Taeyong woke up, feeling light-headed.

After Jimin left him alone yesterday, he decided to turn the place around, throwing things onto the ground, finding for his weapons. He needed to get home. If he was any later, his training would be more severe than it already was. He might not even make it out alive. He could feel his stitched wounds opening itself after he overturned the sofa, in an attempt to find for the weapons under.

The thought of kneeling down and finding for it under the sofa never occurred to him.

He overturned the mattress as well, thinking that Jimin hid the weapons under the mattress. He frowned when all there were under the mattress were dust. He started sneezing when the dust roamed around the air. He covered his nose and moved away from the mattress and the bedframe, proceeding to her wardrobe. He threw all the clothes on the floor, opening every single drawer there were and throwing all the clothes and whatever things on the ground. Even the undergarments. He could care less what he was throwing. All he was thinking about was finding for his weapons.

 He felt the blood seeping through his shirt and he felt extremely light-headed while he was finding for his weapons at the top of the wardrobe. Before he knew it, he fell unconscious on the pile of clothes on the floor.

When he opened his eyes, he realized that he was on the bed. He felt someone was beside him and turned to see Jimin’s sleeping face. He opened his mouth to say something but darkness was calling out for him again, making him fall unconscious.

Taeyong woke up when the sun was shining down on him. He felt light-headed but it wasn’t as bad as yesterday. He let out a soft groan as he sat up, feeling the ache on his abdomen. He looked down and saw that his shirt was changed, telling him that Jimin helped him stitch his wounds again. That was partially true, but he had never seen Jaehyun before, so he would never have expected Jaehyun to help him.

He got off the bed and realized that the house was back to normal. What was he expecting anyway? Of course Jimin would clean this place up. He checked his smartwatch for any new messages and there were none.

He looked through the shelf and saw that there was a brown paper bag standing on the dining table. He walked over and saw that a note stapled in front of the paper bag. Together with the paper bag was a plate of Kimchi fried rice with an egg on top, a small umbrella net food cover over the food. He took out the note and read it.

He put the note down and looked inside the paper bag. He took out the leather jacket and 2 holsters that was filled with a dagger and a gun each. He kept them inside his jeans and wore the leather jacket. He saw 2 boxes of painkillers, 3 packets of gauze pads and a roll of adhesive tape inside the paper bag as well. There was one 50000won note inside the bag too. He put the paper bag on the ground and went to get a spoon from one of the drawers he remembered Jimin took out the cutleries from.

It took him less than 10 minutes to finish eating and finish washing the dishes. After washing the dishes, he went out the apartment, leaving it empty. He was carrying the brown paper bag that Jimin prepared for him. He checked his leather pocket for his car keys and thankfully, it was still there. He went down and flagged for a cab when he reached the roadside.

He told the driver the address of where his car was last parked at. He gave the driver the money that Jimin had given him and simply asked the driver to keep the change since he didn’t need the money anymore. He went to his car and opened the door after unlocking it. He was lucky that it was already late autumn, and the car didn’t overheat during the 2 or 3 days’ period when he was at Jimin’s house, recovering from that stabs that his beloved mother had given.

It took him an hour to drive back home due to the traffic.

“Young master.” The maids greeted him but Taeyong didn’t even acknowledged them and just proceeded straight to his room, putting the brown paper bag and both his holsters into the closet before going to his father’s office.

“You’re finally back.” His father greeted right after Taeyong entered the office. Taeyong gave him a bow as his father looked at him, his eyes showing nothing but just raw anger and greed.

“I see that you’ve taken a break without my permission.” His father started, his hands interlocked and resting on the desk that had an opened file resting on it. His eyes looking into Taeyong’s dark pair. Equally as cold as his father’s. Both of them exposing no emotion as the tension in the office started to thicken, waiting for Taeyong’s answer.

“I was unconscious; it was out of my hands.” Taeyong simply responded, his posture straight, showing respect to his father. His father just smirked and stood up. His body as fit as Taeyong’s since he was an assassin himself. He went in front of Taeyong and leaned against the desk, his resting on the edge, his arms crossed across his chest.

“So, you’re blaming your mother for being missing for 3 days?” His father asked, twisting Taeyong’s words completely. Taeyong bit his tongue, refraining himself from talking back to his father. It was best to just be quiet in this situation, hoping that his ‘training’ would at least be lightened. Talking back would only result in more wounds to be healed. Taeyong hated to admit this, but being trained by her mother was a lot better than being trained by his father.

Taeyong just looked down in respect, and also partly not wanting to meet eyes with his father. He heard his father let out a chuckle and saw him stood up straight from leaning against the desk. “Now I see why your mother wanted you to be trained again. Do you know where you stand in this house Taeyong?” His father suddenly asked and Taeyong kept quiet. Not wanting to answer that question. It hurt his pride. He was the son of this household, but the maids were treated much better than him.

He had the privilege of firing any employees in the household, but his parents at least treated them as decent human beings. Compared to the treatment they were showing him; it was definitely so much better to just be a maid or a butler in this household.

“Do you hear me Taeyong? Or would you like me to answer that question for you?” His father tilted Taeyong’s head up with his index finger and thumb holding his chin. He put pressure on the two fingers and Taeyong felt the pain slowly surging in. It was going to bruise.

“You stand below Taeyong. Your mother and I are the top of this household, below us are your maids and butlers, and below them are the guard dogs. You’re below the dogs Taeyong, remember that. You may be our son, but you’re not good enough to stand even above the dogs. Prove yourself that you’re worth the promotion then we’ll do it for you.” His father smirked when he saw Taeyong’s pupil shook a little. It could barely be seen but his father certainly caught it. The fear that Taeyong had for his father was incomparable to anything.

He let go of his hold on Taeyong’s chin and gestured him to follow him, and Taeyong did. Not like he had a choice.

His heart beat faster and his steps were starting to get heavier as he followed his father walk through the familiar corridors of the mansion. The deserted part of the mansion, yet it wasn’t as deserted as anyone would have expected. The family of three usually went there for reasons that were going to be known in just a few more steps.

“Get in.” His father simply commanded with his gruff voice and Taeyong obliged. His father switched the lights on, making the room dimly lit. It was a training facility that nobody would’ve expected. A normal training facility would have some exercising equipment like a treadmill and some weights to train their arm muscles. But the training facility in the house was far from that. Sure, they have the basic necessity for a training facility. A yoga mat and some weights here and there, but that was basically all. The rest were just… Torture equipment in Taeyong’s eyes.

Metal whips. Metal chains. Metal cage. Metal collar. Knives, guns. Anything that can be used as a torture equipment, it would be present in this room. Specially for him.

The metal cage was his home when he was young. Kids were given a play tent, or a play cage with toys in it, at the very least those colorful and a sponge mat so that their feet wouldn’t get stuck in between the metal rods. He had none of those.

“Take off your shirt. Get down on the floor and do 200 push-ups.” His father simply said as he went to the cabinet to take something, and Taeyong did. He blinked when he saw an elastic bandage wrapped around his torso. He turned around when he heard his father let out an amused smirk.

“I wonder who was nice enough to treat your wounds for you.” He commented but Taeyong said nothing. He just proceeded to unwrap the bandage, exposing the slightly bloodied gauze pads scattered on his abdomen. He put down the elastic bandage and went down to the floor, starting to do the push-ups whilst counting out loud.  

“1.”

“2.”

“3.”

Whip.

He let out an inaudible gasp as he felt the familiar stinging sensation on his . A metal whip.

“4.” Whip.

“5.” Whip.

“6.” Whip.

He felt liquid slowly trickling down his back by the 6^th count. And this continued, until the 200^th count.

Taeyong opened his eyes and was greeted by a searing pain on his back, his whole body aching from the 200 push-ups he was made to do and the wounds that were stitched on his abdomen reopened yet again. The 3^rd time.

The blood on his back as well as the ones on his abdomen were dry. He painfully sat up, letting out a silent groan as the pain increased. He was panting, feeling the exhaustion. He crawled and took the elastic bandage, the shirt that was given to him by Jimin and his leather jacket. The elastic bandage and the shirt was decorated with small spots of blood that belonged to him. The blood splattered when the whip hit his already bloodied back.

He slowly wore the shirt, pain evident on his face as he grimaced and let out a groan whenever the pain was felt. He stood up, a hand clenching on the elastic bandage that was once wrapped around his abdomen as well as the leather jacket. He slowly made his way up to his room, the maids didn’t even spare a glance towards him as they were instructed not to aid him whenever he leaves the ‘torture chamber’.

Taeyong opened the door and collapsed on the ground, panting. Even walking to his room took a whole lot of energy from him. He forced himself to stand up with the support of the wall, closing the door to his room and locked it. He went to the cabinet and took out the painkillers that Jimin had given him. He swallowed them, forcing them down his throat without water. The bitterness of the painkillers were the least of his worries as the pain around his body worsened.

He sat on the ground, still panting. Waiting for the medication to take effect. He took down the brown paper bag with him and took out the gauze pads. He took off his shirt, putting it on the ground beside him, together with the elastic bandage and black leather jacket. His face pale and beads of cold sweat had already formed on his forehead.

He took off the bloodied gauze pads that were on his abdomen and replaced them with a set of new ones. He couldn’t be bothered to clean the sweat on his body, then again, he didn’t even have the energy to walk to the bathroom to clean himself off the blood that had covered his body. He leaned against wall behind him, not caring if the blood stained the wall. The maids would end up painting the wall if it did anyway.

He lightly groaned as he felt the cold surface of the wall touched the opened whip wounds. His body slowly relaxed against the wall, he closed his eyes as his eyelids felt heavy. The painkiller taking effect on Taeyong’s beaten up body.