He stands in the middle of the room, white knuckled from the tight grip on his arms, his body shaking. His breathing is erratic and he closes his eyes in an attempt to combat the snaking tendrils of claustrophobia that have been creeping their way across his chest for the past few minutes.

It’s so quiet. He’s already been struggling with the lack of noise, but those few minutes spent in the parking garage reinforced the torture. This is going to drive him insane, there’s no question about it. Maybe, if he hadn’t utterly ed up with Hanbin, maybe he could have asked Jiyong for a tablet with some music. Something to keep his mind off of the emptiness of the building.

Instead he’s standing in the middle of the medical room, struggling to stay calm. He cracks his eyes open again and looks down at the tray on the table. There are two syringes, empty for now, but next to a small box containing several vials of different liquid. There’s rubber tubing, some cloth, a pair of scalpels, tweezers, and pliers.

He shuts his eyes again, trying to dispel the visuals of his imagination. He doesn’t want to be the one these are used against. He can’t be. He doesn’t even know what Youngbae would use some of the items for, and he doesn’t want to guess. But he knows the questions will creep back in later, with nothing to distract him. He’s brought in two other boxes of items, but those are padlocked shut.

He’s terrified of what might be inside those boxes. He hopes he’ll never find out.

The fear is overwhelming, he can practically feel it oozing around through his veins, slowly lining his stomach. Until suddenly, without provocation, he thinks of Hanbin, of his confident gaze and unflinching attitude. He’s not sure why, but it makes him feel a little less terrified. Maybe it’s some lingering wisp of competition, one that didn’t die in the pit. Maybe he just doesn’t want to be falling apart over something that wouldn’t even make Hanbin flinch. Or maybe it’s something else entirely, something caused by isolation and a desperate longing to have some kind of connection with another person again.

Which is stupid. Hanbin is his enemy, Hanbin is the whole reason why he’s stuck here. Or at least his dad is. Same matter.

He turns around and heads for the door, where his eyes fall on an object that sees the fear replaced with a sudden burst of heated rage. The anger feels good, he feels like himself again for a moment. But a second later and the rage leads to humiliation.

He’s been given an infuriating task by Youngbae, a reminder that his main purpose here is to see to Hanbin’s needs. One of which he’s apparently been neglecting.

He leans down and reaches out until his fingers tighten around the handle of a metal bucket, slowly rising with the object in hand. He contemplates how he ought to handle the instruction he’s been given. This is all clearly being done to remind him of his job, and of his place, at the very bottom of the barrel. It’s part of his punishment for ing up, he’s sure of it.

Between this task and death by Jiyong’s hand, he thinks he’d rather have death.

He looks at the bucket and decides that he won’t go through with it. There’s no way in hell he’s touching Hanbin that way, and he doubts Hanbin would even let him. With his legs free, he’d probably only wind up with a kick in the balls if he tried what he’s been told to do.

But there’s no real way around it. Youngbae had told him that he had to do it, that there would be consequences if he didn’t. He thinks about the medical supplies, wonders what’s in the different vials of liquid. Wonders what they do? Wonders what the pliers are for? Wonders what the tweezers are for?

He stalks back into the room, an angry stomp against the concrete, like this is all one big inconvenience to him, and he’d like nothing more than to er punch whoever is responsible. He unlocks the cell door and walks up to Hanbin, puts the bucket on the floor in front of him. He means to glare at him, to look him in the eyes and snarl, but he avoids his gaze at the last second. He’ll have time to perfect his angry glare later.

“Youngbae said you needed a bucket, so there you go,” he says without looking at Hanbin. He turns around to leave the cell, but Hanbin’s voice stops him.

“It would be much more convenient for the both of us if you just unshackled me. Tie my legs up if you have to, though honestly I couldn’t do anything to you even if I wanted to, I have no feeling in my arms. You’d have enough time to take them down and then tie my hands together.”

Jiwon thinks about doing just that, he knows it would make the situation so much easier. But Youngbae also warned him explicitly against doing it, for exactly the reason Hanbin mentioned. He doesn’t want to let him rest his arms, doesn’t want the blood to circulate in them. Part of his plan involves Hanbin being immobile, so if he lets him rest for even a few minutes it would reset his brain. So he can’t take his arms down, because Youngbae will know, and then he’ll be in an even worse position than he’s already in.

“Not happening. Piss in the bucket or on the floor, I don’t give a .”

Hanbin is silent for a moment before answering, and it practically drives Jiwon crazy because he still hasn’t conjured up the nerves to look at him, and now he just feels awkward. He’s also made this into a much bigger deal than he should have. Is that why Hanbin’s gone quiet? If he turned to look at him, would he finally see the judgmental sneer he’s been looking for since earlier? Is Hanbin laughing at him? He should be the one laughing at Hanbin! He has to stop letting himself feel like the victim.

“Fine,” Hanbin finally replies, his voice calm. “But would you mind ping me so I don’t piss myself, at least?”

Jiwon can feel his cheeks burning at the request. “ you! Youngbae just said to bring you a bucket, he didn’t say anything else.” Turn around and look at him! He tries to force himself into action, tries to make his brain calm down because he’s pretty sure he just spat a complete overreaction to Hanbin’s request. For what? Because he’s embarrassed?

“You know it’ll just make the whole room smell, right? It doesn’t matter how close you are, it’ll linger in the air. Do you really want to live with that smell for however long we’re here?”

Jiwon hadn’t thought of that, and he hates that Hanbin makes a good point. There was one time when they’d all come back too drunk after a night of partying, and someone hadn’t made it to the bathroom, instead pissing in the corner of their room. The smell had lingered for days. He’s not looking to repeat that.

“That’s the only ing reason I’m helping you out,” Jiwon snarls in response, quickly walking over to where Hanbin’s shackled to the wall, moving without really thinking about it. He s Hanbin’s pants and tugs them down, along with his underwear. He picks the bucket up and holds it as Hanbin relieves himself, and by the end of it he’s so ashamed at having to do this that he can barely keep himself from throwing the contents of the bucket back in Hanbin’s face.

Instead he scurries out of the room and dumps it into the toilet, before putting the bucket in the shower and running the water over it. He washes his hands afterwards before leaning over the sink to splash cold water over his heated face.

He won’t do it again. He can’t. They need to find another way around the bathroom issue, because it’s only going to become more of a problem soon, isn’t it? Surely Youngbae won’t make him handle that? He won’t. He’ll refuse, he’d rather take a bullet in the face. Except that a bullet in the face isn’t likely going to happen. Instead he thinks about the locked boxes in the medical room.

He’s trapped, buried alive inside this tomb.

He leaves the bathroom but doesn’t go back to Hanbin. He can’t face him yet, doesn’t want to hear his voice. Instead the only place he has to go is back to the medical room. He picks up one of the scalpels and looks at his own wrist.

He could do it, couldn’t he? Why wait for some act that will entice Jiyong into killing him, when he could just do it himself? He could get himself out of this situation. One easy swipe is all it would take.

He presses the blade against his skin, holds it there for a moment and thinks about whether or not this is the way he wants to go out. What if he s it up? What if he doesn’t cut it the right way? What if he just bleeds a lot, but not enough? What if Jiyong and Youngbae come back to find him leaking blood all over the floor? Then he’ll be up on the wall next to Hanbin. He’s sure of it. There won’t be another second chance.

He could stab himself in the throat. Wouldn’t that be a better option? He could bleed out through the jugular vein. It would work better than the wrist. Except that he can’t remember how deep he’d have to cut to hit the jugular, and the scalpel isn’t very long. What if he doesn’t cut deep enough?

He puts the scalpel back down on the tray and feels like screaming. He wants to throw everything at the wall, wants to kick the chair over. He wants to pick up the scalpel again and stab it into Jiyong’s face, wants to slice at his eyes, so the fire dies out. Wants to cut his mouth, his tongue, so he can’t talk anymore. Wants to bash his face against the wall so he can finally be free.

But Jiyong never comes without Youngbae, and he has no idea how strong Youngbae is. What else is there to do in prison, other than read and workout?

No. His dream of disfiguring Jiyong will have to remain as fantasy.

His rage dies out after a while, instead leaving him feeling exhausted. He wants to go back into the room just to lie down again, to hide his head under the blanket and shut everything out. Maybe Hanbin won’t say anything to him. Maybe he’ll be too ashamed of what happened earlier and will keep his mouth shut, for once.

Jiwon walks back into the room and doesn’t look at Hanbin, he just walks over and picks up his overturned cot and sets it upright. The end of the flap is still hanging loose, and it infuriates him, looking at it. If he fixed it, it would make the tension of the cot tighter, so he’d sleep better. He should really fix it. Maybe he just didn’t try hard enough earlier. He grabs the bar on the end and tries to stretch the canvas over the knob. He gets one side on, but the other one is just too tight. Why can’t he figure this out?

“You need to use something for leverage,” Hanbin says suddenly, and Jiwon tenses up at the thought of Hanbin watching him struggle.

“What?” He asks, even though he doesn’t want to talk to him. He just couldn’t stop the word from getting out.

“You won’t stretch the canvas on your own, you need to use something as a lever. Something long and hard.”

Jiwon’s face goes hot again, he can’t believe Hanbin’s nerve! He should be too ashamed at needing help to piss to even make a damn joke about it!

“Do you have any tools, like a screwdriver, something like that? It has to be something that won’t bend.”

Jiwon pauses his freakout at Hanbin’s follow up, realizing that maybe he’d just overreacted. Hanbin was talking about tools. That’s all he’d meant. He wasn’t alluding to anything else. He doesn’t respond, but he does look around the room. He doesn’t have anything like a screwdriver, and he hadn’t brought anything in from the vehicle like it either. Maybe he’ll have to ask for something.

He sits down on the chair and takes a bottle of water out of the cooler. He wishes they’d bring him something else, beer, or even Pepsi. Anything but water. He uncaps it anyway and takes a drink, looks at the food but doesn’t feel very hungry. Is he supposed to give Hanbin food? Youngbae didn’t say anything about that. But if he feeds him, then it’ll just end up causing more problems for him later, won’t it? Problems he doesn’t want to have to deal with. Better off to let him starve.

“Jiwon?” Hanbin calls, and Jiwon bristles at his voice. He hates the way Hanbin says his name, like it’s something familiar. Something friendly.

“What?”

“Thanks for your help earlier, but would you mind doing my pants up again?” Hanbin can barely keep the laughter out of his voice, because while it’s not exactly an enjoyable situation, he’s not embarrassed about it either. Everyone has the same bodily functions and needs, and if he’s being restrained then it only follows that someone will have to help him. There’s no need for him to be embarrassed about it, because it’s not his decision.

Jiwon can’t believe the request! And the way he asked it, so casually, like it wasn’t a big deal… It makes him angry. But he shouldn’t be letting Hanbin see that. He’s giving him too much ammunition against him, isn’t he? So instead of hurling an insult or stomping away angrily, he swallows his pride and walks up to him in the cell and tucks Hanbin’s back into his pants before doing them back up. In a fit of courage he looks him in the eyes, finally.

“You’re welcome.” Then he turns and walks back to the cot, laying down and facing the wall. He’s been so caught up in his shame that he’d forgotten his back was hurting again, and like clockwork the pain hits him now that the thought is back in his head. He can’t do this, he can’t handle this slow deterioration. He can’t deal with this pain a second time. Why hadn’t he remembered his damn pills? Of all the things to forget…

While Jiwon lies on the cot, Hanbin watches him from the wall, glad he’s not paying him any attention. He’s not sure if it’s just his mind falling prey to Youngbae’s suggestion, or if it is actually colder in the room. There’s a certain chill in the air he hadn’t felt at first, the beginnings of something uncomfortable. He looks down at his feet, at the left foot that Youngbae had trampled that first meeting. It’s got some minor bruising on top, though it doesn’t hurt at all. But his toes are cold, because the concrete doesn’t absorb any of his body heat, instead it leeches the heat away and leaves him feeling like he’s standing on a block of ice.

It’s ridiculous how the little things become a prize after enough time. At first he’d have wanted a thick carpet to stand on, now he’d be happy with a thin towel to protect against the concrete. He stands on his right foot and brings his left knee up, bending and stretching the leg as much as he can, trying to keep his muscles from getting stiff, trying to give his knees some relief.

But they’ll buckle on him eventually, he knows that for fact. The human body is not constructed for continued standing, it requires rest periods. He knows that he’s definitely stronger than most people, he’s very resilient. But even he will lose sensation at some point. It’s inevitable.

He stands on his toes, stretching his back as far as he can, trying to alleviate some of the burden on his shoulders. Occasionally he regains feeling in the arms, but always ends up losing it again, the tingling sensation spreading down from his shoulders to his fingers. It’s currently his biggest concern. He doesn’t know how long they plan to keep him tied up like this, but if it’s already affecting him this much so soon, he realistically probably doesn’t have very long before it gets much worse.

He thinks about his family, wonders how they’re coping. He thinks about his father, wonders if there’s any lingering injury after the bullet, or if their medical team has patched him up fully by now. He wonders what he’s doing at the moment? Exhausting his resources trying to find him? Or is he sequestering himself in the library, drinking wine?

He’s certain his mother is going about her usual routine, not because she doesn’t care, but because it’s the best use of her time. She has a country to run, and that doesn’t stop just because her son has been abducted. If there’s work to be done, it means there’s no time for grief.

Hanbyul is likely distraught, and thinking about her causes a pang in his chest. He misses her, wishes he could be sitting on his balcony right now, his bear cloak covering the both of them. Jisoo is going to have her hands full, dealing with his little sister.

And then there’s Junhoe, and Hanbin feels a multitude of emotions for his adopted brother. It was finally Junhoe’s moment to introduce himself to the world, to climb out from the shadows of those who came before him and claim his spot at the top. With the fight he’d had, Junhoe would have shot to the tip of everyone’s tongues.

But now his fight will always come in third place, behind the assassination attempt, and behind his abduction. His moment was stolen, taken right out of his own hands and flicked away into the gutter like a still-lit cigarette, burning uselessly. The night will go down in infamy, but he’ll always just be the afterthought.

Does anyone even know that he’s gone? Anyone outside of his family? His thoughts suddenly turn to Jinhwan, to the interview he’d scheduled the following day. Did Jinhwan still come by, did he speak with Junhoe? Or was he sent away, delayed by the screening of guests?

He’d even welcome Jisoo’s sarcastic response to seeing him like this. He’d endure a lifetime of jokes at his expense if she showed up and broke him out.

Maybe Yunhyeong will prove his ability, and find him by his biot? It’s a slim chance, given the short range. But Yunhyeong is clever. He could figure something out.

His best chance still lies with Jiwon, on playing into his own impending doom. Finding out about the reality of those nightmares was a lucky chance. Of course now he has to run damage control, has to position himself as the lesser of two evils. Has to continue poisoning Jiwon against Jiyong. It’s the only chance he has at getting out.

He assumes they’re alone here, but he hasn’t had the chance to ask Jiwon yet. The only thing he ever hears during those disappearances is the occasional running water from the bathroom, which is an oddly comforting break to the monotony of all the oppressing silence. Is there anything else in all those other rooms he can’t access? Or does Jiwon just stand in the hallway so he doesn’t have to be around him? He needs to find a way to ask the question without arousing suspicion.

Not that it really matters. If they are alone, it’ll make turning him that much easier. And if they aren’t alone, well, he’d find out soon enough anyway.
 

“I think it would be wise if you told me exactly what it is that you’re looking for,” Jiyong says, eyes fixed on the face of a very familiar man: Lee Seunghoon, a cop who’s been paying far too much attention to his group over the past few years.

Seunghoon regards him with the faintest hint of a smirk. “Stolen property,” is his careful response, and Jiyong knows that he does it because he thinks it gets under his skin. But Jiyong is a master at fabricating emotions that don’t exist, and pretending to be aggravated by the cop’s line of questioning is something he could do in his sleep.

“And what makes you think that property is here?” He asks.

“Motive,” Seunghoon answers, “and general vicinity to the crime.”

Jiyong narrows his eyes slightly, playing his part with ease. “You still haven’t told me what the crime is.”

Seunghoon crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head just a little, while keeping eye contact. “Theft.”

“Of what?” Jiyong asks, raising his voice slightly. Seunghoon has questioned him enough times over the years to think that he knows all of Jiyong’s tells, to think he knows when he’s succeeded in pushing his buttons.

“A blue Accent,” Seunghoon finally answers, before taking out his phone and bringing up a picture, the sort of thing taken from a satellite. Jiyong recognizes it straight away—it’s an aerial view of the vehicle bay, and the car is the one that Donghyuk used to bring Hanbin in.

But if Seunghoon is showing the picture, then it means that the picture is all he has, so Jiyong allows himself a tiny smile. “I’m still waiting for an explanation of the details,” he replies coolly, like he’s not concerned about the picture. Mainly because he isn’t.

“This car was reported stolen early Monday morning, hours after the fight had ended, after your dear friend Kim Jeongju took a bullet in the shoulder.”

Jiyong frowns slightly at the name, which of course is only half fake. It still irritates him to no end, thinking about the failure of his shooter. “What exactly are you suggesting? That we waited around for hours after watching the card, only to steal some cheap car? I don’t have to point out to you how little sense that makes.”

Seunghoon nods. “While I don’t disagree with you, that the theft itself doesn’t make sense, this vehicle did arrive into your compound three hours before it was reported stolen, because the owner had gone for a late night drink after that scare with the shooting, and the signal loss. Quite convenient that was. Oddly well timed.”

“What was well timed?” Jiyong asks, even though he knows exactly what Seunghoon is referring to.

“The signal loss,” Seunghoon replies, “it almost seems like all signals dropped the very second the shot was fired at the president’s husband.”

“Oh, so he’s no longer my friend, but he’s now the president’s husband.” Jiyong remarks. “Not that it really matters, since I wasn’t even out of the building when the shooting occurred.”

“No, of course not,” Seunghoon says, “I’m sure it was a disappointment to you, not being able to watch that in person.”

“Of course it’s a disappointment, who wouldn’t want to watch a hated rival take a bullet? But you know that’s not how I do things, is it?” Jiyong replies, keeping his composure. “You know I’d rather deal with things the proper way, in a proper fight. A shooting is cowardly, it would do nothing to elevate me or my group.”

“No, of course not. I wouldn’t expect it of you.” Seunghoon looks back at the picture for a moment before putting his phone back into his jacket. “Regardless, we have been following up on what footage we could recover from near that point of time. And imagine my surprise when I saw this stolen vehicle drive right into your vehicle bay.”

“So you want to search my compound for a Hyundai Accent?” Jiyong replies with a laugh.

Seunghoon shakes his head. “Oh no, I honestly don’t care about the car. What I do care about is what was being transported inside the car. Something much more valuable.”

“And what might that something be, if you don’t mind my asking?” Jiyong inquires, wondering if Seunghoon will say it outright or not.

“I’ll let you know when I find it.” Seunghoon reaches into another pocket and withdraws a single sheet of paper, folded into quarters. “Just for formality’s sake, here’s my warrant to search every inch of this compound. Would you like to join me while I look?”

Jiyong smiles back at him as he reaches out to take the paper. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I don’t want to be a distraction on your wild goose chase.”

“How kind of you,” Seunghoon replies. “I’ll be starting in the vehicle bay.”

“Of course, it’s only logical,” Jiyong replies and stands up, walking the cop to the staircase. He waits until he’s reached the bottom before calling for him. “Seunghoon?”

The detective turns around and throws him a scowl from the bottom of the staircase, because they both know how much Seunghoon hates theatrics. He also hates being addressed by his first name while on the job.

Jiyong folds his arms across his chest and regards him from his place atop the staircase. “You won’t find what you’re looking for.”

Seunghoon regards him with a look of irritation. “And what is it that you think I’m looking for?”

Jiyong smirks at the honest expression. “Anything at all.”

Jiyong returns to his office and Seunghoon exits the building, meeting his junior partner outside, who’s waiting with a squad.

“What did he say?” Kang Seungyoon asks, walking next to him as they make their way to the vehicle bay.

“Exactly what I expected,” Seunghoon answers.

“What does that mean?” Seungyoon asks, wary eyes on the gang members they pass, feeling unnerved despite the admission of entry.

“He’s being careful, which leads me to believe that we won’t actually find anything. When he’s nervous he’s more likely to say more than he has to, but he was tight lipped today. Which means that he’s already disposed of the goods, or moved them somewhere else.”

“So why are we bothering, then? Just to make a show?” Seungyoon asks.

“Oh no, it’s always worth our time to search these guys. Someone always s up and leaves something lying around that they shouldn’t. Especially when there’s something more important going on.” They reach the vehicle bay and Seunghoon glares at the worker stationed there until the door is opened, and then he enters with Seungyoon and the others in tow.

“Alright guys, take a look around, do some scanning. You know what you’re looking for, pieces of a blue Hyundai Accent. And if you happen to find anything else of interest, give me a yell.” Seunghoon stands by as his team begins their search, waiting for a few minutes to pass before he logs into his phone and opens a scanning app.

“What are you doing?” Seungyoon asks, keeping his voice low. They’re the only two of the squad who know what they’re really here to look for.

“Their engineer gave me a special frequency to scan for, some electronic component he keeps on him that won’t pick up on a regular scanner. It uses some special program he wrote himself. If he’s here, we’ll find it.”

“What’s the range?” Seungyoon asks, walking next to Seunghoon as they begin a slow sweep of the building.

“A kilometer, but there might be interference depending on where they have him, so I want to walk around the entire place. I’ll keep the juniors busy looking for other things, but you and I need to pay strict attention to this.”

“Do you actually think he’s still here?” Seungyoon asks, watching the screen for any blips.

“No chance, Jiyong is too confident. But I have to try it anyway, never know what we might find.”

And so they begin an in-depth sweep of the compound, one that will likely take the entire day to complete. After spending an hour inside the vehicle bay they exit the building, almost running into some kid who’s rushing by. The kid spooks when he sees them, large eyes going wide. Seunghoon can’t help but feel like he clearly doesn’t belong here among the criminals.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” He asks, and he can see the guilt in the doe eyes that stare back at him.

“My classes were cancelled this morning,” he replies automatically.

“Oh yeah? Where do you go to school?” Seunghoon presses, but they’re interrupted.

“Unless you’re telling these guys to go themselves, don’t ever talk to cops,” the intruder says, stepping in front of the dumbfounded kid. Seunghoon immediately recognizes his platinum blonde hair and sneering glare.

“Kim Donghyuk,” he greets, “no need to be so openly hostile.”

“I live and breathe hostility, don’t take it personally,” Donghyuk replies, before grabbing the other guy’s arm and dragging him off towards the front gate. Seunghoon can’t shake the feeling in his gut that tells him that he needs to figure out who that spooked kid is. It’s the first thing he’s seen today that looks like a potential lead.

Once they’re away from the cops Chanwoo tries to tug his arm away, but Donghyuk’s grip is firm.

“Come for a walk with me.”

“I can’t, I have a project to work on,” Chanwoo replies, which isn’t a lie.

“No, you’ll come for a walk, your project can wait.” Donghyuk’s grip is firm as he steers Chanwoo out of the compound and down the street, because he doesn’t want to have this conversation with any ears around.

Chanwoo feels like his stomach might burst from all the nerves, and finally he can’t hold back any longer. “I didn’t mean to talk to them! I just physically ran into them, and then that guy just started asking me questions, and I didn’t know what to say—”

“Don’t ever say anything to that guy,” Donghyuk replies sharply, fingers tightening, “Lee Seunghoon, he’s a vindictive little . Always trying to book us on , like it’s his favourite ing hobby. I can’t stand that .”

Chanwoo is a little taken aback at Donghyuk’s acidic tone. “Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Half the force hates him, his dad’s the chief of police so of course his little boy gets a fast promotion up the ranks.”

“Is he a good cop, at least?” Chanwoo asks, but it’s clearly the wrong thing to say, given Donghyuk’s withering glare.

“There’s no such thing as a good cop,” he spits back, “they don’t give a about people like us.”

Like what? Chanwoo wants to say. Criminals? Kidnappers? Attempted murderers? He’d never had a problem with the police before joining the Death Brigade. In fact, there were a few cops who frequented his family’s restaurant, who’d brought him toys occasionally over the years. But now the mere sight of the police terrifies him, because he actually has something to hide.

“You’re ing lucky I showed up when I did,” Donghyuk continues, “and Jiyong is lucky I got that car shipped out so quickly.”

Chanwoo stops walking, his face dropping in shock. “They’re here because of the car?” He whispers, and he feels like his heart might stop. Oh god, he’s screwed.

Donghyuk smacks his arm and doesn’t look bothered. “Calm down, if they actually had footage of us they’d have taken us in already. They probably have footage of the car driving into the vehicle bay, and since it’s stolen they used that for a search warrant.”

“But if that’s enough for a warrant, doesn’t that make us suspects?” Chanwoo asks.

“Nah, cause they don’t have footage of us inside the car. Even if we come walking out of the building after, it’s not actual proof that we were inside the car, and since they won’t find the car, they won’t find that proof. And anyway, they don’t give a about the car. They’re looking for Kim Hanbin.”

Chanwoo doesn’t respond right away. Is that supposed to make him feel better? If anything it makes him feel worse, reminds him that he’s not just an accessory to a car robbery. He’s also an accessory to a kidnapping. Assault, even, because he cut the tracker out of Hanbin’s neck! Would it count as tampering with government property?

“Chanwoo, calm the down.” Donghyuk says, reaching out to grab his face. “You know with the way you freaked out in there, that cop’s probably going to be looking for you now. We need to figure out a cover story for you.”

“There is no cover story!” Chanwoo blurts out. “If they ask my friends I’m screwed! I was supposed to be at a robotics competition that night, but I didn’t show, and I’m sure this is the last straw with them, I don’t think they’ll cover for me—”

“No, you idiot. I mean a cover for why you freaked out in front of him. I guess technically you are skipping school right now, so the worst he could do is book you on truancy. Maybe you’ll just have to drop out of school altogether. Can’t risk you being on your own anymore.”

Chanwoo looks at him like he’s got two heads, confused at the sudden talk about school. “I can’t.”

Donghyuk looks annoyed with the response. “That wasn’t a suggestion, and it’s not your choice anymore. I can’t trust you on your own, I need you here where I can watch you. For your own good. And mine.”

“My parents won’t let me,” Chanwoo replies, desperate to grasp at the last semblance of normalcy left in his life.

“Your parents are in no ing position to be making any decisions about you. Trust me, I pay them a little visit, explain the situation, and they’ll be pulling you out of school within the hour.”

Chanwoo shakes his head, trying to keep calm. This can’t be happening. He never wanted any of this, desperately wants to get away from it, and now he’s being in further!

“You should be grateful I’m looking out for you, Chanwoo. Not everyone would bother. And really, I’m only doing it because of how important you are to the engineering team.” Donghyuk wraps a hand around the back of Chanwoo’s neck and pulls him in closer. “If you weren’t so smart, I’d actually kill you myself, just to protect the truth. I want you to remember that.”

He lets him go and Chanwoo leans back against the building, his knees shaking and breath coming in gasps. He’s in too deep now, there’s never going to be a way out for him. He fixes his terrified eyes on Donghyuk, who’s got no trace of any compassion in his expression.

He wonders if he could somehow get into some kind of witness protection program? He probably could have, if he’d moved on it sooner. But now that Donghyuk wants him out of school and at the compound full-time, there’s no way for him to get any sort of deal. No matter how smart he is, he’s sure that if it came down to it, Jiyong himself would choose to put a bullet in his skull rather than take his chances.

“Are you serious about school?” He asks, just to be sure.

“Yeah. When we get back I’ll go visit your parents myself, maybe drop by your place to grab some of your things. And I’ll tell your supervisor not to let you out of his sight. Not until I’m sure I can trust you.”

Chanwoo nods, dejected understanding settling over his shoulders.

He won’t even get to say goodbye to his friends. Might not even get to say it to his parents.