The marble of the headquarters was charred again when Kibum walked into work, and he scoffed at a worked on the way, the nail of his index finger running a line down his naked spine as he walked past. The man screamed, curling into himself as he shuddered, blood oozing from every pore as he collapsed, skin peeling away to brittle bones, brittle bones crumbling to dust swept away by howling winds. In a way, Kibum envied his swift release.
He readjusted his collar, glancing down to inspect the shine of his polished shoes as they clattered against marble floors. Workers buzzed about, moving out of the way immediately as they saw him, and he kept his head high, aloof and unchained, as they shivered together in groups, naked as the day they were born, saggy skin draped over prominent bones. Their eyes were watery, bulging and red, possessed and perpetually terrified. Kibum despised it. Most were burnt, the skin of their legs or arms charred solid and red, sometimes blackened with ash.
The common people smelt awful here, Kibum thought to himself, taking out a small bag of smelling salts from his blazer pocket. He did not envy them one bit.