All around him was dark, so dark that even the dim light of a nearby torch wasn't enough for him to be able to see his own hands – not that he would have wanted to see the poor condition they most likely were in. He had tried to dig a hole with his nails a few days ago to escape his cell, but the ground had been too hard, and his nails too frail. He could still feel the dried up blood sticking on his fingertips. His only hope was that the smell wasn't strong enough to drive crazy his jailers.

 

Time was stretching out endlessly. There were no windows and that left him with no indication whatsoever of the time of the day it was outside. It could have been night, or even daytime, and it wouldn't have changed anything for him. He was locked up a hundred feet underground in a small cage that he could never get out of. Even if he managed too, the monsters would kill him.

 

He couldn't really tell how many days he had been in there, but he knew that it was less than four weeks for he had heard that a human being couldn't live longer than that without food. He hadn't been fed ever since he had arrived, but they did give him water once in a while. The last time something had entered his mouth felt like hours ago and he reckoned that the next cup of water wouldn't be long to come. He hoped they could give him something to eat as well. He was so hungry that he was debating whether he should start eating the cockroaches wandering around the cell or stick to starving for just a bit longer.

 

It wouldn’t be the best of meals, but it would probably stop the tremendous pain in his stomach. It felt as if if the organ had started eating itself and it kept him awake at night, in agony.

 

 

 

As he suddenly heard the vague sound of approaching footsteps, he gently rolled from his back onto his side before slowly helping himself up into a sitting position, letting his back rest on the nearest wall for support. Even such a small effort had winded him and the intense throb in his stomach almost made him drop right back on the ground.

 

Soon enough, two figures appeared in the corridor, forcing him to scoot closer to the iron bars to take a better look. The monsters never came by pair, it was always a different one, checking up on him and the others as well, or bringing water, but there never had been more than one.

 

The person leading the way was a tall man that he could recognize to be the last one to have brought him water. He immediately looked more intently at the man, searching for anything that could be eaten, or even a small glass of water. To his dismay, the only thing the man was holding was a torch that was lighting up his pallid face, giving it a deathly glow. He thought, with dark amusement, that deathly was a very suiting term for monsters like them.

 

Behind him stood another man, very much different than any of the guards he had seen so far. He was much shorter than the first monster, but probably not much shorter than he was himself. The man was wearing tight-fitting leather clothes that looked more expensive than what he – as a poor college student – had ever owned in his whole life before. Unlike all the gaolers, that man looked proper and well-raised, his whole stature and the way he was holding himself clashing strongly with the poor rags the jailer was wearing.

 

As they came closer, he heard the sound of whimpers and grunts coming from the other cells next to his own. It wasn't unusual for the other prisoners to voice their hunger – they were all being starved equally – but this time they all seemed a lot more desperate and pitiful, which only made him more interested in the new-comer.

 

The two men walked up to his cell before stopping right in front of the door. The jailer lowered his torch, lighting up his frail figure. He had to shield his eyes from the fire, the light suddenly seeming so bright because of the constant darkness they were forced to survive in.

 

"That's the one you wanted, sir?" The jailer asked, his voice only a low rumble amongst the high pitched cries of the other damned bodies locked down in this hell.

 

The man walked up closer to the iron bars before crouching, bringing himself down to eye level. A few strands of white silver hair were falling in front of his blood-red eyes as he stared in silence at him, locked up in his cage like an animal on display.

 

A smile then blossomed on the man's lips as he nodded, standing up and looking down at him, pitifully struggling to keep his eyes opened.

 

"That's the one," the man said before slowly walking away, his eyes still trained on his bony body until he disappeared at the corner of the corridor, leaving behind him a series of sorrowful cries.

 

The jailer looked down at him with a nasty smirk before crouching down, imitating the other man’s actions from earlier. “You don’t know how lucky you are, Min Yoongi,” he said in a low voice, eliciting what seemed like shrieks of agreement from the other prisoners.

 

Yoongi dragged himself away from the iron bars, his throat too dry for him to form any sound. Not that he would have answered anything if he could anyway. The mere thought of talking to any of the cold-blooded monsters that had captured him made him want to retch, hell, hearing his name falling from the jailer’s mouth had made him want to commit murder.

 

Min Yoongi was not lucky. He was damned.

 

 

 

 

The feeling of the sun warming up his skin had felt like such an old memory that when he finally took his first step out of the basement after minutes of painful crawling up the stairs, the intense heat of the summer sun seemed to heal even his torn fingers. The air was fresh and soothing, and it would have made him cry if he wasn’t so weak and dehydrated. The mild wind was ruffling his black greasy hair and for a second, he felt so good and at peace that he almost would have believed the gaoler's words, but Yoongi knew better..

 

“Get moving,” a stranger wearing a red jacket said as he pushed Yoongi forward.

 

The push had been light, and yet Yoongi fell forward, barely catching himself up to a low branch. His legs felt like jelly, unable to support his more than light weight and even if the car that the man was walking towards was only a few steps away, Yoongi wasn’t sure whether he could make it to there without falling down.

 

He didn’t really know what was happening, but all he was sure of was that he had been somehow wrinkled out of hell itself and the old car seemed like Salvation in its entirety.

 

As he had expected, the journey from the tree to the car had been exhausting but the second he had thrown down onto the plush cushions of the leather seat by the unknown man, he knew that the pain had been worth it. The seat felt like clouds against his aching back that had only known cold hard asphalt for a mattress for the past week.

 

But Yoongi knew he shouldn’t feel too confident. If there had been one thing he had gotten from that fateful night – along with the everlasting memories of his parents’ murder – was that there was no way out for him now that the monsters had taken a hold of him. There was a reason for no human to be aware of their existence. The monsters either killed people who knew, like his parents, or they made them prisoner, like himself.

 

What Yoongi didn’t know, however, was what the prisoners like himself were supposed to become. When he had been brought to the basement and thrown into his cell, he had seen the other prisoners. They were all the shadows of decaying human beings, so pale and frail that they looked more like ghosts than actual people.

 

Yoongi reckoned that he probably looked like that now, at least he felt that way, as if he wasn’t even alive any more.

 

 

Yoongi mindlessly looked out through the car’s window, staring at the display of colourful landscapes basking in the warm orange glow the sun was providing. He couldn’t really tell how long they had been driving, after all his sense of time was pretty close to non-existent at that point, but he knew that they were far from Daegu.

 

Yoongi used to drive around Daegu a lot, but he had never seen that kind of scenery before. He bitterly thought that where he was wasn’t so important any more. There was no one waiting for him to come back home after all.

 

Yoongi then tore his gaze away from the gorgeous landscape and chose instead to study the front of the car where were sitting two men. The one driving was the one wearing a red jacket that had very gently thrown him at the rear of the car and he thought that his less than nice personality matched very well his stern face and furrowed brows. The man looked rather old, even if he was in perfect shape. The corner of his eyes were wrinkled with age and his hair was of greyish black, making him look around mid sixties or so.

 

Yoongi knew, from the observations he had done on the jailers, that this man was not one of them. His eyes didn’t have the lurid reddish glow and no sharp canines were peeking out of his mouth. The final piece of evidence was that he had not disappeared into ashes under the sun, and Yoongi reckoned that it was his best argument so far.

 

He didn’t even know what parts of the legend were true, after all, the monsters were real.

 

 

The other man sitting in the passenger seat was a lot younger. He looked so youthful, with his wide doe-eyes and plump cheeks that Yoongi reckoned the boy could even be younger than himself. Just like the old man, his eyes were empty of red and his mouth free of sharp canines. Yoongi couldn’t understand how humans could end up working with these monsters. He had seen the handshake the older man had exchanged with his jailer, the few laughs and many bucks as well.

 

Yoongi had been bought, that much he understood. For whom was also pretty clear, but what he didn’t know was the reason why.

 

Yoongi glanced back outside, watching as the sun slowly began setting, letting its light fade and replacing the blue sky by an orange one, soon to be black. The meadows that had turned into fields were now shifting to forests and the new darkness of the scenery made its appearance go from bucolic to eerie.

 

Feeling eyes staring at him, Yoongi slowly shifted his gaze from the scenery back to the passenger seat, meeting in the rear-view mirror the curious eyes of the younger boy before he swiftly glanced away shyly. It would have almost brought a smile to Yoongi’s lips if he wasn’t feeling like he was about to die.

 

 

 

 

Yoongi was suddenly jerked awake when the car came to a harsh stop. He slowly blinked the sleep away before looking around, a vain attempt at trying to locate himself. He hadn’t even realised that he had fallen asleep.

 

The car was parked in front of a huge mansion that looked like an old Victorian manor, lit up by the white glow of the moon. The sun was completely gone and getting out of the car only confirmed that fact when Yoongi felt the biting cold of the night attacking his frail body.

 

The older man gave a light push to Yoongi’s back, forcing him to take a wobbling step in direction of the huge wooden door, next to which the younger boy was already standing. As Yoongi approached, the boy pushed the doors open, revealing a cosy inside lit up by numerous candles.

 

The beige ceiling was high and arched, leaving space for stacks of sash windows on the red brick walls to let in the sunlight during daytime. The mahogany wooden floor looked just as warm as the comfy blankets draped over every piece of furniture. The mansion was grand and elegant, but also more than simply expensive.

 

Yoongi was standing in awe in the middle of what probably was the living-room when he was suddenly pulled out of his reverie by the shy and hesitant voice of the younger boy.

 

“I’ll show you to your room,” he said as he gestured towards a marble staircase.

 

Yoongi nodded more out of reflex and fear than politeness. He could still feel the sharp eyes of the older man staring at his back and he still had now idea where he was, and why he was there.

 

He followed the younger boy up the stairs in silence, clenching his teeth tightly to prevent himself from in pain at the effort it took him to drag himself up the steps. Yoongi reckoned that without the ramp that he had literally used as a crutch, he probably wouldn’t have been able to even go up one step. Thankfully, there was only one flight of stairs to crawl up, even if there seemed to be another floor.

 

By the time Yoongi stopped behind the other boy in front of what probably was his bedroom, he was completely winded, his legs shaking dangerously. Without saying a word, the young boy opened the elegant white door to reveal a room that seemed straight out of a French castle. The bed was high and large, its frame adorned with long and intricate arabesques of mahogany wood. The beddings were of different shades of a warm and comforting brown that matched perfectly the wooden floor, off-white curtains and beige walls. The bed looked so cosy and fluffy that Yoongi almost threw himself on it but the harsh glare of the old man drilling a hole in his back forced him to remain stuck in place.

 

“That is your room. You’re not allowed to leave it. You’ll be brought food in a few minutes, so stay inside and watch yourself,” the man said as he shrugged his red jacket off.

 

As he began walking down the steps, leaving Yoongi to stand awkwardly in the door frame, the man suddenly turned around and spoke up once more, staring at the younger boy.

 

“Jungkook, you stay with him and make sure he doesn’t misbehave.”

 

At that, the young boy stiffened before nodding. He then slowly entered the room, gently pushing Yoongi inside before closing the door behind both of them.

 

Without the older man’s terrifying glare, Yoongi felt a lot more at ease and his legs hurt so much that he didn’t think twice before crawling up onto the bed – which was just as soft as it looked. His stomach was so hollow that it felt as if it had become an empty void and the pain the odd contractions sometimes created was intense, and even if Yoongi hadn’t experienced any for the past hours, remaining in a sitting position was hard.

 

Feeling bold, Yoongi slowly let himself fall backwards, a soft gasp leaving his chapped lips when his sore back hit the fluffy covers. He would have almost worried about dirtying the beddings with his disgusting rags and greasy hair, but the position was so soothing that he didn’t find the heart to care.

 

From the corner of his barely opened eyes, Yoongi could see Jungkook, sitting in an armchair while carefully observing him. Unlike the other man’s cold eyes, the young boy’s were wide and gentle as he looked at Yoongi with genuine curiosity.

 

“What’s your name?” The boy asked after a few minutes of silent staring.

 

Yoongi had no reason to answer, and he almost didn’t, but Jungkook’s voice had been soft and his interest obvious. And even if he would never admit it, Yoongi craved human interactions after being held captive for so long.

 

“Min Yoongi,” he croaked out, his throat so dry and sore that it almost came as a surprise for him to even hear the sound of his voice.

 

Jungkook, nodded, a small smile playing on his lips.

 

“I’m Jeon Jungkook,” he then said.

 

Yoongi slowly his side to look at Jungkook more easily, clenching his teeth to prevent a pained moan to leave his lips at the effort. The more he looked at the boy, the younger he seemed to appear. Although he was certainly taller and had much more muscle than Yoongi, Jungkook’s cheeks were plump and his eyes soft, giving him a very youthful look.

 

“How old are you?” Yoongi asked after a while.

 

Jungkook’s cheeks slowly reddened as he whispered “I’m sixteen, what about you?”

 

“I’m twenty,” Yoongi said back, watching as Jungkook slowly nodded.

 

The boy was even younger than what Yoongi had thought. He couldn’t understand how he had come to work with the monsters, or even with the old grumpy man. He probably would have asked Jungkook, if the door hadn’t been opened at that time.

 

“Here’s your food.” The old man said as he put – or rather unceremoniously dropped – a plate down on a wooden desk next to the door.

 

Yoongi eyed the grilled meat greedily, the mere smell eliciting a loud and painful rumble from his stomach. Without further ado, the man left the room, quickly followed by Jungkook, and closed the door. Yoongi was left alone in the grandiose room with painfully good-smelling food on the desk, and he didn’t have to think twice before running to the plate, discarding the pain in his whole body as he did so.

 

The meat, in itself, wasn’t anything fancy or expensive and hadn’t been cooked in a delicate manner. It was plain and simple, but it tasted better than anything Yoongi had ever eaten. He was aware that eating such consistent food in such a huge amount after not being fed for a few days was probably not a good idea, but he didn’t care. He was far to hungry to mind a few stomach cramps for eating to much.

 

At least, he wouldn’t feel scarily empty and weak.

 

 

After a few hungry and not properly chewed bites of the meat, Yoongi felt his stomach churn uncomfortably. Discarding the pain, he pushed another bite down his throat, almost choking on the food. The feeling of solid meat going down his oesophagus was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes.

 

Yoongi dropped his fork and brought a hand to his throat, uselessly trying to soothe the pain. He let out another choked sound and dropped his hands to his stomach as a sudden stab of agony emerged from his entrails.

 

The pain was so intense that Yoongi thought for a second that he would retch, but he shut his mouth tightly and staggered back to the bed. He hadn’t even eaten half of the meat, but it seemed as if he stomach had already had enough.

 

His entire body was on fire and even the smallest of movement made his head spin. Yoongi was in no hurry to empty the food in his stomach on the bed sheets and chose, instead of getting up, to let himself lie down on the bed.

 

He barely found the strength to shrug his prisoner rags away, remaining in his underwear before crawling under the warm covers. The light was still on and the curtains weren’t even drawn but Yoongi couldn’t get up any more.

 

He was too exhausted to move, and he really needed a good night sleep.

 

Although his heart was still heavy with questions and fear, Yoongi let his eyes slowly shut, pushing all the bad thoughts away and allowing himself a bit of comfort as he curled up into a ball and fell into a heavy dream-less sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Wake up.”

 

Yoongi’s eyes shot open at the proximity and the sternness of the voice. He struggled to sit up, bringing the covers up to his neck to hide his bony body and retain a bit of warmth. The grumpy old man – as Yoongi had now chosen to call him – was standing near the desk, putting down what looked like clothes, next to which was a plate filled with fruits.

 

“Eat, shower and get dressed. You’re seeing the Master today.”

 

The man didn’t even leave a second for Yoongi to process his words as he turned around, left the room and slammed the door shut.

 

It didn’t take much thinking for Yoongi to match the word ‘Master’ to the man from yesterday. His vision had been blurry from the pain and the hunger and he barely remembered the man at all. All he could recall were a few strands of silver hair and red eyes, which was enough for Yoongi to know that he was like the others.

 

Yoongi was not looking forward to meeting the man, but he definitely could use a shower, so he slowly got out of bed, embarrassed by his lack of clothing and feeling pretty cold.

 

He slowly walked up to the plate, a hand clutched to his stomach and studied the food in silence. His mouth felt dried, as if his tongue was no more than a carpet and the mere thought of eating something made his throat close up.

 

 

He wasn’t even feeling hungry.

 

 

 

Yoongi decided that he would try to eat later, and went to shower. He hadn’t even noticed it the previous day, but there was another door inside the bedroom, which was linked to a huge bathroom. Everything was of a pristine white and a few golden strings here and there. The water had been scalding hot on his thin skin and had seemed to even burn down to his bones, but the feeling of hot water on his dirty skin had been too heavenly for Yoongi to even think of adjusting the temperature.

 

Changing into the clothes that had been brought by the older man had been by far the least enjoyable activity he had had to carry out in the past weeks. The shirt was made of silk and seemed whiter than snow, but it was also very complicated to put on. It was alike a button up shirt that was to be tied from behind into a delicate bow.

 

The pants, although small, fell large around Yoongi’s skinny thighs and he was scared that they might fall down without a belt, thankfully, putting the shirt inside the pants seemed to make it fit good enough. Yoongi could definitely live without the humiliation of loosing his pants in front of anyone.

 

Once he was properly dressed, Yoongi walked back into the bathroom, checking himself out in the mirror.

 

The clothes were fitting good enough for him to look almost normal, but the scary hole under his cheekbones showed just how terrifyingly scrawny he truly was. He skin had always had a rather pale colour, but his complexion was so white that he looked dead. Just as dead as them.

 

Yoongi had always been on the skinny side, and never ate a lot, but he had never looked like that before. He couldn’t even believe that a human being could become that way. Tearing his gaze away from the terrible reflection had been hard, because not only was he completely aghast by his appearance, but he was also too tired to move.

 

 

As he dragged himself back into the bedroom, Yoongi heard a shy knock on the door. He quickly – or rather as quickly as his wobbling steps allowed him to – walked up to the door, before opening it to reveal Jungkook, standing on the other side. The boy, Yoongi suddenly noticed, was wearing similar clothes to his own, but they hugged his muscular body a lot better than Yoongi’s baggy ones. He really needed to put on weight.

 

“Good morning,” Jungkook said as he looked at Yoongi up and down.

 

Yoongi awkwardly cleared his throat, feeling very uncomfortable, before he greeted Jungkook back in a low voice.

 

“Follow me, please.”

 

Yoongi complied without a word, letting Jungkook guide him through the corridors of the first floor.

 

 

After a few minutes of walking down the high walls illuminated by the clear glow of the morning sun, Jungkook stopped in front of the very last door of the long corridor.

 

The first thing that Yoongi noticed, once Jungkook had opened the door, was how dark the room was. All the curtains were drawn, shutting out the pristine light. A few candles were burning out, casting a grim orange glow throughout the room.

 

The room, in itself, was pretty large. It looked like a modern office, with a large wooden desk, a few chairs and tall bookshelves. It was very different from the ancient aura the whole manor was basking in.

 

Then, Yoongi noticed the figure standing next to one of the windows that were hidden behind the large black curtains.

 

 

As soon as he laid his eyes upon the man, Yoongi knew who it was. The man had silver hair that were neatly styled, letting a few strands fall in front of deep red eyes that were staring intently at a book the man was holding. Just how Yoongi had noticed the first time he had seen the man, they were about the same height, but the other seemed much more imposing.

 

The man was muscular, that was for sure, but more than that, it was also the aura of power and strength that made Yoongi uneasy.

 

“Master,” Jungkook spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

 

The man looked up from the book he had been reading and let his eyes fall upon Jungkook, before they switched to Yoongi. When their eyes locked, Yoongi’s breath hitched.

 

Yoongi didn’t really know what part of the man made him feel so nervous, but he sure wasn’t feeling at ease. He was staring at him, without even blinking, in complete silence. His eyes weren’t cold like his jailers’, nor were they as intimidating as the grumpy old man’s, but they were so intense and solemn that Yoongi felt the urge to look away.

 

“Thank you Jungkook. Could you wait outside?” The man asked in velvet-like voice as he put the book down on the desk.

 

Jungkook bowed respectfully before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

 

Yoongi’s palms were sweaty as he fiddled with his fingers nervously. He could feel cold sweat creeping up his spine and his stomach doing loopings from the fear.

 

He knew what people like that man were capable of. He had seen with his very eyes how easily a human life could be stolen if it was from their claws, and Yoongi was in no hurry to die.

 

“Good morning Yoongi, I hope you slept well.” The man said again as he took a few feline steps towards Yoongi.

 

His demeanour was light and controlled. Yoongi could barely hear the sound of his footsteps.

 

He knew that he should have said something, maybe even thank the man for the meals, but his mouth seemed like it had been glued shut. His throat was tight and dry and the quiver of his legs was making Yoongi so uneasy that he couldn’t seem to speak up.

 

“My name is Park Jimin.”

 

The man’s soft voice seemed so close now that Yoongi forced himself to raise his gaze from the floor to look around.

 

Jimin was standing only a meter away from him, leaning against the desk in a very composed and relaxed manner that clashed strongly with Yoongi’s nervous state.

 

Gathering all of his courage, Yoongi looked up to the man’s face once more, noticing how pale he was. He was probably even paler than Yoongi himself. Without even meaning to, Yoongi’s eyes fell down up the man’s lips. They were full and red, but what struck Yoongi the most were the two sharp canines that were poking out.

 

He felt a shiver of terror run down his spine as he thought how easily teeth this sharp could tear skin.

 

“Are you scared?”

Yoongi almost forgot to breathe.

 

His eyes shot back up to meet Jimin’s. The man had wide-set eyes with long lashes that grazed his high cheek bones. Nothing in his youthful face, from his innocent eyes to his soft lips, made him scary, and yet Yoongi couldn’t help the slight shake in his body.

 

He was scared.

 

Jimin’s eyes seem to soften at the lack of answer from Yoongi.

 

“You don’t need to be afraid of me, I’m not going to hurt you.”

 

Yoongi would have scoffed, but his lips conveniently seemed to be still glued shut in fear.

 

The man pushed himself away from the desk, before walking around it and sitting down on the office chair. He then gestured towards the chair closest to Yoongi, opposite of the desk.

 

Yoongi reluctantly sat down in front of the man in silence, secretly thankful that he wasn’t forced to stand any longer. He felt as if his legs had been about to give out any moment.

 

 

 

“I am a Vampire,” Jimin suddenly said, his voice empty of any emotion.

 

Yoongi felt his body tremble as he registered the words. He had known, of course he had, but hearing the actual words from the mouth of one of the monsters made it seem a lot more realistic.

 

“This is my house,” Jimin added as he gestured around the room, “and from now on, it is also yours.”

 

Yoongi’s head shot up at the words, looking at Jimin with obvious surprise and confusion. The most logical conclusion Yoongi had been able to come up with was that he had been bought to serve as a meal for Jimin, not a guest.

 

“I will be out in town for a few days. While I am not there, please listen to Namjoon and Jungkook, my two subordinates,” Jimin added as he stood up.

 

Yoongi watched, frozen in fear, as the man took a few soundless steps towards him, stopping only a few centimetres away.

 

“We’ll talk more when I’m back,” he added once more as he walked up to the door and pushed it open to reveal the old grumpy man and Jungkook, standing on each side of the door frame.

 

Yoongi wanted more than anything to tell the Vampire that he didn’t want to talk to him ever again but he chose not to, thinking that his life was more important than the light satisfaction of throwing a witty comeback to the dangerous man.

 

“Namjoon,” Jimin called, the old grumpy man entering the room a second later, “please show Yoongi back to his room.”

 

Namjoon nodded, before forcing Yoongi out of the office with a less than delicate push to his fragile back.

 

“And be gentle, please,” Jimin added, his tone more serious than before.

 

The old man mumbled out what sounded like a reluctant ‘Yes’, before he took a hold of Yoongi’s thin arm and proceeded to drag him all the way back to his room.

 

 

 

 

As soon as Yoongi had been left alone once more in his room, he had dropped right back on his bed and let out a deep shaky breath. He could still feel the sweat on his back and the slight tremble of his legs.

 

He had never felt so nervous and uneasy before. Even the mere memory of the man’s red eyes was enough for Yoongi’s heart beat to pick up in terror.

 

He had been locked down in a cell and forced to survive around Vampires for days, and yet there had been something so different with Jimin that had made Yoongi feel more terrified than any of the jailers had.

 

Yoongi had thought that all Vampires were equal, but meeting Jimin had proved him wrong. The man was surely more powerful than any of the monsters he had seen before. Probably even stronger than the ones that had attacked his family.

 

The memory brought a sour taste to Yoongi’s mouth.

 

 

A soft knock on the door forced Yoongi out of his thoughts. He sat up with difficulty, wincing at the pain in his abdomen and the weakness in his arms and walked up to the door before opening it.

 

As Yoongi had somehow expected from the gentleness of the knock, Jungkook was standing on the other side of the door. He had known Jungkook and the grumpy old man – Yoongi now knew his name but he was determined to keep on calling him that way – for only a few hours but he already knew that he liked Jungkook a lot better. The younger boy was sweet and kind, very much unlike Namjoon.

 

He hoped he could find a friend in Jungkook, he could really use a bit of friendship if he was going to be stuck in a manor with a Vampire.

 

“So, uh, the Master wants me to keep an eye on you,” Jungkook said, a light blush covering his cheeks.

 

Yoongi nodded, before taking a few steps back to let Jungkook inside of the room, but the boy didn’t move.

 

“I thought we could talk outside...” he then trailed off, his voice only a whisper.

 

Yoongi fought the surprise off his face and nodded instead. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to crawl up the stairs again, but the thought of sitting down under the warm sun motivated him, even if he clearly remembered the old grumpy man ordering him not to leave his room.

 

Yoongi didn’t know how many Vampires there were inside the manor, and he didn’t know if Jimin was still there or not, but as long as he was outside, under the sun, he was protected from them.

 

Namjoon seemed in rather good shape for his age, and even if Yoongi was pretty weak, he reckoned that he could outrun the old man. The only problem left was Jungkook, but the boy looked rather gentle and probably a bit too trusting if he thought bringing Yoongi outside was a good idea.

 

Yoongi didn’t even know where he was, but even being lost in the forest seemed better than being forced to live with a Vampire, and so, his mind was made up. He could try to escape.