Maehwa looked at the scraps of paper one last time. There weren't many details that she could glean from them. She could only tell that the first writer wrote in harsh, geometric-like shapes, while the second writer wrote with soft scribbles. Frustrated, she decided to open the window for some fresh air. She needed to clear her mind anyways.
She pocketed the scraps before walking to a nearby window, which was sheltered by a white curtain. Pushing it aside, she could now see the window in its vomit-inducing glory. Cobwebs pillowed over the uncleaned glass, and several dead bugs lay on the sill, their yellowish legs upturned. Maehwa pushed the sour vomit that had made its way up her throat back down. "Never mind. I'll go find another window," she thought to herself.
After shutting the door, Maehwa decided to continue down Pierre Painting Hallway. Her shoes clicked and clacked against the stone floor. The clicks and clacks gave Maehwa a hollow feeling. Like how seeing a homeless person on the street reminded people of poverty, the echoing sounds reminded Maehwa of her situation. She was far from her loved ones, and for the next two weeks, she would be living with a creepy stranger who had probably murdered someone in cold blood.
Continuing down the depressing hallway, she suddenly realized that she should probably find some way to muffle the sound of her walking. If she wanted to keep a distance from Datura, she had to conceal herself.
Maehwa looked into a nearby room, which was some sort of fashion designing room. White mannequins missing their lower bodies donned tawdry articles of clothing. This room had the same layout as the painting room, with crafting materials to the right and a workspace to the left. The fashion room was clearly more modern, with white walls ruining the antique aesthetic. None of that was important to Maehwa. All she needed was fabric, scissors, and some sort of adhesive.
She walked to the birchwood shelves and started looking through the fabrics. After a bit of rummaging, she found one that suited her needs; a plush roll of suede fabric. You see, when thinking about the ways she could muffle her footsteps, she remembered reading a book about the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory. She remembered something about factory supervisors putting silicone on their heels so that the workers couldn't tell if they were coming. She planned to do that too.
After taking off her boots, she put them on top of the fabric and outlined them with a scrap of black chalk, making sure to leave some extra space on the outside. Maehwa decided that one layer would not suffice, so she folded the fabric on itself before cutting. After cutting, she sewed everything together before supergluing the pads to her boots. She didn't know why there was superglue in the room, but she didn't mind. Now she could walk around without being heard. Maehwa started to walk towards the door, when she realized that the very big and very sharp pair of scissors would no doubt be useful to her. She pocketed that too, feeling like some video game character exploring for loot.
She quietly shut the door behind her. Suddenly, a loud crash was heard down the hallway. "Probably Datura," Maehwa thought, "Or maybe someone is here to save me from my doom!" She started to power-walk down the hallway, and to her relief, her boots didn't produce noises. After walking a few meters, she arrived at a small sitting room. Datura was there, and around her lay thousands of shards of a vase. Maehwa flinched at the sight of her, and quickly hid behind a doorframe. Datura breathed fire, muttering something under her breath. She was clearly angry, and had taken it out on a poor vase. Regaining her composure, Datura started to walk to somewhere in the room. Maehwa did not know where. She didn't dare peek.
Datura sighed. "I need a broom to clean up this mess. I should probably dust the drawing room too."
Maehwa stifled a yelp. The drawing room was down Pierre Painting Hallway, and to get there, Datura would need to pass the doorframe that Maehwa was currently hiding behind . . . . She had to get out. Taking a leap of faith, she peeked into the room, eyeing any means of escape. And she saw one. It was another doorframe, that seemed to lead into a different hallway. Maehwa peeked one more time, and saw that Datura had her back turned. Holding her breath, Maehwa made a run for it, hoping not to step on any shards of glass.
Maehwa made it through to the other side. She didn't stop walking until she had created a safe distance between her and Datura. Breathing a sigh of relief, Maehwa gripped the handle of the scissors. Then, she continued down Pierre Painting Hallway 2.0. After a minute or two of walking, she came across paintings of someone who she did not want to see. At first, the paintings were bearable to look at. But as she continued down the hallway, she had to turn her head towards the floor, in an attempt to ignore the ice-cold eyes. When she reached the last one, she could feel her blood being replaced with adrenaline.
All the paintings that adorned the hallway were of Datura. Just like with Pierre, they depicted the subject in different stages of life, and ended with their current stage. In a portrait of Datura in her early twenties, she started to show her true colors. Started to look like a heartless monster inhabiting the body of a soft, petite girl. Every portrait after that made Datura's empty and cold eyes more intense. It was a sad, downward spiral. The last painting was no different from the others, except for the fact that someone had smudged blood across Datura's face. Maehwa hoped that it wasn't Pierre's blood.
"Maehwa," a familiar voice down the hallway called.
She turned just in time to see Datura walking towards her like some haughty supervillain. Maehwa rolled her eyes, making sure to exaggerate her movements before walking away.
Datura's footsteps stopped for a moment. "If you're so bored here, then let me suggest something for you to do."
"No."
"You seem like such a talented girl," Datura crooned, trying her best to sweeten the words, "I do not think that it will be hard for you to do some simple drawing. Besides, there are many supplies here that would otherwise go to waste."
"Didn't you hear me? I'm. Not. Interested."
Datura's footsteps quickened. Upon realizing this, Maehwa quickened her pace too. But it was too little, too late. Datura was already behind her. "Stupid tall people and their stupid long legs," Maehwa thought to herself.
Datura leaned over Maehwa's shoulder. "All I want you to do is draw a picture of me . . . dead."