Yvonne was silent as she walked, deciding not to get lost in her thoughts again; otherwise, she would stop paying attention to things around her, and she wasn't sure she could afford that right now. She tried not to think of anything, but that didn't work at all. For all she knew, this guy could live in a cardboard box, and the dumpster would be the guest bedroom. However, based on his appearance, that was unlikely.

As they arrived at his house, she looked at it and its similarity to the other houses that surrounded them. However, Yvonne was not disappointed or mad in any way. It was a lot better than a cardboard box or dumpster for a bed. She followed him into his house, shutting the door behind him, unsure if he wanted her to lock it or not, so she just left it unlocked. Just in case. One thing that did stick out to her was the fact that she could not read the title of most of the books. Perplexed by this, she wondered if she had forgotten how to read her language entirely.

She nodded in response, not taking her gaze away from the books. Yvonne gently pulled one of the books off the shelf, holding it as though it was extremely precious, as if it was a collector's item that was worth thousands upon thousands of dollars. She opened it with just as much care as she was holding it with, fascinated.

(I added a bit to Kyong's backstory :>)

Kyong pulled a few ingredients out of a cabinet. Despite him being a serial killer, he was quite a good cook. He had to learn how to cook and do a lot of things on his own because he started living alone not long after his power developed.

Despite him being alone almost all of the time, he was still able to be kind, keeping up a good profile for himself, and deterring him from being the Silver Killer that everyone was on the hunt for. He reckoned that the girl in his living room didn't know about the Silver Killer anymore, so he didn't feel need to worry about her suspecting him, even if she knew how to speak Korean, and saw the Korean books he had.

He thought back to the scene in the alleyway, and silently questioned why she didn't question why he didn't react to the body. Maybe she did question it in her head, or just didn't care what he thought about it. Either way, he decided to bring himself back to reality, beginning to cook the food. While he could use his magic to cook it, he didn't really want to use the power too much, if at all, in case using it caused it to take over.

(Nice, nice)

Yvonne was still engaged with the books, and the weird characters that they contained that meant nothing to her whatsoever. She used to read all the time, part of the reason she wanted to become a journalist. She also knew how to tell a story.

His assumptions were correct. If he brought up the Silver Killer, she wouldn't know anything about it. She had no idea how to speak Korean or any other language than English. She knows bits and pieces of Gaelic, but she hadn't used any of that language since she was a kid. She also used to enjoy kulning despite it wasn't something native to her homeland. She didn't sing well, but she could kuln pretty decently back in the day. Yvonne had zoned out, staring at pages in the book.

She blinked and snapped herself back into reality, shutting the book closed a little harder than she meant to. She had a stack of books in her arms now, and she started to replace the books back where she had got them before wandering through the archway he had gone into, wondering what he was cooking. She walked up beside him, looking at what he was making.

He was lost in thought, thinking about how much of her memory she had lost, and if she even remembered her name. Kyong knew his powers were quite strong, and he usually had to struggle to keep them in check, but they usually didn't act out like they did in the alleyway. Maybe it was because he just finished another one of his rampages?

As he noticed the girl walk in, he focused on the food, trying to keep his mind from wandering. He seemed to be boiling noodles in a pot, stirring them around with chopsticks. He gave her a glance, giving that same kind smile from earlier. "You need something?" He asked kindly, stirring up the noodles without looking at them.

There were a few other ingredients on the counter next to him, arranged neatly in the order he needed to use them. There was an egg, a few shaker bottles with Korean words on them, and a packet of what looked like seaweed pieces.

Yvonne shook her head. "No, I was just coming in to see what you were cooking." She looked at the noodles and the ingredients set out on the counter. She moved to the other side of him, looking at the ingredients and then at the pot. She didn't seem to recognize what he was cooking, unable to put the pieces together in her head to make it click. She didn't seem as torn up about it now as she was earlier, though.

She picked up one of the shaker bottles and turned it so she could see the majority of the contents inside, seeing if she could put things with words. So far, no luck. Yvonne set it back down in the spot she had picked it up from, unsure if the ingredients were lined up for a specific purpose or not.

She got the urge to go through his cabinets to familiarize herself with the place, but she felt that would be a little weird. And there was no point in familiarizing herself with the place, anyways. She was a guest, most likely for only one night.

Kyong gave a slight nod, looking back down at the pot. "Its memil guksu*. It's like ramen, basically." He put the pot on a different burner, turning the one he was using off. He walked over to a cabinet, grabbing out two bowls. He scooped some of the noodles into both bowls, poured a bit of the broth in, then walked over to the fridge and put both bowls in it.

*Pretty much Ramen, but served cold (Soba).

"Can you read Korean, by the way? I've been wanting to ask." Kyong asked, taking the half-empty pot and pouring the rest of the liquid down the sink, and putting the pot to the side. He opened up another cabinet, taking a pan out, and putting it on the stove, turning it back on. He grabbed the egg and cracked it open, beginning to fry it.

While he seemed interested, he mostly just wanted to get rid of the worry that this girl would think he's the Silver Killer, assuming she hadn't lost memory of him. Of course, she probably had, so he didn't know why he was worrying so much, but he simply wanted to reassure himself.

She nodded. Yvonne was very familiar with the concept of ramen. Just like any other broke college student, she practically lived off the stuff. She watched him go through the procedure of making memil guksu. She tried to think of a time when she had boiled something only to put it in a fridge or freezer right after, and she couldn't think of any unless her food was just too hot. Even then, she usually blew on her food before putting it in the fridge.

When he asked if she could read Korean, she laughed humorlessly, but it did make her feel a little better. If that's the language his books were in, then hopefully, she could still recognize her own language. "Nope, not that I know of. Why?" Yvonne asked in return, watching him begin to cook the egg. She couldn't help but wonder why he had turned the oven off in the first place; that seemed counter-productive to her. It wasn't like she was in the place to criticize the way people did things, though.

While the question of whether or not she knew Korean would be weird, it was the fact that he wondered if she could simply read it. For some reason, that set little triggers off in her brain. Why didn't he ask if she could speak it or write it as well? She slightly shook her head. She was most definitely overthinking things.

He gave a small smile, though still staring down at the egg he was cooking. "I just wanted to know. Most of the stuff I have here is written in Korean, so you probably won't be able to read it." He internally sighed in relief, now that he knew she didn't know Korean, or if she did, she forgot it.

The more he thought about it, the more he grew concerned of the girl he let in his house, which was surprisingly weird for him. He usually didn't get worried about things, since he was a literal murderer.

"Onto a more relevant question, what's your name? I don't think I ever got it." Kyong asked, lifting the frying pan from the stove and turning it off after he got a pretty good sunny-side up egg. As he slid the egg off and onto a plate, he looked over at the girl, his silver eyes in an unfaltering stare as he grabbed a knife and cut the egg in half.

Yvonne grinned. "Yeah, I noticed that." She wasn't about to admit that she hadn't recognized it as Korean. "But that's alright. If I ever need anything, I'll just have you translate it." The chances of that happening were incredibly low. Despite her sudden memory loss, she was still stubborn and most likely wouldn't ask for help any time soon.

For some reason, she was surprised that he had asked her name. "Yvonne. What's yours?" Considering the situation they had been in not too long ago, names were probably the last thing on both of their minds. The fact that he started to cut things without looking made her a little uneasy, but not for the reasons one would think. It was very possible that he might cut something he didn't mean to, like a finger. Not like...right now, but if this was habitual, then....Yvonne shook her head again.

She decided to change the subject back to food. That seemed like a pretty safe subject at the moment. "So...is the egg still warm when the makeshift ramen is ready to eat, or do you chill it, too?"

(Honestly, this man is a serial killer, he can cut anything without looking lmao
Also, we're not gonna talk about the fact that he casually handled two bowls of boiling hot ramen lmao)

He looked down at the egg, surprisingly (to Yvonne), he had cut it perfectly in half. "I'm Kyong. Kyong Yun." He put the knife in the sink, not even watching to see if it'd hit anything. Kyong then walked over to the other ingredients, setting the egg down and grabbing one of the shakers, shaking it onto the egg.

He then picked the plate back up, putting it in the fridge next to the bowls of soba. "Nope. You chill it with them." He replied, closing the fridge and setting a mental timer for when they'll be ready. He walked back to the living room, grabbing one of the many books written in Korean.

He went over to the couch, sitting down and opening the book to a bookmarked page.