soft kitty head and coo for a little bit. but no, this cat was being selfish and walking away every time jordan tried to approach it.Â
no, he was not about to beaten by some cat. so, one more time he started to walk towards the cat, and as if he hadnât been expected it, the cat quickly stood up and started to walk off again. but this time, instead of following, jordan stopped and sighed, simply shouting after the cat, âwhy wonât you let me love you!âÂ
Â Â Â Â Ï Â Â âââ  㻠  㻠   +   instead of waiting for her father to get her at the school gates, like she was supposed to do, yuna had decided to take the long way home from school. pleated skirts and jacket in pristine condition despite the tiresome day that came with being on campus all day long, she pulls at the wrapper of her lollipop and pops one in. a reward for being what her school nurse had deemed a â brave soul â after taking a hideous fall during one of their routines and getting a gnarly scrap on her knee ( hence the huge bandage bulging from the knee cap that bled a slight ache whenever she took a heavier step than normal ) -- after being patched up and â all new â
hands shoved into the pockets of her school jacket, she continues on her way ; sending a quick message to her father that he didnât need to pick her up ( belatedly, might she add but sent, nevertheless ) as she did. itâs when sheâs texting does she feel the nudge of a cat against her shin, the sudden impulse of touch sending a rise of nerves and a shock through her -- enough to startle a mild yelp and jump. phone slipping from her fingertips to the ground as she looks down at the cat now staring at her ( and was that mild amusement in its eyes? ) as she stared back in shock.Â
pending down to pick up her phone, she jerks her head forward at the yell in her direction. looking from the male ( with his dejectedness and all ) to the cat ; she frowns, confused. âis this your cat?â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Ï Â Â âââ  㻠  㻠   +  @rkkhg  ă»
itâs hard to say yuna is careful with her actions, or her words for that matter. but she does try to wade between blunt and soft at times. in these matters, itâs a clear line of where she draws such a sharp edge when it comes to family. she canât help but be sad that he went on to winning it all and leaving her behind, and she makes no case to hide this feeling -- but at the end of the day, hyunggu is still her cousin. no matter how annoying his snarky face could be, she canât help but actually miss it.Â
unbelieveable, right?
itâs why when she seeks him out -- she makes she she doesnât miss him when she does. knowing where to find him is hard with his schedule, but somehow the cards are in her favor and she finds him just as his schedules let out ( not that she was waiting for him or anything ), â âey shorty,â she says, knocking his shoulder with her elbow. âdad says this is for you and that he misses you.â she holds the convenience store bag ( a single can of some energy drink and some discount bread she thought looked appetizing ) -- its contents not at all bought by herself hidden by the sly excuse of her fatherâs smothering ways -- in front of her cousin. she kicks at the ground, bag swinging from her fingers in front of her as she waits for him to take it. impatience swarming her as she huffs, âtake it already, okay! itâs for you, what are you waiting for?â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Ï Â Â âââ  㻠  㻠   +  @rkyeji  ă»
yuna knows better than to bother her friends. but what can one do when all her friends were busy being absolute rockstars and you were left all by your lonesome? thatâs right -- yuna had the absolute right to bother them, didnât she? she couldnât very well leave well enough alone, thatâs for sure. and there was no way she was going to be left in the dust of her friendsâ success. no, yuna had to be up there with them.
unfortunately, the stars were not aligned and she was still a dozen or so steps behind them. it was a jealousy that had yet to rear its head but it was there and yuna was ignorant enough to feign nonchalance. ( at least this was what she would tell herself late at night )
and while she could be a bother, they would never say that to her face -- would they? yuna thinks not. ( no sheâs not referring to herself in the third person, sheâs not that far gone, yet ) but she settles for crumbs of their time. little hours on the weekend, a few texts here and there but there are just some days that yuna just really misses her friends. itâs to a point that the moment that yeji walks through the door of the music shop her grandfather owned, yuna is hopping over the counter and running up to the older girl; arms wrapped tight around her shoulders as if she hadnât seen yeji in years if not decades by the way she was acting.Â
âugh, unnie -- never leave me again. i miss you too much,â she says, albeit dramatically, a near-whine in the otherâs ear as she stamps her foot to make a point. whatever point that was, yuna was sure sheâd find it later.Â
thereâs a lot of his mind when he steps out of training that night. a lot of thoughts sifting through his headâ decisions and worries. itâs a hard day, mentally and physically, and yoongi is spent for the most part. heâs ready to say goodbye to the day and bring on the next oneâ and as heâs finishing up a much needed cigarette (he tells himself heâll quit soon, just that today is an exception), when a shout hits his ears, yoongi freezes, eyebrows furrowing as he looks around slowly.
he doesnât see anything at firstâ but he doesnât look that hard when the collision of something hitting the wall near him, and then splattering all over him. itâs wet, and thereâs flakesâ a little sharp at first and then they disintegrate. it smells like an egg and yoongi is floored for a moment in sheer, utter confusion.
and then heâs yelling.
âwhat the hell?â he blurts out loudly, shaking his head and attempting to pick out the pieces of egg shell and yolk that are clinging to strands of his hair. he grimaces, and his feet take him forward, peering around until he finds a girl, and he scowls. âwhy are you out âere throwinâ shit 'round?!â
just when she grabs for another egg, the yell from the side startles her. whirling around, she catches sight of the result of where the first egg had fallen and the aftermath. so, maybe her aim isnât the best but she definitely didnât think the splatters would have gotten on him. she gasps, jumping out of her skin at the sight of him. where had he come from?Â
but that isnât the problem now; because now heâs advancing and she sees white egg shells left in his wake and he looks kind of angry and while yuna was very upfront, very headstrong, very confrontational -- she was still a young girl, impressionable, naive, and very much struck by the fear of him coming towards her. the sight has fingers trembling, oh shit oh shit oh shit, fingers loosening their grip on the carton of eggs.
now, this could go two ways --Â
feign innocence or run ( her legs were long enough, maybe she could outrun him, maybe ) ; the first was tempting and just when she was about to hide the evidence into the depths of her jacket, she feels the egg in her fingertips roll from the palm of her hand, hitting the edge of the box before landing on the floor. followed by another and another, the rest coming in succession to the floor all over her black shoes. the evidence as clear as day. oh shit.
there goes option one.
âuh ...â
leaving room for the last option -- run.
âi gotta -- go?â she says, quite hurriedly before sheâs kicking the eggs off her shoes and turning the other direction; hoping to flee for her life.Â
she sits on the ground of her apartment floor, back leaning against her couch and petting daniel the dog with one hand. âyou know, i watched your performance.â she watched all of the mgas, actually, even after she said she wouldnât because she would be too busy. somehow she always makes time to watch it, finding little free moments at night after practice when sheâs getting ready for bed, or on weekends when she gets out early. the beauty of the internet is that things can be watched at any time, and sheâs opportunistic about when she watches it.
jinsoul slides a bag of chips over to the other girl, offering her some and taking a handful for herself, even though she knows she probably shouldnât. but itâs a special occasion, and they both deserve it. maybe yuna a little more than her, but thatâs a small detail.
âi think you were one of the best ones, and iâm not just saying that because iâm biased.â which admittedly, she is. with how talented and pretty yuna is, sheâs surprised she isnât signed already. sheâs the perfect idol, tall and eyecatching, and someone who puts herself out there, unlike jinsoulâs usual personality.
âyouâll get it, iâm sure. come to trc maybe.â she smiles, nudging the other girl playfully with her elbow. âthen you get to be with me. that would be fun, right? we can do covers together. like, i donât knowâŠâ every group seems to slip her mind at the moment as it usually does when sheâs put on the spot like that, and she shakes her head, moving on quickly. âwell, we can cover a lot of things.â she turns quieter, trying to watch yunaâs expression carefully as she talks. âi mean, are you okay though? how do you feel?â
sure, she was devastated when the news came that day -- having been told that she wasnât enough on national television would do that to anyone but was she still sad? no, no -- not really, anyways. yes, it still stung whenever her dad began to speak of her accomplishments in the past tense and her grandpa would start to brag about her to all his music shop customers but they were just trying to be supportive and claim that small bout of fame that was a glimmer of the past. they werenât doing it to be cruel ( yuna knows this but it doesnât mean it doesnât hurt any less ). nor does the pain wane when she still sees her sisterâs icy gaze as they pass the hall between the bathroom and her room ( because jessica was still giving her the cold shoulder and yuna knew it wouldnât be anytime soon before her sister forgave her ) ; it seemed as the mgas and her time on it came to an end, reality set in an even worse fate for her.
the pick up of what she left behind in those last two weeks.
and like them all, yuna knows jinsoul means well. sheâs so optimistic and sweet and her words of encouragement only make yunaâs heart bloom into a heavy, generous hum of flowers and whatnot that she wants to hug the older girl and say âof course! iâd want to join trc with youâ, but doubts cloud her mind and no, she doesnât fear trying again but her life is already somewhat of a mess ( a mess as explained by a overdramatic fifteen year old ) that maybe this was a sign from god that this was messy business she shouldnât be getting herself involved in.
there were other ways to get famous, anyways.
âi know youâre not -- i mean how could we deny greatness?â she says, a hand running through dark tendrils before she feels her smile slip a bit. deny greatness? wasnât that what all the ceos just did -- didnât that mean she wasnât as great as she initially thought she was? yuna shakes her head, pessimism was a criminal, infectious disease. she didnât need something as worrisome and heavy like that weighing on her. âbut thanks, unnie. you know just what to say to make me feel better.âÂ
âi --â she pauses, a hum on her lips as she closes her eyes and presses hand together. sheâs felt better, for sure, but if she were to recall the last fifteen years of her life -- this was probably one of, if not second to, the most painful weeks sheâs had in a long time. ( the first being a couple years prior when her mother ... yeah but that was a different type of pain, altogether )
âit sucks. i honestly thought i was going to go all the way, yâknow? like you -- you did amazing in your season and i thought i was going to live up to it but ... i got cocky ... they saw that, karma was like âha ha, you thought!â and now iâm here, eliminated and embarrassed for thinking i could win.â yuna is bitter, yes, but who wouldnât be?Â
huzzah, it is i, mod ume! back with yuna once again ~ hopefully this doesnât come as much of a surprise but i apped for her again after changing a bit of her background around. thereâs not too much of a change, but a decent enough change that i decided to just send in her in as a newbie! anyways, letâs get on with the show but please like this post for a plot message or reply with a pretty heart â€ïžđ§Ąđđđđđ for a charisma starter !!
          INSTAGRAM  âââ  㻠  㻠   +  @Y03NA ă»
as one of the generation z babies, yuna has lived in the digital age since she was predisposed to toy cell phones and laptops. as one of the more popular social media platforms, she gained a following back in california through funny vines and tik tok videos hence the large follower count. these days sheâs archived most of those posts and allocated the rest of her recent postings as a pseudo teenage jetsetter as she hopped the pond from o.c. to seoul.Â
frequent sightings on her instagram include: @jinsoulrkâ, @ryujinrkâ, @rkyejiâ, and @rkjeonginâ.Â
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Ï Â Â âââ  㻠  ă»Â   +  @rkljhyun   ă»
going out has become more constant these days. with summer doing a number on her time and her skin ( the humidity and the heat were just not something yuna, as a california native, was accustomed to -- dry, sure -- but sticky was a different story ), sheâs been in and out of cafes more times than she can count, relishing on their âfreeâ air conditioning systems, spending a little too much on over-priced coffees and sitting by windows trying to grasp a little bit of that city-girl aesthetic she saw plastered all over instagram.Â
these were how she spent her days of summer, wilting away and soaking up iced coffee after iced coffee. while her days were numbered and school was just right around the corner, her mga days behind her, yuna was just waiting for something else to happen. something to make her time here more worthwhile. wasnât that what every young girl who grew up on obnoxious chick flicks dreamed of?
where was her dream guy in a red hot cadillac?Â
head in the clouds, change in her hand: she deposits what needs be into the cashierâs hand before the exchange. an open-topped plastic cup filled to the brim with dark liquid and ice cubes to match: a classic americano and a darling metal straw, on a wooden tray. itâs a one-two exchange, a quick smile and a fifteen-year old girl whoâs not watching where sheâs going as she whips around, tray in hand, to walk away only to bump shoulders with the person behind her.
not much is said: not when her piercing scream and the distress is a tell-tale disruption of what couldâve been.Â
now dark liquid seeps into white fabric, darkening, staining her new top. ice cubes scattered along the floor as yuna now stands before a boy sheâs never seen before. and were those hearts in her eyes?
Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Ï Â Â âââ  㻠  㻠   âș   @ryujinrk   ă»
itâs been two weeks and yuna has yet to get it out of her head. she feels the devastation like a fresh wound whenever she relives the moments right before her elimination. was this some form of ptsd? would webmd be able to prescribe her some type of drug to let her float away from this mess? probably not and it wasnât like yuna was looking for any vices this early on but it still hurt and she dreaded facing her friends during the aftermath of it all.
she wanted to be happy for them. because that was what good friends did -- they supported their loved ones no matter the reason. and if yuna said it enough times she thought she could believe it.
when ryujin calls her up, yuna is forced to face the music and put on that darling little smile she knows wonât fool the other but here goes trying, right? sheâs pulled herself out of the depths of her room and shut-eye for this. ryujin has worked hard and thereâs not way yuna had the right to rain on her parade. so, she does what she thinks is perfectly healthy: she buries it all. in favor of a breezy smile, newly-painted red nails and some treats she thinks ryujin would like as she comes knocking on the otherâs door. just because she couldnât be happy, doesnât mean she had to drag ryujin all the way down to hell with her -- no, her best friend didnât deserve that type of shit.
then again, sheâs sure -- in two seconds: ryujin would see through all her bs. two seconds, thatâs all she needed to clear the level -- two seconds and maybe even yuna could fool herself that the feeling of dread was a passing phase.Â
âryujin unni! open up! i have snacks!â she barks, hand raised to knock once more whilst juggling her arms out of the plastic hold of the convenience store bag.
unfortunately, miss yuna was eliminated from the mgas in episode 3! but â fear not, while she is absolutely miserable and holed up in her room, iâm here to get the rest of her life going !!! please like this post for a charisma starter đ„°
                             Ï  âââ  㻠  㻠   âș   @rkmyg   ă»
   so, maybe yuna was a little sad. a lie, yes, but she wasnât ready to face the music yet. oh, no -- the music. to think, the last the world would see of her was singing some bubble-gum pop song about girls and boys and problems she didnât have. bleh, it just made her want to barf. she is sad, yes -- but like hell was she going to let this be what burns her out. yuna was meant to be a star. the brightest one yet, she was not going to let this be the last. after several days, specifics: a week, she hurls herself from the confines of her bedroom, starry-eyed and armed with a plan.
   itâs dark by the time she leaves her home, covered in darkness: black jacket, black tights, black sneakers, black hat and black face mask. ever so to be void suspiciousness ( despite the fact from a mile away you could smell the stench of mischief on her trail ), she hides what she had stopped by the local mart in the depths of her jacket. just as she reaches her target: the ever so newly minted royal building, she stares with wide eyes. a slight gulp before she loses her nerve and shakes them.
   no, she had to do it. if this was the only thing that was going to help her move forward -- so be it.Â
   yuna takes a deep breath, here we go.
   âSO JISUB, YOU SUCK!â she hollers, an arm outstretched as an egg goes flying from her fingertips; eyes closed, she doesnât see where she aims but she hopes it hits the right spot. hereâs to hoping!