When the first rays of morning shine through, Mingyu stirs in his sleep, but doesn’t open his eyes.

The haze in front of his pupils, behind his eyelids, they don’t clear. Somebody shrieks.

Mingyu turns around hopelessly, in search for the source of sound. The haze clears, and the familiar face appears. She’s dragged forward into the spotlight from the darkness.

“Well, lover boy, let’s see her watch you crumble.”

He struggles against the ropes, the splinters of the rattan eating into his skin. The knife comes dangerously close to his thighs, and he shuts his eyes.

It cuts in once again, inching closer to his groin each time, the pain blinding him.

He bites on his tongue.

When he opens his eyes, he can see her watching him, the tears forming in her beautiful eyes. She doesn’t deserve to see this.

Why didn’t you tell me anything, Mijoo. Have you been hiding everything from me all this while?

“Let’s see how much longer you can hold on before you tell us what the  you did with her fiancé, hotshot. Because I can do this all day.”

The knife graces over the marred flesh once more, in the hands of henchman in a mask. He doesn’t have a pinky on his finger, and it’s the last striking thing he can remember before the pain overwhelms him.

Mingyu head-butts the man, ing the whole knife right into his thigh bone. He hears his own bones crushing against himself, and then he blackouts.

Can’t breathe can’t breathe can’t-

Kim Mingyu breaks out into a cold sweat and jolts up out of bed. He takes a breathe and the air has never smells sweeter.

He’s not strapped to a chair. He’s in a portable bed gurney.

With his chest heaving, he falls back onto the bed. A thought forms at the back of his mind and pushes itself to centre stage.

Mijoo.

I have to save her.

The surgeon guy’s sleeping on the desk next to him, and in the light, he looks ethereal in some manner Mingyu cannot pinpoint.

He told me his name was Minghao. He’s Chinese. Same age. Undergraduate.

My ticket to finding Mijoo.

Mingyu shakes Minghao up hurriedly, earning unhappy grunts from the latter. “What the  do you want from me-“

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