Chapter 1: Act Ⅰ, Final Scene; A Star Is the Center of the World.
Chapter Text
"All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances..."
~William Shakespeare, As You Like It.
“Hyunjin, are you detaining us here all day long! Some of us, unlike a certain someone, have lives waiting for them outside,” Seungmin nagged for the hundredth time, fixing Felix with a glare.
“What did I do?” Felix mouthed wide-eyed, shrugging.
Hyunjin tore his eyes from the scattered papers on the long table. “Well, excuse you if all of you still suck when the show is almost a month away,” he shot, eyebrows knitting together. “Mister Lee uuuh Minho still forgets his lines, and lady Hwang dissonance Yiji-”
“Fuck you, Kim Seungmin,” Minho hissed under his breath.
“Now he won't shut up,” Yiji groaned, pulling her navy locks.
“And, sir Choi where Soobin keeps missing his spot.” Hyunjin exhaled sharply, propping his hands on his hips, and was about to go back to whatever he was doing.
Before anyone could let out a breath, the white spotlight flashed on his eyes, and everyone just closed their eyes, waiting for the bomb to land. “Oh, and how dare I forget about you! Lee Seokmin, get your ass down here, now!” Hyunjin looked like he was about to explode.
Seokmin, as it seems, panicked and started pressing every button on the control panel, making the lights dance annoyingly.
While outside, the Sun tinted everything in soft gold, and the late spring's cool breeze broke the afternoon's warmth, painting the world in calmness. Inside, the theater was buzzing with chaos, creating life, freedom.
Seonghwa dodged the big, scarlet curtain thrown on the stage and stepped over the equipment box with a smoothness only experience could create, heading towards the backstage, away from the director's stressed shouts. His eyes honed in on the script in his left hand while the right held a pencil, adding notes here and there.
“Has he finally gone crazy?” Bangchan snorted as Seonghwa took a seat beside him in the furthest corner of the backstage. Hyunjin's voice reached them as clear as a summer day's sun.
Seonghwa laughed, lifting his head for the first time in an hour or so, vertebrae protesting in the process. “Maybe. Seokmin just used the wrong spotlight again, and the newbie-” he squinted. “What was his name again?”
“Seungmin,” Chan answered after a beat of silence.
“Yeah. He keeps nagging him to go home. The poor man’s seen a glimpse of hell since he took over that directing position.” Seonghwa stretched his legs in front of him. “Who would blame him if he went crazy?”
“Well, that was one of those stupid things you do in your freshman year and spend your whole life regretting,” Chan giggled, mimicking Seonghwa's position.
“At least he hasn't gotten his heart broken. That would have been so much worse.” Seonghwa smiled pointedly, fingers reaching up to touch the snowflake necklaces around his neck. Hyunjin must have gotten tired by now and threw himself on a chair, panting and clutching his chest like a father who just found out about his daughter's affair with his chauffeur.
“Uh! Don't remind me.” Chan wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Jisung's situation traumatized me to the point of no going back.”
‘Situation’ read: when freshman Jisung found out his senior boyfriend, now ex, obviously, was secretly taking pictures of him and showing them to his friends.
Of course, it hadn't been resolved magically. The boy took a good beating he will never forget, and the pictures were completely erased. Seonghwa was grateful for their last names for once in his life, because the boy had never dared to report them.
But Jisung cried nonstop, like his heart was physically ripped raw from his chest. He was so hurt; he never let anyone get close till Minho showed up like a knight in slightly-cracked armor on a limping donkey instead of a mighty horse.
“And it won't be long till it's Hyunjin's turn with the way he is acting with Felix,” Seonghwa's tone turned serious as he whispered in the silence, which he knew was temporary.
Seonghwa had warned them both a million times and one that they wouldn't work together; Hyunjin was too ambitious, too tunnel-visioned on himself and his career, even a little selfish. And Felix was possessive, demanding attention from his lovers all the time. Hyunjin was a perfectionist, and Felix was far from perfect. Hyunjin wasn't what Felix wanted, needed, and vice versa. But they both insisted that love can fix whatever was wrong with the other.
“Oh no,” Chan groaned, covering his face, already able to see the sleepless nights, the tears-soaked pillows, and the downfall of their friend group. “Why can't they just get an ugly tattoo or something like a normal person?”
Seonghwa's eyes fell on the wave tattoo on Chan's wrist, shyly picking from under his sweater's sleeve, and before he could utter a word, Hyunjin was shouting again, something about Jisung not practicing his lines. It made them both jump and start rehearsing their lines together immediately before they got their share of scolding, too.
“So,” Chan cleared his throat after they were done reading, “are you coming to Jisung's party tonight?”
Seonghwa pressed his lips, avoiding Chan's eyes. “I'm not sure to be honest-”
“Uh, not this bullshit again,” he cut him off before he started rambling about how much trouble was to it come. “You always find a way, Seonghwa,” Chan rolled his eyes and scooted closer. “The party isn't a proper party if you're not there. Just give Jisung his gift, Yeah?” Chan pouted and put on his best show of puppy eyes till Seonghwa sighed in defeat and hissed, “God, you're impossible.”
“Yes!” Chan cheered, and Seonghwa was about to slap his arm, cutting his celebration short, but his hand hovered in the air as angry steps approached them. “Bahng Christopher Chan! How many times do you need to be told to come and try your damn costume on!” The redhead closed up the distance between them in two long strides.
Chan looked to the side for help, but Seonghwa wasn't there, even though he could swear he could hear his muffled laughter as Hyunjin dragged him to the stage.
The rest of the rehearsal passed in a flash. Hyunjin shouting about anything and everything, Minho cursed him under his breath more than Seonghwa could count, Seokmin fell on the stage-face first, and Yiji may or may not have spilled iced tea on her copy of the script. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Seonghwa turned the lights off and closed the doors after him with a sigh. As chaotic and frustrating as this place could get at times, he won't trade it for anything else. Everything about it was priceless: the lights flickering on the high, vast stage, the booming applause, the backstage rush, the costumes, the music. Standing there was like watching the world from the sky, like he was bigger than the whole world. Where the thrill and the freedom were addictive.
Up there, he had the choice to be whoever he wanted, the chance to leave his body for a few hours. To be someone else. Someone who isn't Seonghwa. Someone free from the weight of hatred and guilt. Someone whose expectations don't weigh down. Someone who could get a taste of different feelings other than guilt and anger. Up there, he was free and able to breathe when nothing else mattered.
He spent the whole year stressing about what was going to happen after this semester ended, when he graduated. He is going to be stripped of his escape soon, but he was trying to ignore that and enjoy the priceless moments when they lasted.
✯☀✯☀✯
The guard took the handcuffs off of him and huffed in relief that he tried to hide behind a hiss. “There you go. Don't ever come back here, Kim.”
“It won't happen, sir,” he promised, a sly smile creeping on his chapped lips.
The guard didn't add anything further; the fifty-something-year-old man just looked genuinely hoping that he wouldn't actually come back.
“Don't worry, Officer Byun, I never break a promise.” He purred, saluting the stunned officer.
He rubbed his wrists as the big gates closed after him with a loud creak. As he stood there as still as a statue. It hadn't been that long. A year and a half wasn't supposed to be long, but it was. It felt like a decade, maybe it was, and he just went insane.
He watched the setting sun that the gray, dirty walls had been cruelly holding back from him. The sky was clear, and the cool air was different, cleaner, and so unfamiliar as if he had forgotten how to breathe properly. It tickled his chest, making some soft giggles rise in his chest, but he held them back.
If softness had a place in his life in some stolen moments back then, it didn't, now, at least not right away. He couldn't afford softness back inside. Even the toughest ones were eaten raw if they showed a hint of weakness, so he had to be the devil, or rather a full-time devil, making everyone's lives a burning hell, turning himself into everyone's problem. And it worked, but drained him. At some lonely times, he missed his old life.
The last fragment of the sunlight landed on his eyes as soft as a feather, bringing him back to his senses after spending long days under the cold fluorescent lights and in the darkness of cells. He stared into the faint light needing to make sure it was real.
It seemed like it was real. The endless stretch of the sky can't be a game of his mind, the apricot hue of the sun was too beautiful to be a mere dream, and the softness of the air was creasing his rough skin so vividly.
Maybe he really had gone insane.
He tore his eyes off the sky when a loud screech of tires scared some birds off. The black SUV van jolted to a stop nearby. The familiar faces immediately got out one by one, making his grin stretch wider with every step. The first to reach him was Yeosang, who crashed into him. San came closely after, nearly knocking them all to the ground. To his right, Jongho shouted something he couldn't catch because to his left, Wooyoung was cheering-screaming as Mingi tightened his long arms around them all, knocking the wind out of him, but it was never tight enough.
All of them were talking and laughing at the same time, wrapping his icy heart with warmth. And finally, he freed the soft giggles he was holding back.
Hongjoong expected the world to move on without him, to leave him behind, forgotten and alone. But he was wrong, he was never wrong, but this time he was grateful, and he was rarely grateful.
“He is turning blue, guys.” Mingi shooed them away, laughing.
Hongjoong was finally able to see Yunho, leaning on the car as he watched them. As soon as their eyes met, he turned away, wiping his tears. Hongjoong cooed loudly, teasing him even though he was barely holding his own tears back.
“Look who is finally free!” Yunho snorted. His long arms wrapped tightly around him. He still smelled of oil and engines.
The word didn't remember him. It stopped for him, it waited for him.
“Oh, don't tell me you missed me.” Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Do any of you have a damn cigarette?”
“Jongho bet me a 20 dollars you were going to retire there, knitting pink scarves for the other prisoners, but it looks like you haven't changed even one bit.” San, ever the gold-burner, offered him the whole pack of his overly expensive cigarettes.
Hongjoong lit one and kept another in his pocket, smoke curling around his face as he exhaled slowly.
“Now that I'm thinking about it, they would use a doctor more than scarves,” Jongho smirked, crossing his arms.
Wooyoung smiled, slapping Hongjoong on the back. “Your spot is well reserved, Captain. We broke some bones on your behalf. Lessons have been taught not to play with us in your absence.” Always too loud, Hongjoong would tease him, telling him to rest his vocal chords for a month or two. But now he could only listen and smile wider.
“I hope you didn't over-break. I'm not back to clean up the mess you left behind in my absence,” Hongjong answered, trying to feign annoyance and failing miserably.
“Aw, don't get jealous,” Wooyoung cooed. “Don’t worry, we left some for you. We wouldn't dare to deprive you of your fun.” Wooyoung clapped his back again, making Hongjoong roll his eyes.
“You look even worse than before, Hong. What did they feed you in there!” Yeosang shook his head in what he tried to seem as disappointment, but his barely composed expression betrayed him. “God, that's a lot of work.”
“I missed your sweet compliments, Yeosang,” he replied in a not-so-fake smile, scanning their faces, making sure everyone was well.
They looked bad, really bad, like they were in a constant run. San was a bit leaner, and Yunho looked like he had never seen a moment of peace. Yeosang had a new scar on the left side of his neck, Wooyoung was pale but even fitter than before. They were alive.
“I really missed you fuckers.” He exhaled shakily.
“We missed having someone to order us around as well; Yunho did a terrible, terrible job at that,” Mingi said with a shit-eating-grin that only deepened when he was punched on his shoulder. It looked too personal.
“You’re fucking lucky they didn’t redecorate our headquarters while you weren't there. Yeosang wanted to turn it into a…” his fingers clawed at the air as he spat, “yoga club.” His face curled at the memories, “not that he was worse than San, who almost blew the whole damn place up.”
Hongjoong looked at San, who shook his head innocently.
“And that motherfucker-” he gestured at Wooyoung, who looked offended. “Gave me a hell of a time; never listened to a damn word I said-”
“It's called improvising, you ignorant,” Wooyoung muttered.
“OMG! He is starting again, run!” Yeosang rolled his eyes as he got in the car. The others followed immediately, San imitating Yunho mockingly.
“I'm glad you kept them all in one piece,” Hongjoong whispered. “You did a great job alone, Yunho. I'm proud of you.”
Yunho's face flushed deep crimson, he kicked a small stone as he muttered, avoiding his gaze, “I mean, it wasn't a big deal. They are my family too.”
“I know, but still. Thank you.”
The honk of the van sounded too loud when they stood this close; Jongho's head dangled off the window. “Are you done flirting, yet?”
“I think the right word is ‘I'm sorry’, Captain,” Yunho sighed and moved to the car.
“Yeah,” Hongjoong took one last, long drag of his cigarette and stepped on it. “That too.”
San threw his cigarette out of the window as soon as Yunho got in, before he could launch into his usual ‘I said no smoking in the car.’ rant.
“So, what’s our first order?” Mingi asked, cracking his fingers.
"Easy, Mingi, let's start with something to eat first. I would kill for Wooyoung's pasta," He answered, settling into his usual seat in the front next to Yunho.
“It's impatiently waiting for you in the HQ, Captain.” Wooyoun flipped his short, inky hair.
“Okay, let's get the fuck outta here, boys.” Honjoong clapped once, and the car started moving.
✯☀✯☀✯
Seonghwa stepped into the quiet house, the curtains were drawn shut as usual. A heavy sigh left his chest as he dragged his legs up the stairs to his room to hide there, allegedly, till the next morning. But a faint sound of the TV coming out of the next room, which was supposed to be empty, made him halt in his steps.
The door cracked open under his touch.
“Jihyo? When did you arrive?” It was like the weight suddenly dropped off his shoulders as he approached his sister with wide eyes. She opened her arms for him, and he didn't have to be told twice.
They swayed like a Carnation in the wind as she ran her fingers through his hair. He can't remember the last time he got to be held, maybe last month when he last saw her. “Chanyeol dropped me off about an hour ago and left.”
She pointed her head at the screen. Where he saw his brother-in-law standing by his father's side on the red podium, above a crowd that chanted some stupid slogans which would remain as such forever, but they never learned, drinking poison and expecting it to taste different, trusting that damn party's promises, even if it turned out to be empty every time. What a deadly damn thing hope was!
“God, that's really embarrassing.” Seonghwa covered his eyes, shaking his head as he took a seat. Though watching wouldn't do him any good, he still did it every time like a man possessed. He kept his mouth shut and eyes glued to the screen. To the man with the tailored suit and cheap mask.
“My dear citizens,” the chants died down as Mr. Soohyuk started. Voice steady, eyes as hard as the eagle's. Trying desperately to be the savior, the fighter, the revolutionary.
How stupid the people were to not see what was under the already cracked mask.
“For too long, we have allowed injustice, corruption, and division to control us, but today, we stand and shout: Enough is enough!” He slammed the lectern. The crowd boomed again with applause and cheers. But Seonghwa just narrowed his eyes, a familiar pang of resentment pricking his chest. He exhaled sharply through his nose as his hand went to hold the snowflake.
“Today I stand before you, not as the power-hungry tyrant they paint me to be, but as a man who knows, understands the struggles of the ordinary person-”
“You should find him some role in your play; he’s a great actor,” Jihyo snorted, forcing some of the discomfort out of him as a breathy laugh escaped his lips. Although she didn't seem any lighter, occupying herself with checking his books that he had placed between them when they sat down.
“I promise you a future where businesses thrive, not at the expense of the worker, but alongside them-”
This time, Seonghwa couldn't hold the bitter laugh that escaped him. The memory from three years ago was still vivid in his mind. He still could recall the faces of the three workers in one of his father's factories who died due to negligence.
All the man did was try so desperately to cover up their deaths and silence their families by forcing his dirty money in their faces. The house at that time was so tense that Seonghwa couldn't bear to stay between its walls.
“So, today I ask you to stand with me, to fight with-” The screen blacked out, silencing the lies. Seonghwa's reflection glared back at him, sullen face and bitter smile.
Jihyo had finally had enough and turned the TV off, throwing the remote away with an annoyed huff. He was happy she did because he wouldn't have.
“ ‘The Black Revan’ Is that your new play?” That wasn't a question as she flipped through his copy of the script, but he hummed anyway.
Jihyo never missed a show of his. Always in the middle of the second row, watching him with sparkling, proud eyes. He snatched the script and hid it behind his back.
“Wait! I haven't got to the ending, yet,” she chased his hand.
“Don't spoil it for yourself, you will see,” he said, protecting the papers with his life.
Sha sat back, huffing in annoyance as she folded her arms. “Fine, just tell me if it's a happy ending.”
“Define ‘happy’?” He rested his arm on the sofa's back, getting comfortable in his seat.
She gave him an unimpressed look, crossing her legs. “Will Everest and Aster get married?”
“How is that supposed to be a happy ending? Everest is a pirate and Aster is a prince,” he said, like she missed those small, insignificant details in the story. She still looked at him, waiting for the answer.
“Everest kidnapped Aster, locked him in a cell , humiliated him. How in the hell- What the hell are you talking about?” He emphasized every word.
“Okay, but he was a good person. He got Aster different food than theirs and warm clothes, protected him, he even taught him how to spar, and on top of all that, he is hot. Also, both of them are more alike than they seem, and you know it, Aster ” She argued, counting on her fingers.
“Yeah, first of all, that's called basic human rights. God, the bar is in hell” he said, and stood up, rolling his eyes.
“You are no fun, Seonghwa.”
“I'm hungry. Don't you want something to eat?”
“I cooked your favorite, shrimp and pasta. But you are not getting a single bite of it till you tell me how it's gonna end?” She stood in front of the door, blocking his way.
He stood with royal grace and hard eyes, imitating Yiji, who played the queen in the play.
“The filthy Pirate King and his evil crew are to be executed.”
Chapter Text
"I am a man more sinned against than sinning."
~William Shakespeare, King Lear.
“Wouldn't you like to come? It's gonna be fun.” Seonghwa coaxed softly, half of him hanging out of the balcony railing.
“I said no, just go and have fun for both of us.” Jihyo tightened her grip on him, checking the height for the tenth time.
“Your loss,” he smirked, swinging his other leg outside.
“Wait! Take care of yourself,” she whispered. And was about to let go of his jacket. But her fingers tightened again. “And keep your phone close.”
“Okay.” He hummed and waited for her grip to loosen. It wasn't a surprise when it didn't.
“Keep your eyes on your glass. Oh, and don't drink too much.” Jihyo chewed on her lips, still checking how far the fall would be every second.
“Sure.” He tried to remove her hand gently, so she held his arm with the other.
“Do you have enough money?”
“I do.”
“Don't be late.”
“I won't. Anything else?” He asked, rolling his eyes.
“I love you.”
His eyes softened as he stared into her trembling ones, and for a moment, he wanted to cancel all his plans and stay with her, sleeping between her arms like they always did.
“I love you too, Doe,” he whispered back.
“Go.” She let go of him only to hold onto the hazel railing with white-knuckeled fingers. “Tell Jisung I said happy birthday.” He nodded with a small smile.
The fall wasn't far, only one storey high, but he still landed heavily on the vibrant green grass. Jihyo's sharp gasp was audible in the quietness of the night, even muffled by her hand. If he listened closely, he could even hear her perfectly polished red nails tapping on the railing.
“I'm getting too old for this,” he mumbled to himself, dusting off his black pants and his hand went to make sure the snowflake was in its place.
“I'm alright,” he mouthed and got a shaky thumbs up from Jihyo.
His father was in his office, with his older brother and Chanyeol. He had to crawl under the window where the latter was leaning his back and sprint as fast -and as quietly- as he could through the garden till he got to the gates.
Mister Lee was deep asleep on his chair as always, his snorts loud enough to cover a whole nuclear explosion.
Of course, he couldn't risk taking his car; it would draw too much unwanted attention.
“Did a runaway princess order a ride?”
Seonghwa smiled when the sleek black bike stopped in front of him. He pushed the helmet he was offered back and hopped on. “Get me the fuck outta here.”
“You are impossible,” Changbin snorted over the rumble of the engine and loud wind. “If your father finds out, he’ll have all of us arrested.”
He held Changbin's waist closer. “I think the right word you're looking for is ‘fucking cool’, Bin. And~” he sang-songed, “I'm fine as long as I don't act stupid enough to get caught,” he reminded pointedly.
“Do you think I planned to get caught?” Changbin defended, way louder than necessary; it made Seonghwa close his eyes. “Everything was perfect till the police raided the race. Mother never told me she knew anything, not even a warning.”
Seonghwa wasn't surprised at the cruelty of reporting your son to the police over something like illegal racing, because his father would do the same with him if he ever got the chance.
“Well, at least you got a new bike.” Seoghwa patted his heart with a mock apology.
“You realised?” He could hear Changbin smiling widely.
“I'm not as blockheaded as you think I am. They may look alike, but the other one wasn't as smooth on the road.”
“Pops got it for me from Japan. It's a 1,103cc-” that was his cue to zone out, only humming and nodding occasionally as Changbin yapped about his new bike. Changbin knew that no one actually listened or understood anything except maybe Jeongin, and didn't care; he just liked to talk.
The roads were quiet, still, dimly lit. The stars spread out on the endless sky, twinkling shyly as they got further and further away from the more privileged era. The stars never failed to impress him; they continued to shine even after their deaths.
Was it selflessness? A stupid desire to eternally sacrifice, because its only value was its light, was what it gave endlessly? Or was it rebellion against death itself? A repudiation to be forgotten?
Was being forgotten that painful? For Seonghwa, it was a punishment from God: To never attain eternal rest. To never be forgotten. Seonghwa wanted to be forgotten, not in the blue, melodramatic sense; he just wanted to be erased from everyone's memories like they never knew him, like he was never there.
One night, after a particular nightmare that always woke him up breathless, crying, Jihyo had hugged him on the balcony of her room as they watched the stars. When she told him that the pure souls turn into imperishable stars to watch over their loved ones and light their path on the moonless nights.
He made it a habit after that to talk to the stars every night, till he grew up a little more and realized that it wasn't true. He stopped talking, but his eyes never stopped wandering; a faint spark of hope waited to see the familiar, sharp eyes on a gentle face.
“I hate to interrupt two stars' conversation, but we are here,” Changbin said as he parked the bike. “If you are in love with someone, just tell them instead of staring at the sky all the time like a hopeless romantic.” Seonghwa knew it was coming; he sighed and rolled his eyes as Changbin laughed like he had just cracked the best joke ever.
“Why would Jisung choose such a place?” He took Changbin's hand to get down as he looked around the dark neighborhood, narrow streets, and short buildings.
“This is the last place the paparazzi would expect. More privacy,” Changbin shrugged and led the way.
“You came!” Jisung cheered over the music and pulled him into a hug.
“Do I have a choice?” Seonghwa crooked an eyebrow at him.
"Of course not, silly. So what did you get me?” Jisung's gummy smile stretched wider when Seonghwa handed him the box with a red ribbon around it. “Happy birthday.”
He wasted no time opening the box. “Oh my god! Where did you get it? In my color too.” He pulled out the red racer jacket he had always said he wanted but never got because it was a limited edition.
“I love you.” Jisung crushed into him, laughing loudly.
“Can we move on to the cake, or are we spending the whole night in formalities?” Minho cut in, earning scattered laughs across the long table and a teasing look from Seonghwa.
“What do you think?” Jisung turned to Minho, bouncing excitedly. The jacket went well with his all black outfit as he tried it on.
The latter glaring expression turned into something unreadable, or Seonghwa didn't want to read into it.
“So pretty.” Minho sipped his whisky, clearly not talking about the jacket.
“You guys are disgusting,” Felix objected, turning to Seonghwa. “They have been eye-fucking each other even before the night started.”
“You jealous?” Jisung stuck out his tongue as he went back to his original place, between Minho's legs. The latter wrapped his arms possessively around his lover's waist.
“What's his deal?” Seonghwa whispered, taking a seat beside Bangchan as Jisung and Felix went back and forth with their usual banter.
“Who? Minho? He got him a Labo but didn't get the same big reaction. Don't mind him, he's just jealous.” Chan poured him a glass of wine.
Lovers, Seonghwa rolled his eyes.
“He’ll be getting more than just hugs and happy jumps at the end of the night anyway,” Hyunjin scoffed, invading their personal space, his cheeks already pink like he just went through his tenth glass of beer.
“If you asked me, you seem jealous too, Hyun.” Seonghwa crooked an eyebrow at him, directing his eyes to Felix, who sat in the farthest seat at the table, nursing a glass of wine.
“At least he's getting something, Hyunjin,” Chan snorted and shifted his focus to Changbin, who leaned in to talk to him.
Hyunjin narrowed his eyes, glaring at Felix, who guffawed at some remark Jeongin made.
“He thinks he owns me just because we're dating. I can't keep leaving my life like that,” he hissed, sparing Seonghwa the details of the latest argument, because it's always the same.
“Maybe he's not right, but that doesn't mean you are,” Seonghwa answered boredly, taking a big gulp of his wine. He would need something stronger if he was going to spend the night between the quarreling lovers.
“I still have a whole life ahead of me that I'm planning to live, but he only wants to keep me in a cage. How can that make me wrong!”
“He wants all your time, and you're offering him none. Either you talk it out-”
Hyunjin opened his mouth to blurt something, but Seonghwa beat him to it, emphasizing, “civilly, or you part ways. You guys keep hurting each other more than you realize.”
Hyunjin fell silent, watching his glass. “I don't want to leave him.”
“I know,” Seonghwa whispered. “Go, try to talk to him. Angry silence kills love, and I no longer can take the headaches y'all are giving me.” he nudged Hyunjin, pointing his chin to the restroom where Felix disappeared a minute ago.
Seonghwa drained the rest of his glass and stood up. “Did we come to stay glued to our seats all night? Come'n; I love this song.” he grabbed Chan's hand and pulled him towards the dance floor as The Driver by Måneskin started playing. The latter laughed and let himself get dragged.
The rest exchanged pointed glances before they all turned to Changbin, who choked on his drink.
“What?” He coughed.
“Are they really together?” Jeongin blurted first, narrowing his eyes.
Changbin blinked, confused. “What- How would I know!” He shouted over the music as if the implied accusation offended him; a couple of heads turned to them.
“You hang out with them more than any of us! They must have told you something,” Minho shot back, not as loud.
“If you are this curious, why don't you ask them?” He wanted to stand up, but Jeongin kept him in place.
“We are not curious, they are just… suspicious,” Jisung said, watching the two dancing close, Seonghwa laughing and letting Chan twirl him.
“And secretive,” Minho added.
“Well, then, you are not supposed to know. Though they seem pretty normal to me.” He received a chorus of disappointed sighs, but they finally let him go. “As if two couples in this group aren't enough for y'all.” he flipped them off and followed the others to the dance floor.
College students have always loved to gossip, and who was better to talk about than the youngest son of the next potential president and the heir to one of the country's industrial tycoons?
They've been friends since their freshman year, but that stupid rumor started when they were seen together more often than not, even if it was only for the sake of the new play where they played the main roles.
Some even were bold enough to come and ask Seonghwa about it to his face, ranting about their chemistry. No matter what he said, it hadn't stopped their classmates from looking at them when they arrived at class together and smiling like they knew something no one else did.
It always made Seonghwa uncomfortable, not because Chan was bad. But ‘love’ was an unfamiliar word to his ear, a strange concept his mind couldn't make sense of. His friends were loud about it all the time. He saw it deeply intertwined with every life around him as if it were as necessary as the air they breathe. To him, it was a deadly smoke; if it failed his chest, it would choke him to death. A trap, a heavy weight his heart wouldn't bear.
He saw it with his own eyes, how love made people desperate, helpless, blue, weak.
The idea of being weak for someone, to be so fragile to the point of breaking at the slightest touch from a person. It terrified him more than anything else.
But despite everything that screamed at him to withdraw, to protect whatever was left of him. A small, stupid part of him, he wouldn't even dare to acknowledge, to admit was there even to himself, yearned to be loved. A selfish, mute desire to be heard, seen. Despite his sins, failure, and being Seonghwa.
To be loved even when he couldn't believe he could offer that love to himself. A secret he would take to his grave.
What a deadly damn thing hope was.
Seonghwa threw himself beside Chan, taking a long sip of wine that didn't quench his thirst. The club was getting emptier and quieter, even the music shifted to match the vibe.
“Let's have one more drink and leave. We have an early rehearsal tomorrow. If anyone is late, I won't spare 'em,” Hyujin panted as Felix threw himself at him, both of them getting booed.
“What did I do?” Felix slurred.
Seonghwa kept his mouth shut, a suggestion to leave right now was at the tip of his tongue. His body was already relaxed, and his eyes were heavier.
The calm atmosphere didn't last for long when the club's glass doors were flung wide open. A rowdy group of men stormed in like they owned the place. Loud, chaotic, and full of life in the most annoying ways. As if they brought along the outside's chaos that Seonghwa was trying to hide from. One of them was so loud that the DJ had to turn the music up again.
In the middle sat a man who was the center of the group's attention, making sure he sat first and listening attentively whenever he opened his mouth. Though he was the shortest, his mere presence commanded attention.
The crew claimed the farthest corner of the club, Wooyoung and San bickering loudly as Mingi watched and cackled at them. Yunho seemed in a good mood; he didn't scold them to shut the fuck up.
Jongho laughed quietly as he saw Yeosang brush the captain's hand away from his hair for the hundredth time. “Don't touch it, you will fuck it up,” Yeosang scolded.
“You did such a good job. I'm appreciating your work,” Hongjoong waited for Yeosang to turn his eyes away from him, and his hand went up again to touch his hair.
Seonghwa rolled his eyes and went back to his drink, but his eyes kept falling on the man in the middle every now and then. His light brown hair was longer in the back as his fingers kept rolling the strands around them. His lower lip had a silver piercing, smiling a knife-edged smile, eyes sharp enough to cut with one look.
Hongjong's fourth empty mug hit the table with a loud thud, eyes scanning the place.
“What a funny thing life is!” He mumbled, his smile stretching wider, eyes fixed on a table in the middle.
Everyone fell silent, looking at him when he straightened his back, clearing his throat. “Don't get drunk; we have work tomorrow,” He commanded, not looking at them, eyes still hanging on the table.
He got a domino of yessirs before everyone went back to whatever they were doing.
“You're barely out. Wouldn't that be too soon?” Yunho leaned in to ask softly.
“You think I was released a whole year early because of my good conduct?” Hongjoong snorted.
Yunho stared at him for a long moment before sighing heavily and turning back to his glass; Hongjoong wouldn't disclose a single word more till it's time.
Seonghwa's eyes drifted back to the man when their eyes locked for a split second that was enough to send a shiver down Seonghwa's spine. A smile raised on the man's lips, an ugly, mocking smile as if he saw Seonghwa's discomfort and enjoyed it.
✯☀✯☀✯
The very first shy light of the rising sun looked like a dream as the fresh air creased Seonghwa's hot cheeks. It was a pleasant feeling till the car stopped. He pouted, looking at Chan, who looked amused, laughing, “What a car pup. This is your stop.” He helped Seonghwa unbuckle his seatbelt.
Seonghwa huffed and held his high-heeled boots to his chest while trying to hop off the Cabriolet without landing face-first. “Thanks for the ride, see you at the rehearsal,” he murmured, waving.
“Where are you going, Seonghwa!” Changbin shouted from the back seat, followed by Felix, who was sleeping on Hyunjin's chest, “don't leave, yet!”
Seonghwa shushed them. Looking around for witnesses as Chan drove off immediately, scolding them.
Between all of them, Chan and Minho were the only two who were sober enough to drive. Minho took Jisung in his car, and Chan took the rest. The cars and bikes were left at the club for the chauffeurs to go get them.
Jihyo was already waiting for him by the door. “Still in the office,” she whispered, tiptoeing toward the stairs.
“Welcome back, Seonghwa. You missed dinner.”
The office's doors swung open before they could reach the stairs. Jin came out first, already barking like a starved dog. Both of them stumbled backwards, and Jihyo almost fell if it wasn't for Chanyeol's steady hand.
She shook his hand off as if it burned her, taking a step back to hold Seonghwa's wrist to keep him behind her.
Jin stood to their father's side, their faces held the same anger, the same disappointment, except that Jin had that sneer on his face like he was waiting for Seonghwa to make a mistake.
“Where have you been?” Soohyuk asked slowly, like the first drizzle of a storm.
Seonghwa swallowed, hiding himself behind Jihyo even more. He didn't remember the last time he got caught, mind racing with excuses.
“I-I forgot my phone in the car, I went to get it-” he mumbled.
“Really, in those clothes?” Jin cut in sharply, earning himself a glare from Jihyo.
“Do you realize how irresponsible you are?” Soohyuk took a step closer, Jihyo stumbled three back, taking Seonghwa with her. “Do you know what would happen if a picture of you looking like… like that was leaked?” his voice rose with every word, pointing his hand up and down, annoyed, embarrassed, and maybe even disgusted.
“Do you know what that would do to me?” he shouted, Jihyo tightening her grip around his wrist when he finished. His other hand came to cling to the back of her dress.
“Father, please-” she tried, but was cut off immediately. “You, shut up! He is like that because you spoiled him rotten!”
“How many times have I told you not to ruin my reputation with your carelessness.” He exhaled sharply. “Die if you want. As long as you do it quietly.” His father's face reddened, the veins in his neck visible. “Do whatever you want, but don't let anyone see you, don't let the people know that you are the damn curse of this family; they will use you against me!”
“Is that what you are trying to do?” Soohyuk narrowed his eyes.
“No, I-”
“It's either that or you just are stupid; since you can't do anything I tell you or even anything right.”
“He can't be that stupid since he is top of his class every semester, right?” Jin snorted.
“Why do you keep doing that to me? I lost everything because of you: myself, my happiness, my love, and now you're coming for the position I'm striving for!”
“Because that's who you are, right, Seonghwa? You ruin everything you touch.” Jin hissed, low like a small demon, reminding him of his sins.
At this point, Jihyo was certain that her father would strike at any second; she flinched at every movement. Seonghwa thought the same; even if the words that went unsaid choked him, he still stayed silent, lowering his eyes.
“Of course, now you will shut up, right?” his father hissed, still panting from the outburst. “Jin, starting from now, a guard will accompany him to preserve my image that he is trying so hard to tarnish.”
He turned his back to them, walking to the stairs. “If only I could lock you up.” Soohyuk sighed deeply, shaking his head.
For long minutes, everyone stood there like statues where the only audible thing in the hall was Soohyuk's heavy, slow steps. No one dared to move or even breathe loudly.
Seonghwa's tears choked him, his eyes burned, and his throat seized painfully. But he couldn't cry. The tears were there, the sadness had an iron grip around his heart. But he knew they wouldn't fall even if he wanted…begged it to. It was cruel, wanting to cry, but his body betrayed him as everything else.
“I wish you were the one who died instead of her.” The mutter was the last thing that reached them before the door slammed shut, and finally everyone could breathe.
At least we had one thing in common, Seonghwa thought, the snowflake felt impossibly heavy on his chest.
“If you can't say something good, will you keep your mouth shut?” Jihyo hissed at Jin, finally letting go of Seonghwa. He missed the warmth immediately.
Somehow, the red marks her fingers left behind were comforting to Seonghwa; he kept staring at it.
“You're lecturing me? It's your brother who keeps ruining everything and acts innocent after.” Jin's tone wasn't any less aggressive; he almost reached out to grab her arm. Chanyeol blocked his way, standing in front of her. “Let's keep our hands to ourselves, yeah?” Chanyeol's tone was quiet, face relaxed, but the warning behind was unmistakable.
“Come, Hwa, let's make you something to sober you up before your classes,” she said, eyes never leaving Jin's.
Jihyo held his hand more gently as she pulled him to her room. Of course, she didn't forget to glare at both of them in her way, whispering to Jin in disappointment, “You are just like him.”
Chapter Text
"What’s done cannot be undone."
~William Shakespeare, Macbeth.
For the first time in a while, the theater was silent. Not quite, not calm. Complete silence washed over the theater, occasionally disturbed by only footsteps or a loud exhale.
On the cold wooden floor of the stage, under a single spotlight, which was the only thing lighting the big theater, the small cast was seated in a loose circle around a banner, carefully coloring it. Hyunjin roamed above their heads with the biggest cup of coffee ever known to man in his hand, making sure a certain someone, read: Seokmin, didn't ruin the banner, going out of line.
The director was even grumpier today, glaring at everyone because he didn't have the energy to do more.
Seonghwa took one of the corners, coloring silently. The silence he always hated, because it gave his thoughts a chance to take control over his mind, to drift away in dangerous territories.
Worthless. Stupid. Guilty. Seonghwa.
The echo of the words in his head wasn't the first time he heard them. Those words weren't new. Each word was a sharp blade carving scars that would never heal onto his soul.
He was supposed to be used to it by now, Seonghwa chewed himself out; he should have grown numb to the poison dripping from his father's mouth, but each blow hit harder every time, when he thought it wouldn't touch him. Somehow the words kept finding well parts in his soul and heart to tear it apart, like a hurricane ripping through a field of poppies.
‘Should have died instead of her.’ Echoed like a death knell in his hollow chest. Thunderous, shattering, excruciating.
His father's cruelty, which he was the cause of, didn't hurt as much as the guilt. His guilt of taking what wasn't his and never being able to give it back, to atone for his sin. The deep guilt that had been festering inside him since he was old enough to realize what his mere existence caused. His first breath in the world was his mother's last. Every breath he took, every glance at his broken father, was a painful reminder of his great loss.
He never had the chance to see her, to hug her, feel her warmth. A ghost he saw in every corner, but never got to touch.
Jihyo once told him that she had always been bright and cheerful, even in the darkest nights; she never lost her gentleness. She loved them all so dearly, even if their father favored Jin. Also, she was the one to name him. His name, scattered pictures, and the snowflake necklaces that once belonged to her were all she left him. He treasured every item, even if he was jealous of the memories Jihyo and Jin had.
He wished it were up to him to choose who lived and who died. He wouldn't spare it a single thought before giving up his life.
“Seonghwa-”
‘Ruin everything you touch, that's who you are.’
Seonghwa learned to hide the scars the words left behind and buried them deep. But they were more stubborn than he was, refused to drown, and kept floating every time they thought he might forget, might move on, to remind him that he didn't deserve to forget. Weak, sinner, stupid.
His mother's death was his fault. Perhaps if he had died with her, his father would have been left with some love to help carry on with his life.
“Seonghwa-”
The rain poured, and the pain ate him from the inside out, but he didn't cry. He couldn't. He begged the tears to fall every night, but they didn't; maybe crying was for the innocent. If he cried, the tears would fall black or acid, purifying him from his sins. Maybe he didn't deserve to cry. Maybe the tears were for the people who still had hope, and Seonghwa had none left.
“Park fucking Seonghwa!” Hyunjin shouted, Seonghwa flinched. His hand that held the brush shook slightly, he lifted it quickly before it messed up the banner as he lifted his confused eyes to Hyunjin.
“What?” he asked, looking between all the eyes on him.
“You've got to sort out whatever Shakespearean drama you're stuck in, lover boy,” Chan snorted under his breath, pulling the brush out of his grip before it dripped.
Seonghwa just realised how hard he was gripping it.
“Stop spending your time with Changbin, will you?” He rolled his eyes.
“Go get the ladder from the back, so we can hang the damn curtains and go get lunch,” Hyunjin barked, and went to scold someone else about whatever.
“He is sick in the head, I swear. As soon as he leaves these doors, he will go back to his calm, normal self like nothing had happened,” Seokmin complained in a hushed tone, his eyes on Hyunjin to make sure he didn't hear him.
Seonghwa laughed at Seokmin's reaction and stood up, softly denying Chan's offer to help him carry the ladder.
His body trembled as he left the theater's doors. The sky was uncharacteristically dark for a spring midday, the air was cold and smelled of petrichor.
The two guards stood outside the doors where he left them, not moved an inch, faces unreadable and postures stiff like statues. A flick of his wrist and a sharp glance stopped them from following him; He didn't need babysitters following him around to make sure he didn't hurt himself.
He regretted it immediately, pursing his lips. He'd been rude to them since morning, when he knew for a fact none of them wanted to be here either. Stupid Seonghwa; always distracting his anger towards the wrong things, the wrong people. His fingers tightened around the snowflake.
Clicking his tongue, he fetched the keys from his pocket. Inviting them to sit in the theater with a warm drink sounded like a decent apology.
The equipment room was behind the theater, in a quiet corner, turning it into the perfect hangout spot for the lovers who wanted privacy. Seonghwa was traumatized enough to clear his throat loudly and land his steps heavier.
His hand hovered awkwardly in the air; the lock wasn't in its place. “Mister Do is going to kill you, Hyunjin,” he mumbled and pushed the rusty hasp. The wooden door creaked open slowly; it made Seonghwa's skin crawl. The room was dimly lit by the outside light. The air was heavy, stuffy; every instinct in Seonghwa begged him to leave and come back with someone; something wasn't right.
He took a hesitant step inside, trying to find the light switch that suddenly decided to play hide and seek with him.
A shadow crept on the wall in front of him, making him halt in his steps. It was getting bigger, slowly. “Chan?” he almost turned. Almost- if it wasn't for the other shadow that flashed in the darkness.
“Chan!” he called, taking a step back, but the loud call was covered by the creaking of the door. The room fell into darkness.
“Changbin!” He wanted to run, but the solid chest he slammed into blocked the way out. It was early to panic because he couldn't breathe. Way too early. He couldn't see the faces, only shadows, huge shadows.
A hard arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping him in place. “No!” he screamed, trying to free himself, fighting left and right. His nails dug into the skin, but the man was unmoving as a mountain. The other arm came right after the first to wrap around his neck like an anaconda. Deadly, harsh, violent.
Now he actually couldn't breathe.
“Didn't think getting you alone would be that easy,” the man whispered behind his ear, his warm breath made him shiver; it burned .
He could feel the skin break under his nails, he could feel blood, he could smell blood, but the mountain stayed unaffected.
“Easy; we want him alive,” The other shadow addressed him.
Should that make him happy!
It emerged from the darkness, holding a cloth in front of him. He tried to move his face away from it. “Let's make it as painless as possible, hmm?” The shadow hummed, pressing the cloth to his face. It carried a strange smell, and felt so dirty, wet, it made him want to vomit.
He twisted harder, kicked, scratched, tried to scream, but his voice didn't come out. The only sound he heard was a low crash.
Black dots started gathering in front of his eyes as tears slid down the sides of his face. His knees shuddered, and his body finally surrendered, betraying him once again. The black dots turned into a veil, covering his eyes, but he still heard them whispering.
The cloth was lifted, and he was lowered to the floor for a moment just to be lifted again to be put somewhere narrow, he could feel it trapping him. He heard a click, and everything went terrifyingly silent after.
✯☀✯☀✯
A sharp slap struck the guard's face, echoing like an explosion. The man stood still, hands clapped in front of him, and eyes lowered to the floor.
Jihyo had always been the calmest person Chanyeol had ever met. Always wise, thought deeply before speaking, so her words always held weight without being loud, or sharp. Rarely got angry. Even in her anger, she never raised her voice, never spoke sharply. Ever as soft as dandelions. So, calling what he felt, watching her get to the point of slapping the guard like that, shocked would be an understatement.
“You had one job, only one!” Her voice challenged the thunder roaring outside, who was going to shake the room more?, tightening her grip around the man's collar. “To protect him. And yet, you miserably failed at it.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, heavier than the rain poured.
She wasn't angry, Chanyeol realized; she was scared. Terrified even.
“I swear to God, on my brother, if something happens to Seonghwa, I wouldn't spare any of you! I'll skin you alive!”
Chanyeol felt she was going to collapse at any moment; he stepped closer to hold her, tearing her from the poor man. He knew she wouldn't like it.
“Don't touch me!” She hissed, trying to snatch her arm back, as if his touch burned. He wanted to apologise non-stop until he was forgiven. He couldn't let go of her; she felt so fragile, so weak, the only thing keeping her on her feet was his unwavering hand.
“Enough, Jihyo! What you're doing won't help. Calm down so we can think.” Jin snapped, sitting beside his father on the couch. Both of them looked as nonchalant as ever, like they were waiting for their breakfast, and the only thing disturbing their peace was her voice.
“How the fuck can you ask me to calm down? It's been seven damn hours and Seonghwa hasn't shown up yet!” She shot back.
“We searched for him everywhere, but we can't do much with so little information,” Jin hissed, straightening up. One look at Chanyeol made him redirect his sharp look away, gesturing vaguely. “Maybe he finally ran away, that was always bound to happen.”
“You don't even know what you're talking about! You saw the room yourself: the lock was broken and the lamp was shattered, did that look normal for you?”
“I saw the CCTV tapes too, and it looked completely normal; he never left the campus. If you don't trust me, go look for him yourself.”
“Shut up!” Soohyuk shot, standing up. A wave of his hand dismissed the guards. “It will reveal itself, whether he ran away or not.” He said in finality.
The rain won the challenge when Jihyo's tears ran out first; her disbelieving eyes widened. “ Are we just gonna stand idly by and wait until we are sure he's hurt?” Her voice shook, like she was trying not to scream. “Seonghwa is in danger, Father, we need to find h-”
He raised a palm in her face, “You won't tell me what we need. Your brother is doing everything he can.” His tone was cold, dismissing as if Seonghwa were a mere worthless object he could replace or dispense.
“Mom wouldn-”
“Your mother is not here,” Soohyuk cut in sharply. “She is dead; she chose him once and forever.”
“Father-”
“Chanyeol! Take your wife home; she is of no need here.” Soohyuk lifted his chen and turned his back to her to go back to his office, followed by his son, his only son .
Heavy silence stretched in the living room, Jihyo's ragged breath was the only thing heard beside the rain knocking on the windows. Her eyes were glaring at the four big frames of the family hung on the wall.
“Chanyeol,” she whispered, slowly turning to face him, her tears pouring even harder. “F-find Seonghwa-a, please,” she asked, so low, he wouldn't have caught it if he hadn't been listening to her with his every sense.
“Please, I will do whatever you want.” Her knees hit the floor, her hands held his legs. “I will be a perfect wife. I won't contradict you ever again. Just please.”
He fell to his knees in front of her. His heart felt like it was ripped off his chest and torn into pieces in front of his eyes. “Jihyo,” he stroked her arms slowly, but that only seemed to make her sob harder. “Jin searched for him everywhere, and Mr. Park, surely, won't leave him behind; maybe he is just scared and can't think straight.”
“No,” she held his shoulders tightly. “Father hates Seonghwa, you know that. And Jin just follows blindly. He's convinced that Seonghwa ran away; he wouldn't, Chanyeol. I swear. He wouldn't have left me behind.”
“He couldn't have run away, look-look.” She snatched the discarded stuff off the couch. “This is his phone. He can't live without his phone.” She put it aside to open a wallet in front of him, which was full of cash and credit cards. “This is his wallet. How would he leave without any money, right?”
“Today is cold. Why would he leave his jacket and scarf behind? Maybe he is- Maybe he is careless sometimes, but he hates it when he gets cold,” she forced a laugh that sounded so ugly between all the sobs.
“Jihyo-”
“I made this scarf for him; he would wear it nonstop because it makes him warm. He must be cold now, Chanyeol. He must be shaking and- and hungry; he hasn't had his breakfast this morning, Chanyeol.”
“Jihyo, please-” he could hear his soul getting crushed.
“The play is close; they can't do it without him. I beg you, Chanyeol, find him. You can; you-you are an important member of the party.” She repeated his name like a prayer, as if he were the chosen one who was going to save her collapsing world.
He would be if that was what she wanted him to be; she didn't need to beg or cry; her smallest wishes had always been his command.
“I will,” he promised. “I will search the hospitals, bus stations, and airports departure lists,” his tone was confident, sure. As if he could split the earth and the skies to find Seonghwa. And he will if that was what it took to make her happy again.
“Thank you.” She sniffled, a pained smile painted her lips as she leaned in to wrap her arms around him, repeating words of gratitude.
Jihyo, for the first time, approached him on her own. In different circumstances, maybe his heart would have skipped a beat, maybe his ears would have reddened, and would have hugged her tighter, but he couldn't touch her, hug her back, couldn't be happy. He can't; she tried to escape her family's cage by locking herself in his.
✯☀✯☀✯
A loud strike of thunder shook the room, making the apricot lights falter. Seonghwa opened his eyes slowly, and the headache and dizziness attacked him immediately as if it was impatiently waiting for him. It made him close his eyes again, waiting for them to quiet down. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, except he actually had nothing inside to throw up.
After what felt like ten minutes, the dizziness slowed down, allowing him to lift his head and look around, stiff neck protesting in the process, his body trembling.
He didn't know how long he had been out or where they had taken him, but his entire body was throbbing in pain, and the air was now cold, as if the walls of the room were made of thin paper.
His hands were tied behind his back as he sat on a creaking chair in the corner of a narrow room. The walls looked like they were white once, but time painted them in a disgusting shade of yellow. In the other corner was an old, worn bed next to a small table. The only window in the room was covered with newspapers to block the view.
Seonghwa sighed in frustration as the world wouldn't stop spinning, his stomach wouldn't calm down, and the headache was tearing his head and eyes. He tried to untie the rope around his wrists, which was luckily loose as if whoever bound him was certain he would be too weak or so terrified to even think of freeing himself.
His own heartbeat was too loud in his ears. “The sleeping beauty has finally woken up?” Songhwa froze in place; he didn’t realize when the door opened, but the deep, mocking sneer caught his attention, making him lift his eyes.
A man who was maybe a little shorter than him with light brown hair and green streaks. It was tied in a ponytail, revealing soft features and a bright red mark on one side of his face. His neck had one scar, while his forearms were covered in them, though they looked older.
Seonghwa knew better than to underestimate him just because he seemed ‘soft’ even with a sneer on his face; that was exactly what people tend to do to him and then find out that he wasn't the spoiled little brat they thought he was.
Seonghwa lifted his heavy eyes to him and asked in a hoarse voice, “can I have some water, please?”
The man clicked his tongue, walking to the thing that was supposed to be the nightstand, but was run over by a truck, to grab a bottle of water. “As expected,” he scoffed.
Seonghwa chugged the whole bottle and coughed a little.
“Anything else, highness?” He threw the bottle aside.
“No, thanks.” Seonghwa smiled and lifted his leg to kick his chest. It sent him to the other side of the room, where his back hit the wall with a loud thud, and nearly knocked Seonghwa off the chair.
He barely stood before he was thrown to the floor as fast as lightning. Seonghwa hadn't even seen him straighten up.
“You think you are so smart, huh!” he spat, pinning him to the floor, eyes burning.
“Yeosang!” A thunderous voice came from the direction of the door, just before Yeosang's fist met his face. “Captain said not to hurt him.”
“The bastard just attacked me!” Yeosang argued as the other approached them in long strides, tearing Yeosang's grip off of him.
“Take your fucking hands off of me!” Seonghwa shot when both of them lifted him off the floor. He kicked and twisted, voice rising with threats and curses as the blonde bound him to the chair again while Yeosang held him in place.
Seonghwa's head was harshly yanked up by his locks; his eyes met the burnt umber of the other's eyes. “Don't make things difficult for both: yourself and us. Even if you escape, you'll die in the cold before you can find help.”
Anger bubbled under his skin and tasted like ash on his tongue. The audacity. Seonghwa spat in his face; a loud gasp left Yeosang as he watched the encounter with wide eyes.
A moment passed in loud silence as he wiped his cheek with his sleeve. He looked at Seonghwa with a quiet expression he couldn't read. A hard slap turned Seonghwa's face to the other side, ash mixed with blood.
“Finish what you came for!” He barked at Yeosang, who stumbled to pull out a camera; Seonghwa wanted to laugh at the fragility.
The blond held his head in place as Yeosang shoved his camera to his face, taking some pictures. The flashlight burned his eyes, but closing them was nearly impossible because of how tight the grip on his hair was.
“I swear if it was up to me, I would leave you to die and rot here,” he flung his head away, clicking his tongue.
The door snapped shut after Yeosang. “Are you okay?” Yunho asked, eyes fixed on the dirty mark Seonghwa's shoe left on Yeosan's chest.
“The bastard is tougher than he looks; he almost broke a rib,” Yeosang hissed, rubbing his chest.
“I told you not to let your guards down!” San grumbled from his place on the couch, still holding his bandaged arm to his chest as if a shark bit him. “He almost tore my arm off.”
“Stop whining, will you?” Yeosang grimaced, addressing Yunho. “I checked him; they're shallow scratches.”
“They hurt like a bitch,” San complained.
“Are you indicating that being small is the same as being insignificant?” Wooyoung bumped their shoulders as he passed them to sit beside San, a trayful of food and ice in hand and a slightly burned apron around his waist, his half-blond hair tied in a dog tail.
“Oh no, wait till Captain hears about it.” Jongho flipped the book he was reading.
“Hear about what?” Honjoong stepped in, putting on his boots and raincoat.
“Yeosang just called you a gremlin.” Mingi tried to steal one of San's cockies, his hand immediately getting slapped by Wooyoung, who was feeding him.
“No, I didn't.” Yeosang crossed his arms. “ You just did, bad It wasn't me.”
“I wouldn't be surprised.” Honjoong rubbed his forehead. “How is our guest?”
“He is being a pain in the ass,” Yunho said, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Let him simmer a little more. I will finish my lookout and go to him.”
Seonghwa didn't know how much time had passed after the two men left; maybe he was left on that chair for hours with a tighter knot around his hands and a new one around legs. The harsh rope rubbed his wrists raw as he fidgeted to free himself again, when he knew he couldn't; he just didn't want to feel defeated. His headache got worse when he thought it couldn't, but at least the bleeding in his mouth stopped.
His eyes fluttered shut every couple of minutes, and just as he was about to let sleep get a hold on him, the door creaked open, jerking him awake.
“I heard our guest isn't in the best spirits.” The mocking voice belonged to the last person he expected to see here or ever. The same man from the club last night stood before him, with the same annoying smile that Seonghwa wanted to slap off his face.
“Surprise, isn't it?” he said when the silence stretched. Seonghwa's glaring eyes widened in surprise.
Seonghwa was impressed last night by how the man acted, like the world was his own to tear apart as he pleased, when he didn't know that he was looking at Seonghwa, plotting how to tear his world.
Seonghwa wanted to smile, as if his world wasn't already in pieces.
“Are you the leader of this herd?” Seonghwa spat. He looked angry, furious, as if he had nothing but wrath in him. But not afraid, never afraid.
He pulled a chair to sit on backwards, adjusting his jacket. “I prefer ‘the captain’, but yes, I am their leader, and I'm not exactly forgiving when someone hurts them. Like you did, for example.”
Seonghwa stared in his eyes with an unimpressed look. “If you're waiting for me to be crawling in fear before your feet, asking for forgiveness, the wait might be long, forever, for example.” Because fear was for people who had something to lose, and he had none left.
His smile stretched wider, amused. “Figured. It's kinda refreshing when that's exactly what people do all the time.”
“If you know who my father is, you would be asking for my forgiveness like a bitch.” What was one more slap for the sake of watching their fragile egos crumbling? But the slap never came; he didn't even move. He threw his head back and laughed till his eyes teared up.
“You're cute; hiding behind your big daddy,” he laughed again, shaking his head as he stood up. “Why do you think you are here?” He gestured around. “If the conclusion you came up with is that you're some rich brat we took to ask for ransom, then you are mistaken.” He stepped closer, and suddenly Seonghwa wanted to hide, even if he kept his eyes stabbing daggers into the man.
“We went through hell of a trouble to bring you here because of who you are, Seonghwa, you are a valuable little thing.”
Seonghwa couldn't find anything to say to that, just hoped that his eyes weren't betraying him, so he looked away.
“But don't worry, no one will touch you.” He held Seoghwa's chin to run his eyes over the dried blood on his lips and the red mark on his cheek, the slap left behind. “As long as you keep your pretty mouth shut,” he said quietly.
Seonghwa turned his face to the side to get rid of his hand; he let him go willingly. “Bold of you to think you can touch me.”
He looked like he was holding back laughter, like he was enjoying this. “My… ‘client’ only asked for you to stay alive, but didn't mention anything about broken limbs or bruises to tame a brat.”
He bent down, one hand resting on his knee, the other went up to wipe the blood with a thumb. Seonghwa kept his eyes fixed on his. “Careful because you only have three chances and you already used one.”
“I will make sure you and your… ‘client’ are cellmates.” He gritted through his teeth, only receiving a hushed “cute.”
“Have a nice stay with us, Park Seonghwa.”
Chapter 4: Act ⅠⅠ, Final Scene: Acts Of Betrayal (The Lonely Knight.)
Notes:
I don't know what the fuck is wrong with this chapter, no mutter how much I edit it, it just don't give a fuck😭
Chapter Text
"When we are born, we cry that we are come to this great stage of fools."
~ William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act 4, Scene 6.
The morning never came and the storm still roared fiercely outside. Or maybe Jihyo was still stuck at the moment she lost Polaris, and was left in the cold darkness to face it alone, waiting for a wave of blue to fill her lungs and drown her.
At some point last night, all the crying had worn her out; sleep had claimed her. When she woke up this morning, she thought she saw the sun rise; everything looked so normal: she was in her bed, Chanyeol wasn't beside her. Her mind played a wicked game on her, made her think that it was all a mere ugly nightmare. Relief stood outside the Parks' door, eager to come in where disappointment opened the door.
Everything looked too normal when she stormed in: her father had been having his breakfast with Jin and his secretary, Miss. Ryijin, talking about work as always. Chanyeol had been sitting on the couch with a file in his hand and the phone pressed to his ear. Normal , except Seonghwa wasn't in his bed, the kitchen, or anywhere. Suddenly, the sun collided with the void.
“He left no trace behind. Nothing,” Chanyeol answered the question she didn't ask, but was written all over her eyes, or maybe he consoled her; his face was full of sorrow, his tone said, ‘I'm sorry.’
“You believe he didn't run away, Chanyeol?” She asked, hopeful. “Right?” The beat of silence that followed was an enough answer to her.
“I will find him. I won't give up.”
Nothing, one of the most powerful men in the country had said. Nothing, her brother, the officer, had said. Nothing, the professional bodyguards had said.
What did they mean by ‘nothing’? Had the wind carried him away? Had the earth swallowed him to its core? What did they mean by‘nothing’?
Her eyes were hurting, lit in bright red, and maybe her tears had dried up; she couldn't shed a tear, even when a crashing weight stood over her chest like death, every exhale hurt like trying to force out a stone. A predator tore her from the inside out, its claws digging deeper with every hour passing without any news of Seonghwa.
They set the lunch table with the food she liked, her husband's doing of course. He even kept following her around for an hour, trying to coax her into joining. A huge smile split his face when she finally said okay.
That's how she ended up sitting beside him on the table as he kept adding food to her plate, but she could only watch them eat and talk about work, the campaign, the next press conference. Noise, meaningless noise.
“Let's arrange a town hall-”
“What kind of game are we playing?” She stepped in sharply, silencing the conversations. “Are we pretending that Seonghwa never existed? Because I don't wanna play anymore.”
Because what was worse than Seonghwa vanishing like a ghost in the wind, her Seonghwa, the little boy she dedicated her whole life to, the boy she watched grow into a man. Than the betrayal, than watching everyone acting as if he were a ghost only she saw all along, than the deafening silence.
“Who said that?” Jin ended the brief silence. “We are waiting for any trace to follow.”
“Yes, that's the damn problem, Officer ,” She spat the title. “Waiting is all we do. The wait could be a day, a year, or even forever.”
“Are we having the same damn conversation again?” Jin demanded, crossing his arms.
“I'm going to be in the office, Mr. Park. Excuse me.” Miss. Ryujin cleared her throat, collecting the files.
“No, please, stay,” Jihyo said with a smile that was more of a show of teeth than a smile. “Stay to watch a father abandon his own worthless child. Wouldn't that be exciting?”
“He is not my child!” Soohyuk shot, standing up. “He has always been Heesun's. I never wanted him.”
She saw red, ugly, boiling red. While Seonghwa spent her whole life trying to gain, win his father's love, twisting himself to the point of breaking and shaping himself however his father liked. She saw her brother burn from within and couldn't save him, while the other wasn't even looking at him, didn't want to see him; he only wanted to see his own narrative, where Seonghwa was the one to blame.
“This isn't his fault, she chose.” Her palm struck the table as she stood to face him. “Are you going to keep punishing him over her choice?”
“She made that choice alone; I'm not bearing its consequences. She was selfish enough to keep her condition from me. She loved him more than any of us. More than herself!” He exclaimed, face reddening, a vain popping in his forehead.
Silence fell onto the room for a long second, only Soohyul ragged breathing was heard. Chanyeol never saw him lose his composure like that before.
“I really pity you,” Jihyo blurted, eyes narrowing.
It happened in a flash. She never realized Chanyeol's hand was hovering awkwardly over her arm until he pulled her behind his back. Her father held his arm in the air, frozen mid-swing; his eyes were as hard as his heart, as if he didn't mind giving up on her too, “Mister Soohyuk, please,” Chamyeol breathed heavily.
“Why did you stop?” She scoffed. “Come on, slap me; it won't be your first time slapping one of us, anyway.”
“Jin,” Soohyuk yelled. “Tell the chauffeur to get a car ready; your sister is going home.” The perfectly white napkin was tinted red when he threw it on the table, knocking over a glass of wine.
“Great that you know this hell hole isn't a home!” Jihyo barked at his back.
“Maybe you should teach your wife to keep her mouth shut.” Jin hissed, brushing Chanyeol's shoulder with his as he passed them.
Jihyo felt as lonely as a soldier who was left to fight a lost battle with a broken sword in a field of corpses. Jihyo knew she had always been strong, but for the first time, she didn't know if strength was enough.
She flinched when Chanyeol's fingers grazed her shoulder. “Let's go home,” his whisper was covered by the bell ringing.
Both of them stiffened; they rarely get visitors. Jihyo moved first to peek from behind the curtain, where she saw a tall man standing before their door.
“Who is that?” She whispered, loud enough for Chanyeol to hear as he came closer to look.
“What is he doing here?” His voice was a mix of distress and confusion; Jihyo turned to him with a question in her eyes, but he chose to be blind for a moment.
“Wait for me, I will finish this and we can go home after, yeah? It won’t be long,” He hummed and was about to leave, they already could hear the maid opening the door and welcoming the man in.
He stopped mid-step and closed the distance between them again.“Don't let the thoughts carry you away,” he left two fingers to brush a strand of hair off her eye, slow, hesitant. “I will bring him back safely.”
For the first time, Jihyo wanted to believe him; she wanted to let his tone and his touch soothe her. She wanted to listen to him; Chanyeol always kept his promises to her.
He had promised not to let anything hurt her, even himself, and kept his promise, every moon and every sun. She didn't love him but she knew she could trust him.
Soohyuk sat behind his desk, his eyes went back to its normal winter they've always been in. His index knocked slowly on the table. Chanyeol took his usual seat in front of the desk beside Jin, and on the opposite side sat their guest.
“I have watched your latest rally. You've impressed me, really,” Mr. Kim said, leaning casually in his seat like he owned the place.
“So, should I find a new opponent?” Soohyuk smirked, practiced, hollow; it didn't reach his eyes.
Chanyeol wasn't paying attention to the stupid power game they had going on; he had enough watching similar interactions. Only Jihyo was on his mind. She wasn't eating, or sleeping, and her thoughts weren't letting her have a moment of peace. Chanyeol couldn't blame her. His hands tightened around his phone, waiting desperately for a call from any of his men, any trace to follow.
“No need; an impressive act isn't always believable, but I like your… enthusiasm,” he replied with a smile that was a little too close to smugness.
“Glad that my passion shows; most of my supporters are of youth for a reason.” Soohyuk gave him a feigned laugh. “People nowadays lack passion, aren't they, Mister Namjoon?”
Chanyeol tried to suppress a sigh. Maybe he never truly knew Seonghwa; no one really did; he was always quiet, only spoke when spoken to, his words were few and polite, and his eyes were always lost somewhere. His smiles were painful to watch. He never knew Seonghwa, but he was far better than his brother. He didn't deserve to be left behind because Soohyuk was being petty. Chanyeol looked over Namjoon's shoulder to the window behind, watching the sun set. He wanted to scream at them to shut the fuck up.
“Yeah, talking about youth; how are your children, mister Soohyuk?” Namjoon sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers.
The thoughts stopped spinning as the mental list of the places he would search came to an end. Chanyeol's eyes snapped to Namjoon, and Soohyuk fell silent, lifting an eyebrow without any hint of actual interest.
“Your youngest studied political science, I believe. Were you preparing him to take the lead after you?” Namjoon's smug smile was now on full display.
“No, he chose it himself.” Soohyuk narrowed his eyes, annoyed by mentioning Seonghwa once again.
Namjoon clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. “You should have taught him how dangerous of a game politics is.”
Chanyeol barely held himself back from blurting a torrent of questions, his fingers drummed on his phone.
“People who have things to lose can't be politicians, don't you agree?” he continued, leaning forward to murmur, “there are always sacrifices to make, consequences to bear.”
“And there is always a chance to back down if the game is bigger than you, you know what they say; it's never too late.” Soohyuk's cold expiration didn't falter, even when Namjoon fetched something from inside his jacket and threw it on the desk.
“Of course, that's why they extended the withdrawal deadline two days ago,” Namjoon said.
Soohyuk glanced at the thrown pictures and looked back at Namjoon, unaffected, unimpressed. When Chanyeol felt like the air froze in his lungs. That was Seonghwa in the pictures, binded, bloody, and a hand pulled his hair painfully. It was slightly shaken like he tried to fight back, as he glared at the camera. Jihyo was right; he didn't run away.
“What is this?” Soohyuk asked calmly, “a threat?”
“No.” Namjoon acted offended, “a deal. Each of us will get what he wants.”
“Are you going around doing this-” he waved one of the pictures to his face. “To every other candidate, because that sounds like a huge budget.”
“You know it's only between you and me, Soohyuk; the others are just extras, to give the stage some movement. So,” he extended a hand. “Do we have a deal?”
Soohyuk studied the outstretched hand, and then his face. “Mister Namjoon,” he interlaced his fingers, leaning forward. “Respectfully, you don't have what I want; I have to turn this one down.” He stood up, masking a smile. “Thank you for visiting, Mister Kim.”
“Mr. Park!” Chanyeol stood up, unable to stay silent anymore, not when he saw the boy being sacrificed, but he was cut off immediately when Soohyuk raised a palm in his face, while his eyes were still locked on Namjoon's.
The man looked more shocked than Chanyeol; clearly hadn't expected that reaction. “You are making a huge mistake, Park-”
“Safe travel home,” Soohyuk cut in.
Chanyeol stood frozen in place, watching Namajoon leave. Breathing seemed like an exhausting task he didn't want to go through. He didn't know what to say to Jihyo. And if he said nothing, how would he look in her eyes? Would he be able to bear the weight of her look when the truth bared itself?
Chanyeol knew from a very early age how politics worked. You had to be a monster to survive. But even monsters wouldn't do that to their flesh and blood. Maybe he had misjudged him, calling him a monster, because that wasn't cruel enough. He was a man.
“I'm going to investigate-” Jin's suggestion was cut short when Soohyuk turned to him. “No, tell Ryujin to call the team. I want a meeting in an hour.”
✯☀✯☀✯
Wooyoung opened one of the windows to let the dawn's air in and the stuffy smell out. The sun threw a deep apricot hue inside, it reflected on the empty beer bottles in the corner. The sound of wooyoung humming a melody in the kitchen soothed Mingi who was taking a nap on the couch. It was almost peaceful.
“I really don't like what's happening,” Jongho gritted, throwing himself on the chair opposite Hongjoong. “That's not how we work, Hongjoong. That boy might be terrified-”
San snorted loudly from his place on the couch not even lifting his eyes from the plate he was eating off, but Jongho ignored him, continuing, “since when do we involve innocents in our work!”
“How do you know he's an innocent?” Hongjoong propped his legs up on the table between them. “They are all the same. Greedy, self-centered, vile.” He lit up a cigarette. “Lucifer has always looked like an angel. Didn't you say that?”
“Then why would you involve yourself in a game like this? These people are criminals.” Jongho clicked his tongue, his leg bouncing restlessly under the table.
Hongjoong exhaled the smoke; it covered his face in a gray veil. “Yeah? And what are we, flowersets?” his eyes clung lazily to the ceiling. “That was the deal that y'all voted to take.”
“I voted no,” he argued, folding his arms. “Com'on, you know better than trusting that man's promises; politicians only lie.”
Hongjoong smiled to himself, smoke curling around his lips. Jongho, even if he was the youngest, had always been mature for his age, the most intelligent with big words, and, once, bigger dreams, too big it got crushed under the sky.
“He kept his promise, Jongho; I'm outta jail, and he sent the first half of the money.”
“I don't trust him.” He looked away, arms still folded. “You can't guarantee that he won't throw you back in jail when you are done with his dirty work. He can throw us all in jail.” Jongho's eyes widened. “Hell, he can even kill us all.”
“Danm, didn't know you looked so lowly on us, Jongho.” Yeosang stepped out of the makeshift bedroom, ready for his lookout.
“Yeah, stop being fucking paranoid. We're not easy prey.” Came Mingi's muffled, deep voice; the conversation woke him up from his nap. “If he despised us that much, he wouldn't have asked for our… ‘service’ even when our leader was rotting in jail.”
“What do you say, Jogho?” Honjoong asked, crushing the cigarette under his boot.
“We leave him and hide somewhere until the elections are done,” he blurted as if he were waiting for the chance. “We go back to Daegu.”
“No, we can't do that; it's not our home anymore.” He shook his head, looking at his fingers.
“I maybe am ignorant, as you say.” Wooyoung left the kitchen with a plate in hand, he balanced it in the air higher than necessary. “But I think betraying a politician is worse than trusting him,” he scoffed.
Hongjoong stood up to pat him on the shoulder. “Nothing bad will happen. No one knows where we are; we are safe.” He assured him quietly.
“And where is that plate going?” San asked.
“Finish the one in your hand first.” Wooyoung scolded.
“Have you been donating blood? What the hell is wrong with your appetite?” Yunho walked in after his lookout, brushing the cold off his green jacket.
“He's pregnant,” Mingi answered, flipping through an old magazine upside down.
“We gotta feed him, right?” Wooyoung addressed Hongjoong as if asking for permission, the nod he received was enough permission.
“Don't you dare untie him!” Just before his hand touched the knob, San, Yeosang, and Yunho shouted at the same time.
“And don't be fooled by his guileless eyes,” Yeosang added.
“He's just a spoiled brat, what the fuck are you talking about!” Wooyoung snorted and opened the door before anyone could add anything.
Yeosang, who was about to leave, halted in his steps mid-way as they held their breath and stayed quiet, listening closely to Wooyoung's murmurs. Maybe Seonghwa finally gave up trying to be a hero and decided to let things happen.
One beat…
Two beats…
Mingi lifted the magazine again, Yeosang laced his boots, and Yunho started taking off his jacket. They were about to let out a breath of relief, but Wooyoung's high-pitched scream made them jump, wiping their heads towards the door.
“I'll fucking kill you!” Wooyoung shouted as he met them at the door with a bleeding hand.
“I'll make that bitch beg for death!” Yeosang hissed, moving his fiery eyes between Wooyoung's hand and his pained face.
“No, I'll go to him.” Hongjoong held his arm before he went in. “You take care of that spoiled brat. His wound could get infected,” He emphasised, walking into the room, closing the door behind him.
Seonghwa sat on his chair, spitting blood that wasn't his. He lifted his eyes to him, tired but furious like a wounded wolf daring his enemy to come closer.
“I think you've mistaken me for a patient, forgiving man,” Hongjoong said slowly, taking small steps towards Seonghwa, who had an ugly snare on his face, white teeth tinted in blood. “Which is a huge mistake.”
“Please, don't take it personally; I mistook you for a tough man too.” His sharp eyes looked him up and down. “Are you hiding behind your rats? Don't have the courage to face me yourself?”
“Oh dear, I'm tougher than you would ever be.” He smiled, a smile that didn't reach his eyes as he took off his jacket and threw it on the bed. “But didn't expect that someone like you would be worthy of my personal attention.” He stood close enough for Seonghwa to have to tilt his head up to look him in the eyes, but still far from reach.
“Personal attention?” Seonghwa laughed for the first time since he was brought to this place, loud, offending, and bitter. “I don't know whether to feel flattered or disgusted.”
“In a situation like yours, you'd better be scared, especially after what you just did.” He leaned forward, eyes running over Seonghwa's face. “But I see you don't know when to put on that ridiculous mask and when to rip it off,” He murmured.
“You are so full of yourself that you think I'm putting up an act, but the truth is that you don't scare me. Neither you nor your rats,” Seonghwa scoffed.
“You are hungry and weak,” he said slowly. “You're not doing yourself any good, trying to provoke me,” he snorted, “are you trying to prove to yourself that you're tough? You are just Stupid.”
Hongjoong saw it before it happened, the slight tightening in his shoulder, when Seonghwa lunched forward aiming to headbutt him; he moved away and watched Seonghwa's face twist in pain for a split second.
“See, you are stupid; you want to get under my skin so much that you don't give a fuck if you hurt yourself in the process.”
Seonghwa kept his head lowered as his long, inky locks covered his face, but Hongjoong still was able to hear his loud, ragged breath.
“Now, that you've proven me right yourself.” He moved to take the plate Wooyoung left behind, scooping some rice. “Eat.”
“No,” Seonghwa spat, moving his face to the side, away from the spoon Hongjoong was holding to his mouth.
“Oh, sorry, did it come out like a question?” He asked in exaggerated politeness. “You will eat. Not because you want to, but because I want you to eat, so that's what you're Fucking gonna do, now! ”
“Or else? Are you going to lock me up? Already done that. Bound my hands and legs or beat me until I bleed? Your rats had done both. Show me what you've got.” Seonghwa turned to meet his eyes with his burning ones.
Heavy silence fell onto the room, and Honjoong's mask of nonchalance cracked to expose the ticking bomb under, so he looked at the floor, hiding his hands in his pockets.
“Fine, enjoy your undisturbed stay, then.” He snatched his jacket and left the plate on the nightstand. “Let's see how long you're going to stand your ground without any food or water.”
“You really think that you can suppress me with food?” Seonghwa scoffed, watching his back. “Destined to lose.”
“Jumping to conclusions already, Seonghwa.” He said over his shoulder as he opened the door. “Everyone, our dear guest can go with neither food nor water, so, don't disrupt him with any of it,” Hongjoong shouted for everyone to hear and smiled at Seonghwa before slamming the door shut after himself, leaving Seonghwa alone with the silence.
Silence was his unwelcomed friend his whole life, but for the last two or three days, it was unbearable. It kept echoing the same questions nonstop since the day the Captain had told him that they wouldn't be asking for ransom for him. Why am I here? Was repeated like he had the answer and was keeping it from himself.
He felt like he was losing his mind slowly, painfully, with how little sleep he got. He took occasional naps at night, before some random sound would jolt him awake. Like a man awaiting his execution. His body betrayed him, being weak, exhausted, his stomach twisting in pain.
The smell of food mocked him along with the Captain's words with every breath he took. A desperate need begged him to keep it together; breaking wasn't an option; he couldn't give them, him, that satisfaction. He was stronger than all of them.
Wasn't he?
He is not sure of anything at that point; doubt dwelt in the dark corners of his mind. Maybe he was strong now, but he wondered when the strength would fail him, too.
He lifted his eyes up, where the stars should be, whispering, “Jihyo,”
Hongjoong repeated his orders to everyone again and got a bunch of nods and thumbs up, except Jongho, who didn't talk, but stared at him in disapproval, like a disappointed mother who found her son smoking. Hongjoong pretended he was blind.
“Get out of my kitchen, will you?” Woyoung exclaimed.
“I'm trying to help you, fucker,” Yunho said, cutting a potato in shapes that never existed.
Honjoong stopped in his tracks, looking at him. His eyes found Seonghwa's door before they moved back to Yunho. Flashbacks of a little boy wearing the mask of a man who fears nothing, for his own sake.
Chapter Text
"The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power."
~Shakespeare, Julius Caesar.
The room was buzzing with loud murmurs over the faint hum of the harsh fluorescent lights. The four gray walls were packed with reporters. The suddenness of the conference brought a sense of urgency, and unease to the room.
The door slid open, quietening the room as Soohyuk stepped in, followed by his team. His suit was black, tie loose, and his hair disheveled. Sadness painted his face in a deep blue color.
A moment passed in a heavy silence as he adjusted the microphone on the lectern and flipped through his notes with a heavy sigh before lifting his eyes to the crowd.
“Thank you all for coming today,” he started, tone quiet and heavy, as if he carried the weight of the sky on his back. “Before we cover the announced topics, I would like to take a minute to share the heavy weight I am carrying in my chest with you, because I thought you deserved to know.”
He paused, swallowed heavily and pursed his lips. “In the past few days, a terrible thing had happened, when…” his voice shook as he held back his tears. “My son. My beloved son was ripped away from my arms. They… kidnapped him.”
A chorus of gasps echoed through the room. The sound of fingers tapping and the shattering of the blinding flashlights filled the room.
“I kept the matter a secret in the hope of a peaceful resolution, in the hope of any sign of my son's safe return to my arms.” He sucked a sharp breath. “But all the negotiations had failed.”
The camera fixed on his face; to get the perfect shot of a desperate man, a bereaved father.
“But this is not just a personal attack on my family.” His fist shook in the air. The man who once looked younger than his age seemed older than his years now. Even his hair had more white strands than before. “This is an attack on our society itself, on our values, on everything we believe in. And I will not surrender to these criminals!” His voice rose as his hand struck the lectern.
“These monsters sent me threats and videos… That I can’t show to the public. I still hear my son's screams.” He tried to stifle a sob, lifting his chin. “They threatened that if I didn't withdraw from the elections, they would send him in a body bag.” His eyes fell on his fingers placed over his notes. “My son is still a boy; he still has a whole life and a promising future ahead of him. He has always been top of his class. He likes to act and cook.”
His white-knuckled hands trembled as he held both sides of the lectern. That was the reporter's cue to stand up. The camera moved to her worried face, capturing her sorrowful tone, as if the missing person was of her own.
“Mr. Park, we can't even begin to imagine how much pain you're going through. How did you manage to stay so strong to face such a tragedy?”
Soohyuk took a deep breath as if he was gathering his thoughts before the answer. “It's not easy; every passing day is a battle I'm not sure of winning, while I know my son is suffering somewhere, but I drew strength from the people… from all of you. Those who are still standing by me during this war.”
“So I won't break, I won't give up. Not for the sake of my son only, but also for every family who had lost a loved one, for every parent who had lived a similar nightmare.”
“These terrorists are intent on destabilizing this country and destroying everything we hold dear. But they won't win, and I will not back down. I ask you... No, I beg you to keep standing with me in this war.” Soohyuk wiped his tears away harshly and stepped back, as the audience slowly stood. The curtain called. Applause thundered in the small room to mark the end of the show before the curtains were drawn.
“And that's, ladies and gentlemen, how you put on a show.” Soosyuk threw himself on the couch with a satisfied groan. The makeup artist was wiping his face clean.
The backroom was nearly empty, with only Chanyeol, Ryujin, and a couple of people from the PR team, along with the makeup artist.
“Things went better than I expected,” Soohyuk said, opening a can of a soft drink. “Some of them even cried with me.”
“Certainly, you played them between your fingers,” one of the two men replied with a huge grin on his face.
“The poll numbers are going to skyrocket,” said the other, a laptop on his lap and glasses bigger than his face.
Soohyuk laughed in delight. “These people are so easy to fool. Show them some tears and tell them a story about your kid, and bam!” He clapped once. “You are the most lovable and hapless person on earth.”
Chanyeol glared at the wall in front of him as it spun in circles. The room smelled of dirt and cigarettes; it made him want to vomit. His mind couldn't make sense of the wicked situation he saw unfolding before his eyes. A deep stab of betrayal pierced him, and he wasn't even a part of that game. What about Seonghwa? How would that make him feel? Chanyeol could never imagine. He could spend a lifetime over a lifetime and not even get a fragment of what Jihyo could be feeling right now.
Chanyeol wouldn't call his family loving in any way. Love held no place in his house, where warmth and care were insignificant things. Instead, the house was built on respect. Losing love for someone was one thing, and losing respect was another. That's how he grew up.
Jihyo had lost her love for her father a long time ago, maybe when he forced her to marry him. Chanyeol knew as much. But he could tell that part of her was fighting tooth and nail the past few days to keep what was left of her respect for him, which he just killed with his own bare hands.
When he looked at Soohyuk and felt no respect, it stung a little; he was a man Chanyeol worked with for years, it was like pouring water on a scratch. But when he tried to imagine a situation where he lost respect for his own father, it may have felt a little like death. For Jihyo, it must have been like getting stabbed with a dull knife. A merciless death.
Chanyeol stood from his chair in the far corner of the room, walking out like a robot. The game got out of hand, and he was done watching. He wanted to get to his wife, maybe help close the searing void in her chest, or pick up the pieces that were left of her.
✯☀✯☀✯
‘Good people don't die.’
The skeptical look she got made her laugh and roll her eyes.
‘Okay, okay, maybe just their bodies, but their souls turn into stars. They watch over us, guide us.’ She looked up, whispering to herself. ‘They see and listen.’
A beat of silence as he looked up to watch the twinkling stars.
‘This morning, Mister Wang told us that the sun is a star, too.’ She hummed, adjusting her arms around him. A beat of silence where he looked like he was thinking. “I think it was once a big sister.’
‘Oh, baby.’ She pulled him more to her chest, planting a deep kiss on his chubby cheeks.
‘What about papa? Would he be a star, Jihyo?’
The night air was freezing as she sat on the balcony's floor; it felt like pieces of shattered glass on her bare arms and neck. Her body shook, but she wasn't feeling cold; her hurt burned hotter than the core of the sun. Her wet eyes were glued to the moonless, starless sky for hours, unblinking.
Chanyeol walked into the room with fast steps. He had barely stepped into the house when the maid ran to tell him that the Madam threw a vase at the TV and locked herself in the room.
He threw the spare keys on the bed and stepped through the balcony's open door. As if words ran away from him, he didn't know what to say, only placing his jacket on her shaken shoulders. “What are you wearing?” He said just to break the silence.
She flinched, looking up with wide, crystal eyes. “You're back? I thought you were sleeping out.” She looked slightly dizzy, standing on shaky legs. “I'll draw you a bath.”
“Jihyo,” he whispered, holding her freezing hand. “I don't need a bath; sit, please.”
She looked like she wanted to run away, to hide. But he couldn't leave her alone, couldn't afford that, especially when she was acting like anything but herself.
Silence stretched between them, only cut by Jihyo's sniffles. She hid herself behind her short hair, casting down her head, but left her hand in his; maybe she was that cold. He didn't know what to do with it, holding it awkwardly between his.
“Are you okay?” He whispered, lifting a hesitant hand to brush her hair off his face.
“I-” She choked on tears, palm flying to cover her mouth.
He creased the back of her hand and said nothing.
“I-I never imagined that things would get that bad, Chanyeol,” she sobbed. “I had hope. It was fragile, faint, but it was enough to keep me alive. It was what made me get out of bed every morning.”
Her broken nails scratched her neck, drawing harsh ruby lines. “He crashed it with a single word.”
She didn't tell him how she spent ten minutes bent over the toilet, throwing up whatever he had forced into her mouth before he left. But he didn't mention it; maybe she was lucky enough to at least throw up the disappointment too.
“He talked about his ‘beloved son’ as if he were a mere puppet, he plays for entertainment.”
How cruel would that be? Finally hearing the words he longed for, but said as lies on a stage of cards.
Tears flooded down her cheeks; it looked like it would never run out. “How could he do that?” Her voice shook, just like her body. “Offering his children, his own blood and flesh, as sacrifices one by one for the sake of power.” A sob tore off her chest. “If Mom were here, she would never have let him.”
She turned to look at him, her eyes shone with something beyond sadness; it hurt deeper, and stung harder. “He stood there like he had the right to take advantage of Seonghwa's suffering.” Her forehead fell on his shoulder as her cries quietened down.
He lifted his other hand to hold her, creasing her back. His chest seized in pain for her and himself; he allowed himself that for a moment. Her words weren't new, but they still stung every time like it was the first.
Jihyo, too, allowed him to hold her to his warmth. Allowed herself to show weakness once more. Allowed herself to be selfish again, to use his fire to feel the safety she always longed for.
“I'm helpless, Chanyeol. I hate how helpless I am,” she murmured against his shirt. “I'm locked between suffocating walls, watching the man I called father weave a story of lies.”
She couldn't let it end like this; she chewed herself from the inside out. She'd already lost enough and didn't want to add Seonghwa to the list, but the truth, the bitter, unbearable truth was that she was helpless. She could scream, beg, and pray as she wanted, but the silence that followed would always be deafening.
Seonghwa didn't deserve this. He didn't deserve to be treated like a pawn or a puppet, a worthless object that could be tossed aside when their father was in need of a sacrifice.
“Lost hope already, Jihyo,” he whispered, his hand still holding her like an anchor. His presence was the only thing keeping her sane in the sea of madness she was surrounded by.
Her mind wasn't helping her, thinking of all the terrifying possibilities: What if they never found him? What if something terrible happened to him after it took so long to find him?
“Seonghwa has always said that hope is an evil, cursed thing,” she mumbled, more to herself, but she knew he heard because he fell silent again.
“I never have broken a promise, have I?” He asked when she thought he wouldn't add anything more. “I haven't lost hope yet. I promised you that I'm bringing him back to you, and I will.”
“And if you couldn't, you are only a human after all. What will happen then?”
That was when he kept quiet, only tightening his grip around her and swaying her limp body back and forth.
✯☀✯☀✯
Jongho was startled by his own shadow when it appeared on the wall beside him. He looked over his both shoulders and took another big, feather-light step. The only audible sound was the clock ticking past midnight. Everyone was long asleep in the makeshift bedroom. And him? He was supposed to be on lookout.
He stopped before the door, looked around again, and squeezed his eyes shut when it made that stupid creaking sound as it opened. It was obvious that Seonghwa was asleep, and it jolted him awake.
His eyes were red; it made his glare more murderous, despite his pale face and chapped lips. He looked so fragile; Jongho was sure that if he touched him, he would collapse into dust and shattered pieces of a once metal-mask.
Jongho raised a finger to his lips when Seonghwa was about to speak. Surprisingly, he closed his mouth back again, but kept the skeptical glare on his face.
The staring contest between them was short; it ended when Jongho walked in and closed the door, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
Unlike Wooyoung or Yeosang or even Mingi sometimes, he was never the type to break a rule or ‘improvise’ as Wooyoung liked to call it. It was proven time and time again that breaking a rule Hongjoong had made had terrible consequences; things would always end up going south. So they stuck to the plan and followed, at least, the Four Major Rules.
But after giving it much much thought, he decided that it wouldn't pose any threat to them; if Seonghwa decided to act like an asshole, he was capable of taking him down.
Something inside him had been nagging to break the latest order; it kept telling him that Seonghwa did not deserve it, that he was different. Jongho, even if he was teased nonstop about it, but he preferred to follow his heart when he got confused, and he was not impressed about it. And his heart was telling him that Seonghwa's eyes were too familiar for him to be danger. He stood up for himself as if he knew no one was coming for him. Too fragile to be a part of such a game.
Jongho put the tray down. “How many of you are out there?” Seonghwa snorted. “Are you having some kind of contest: Who-could-humiliate-the-rich-brat.”
His tired voice was no surprise to Jongho. He raised his hands in front of his chest in surrender. “No, no more humiliating, I swear.”
Seonghwa looked like he didn't have any more energy to pretend to be calm and indifferent. “Get out!” he hissed, a warning, his eyes flowing Jongho's every move.
“I'm sorry-” Jongho barely uttered before he was cut off by a mocking laugh. “Sorry?” The smile fell as fast as it rose. “You have locked me up here for fuck knows how long, treating me less than an animal. And you came here to say sorry? How cute! You can shove it up your ass.”
Seonghwa's chest heaved as he looked dazed.
“Will you keep it down, please; If they knew I was here, I'm getting punished,” Jongho shushed him, wide-eyed.
“I can't give any less fucks, let them kill you for all I care,” he panted, eyes distracted, if it wasn't for the ropes grounding him, Jongho knows he would have fallen off the chair.
“I know it's hard to trust me, but I'm here to help.” He closed the small distance between them in slow, deliberate steps.
“I don't need your help, nor your pity. Get out of my sight.”
“I don't pity you.” Jongho stopped, crossing his arms over his chest. “In fact, I find how strong you are very impressive.”
Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him.
“No, really; it has been a while since I saw someone who could stand their ground that long despite everything, you're tougher than you look. Kinda reminds me of someone,” he whispered to himself.
Seonghwa looked as unimpressed as ever; his eyes had an empty look.
“Listen, I'm gonna untie you so you can eat and stretch if you want.” He raised his index ,but his tone kept its softness. “If you promised you won't attack me.”
“And of course you are doing this outta the goodness of your heart,” he snorted, but his tone lost some of its bite.
“Call it however you please, but if you want to keep ruling Hongjoong up, you need to stay alive, don't you think?”
“You want me alive?” It wasn't a question, more of a mock undertoned with surprise, as if he thought they were going to kill him eventually after they had their fun humiliating him.
Seonghwa lowered his eyes to the floor, maybe pretending he didn't see Jongho when he closed the distance left. “If we didn't,” Jongho said, circling him to untie his wrists. “You'd be six feet under by now.”
Seonghwa's skin was warm, a light shiver ran through his body over and over, but Jongho stuck it on the lack of food and colder nights.
The knot was a pain in the ass to undo; that was how he knew Yunho did it.
Jongho backed off when Seonghwa tried to stand; part of it was not to offend him by trying to help, the other was waiting for him to do something stupid.
He looked like a sailor standing on earth for the first time, but he ended up finally standing upright. Jongho pretended he was seeing the moldy corner of the ceiling for the first time ever as the other stretched his numb limbs.
The tray clinked faintly as he set it on the floor. Jongho watched Seonghwa circle the small room like a grounded child.
“Come; eat something.” He held out a plate of rice and vegetables. Seonghwa's unfocused eyes found him as he halted in his steps, hesitant as he expected. He set the plate on the opposite side of him and took the other.
“I'm Jongho, by the way. Before you came, I was the youngest here.” He talked like it was a normal Tuesday as he ate.
“Came?” Seonghwa took the plate with numb fingers, sniffed it, and took a hesitant bite. “Oh, you mean when you took me.”
He could vividly see on Seonghwa's face that he liked the food, no matter how much he tried to hide it.
“Well, in our defence.” Jongho had to bend his neck back to look Seonghwa in the face. “Nothing personal. It's only business.”
Seonghwa looked like he wanted to argue, but decided to eat in peace, his eyes flickering to the door every other second.
“Wooyoung, the redhead you bit a couple of days ago,” Jongho snickered. “He had it coming; he did the same to me when we were younger.”
Seonghwa didn't laugh, or look at him; his eyes focused on his plate as an excuse to ignore him. But that didn't stop him. “He cooks the food. Is it good?” He asked with a smile.
“No,” Seonghwa answered around a mouthful of food.
“Anyways,” he drawled. “San, the triangle-shaped one, Mingi is the tall one with black hair, always on lookout.”
“The one with the birthmark is Yeosang. He fixes us, you know, stitches us back together, and he cuts our hair too; he is good with blades in general.”
“Oh, and Yunho, the blond, he takes Hongjoong's place when he isn't here. Poor man had a hard time when Hongjoong was in jail; no one listened to him.” Jongho's tone dulled when the fresh memory came crashing down on him. Its wound was still blood-red and stung like fire.
Seonghwa lifted his eyes to look at him. “He was in jail?” He asked, out of pure curiosity.
Jongho nodded. “Yeah, a mission went south. It was supposed to be easy: go in, take the damn thing, get the hell out. But suddenly we found the cops on our heads.” He fidgeted with a piece of peas on his plate. “He busted us out and surrendered without a fight to protect us.”
“Ugh, how noble of him.” Seonghwa snorted, chugging a full bottle of water in one breath.
“Maybe you think he is a bad person-” Jongho cut himself off when Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him. “Okay, he is a bad person. We all are; what is a human without sins, anyway? But he protected us in every way possible; he still does.”
Seonghwa looked like he was done with that one-sided conversation; he didn't say anything.
“I have to get you back to your spot before I go.” He stood as Seonghwa went back to the chair without a word to Jongho's surprise. “I don't know when I will have a chance to come again, but I will try my best.”
He tied Seonghwa to the chair again with a loser knot, but still enough to hold him in place before he took the tray and left like he came.
The door clicked shut behind Jongho. Seonghwa sighed and let the heaviness he felt take over his face, and his shoulders slumped. He felt miserable in every aspect. He must have looked as miserable as he felt, even one of his captors took pity on him. Either that or the man was just too kind-hearted. Seonghwa prayed for it to be the latter. He said he might come back again, if so, he could play the victim, be more pathetic, weaker. Then he might set him free. He said he was older than him; he could use that, cry, and tell him he had an older sister back home.
He needed to come up with a plan before Jongho came back, but his mind felt too foggy. It wasn't the food, he knew as much because he felt the same before Jongho came in, but now that he tried to think, it was so obvious. He leaned back to stare at the ceiling.
Even though there was a possibility that Jongho might have some ulterior motive, maybe was even sent by that peacock -he came to know his name was Hongjoong. He is still going to call him Dick, thank you very much-
Seonghwa couldn't help but feel less insane after he left. He hadn't taken his eyes off his plate all the time and didn't show any reaction to show he was listening; he actually was listening to Jongho. He needed someone to talk to him, not threaten, or provoke, but actually talk, didn't matter if it was nonsense, or if he didn't care. He just wanted to hear something that wasn't a threat.
He regretted not asking how long he had been here.
✯☀✯☀✯
“Will you get the fuck out of my damn kitchen?” Wooyoung shouted, and a moment later, Yunho was being physically kicked out.
“You call two forks and a rotten potato in a pantry a kitchen! Motherfucker, that's a matchbox,” Yunho shot back, rubbing his ass.
“God forbid a man takes a nap in this circus,” Mingi rolled over on the couch, placing the pillow on his face.
“This is your third nap today,” Yeosang answered, rolling his eyes. “And you say San is the pregnant one.”
“What the hell are you two doing?” Yunho stopped in his tracks, looking at San doing push-ups with Yeosang sitting cross-legged on his back, coloring the big ass dragon tattoo on his back with a black pen.
“Meditating.”
“Training.”
Both of them answered in the same breath, looking back at him like he had grown two heads.
“Silly me; thought I'd seen everything,” Yunho clicked his tongue and sat on the table, keeping count for San because he had nothing better to do.
“You know what you're doing is wrong, and you keep doing it because you are blinded by pride, yes or no?” In an unprecedented phenomenon, they heard Jongho before they saw him.
He followed Hongjoong inside, the latter coming back from his lookout on the rooftop.
“Oh, now we are turning into psychoanalyzing me? okay,” Hongjoong took a seat beside Yunho, his face as gloomy as the sky was that day.
They all figured out what they were talking about; it had been the same shit for the past two days.
“What- No.” Jongho looked confused. “What the hell happened to you, Hongjoong?”
“No, the question better be what the hell happened to you , Jongho?” Yeosang scoffed, eyes still focused on San's tattoo.
“Me?” Jongho pointed to himself, offended.
“Yeah,” San answered. “You've never been such a bleeding heart, you used to break people like nothing. What's with the sudden softness?”
“This is not softness, it's common sense.” Jongho scoffed and turned to Hongjoong. “Captain,”
“Uh, don't ‘captain’ me.” Hongjoong averted his eyes to the glass window, expression guarded. He knew Hongjoong was listening; he never ignored something one of them had to say. But how much Jongho hated when he couldn't read his face.
“He doesn't have anything to do with whatever's happening outside, neither do we. So why are you taking sides?” Jongho argued, voice lower, but still sharp.
“I'm not taking sides, Jongho.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I'm giving him whatever he asked for. You saw how he acts, like…”
“He is above us?” Yunho elaborated.
“Yes.” Hongjoong gestured vaguely in the air.
“He won't die, Jongho,” Yeosang frowned, maybe colored outside a line. “Give him a day or two, and he will back down.”
“And what if he'd rather die?” Jongho crossed his arms. Looking between them all, waiting for an answer, but none came. “Captain, he is being held here. Are you expecting him to kiss us good morning every day!”
“Not that, but at least stop trying to bite off fingers.” Wooyoung shot from the kitchen, still offended on his fingers' behalf; not letting a chance slide to mention that it still hurt even more than the scar on his left knee did.
“How long are we keeping him tied to that chair anyway?” Mingi, lost hope of taking a nap, cleared his throat, and took the empty chair between Jongho and Hongjoong.
“Are you suggesting letting him kill us in our sleep?” Hongjoong exclaimed, giving a look of betrayal to both of them.
“If we keep him tied to a chair for days without food or water, he will also die. It's a lose-lose situation, there's no winner.” Jongho's tone lost some of the bite.
“So what do you want me to do? Force the food in his mouth. He doesn't want to eat.”
“So, if I'm being treated the same as him,” Mingi cut in before Jongho could answer. “Personally, I'd rather just starve to death.”
Hongjoong's fingers drummed fiercely on the wooden table.
“Please, Hongjoong, he is just a boy just like we were once, please,” Jongho pleaded.
“Fine.” Honjoong stood, addressing Wooyoung. “Bring something to feed him.”
“But, I haven't finished the lunch yet,” Wooyoung complained.
“Get whatever the fuck we have!” Hongjoong sneered.
“But if he does something stupid again, you two are responsible; I'mma kill all three of you, and there will be no winners, too, Jongho .” Hongjoong gritted through his teeth, and suddenly the floor was so interesting to watch for Jongho and Mingi.
Wooyoung came running to hand Hongjoong the plate of plain rice. Jongho let out a long sigh and smiled in victory as he watched Honjoong back.
Hongjoong opened the loud door and walked towards the sleeping Seonghwa. His chin was resting on his chest.
“Stop being fucking stubborn and eat something,” Hongjoong sighed when he got no answer.
“If you think you are the only fucking brick wall in her you are mistaken. You are going to eat.” He walked to place the plate on the nightstand. “Hey, Seonghwa, am I talking to myself?” He nudged his shoulder a bit too harshly and still got no response.
Hongjoong swallowed. “That's a cheap act.” He held his jaw to lift his head, but Seonghwa's skin was on fire. His throat went dry as he saw how pale Seonghwa's face was, and dropped his head to untie him with shaky fingers. “Oh My God! Seonghwa, wake the fuck up!
nofall26 on Chapter 1 Tue 12 Aug 2025 01:45PM UTC
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Saturn00x on Chapter 1 Wed 13 Aug 2025 09:09AM UTC
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