Two weeks and four days passed since Han Jisung fled from Nightfield. He found a new apartment an hour from his old one, he dyed his hair black and let it grow out a bit, he wore fake glasses and hoodies as often as he could. He was a ghost wandering the streets stealing and hiding.
Jisung thought he left this life for good when Chan found him five years ago trying to steal from his car. His memory before that awful winter was muddled and confused, so all he cared to remember was meeting his leader. Now the memory tasted sour and foreign. He had a good amount of money saved from his time in Nightfield, but it never hurt to add to his reserve.
After another day of gathering supplies and stealing here and there, Jisung slowly climbed his way up the creaking stairs to his apartment on the fourth floor. The elevator was down for the second time yesterday, and he didn’t dare trust it today. Getting stuck in a falling elevator would really add to his month.
His neighbor down the hall was just leaving for her night shift at the hospital, and she gave him a polite nod as they passed one another at the top of the stairs. She was kind enough to share some of her coffee when he moved in, so he swore to never steal from her. He made sure her door was locked before going into his apartment.
The moment he was inside, Jisung threw his black glasses onto the counter and rubbed the area above his ears. The glasses were too tight and it was giving him a headache. He riffled through the kitchen and started making himself some tea. It was the only thing that could calm him down anymore.
He emptied his pockets and counted out his earnings of the day. 99,000 won. Not bad. He sipped at his tea, tucked the money into the metal jar at the back of the fridge. Took another sip. And swayed.
Jisung shook his head and braced his hand on the wall, stopping mid stride a few steps from his bedroom door. A gray haze was snaking into his vision as his mind dimmed. What in the world? His landed on his drink. The color wasn’t right.
He stumbled into his room, clumsily slamming the mug onto his dresser. His limbs were getting light, his head getting heavy. Shit.
“It works pretty fast, doesn’t it?”
The voice startled him, but his body was too numb to react to it. It was a voice he never wanted to hear again. The figure lounging on his bed was one that made his heart stutter and freeze.
“Minho.” Jisung’s voice was distant to his own ears. He fell to his knees, hands barely catching himself on the gray carpet. He tried taking in deep breaths. “What did you- how did you find me?”
Minho slowly got up and crouched in front of him. “We’ll get to the questions when you’re no longer drugged up, how does that sound?”
Jisung wanted to scream and curse the man in front of him, but he couldn’t even keep his eyes open. So much for being safe. The carpet rushed toward him.
⧫⧫⧫
Soft flickering light filtered through his closed eyes and warmed his skin. The haze of sleepiness receded from his mind as his other senses came into focus. His body floated on something heavenly soft, and the gentle crackle of a fire reached his ears. Did I die? Is this how someone enters heaven?
A dull ache behind Jisung’s eyes destroyed his theory as he became fully conscious, and he quickly sat up, expecting ropes or cuffs to bind his arms down. But he was laying on a rather lavish bed with a fancy fireplace a few feet away, his limbs free. Was I taken by Lee Minho, or was I taken by a grandmother?
The room around him was fairly plain, but the ceiling was high and the windows were bordered by thick, navy blue drapes that matched the bedding. It was dark outside, which led Jisung to wonder how long he was out. Was it a few hours? A few days? Either way, he wasn’t about to stick around.
Jisung made for the windows, ignoring the small amount of dizziness swirling just beyond his vision. He would rest after getting out of here. Just as he reached the windows, the door opened and he froze.
“Right on time. Although, I wouldn’t suggest being on your feet so soon. You might pass out again,” Minho said casually as he closed the door with his foot. He was holding a steaming cup and he lifted it up. “You can sit back down, Han, you won’t make it five feet out that window. The anklet I gifted you could stop an elephant dead if it passed the barrier outside.”
Jisung pulled his pant leg up slightly, revealing a thin, black metal band fastened just above his ankle. A blinking red light indicated it was on. He let out an amused breath. “I should have known.”
“It’s alright, you’ll learn.” Minho set the cup on the hearth. “This tea is for you. From your own stash, so I know you’ll like it. You’ve been out for two hours, so I suggest you have some.”
Jisung didn’t move. “I’m not willingly drugging myself again.”
Minho’s laugh was soft and airy. “It’s not drugged, I already have you here. You don’t have to drink it if you really don’t want to.” He sat in one of the arm chairs near the fire and tucked his hands into his suit pockets as he set his right ankle on his left knee.
“I don’t want to,” Jisung confirmed, still not moving away from the window. It was impossible to tell what Minho was thinking. Was he going to torture him for fun? Or was he just going to kill him?
“I think we’ll be much more comfortable if you sit down.” Minho smiled. “And you’re swaying on your feet.”
Jisung didn’t even realize how weak his legs were. I better comply until I can get out of here. Reluctantly, he made his way back to the bed, making sure to stay on the opposite side away from Minho.
“I was very disappointed when I crashed Nightfield’s estate and didn’t find you anywhere.”
Jisung’s eyes widened. As hurt as he was about their abandonment, he still cared about them. “You attacked Nightfield?”
“Don’t worry, I left most of them alive. After all, they had nothing left to give me since you left. Or should I say, since they kicked you out.”
“Then how did you find me? They didn’t even know where I was.”
Minho shrugged. “Your last place was easy to find thanks to one of your former teammates. I searched for names similar to the alias you used for that place, scoured the city for new move-ins. You did well covering your tracks, considering it took me two weeks to find you.”
“Apparently I didn’t cover up enough.”
“Apparently.”
Jisung studied him for a moment, and realized he was being studied right back. There was something itchingly familiar about the man in front of him. The glint in his dark eyes, the tousled mess of his dark brown hair, the tilt of his head. The way Minho was staring at him was strange too, like he was looking someone he hadn’t seen in years, trying to figure out how they had changed.
“Why were you so intent on finding me?”
“Now that may be a little hard to explain.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Oh, really?”
“Really.”
Jisung’s eyes narrowed. The look in Minho’s eyes reminded him of the looks Nightfield shared as they told him to leave. “I’m really the only one in the dark, aren’t I?” He released a bitter laugh. “Was I ever really a part of Nightfield?” How many secrets were kept from him? Had Nightfield met without him before?
Minho leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. “Jisung,” his tone was soft, “I can answer your questions. In time. It’s one of the reasons I’ve been looking for you.” His eyes were… genuine.
Jisung’s heart jumped, but his mind caged itself. I don’t believe you. “I don’t trust you, you could be feeding me lies.”
“That’s fine if you don’t trust me. I’ll earn your trust in any way I can.”
“You can start by letting me go.”
“That, I can’t do.” Minho got to his feet and Jisung tensed. “Get some rest. Feel free to wander the house. Just remember, if you go any more than five feet outside the house, you’ll drop. I’ll give you a few days to adjust.
Jisung watched, mystified, as his captor left the room, closing the door gently. His mind was blank but filled with hundreds of thoughts at the same time. The past few weeks didn’t feel real. He lost Nightfield, his home, and now the enemy had him locked away yet able to roam a nice house.
He fell back onto the bed, wanting to fall asleep and never wake up, wanting to run away. He had so many questions and no answers.
“Jisung, I can answer your questions.” Yeah, right. I need to find a way out. Once I sleep for a minute.
His mind drifted with the crackle of the fire, and his eyes closed before he knew it.
Cold chains bit into his wrists and hung heavy on his ankles as he was dragged down a blurred hallway. Jisung pulled against the hands that pushed him along, but something sharp jabbed into the back of his neck, immobilizing his upper body.
What’s happening?
He was pushed into a room and forced face-first onto a leather bench. The back of his shirt was yanked up. Everything around him was unclear, yet bright, muffled, yet loud.
“Stay still and it won’t hurt as much.” It was the same strange voice from his dream.
This is a dream. It’s a dream.
Something sharp burned into his lower back, pinching and ripping his skin. Hands and chains kept him down.
Wake up, Jisung! It’s a dream!
“The mark didn’t settle.”
“Do it again.”
The heat was back, boiling his skin.
Jisung sat up, panting and grasping at the blankets around him. Weak light filtered through the windows across the room. Mind rushed, skin itching, he scrambled out of the bed and out the door.Â
A bathroom sat across the hall and he ran his hand over the walls inside it until he found a light switch. He ignored his disheveled and unruly appearance and turned so his back was facing the mirror and pulled his shirt up. He wasn’t sure why he was looking, but his body went cold as his eyes landed on an unmistakable navy blue mark in the center of his lower back. It was shaped like a trident surrounded by diagonal lines and strange spheres.
“I’m still dreaming, I have to by,” he whispered, trying to get a better view of it. He’d never gotten a tattoo before, yet the mark looked like it was burned into his skin years ago. Just like his dream. Was it even a dream? It couldn’t have been.
Jisung let his shirt drop and closed his eyes. He allowed himself to breathe, giving his mind more room to think. Where did the mark come from? Was his dream really a memory? His memory before meeting Chan was hazy at best, but he never thought about it deeply until now. I can’t remember anything. How did I end up on the streets? Why am I so used to knowing… nothing?
“Think, Jisung. It does no good to freak out.”
“Why are you freaking out?”
Jisung jumped out of his skin and set his hand over his startled heart as he faced the man standing in the hall. “Good hell,” he breathed out.
The man couldn’t be much older than himself, with a mischievous smile and black hair dyed with strange highlights. “Sorry about that. I’m Seungmin, Minho’s underboss.” He held his hand out, like this was a completely normal meeting.
Jisung hesitantly shook his hand. “I’m sure you already know who I am.”
“I do, but it’s nice to meet you. The boss asked me to check in on you, so here I am. Want some breakfast?”
This was not what he was expecting when he thought about being held captive by Lee Minho. “Sure.” He followed Seungmin down the hall and around a corner to a staircase. He memorized the layout of the house as they made their way into the kitchen. He was trapped here, but maybe he could find secrets in the corners and take advantage of them.
“I’m only here for a few minutes. Other than that, you’ll be alone aside from when Minho comes by,” Seungmin explained as they entered the kitchen. “If you need anything, just let him know.”
“So you’re giving me, a prisoner, a whole house?” Jisung asked, a laugh in his voice.
“Minho says you’re a guest, so that’s what you are.”
“Right, a guest that wears a death anklet.”
Seungmin smiled at him over his wide shoulders. “Exactly.”
Jisung briefly wondered if the anklet was a bluff. If they scared him enough, he would never try to leave. Then again, he didn’t want to risk death if it wasn’t a bluff. “Can you tell me why your boss wants me here?”
“He doesn’t tell me anything. And even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you without his permission.”
“I thought so.”
Seungmin motioned to the cabinets above the fridge. “Coffee and tea are up there. We took most everything you had in your apartment, so don’t worry about any weird food.”
Jisung raised an eyebrow. What kind of villain did this for his captive? “And my clothes?”
“We didn’t have time to grab any of that, but the closet in that room upstairs is full.” Seungmin pointed at a brown paper bag set to the side. “There’s your breakfast. Need anything before I leave?”
“Remove this anklet and you’re free to go.”
He laughed. “Ask Minho next time. I’m running late. Don’t go crazy, Han.”
Jisung watched him leave and then quickly followed after him, keeping low and sticking close to the corners. Seungmin pulled a ring of keys from his pocket as he approached the door, but to Jisung’s disappointment they were only car keys. Of course he wouldn’t have the key to his anklet on him. Minho probably had it.
Annoyed and still partially reeling from his discovery of the mark on his back, Jisung trudged back to the kitchen and opened the bag that apparently contained his breakfast. Inside was an orange and a lemon poppy seed muffin. He stared at them in disbelief. How does he know I like these? Yet another question that would probably remain unanswered.
Jisung ate the food cautiously, still very wary of drugs, and then showered when nothing strange happened. He was surprised, again, when the clothes in the closet matched his usual style, and he dressed in a pair of black joggers and a dark gray T-shirt. The device on his ankle made it a bit difficult to get dressed, but he managed it.
Instead of rotting away waiting for something to happen, Jisung got to work on searching the house inch by inch. There had to be something useful here.
⧫⧫⧫
Aside from random objects that could be used as weapons, there was nothing useful. This was the most normal house Jisung had ever seen, and it was beyond frustrating. The silence of the rooms scratched at his ears after a while, and he was tempted to tear his hair out. He was always out and about working missions or stealing, so sitting here in one little building for an entire day was enough to drive him mad.
He ventured outside once, but retreated the moment the anklet started beeping at him urgently. He tried taking a nap but found it impossible to as the mark on his back clawed at his mind. He was thinking, and it was only making him spiral into a void of confusion and desperation.
So Minho was going to torture me. Just not in the way I thought.
Jisung was pacing the hall upstairs as dusk faded into night. His mind was rushing so fast by now that it was blank. He wasn’t actually thinking of anything. His mind was running in circles on its own.
The front door opened. Jisung peeked down the stairs. Minho was inside already, pushing his shoes off, wearing all black, and pulling off a mask. He tousled his hair and rolled out his neck. Jisung was pulled from the man’s good looks when he noticed a gash of red on the side of Minho’s neck, but the other didn’t seem to realize it was there.
“I should be going home, not coming here,” Minho muttered, stepping away from his discarded shoes. “Jisung? You up?” he called, much louder.
Jisung couldn’t help himself. “What am I, a booty call?” he asked, approaching the top of the stairs.
Minho grinned. “If you would to be, sure.”
“Sorry, I have standards. Maybe you should kidnap someone else.”
“There’s no one else worth kidnapping.”
“That’s insanely creepy.”
“I have my reasons.”
“For being creepy?” Jisung nearly laughed.
“Well… no.” Minho shook his head slightly. “You’re much more pleasant to talk to when you’re not drugged or tied up.”
Jisung crossed his arms. “Isn’t everyone like that?”
“There are some weirdos out there, so I wouldn’t say that for sure.”
“Are you one of those weirdos?”
Minho shrugged innocently. “Who knows?”
Jisung fought his amusement down. He shouldn’t be enjoying a conversation with this man, the man that was literally holding him captive, the man that left him with twin cuts trailing down his arms. But it felt so… easy, so… familiar. He was starting to hate that word, familiar. It was taunting. “So, are you here to drug me or torture me?”
Minho shook his head. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” The blood on the side of his neck was running into the collar of his shirt now, painting his collarbone red.
Jisung didn’t realize he was at the bottom of the stairs until he was close enough to touch his captor. “Are you gonna take care of that?” he asked before he could think, motioning to his own neck.
Confusion briefly crossed Minho’s face as he looked down and attempted to see the wound. All he could really see was the blood on his collarbone. “I suppose I should.”
Why does my blood feel uneasy and hot seeing him hurt? Jisung shook the thought away, but not fast enough. “Need help with that?”
Minho’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Are you offering?”
Jisung immediately wished he could eat his words. A warmth bloomed on his cheeks as he stepped back a few paces. Why in the hell did I say that?! “That wound is just in a difficult spot, isn’t it?”
“Considering I can’t see it, yeah, it’s difficult,” Minho confirmed, his smirk still very much there. “How about this? You help me take care of this,” he pointed at his neck, “and I’ll let you out for a day. Deal?”
“You’re really holding onto the whole creepiness of the situation, aren’t you?’
“Yes or no, Han.”
Jisung’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. Although, your day outside will be spent with me. I can’t have you running off, after all.”
“And if I say no?”
“You’ll stay right where you are, losing your mind bit by bit. I know you hate sitting in one place for too long.”
“How do you know?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it? You are a criminal informant, a brilliant one. Sitting inside all day is bound to make you crazy. Or am I wrong?”
Jisung dipped his head. “Okay, you’re not too far off.”
Minho smiled. “That’s what I thought. So… is that a yes?”
He had to take any advantage he could. If he managed to get Minho’s guard down, he would have a much easier time slipping free. And a day out of this house would hopefully help his frazzled mental state. “Okay, agreed.”
Minho’s eyes sparkled with victory. “Perfect. First aid is in the kitchen.”
“I know.” Jisung led the way there, subtly scanning Minho for a gun, for keys, anything. The clothes he wore were well fitting, most likely for easier mobility, and the only thing they gave away was how well toned his captor was. He quickly diverted his attention. “Am I allowed to ask what you were doing to get that wound?” he asked as he pulled the first aid out from under the sink.
“I was doing the usual reconnaissance, hunting a few people down. That sort of thing. That was your job in Nightfield, wasn’t it?”
“For the most part, yes.” Jisung turned to where Minho was leaning back against the counter and set the kit off to the side. Why did I agree to this? I should just find a way to escape. He opened the kit and rummaged through it as he got to work. “I never really got injured doing that though, so maybe I’m better at it than you.”
Minho shrugged. “I prefer brawls and tense dealings over sneaking around anyway. But this injury is only the result of a surprise attack.”
“Of course, a surprise attack. You’re untouchable otherwise, huh?”
“There, you get it.” Minho flinched as Jisung began dabbing at the wound with some alcohol. “You’re not going to wash it first?”
“I did.” Jisung bit down a smile at the confused look in response. It seemed Minho was just as scrambled as he was. “Does this count as a surprise attack if you didn’t notice what I’ve been doing?”
“I’m distracted, you can’t blame me.”
Jisung paused his movements and glanced up at Minho. He regretted it immediately as their eyes met and a wave of familiarity washed through him. It was as if he was looking into the past, the past that was blurry and out of reach. His eyes have changed. He froze at his own thought. What? His eyes have changed? What is my mind doing? He took a wobbly step back.
Minho’s eyebrows knit together. “Am I that scary?”
Jisung blinked. Then again. “No.” He focused on the injury again, swallowing down the lines of questions that threatened to burst free. The questions wouldn’t make sense and he wouldn’t get any answers.
Minho, strangely enough, stayed quiet while Jisung finished layering the wound in bandages. It was odd, helping a man that wounded him only a few weeks prior. But he was doing it for a reason. Getting out of this house would present huge opportunities for escape.
“There,” Jisung said, stepping back, “all done. You’ll live, I think.”
“Good, I still have things to take care of. I thank you for saving my life.”
Jisung rolled his eyes. “When do I get to leave?”
“Someone’s eager.” Minho patted his head. Jisung swatted his arm away. Minho smiled and walked over to the fridge. “You can leave with me tomorrow, if you like. I’ll stay here for tonight, it’ll make things easier.”
“So you’re inviting me to kill you.”
“You can try, but I wouldn’t suggest killing me just yet. You’ll still be trapped here, and then Seungmin will kill you once he realizes what happened. Tea?” Minho started gathering things from above the fridge.
Jisung leaned against the wall, watching him as he moved. “That reminds me, how did you know what I like to have for breakfast?”
“It’s my job to know.”
“Why is it your job to know?”
“It just is.”
“The more I learn about you, the more I realize how much of a creep you really are.”
Minho laughed. “Again, with the creepy thing, huh?”
The kitchen was suddenly gone, a small gray room appearing in its place. A blurry figure sat slumped on a couch in the corner, head tilted to the side. A laugh rolled through the room, just the same as the laugh in the kitchen.
“Jisung?”
He blinked. The kitchen was back, and his breathing was heavy. What just happened?
Minho stepped toward him. “You alright? You look a little gray.”
“You said you could answer my questions, even crazy questions?”
Minho’s eyes held answers, but they also held caution and uncertainty. “To the best of my ability, yes.”
“You wouldn’t give me anything last night, will you now, or are you going to keep things from me longer?”
“Jisung I can’t tell you everything. Not right away. You haven’t made enough… progress yet.”
——————- Oooo we’re getting into it now. I sort of prefer long chapters over short ones, so from here on out this is about how long the chapters will be. If you don’t like long chapters… uh, whale ya can’t win em all. Thanks for reading. (0~0)
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