“Goddess!” A shrill, loud voice yelled in the castle, startling the female as she turned, her gown swaying. In her sight was an elderly woman, an commoner at that due to the looks of her ragged clothes was holding a little boy who looked like he’s at the age of a six year old – brown, bob-cut hair and bright, mischievous eyes.

 

Yet his face shows frightened and a hint of guilt.

 

“Madame…?”

 

“This insolent child of yours,” she dropped him onto the floor. He scurried off and ran behind his Mother, peeking from behind with frowning eyes and a small scowl on his face. “He’s too much! He’s going around sneaking food out of my store in the marketplace and ruining my business!”

 

She was right, from the appearance of him.

 

Dirt stained his white clothes and in his hands were large chunks of a freshly cooked (was) loaf. It appears that he had been eating them.

 

The Goddess looked at her son and gave him a small frown, “Taemin!”

 

He pouted. “I was hungry, Mother! The bread smelled really good!”

 

She sighed and turned to the woman who still had a grumpy expression. “I apologize for his abrupt behavior. I’ll assure you that he will not do it again.”

 

“He’ll better! I do not know why you have him as your son—he is nothing but a bad Angel full of trouble! He’ll bring misery to the kingdom.”

 

“Madame!” Taemin winced at his Mother’s powerful voice.

 

Nothing but a bad Angel full of trouble!

 

What a nuisance!

 

“…Taemin!” He heard the Goddess call out his name as she crouched to his eye level. She was upset with him, obviously, the way her eyebrows furrowed in disappointment. “I told you many times not to meddle in people’s business, especially when they’re working! I can’t afford to have people shame you!”

 

The young boy bit his bottom lip as his brown eyes grew downcast, “I am sorry Mother…”

 

She huffed, “At least say it to the lady…for now… go to your room.”

 

He obediently does so.

 

He ran down the hallway, eyes staring down at him with disappointment. Some looked at him with worry and concern. It was not like this. It had not been like this.

 

Why did this year change? He did not remember things like this. He did not remember everybody being so serious.

 

Why now?

 

“What a nuisance.”

 

“Miserable, idiotic wrench…”

 

He felt tears prickling his eyes as he remembered the words from the commoners outside the castle. He was never truly able to befriend the commoners’ children.

 

I just wanted to play… Why is no one playing with me?

 

“Oh, poor, poor child,” he heard one say, “He doesn’t know that we’re living in a world of pain.”

 

“He will never understand the things we deal with nowadays.”

 

 

His eyes snapped open abruptly, awaking himself from the horrid dream. He finds himself staring at the red ceiling.

 

Where…?

 

He could barely move his arms and legs. Perhaps the rest of his body was still a bit numb.

 

His memory was quite vague; he can no longer remember what happened before he out. He tried so hard to remember, but all he received was a slight migraine pounding on one side of his head, thudding in his temple.

 

He looked around and saw that he is on a bed. His outfit was no longer the school uniform, but rather, a long, black nightgown.

 

He is all alone in the room.

 

Taemin sat up and blinked, his long eyelashes brushing against his cheeks. He tried to move but winced when he felt the throbbing pain in his neck. He reached up to feel the cotton bandage patched up onto the wound.

 

It was then when small flashes of the incident came back to him.

 

Ah… Minho drank my blood…

 

He looked down at his lap, thinking about that moment.

 

That means… he has enslaved me to him.

 

Maybe… perhaps not? He was confused. He could barely remember the information that history contained. All he remembered that when Demon drinks the blood of an Angel and chose to keep it alive, the Angel is the Demon’s slave, forever indebted to his/her newfound master.

 

He bit his lip. Had he really done the right choice after all? Then, what other choice can he have? He could not even ruin his status by forcing an Angel to give his or her blood to Minho.

 

That is just selfish.

 

That is just nonsense—his Mother would disown him and he will be in the dumps, starving and dying. Not even the Demons have a heart to help him.

 

All but Minho does not have a kind heart.

 

Minho…

 

He looked at his hands, remembering the warmth on his cheek that had returned. His skin looked alive, fresh and healthy, back into its tannish color again. He is unlike Taemin, whose skin is pale and probably grew worse by the minute.

 

Although he did take a large gulp out of his blood.

 

Even though he was probably feeling unwell and hurt due to lack of blood, he was glad that Minho had done it. He was glad that he did it to the point where he almost killed him—because just that much was enough to break his Father’s curse.

 

Taemin blinked and shook his head, erasing such malicious thoughts. It confused him – he almost died and who knows what would have happened to Minho if his Mother found out that he had killed him – her loving son?

 

Then he swallowed back his saliva down his dry throat.

 

“Ah… Mother…”

 

What will she say? He could not possibly face her like this, not with this bandage on his neck! He will have to cover it up somehow. In addition, the fact that he is now a slave to a Demon… that will haunt her for the rest of her life. He could not let it happen!

 

“Where am I…?” He asked himself as he looked around the room. The colors seem familiar, with its theme of charcoal black and crimson red.

 

He swung his legs over the bed, his bare feet touching the cool floor. The room was quite familiar as well…

 

As he stood up, he heard the door creaking. He turned to see a person standing there with the tray in hand, full of medicine. The silver hair was covering the face, so he could not see the appearance. All he knows that her gender is a female due to the dress she was wearing.

 

“Your food is here.”

 

Taemin narrowed his eyes at the tray. Does not seems like food to me. He took one-step forward, his legs wobbly.

 

“Your food is here.”

 

What is up with her?

 

“I heard you,” he said, but it was as if she ignored him as she let out an irritated huff.

 

“Your food is here.”

 

He growled and walked heavily towards her, but then in the next few steps as he grew closer to her, he felt pain all over his body. He looked at himself to see that he was soaked in blood.

 

He gasped and covered his mouth, his eyes wide at his sudden appearance. He stepped back, and without knowing it, he found himself tipping back.

 

“Wha—!” He cried out in surprise, taken back from the large dark hole on the floor. He was unable to stop himself as he fell. He caught a glimpse of the female looking up, her eyes white as snow. Her icy gaze stared at the angel as a twisted grin appeared on her face.

 

“Your death is here.”

 

 

Taemin woke up again, panting and sweating, his eyes wide as he sat on the bed.

 

Just…just a nightmare…it is just a nightmare…

 

He repeated that line numerous times, as he tried to convince himself, but that dream… it felt so real.

 

He touched himself before he let out a sigh of relief, glad that no blood was on him. He quickly got out of bed and walked with caution towards the door.

 

As he neared, he can hear footsteps matching with his from behind. The brunet stopped his movements—the other had stopped as well.

 

“My~ what a nuisance we have here…”

 

God no.

 

He turned to see her. He shook his head frantically as he moved away from the door, getting as far as possible from her.

 

No!

 

He remembered the woman in his young age. She was that woman who own the bakery, her counter full of bread and pastries.

 

He stole them off her.

 

Now she has come to take them back.

 

She reached out, taking his arm before he could pull it back, and stretched out his flesh, showing the faint, pulsing blue vein.

 

He struggled against her grip but it was too strong—he did not remember her being so strong.

 

She held out a syringe. Taemin widen his brown eyes at the color, the mauve substance swirling around. That cannot be!

 

“All nuisances should be ridded of.” Her voice was so distorted and evil. He tried to scream, but his voice has shut down on him. She injected the syringe into the vein so abruptly that it caused him so much pain.

 

He could not breathe.

 

He could not move.

 

Was that tears falling down from his eyes?

 

…

 

Oh.

 

Not salty tears.

 

Taemin’s eyes rolled back, his face soaked with bloody tears as he fell, gasping from the lack of oxygen that escaped his lungs.

 

He shrieked upon feeling a sharp sting in his neck, his eyes wide when the woman drove the knife into the skin. It went in from one end, and out the other.

 

He choked, crawling at her wrist as she twisted the blade in his neck.

 

It was painful.

 

So very painful.

 

“S-Stop,” he croaked out, crimson liquid spluttering out his mouth as his eyes rolled all the way back, revealing only the whiteness of his eye sockets.

 

He gasped, covering his neck when the blade pulled out of his skin. His body racked from the poison as he continued coughing up blood.

 

Until, he stopped moving.

 

 

He screamed, sitting up on the bed. His pupils were shaking now, dilating even!

 

What is happening? Ever since Minho drank his blood, he is becoming dysfunctional.

 

Now, the room had changed its color—and structure. All is white. What is more is that, around the room, on every wall were mirrors.

 

“W-What…?” His throat was dry. He was being extremely cautious now. He wished to wake up whatever that his mind had left, but it never ever seemed to work.

 

He was scared.

 

He was beginning to regret it.

 

He should not have let Minho drink his blood.

 

“Oh, really?”

 

Was that his voice he is hearing? – His own voice? He looked around, the mirrors reflecting his movement except one. There is a mirror image of Taemin, but there was inverted colors as he examined the clothing.

 

Instead of black, there is white. He was shocked at his image. He was even more shocked when he saw his wings.

 

They are not white.

 

Why are they not white?

 

He did not know how, but he found himself stepping up to the mirror, his expression shocked to see this massive difference in the mirror image.

 

The mirror Taemin smirked. He could see his fang poking against his bottom lip. “That’s right—I’m you.”

 

The young angel did not want to believe it. “This is not me—you are not me!” He yelled at his mirror image that only scoffed and rolled his eyes.

 

“Let’s face it Taemin, I’m you, deep inside your heart. You have already lost your purity and turned my wings black. It is your entire fault, Taemin. Your fault.”

 

“I haven’t lost it! I have not lost it at all! It never was my fault from the beginning—I was just a child!” He screamed, but his words were growing weaker, lacking of power.

 

“Oh really now, Taemin?”

 

Now there was six of him, circling around him.

 

He forced himself to fall to his knees, stunned at his appearances. Why was he so weak against himself?

 

“Look at you, weak and pathetic,” mocked the first Taemin, recalling the female demon’s words in his first time in the Demon Kingdom. His face was full of disgust as he nudged the boy’s head with his foot.

 

“Hey, look at this , he’s no will left in him at all,” the second mocked the guard who dragged him away from his cell, the expression on his face smug.

 

“Say your last prayers, little one.”

 

“Bygone and die at your own will.”

 

The third and fourth him locked arms together as they both said the sentences, their eyes flashing crimson red as they glared at him, their expressions emotionless.

 

Taemin covered his ears, wanting to block out the mocking voices in his head, but he could still hear them. He can hear them – the voices.

 

“And…I’m already in love with somebody else.”

 

He closed his eyes tight, his heart clenched at Taecyeon’s voice in the fifth’s body, his expression holding pity.

 

Go away! Please, go away!

 

However, they were right. He was too weak to fend for himself. He found himself giving into the words. He can no longer decrypt what is the truth and what is the lies anymore as his mind spun, the abyss in his head exploding.

 

The sixth Taemin pushed his head away, his eyebrows raised as he spoke in Yuri’s voice, “I don’t understand why my Minho-oppa would hang out with a brat like you. You don’t deserve to be his ‘friend’.”

 

Taemin sat quiet as all of the six males stepped away from him, their eyes glaring down at the boy who was on the ground.

 

“See Taemin? All these words were true. You’re nothing but a useless angel who can’t even use his powers,” he heard himself say.

 

What—were those words coming out of his mouth, the sentences playing off his lips?

 

“I’m worthless, I can’t do anything right, I’m a nuisance.” The Taemin deep inside of him tried to shut himself up, but it was hopeless. He was gone now—he had lost control of himself, thanks to the negative emotions trapped inside him. “Why don’t I just…” He trailed off, his bangs covering his eyes.

 

He could feel all six guns pressing against his head. Taemin looked at the mirror and he found that his appearance was exactly like the one in the mirror image. His lips curved into a happy grin as he stretched his black wings, his cheekbones ascending.

 

“Just die?”

 

He held a gun at his neck, feeling the tip pressing against his flesh as his finger was on the trigger.

 

“The seventh me,” he looked down, his bangs shadowing his eyes but remained smiling.

 

“…Killed me.”

 

Sound of several gunshots rang out in the room and in the corner was red.

 

The color red splattered onto the mirror, and there in the mirror, revealed a fallen Taemin, his eyes wide open as blood pooled out of his head.

 

 

Running.

 

The brunet angel was running.

 

Away from the horrid darkness that was following behind him.

 

How many series of nightmares had he encountered? How many deaths had he experienced?

 

All were too many to count.

 

He wanted out. He wanted to be free from the cage that was full of misery and evil.

 

He experienced too many things. He felt them ripping his wings apart, blood oozing down his back.

 

He screamed at the sight of them impaling him by a spear, his heart ripped out of his body as he ceased to live any further.

 

He cried at them throwing him into the fire, his skin melting and burning without a single cracking sound of his bones.

 

He whimpered of the memories of them cutting him up into pieces, his beheaded head placed on a platter alongside with his other parts on silver plates.

 

He experienced too much.

 

Are these the deaths of the Angels and Demons in this kingdom?

 

He panted as he continued to run, his tears filling up his eyes.

 

I do not know anymore—I am scared!

 

“NO!” He cried out, “I don’t want to do this anymore! Please, let me out this nightmare!”

 

Every time he dies, he wakes up in the same bed, and no matter how many times he tried to avoid the situation, they always ended up killing him in the most brutal ways as possible.

 

He is a beautiful, frail Dove that lives in the cage called ‘Abyss.’

 

The abyss where there is nothingness; the abyss where you know where disasters and misery occurs in; the place that drives everyone to insanity.

 

He wanted out.

 

Yet, no key, door nor password was there to help him out.

 

Mr. Blackbird~

 

Taemin fell, crashing onto the ground by someone’s feet.

 

“Taemin?”

 

Mr. Blackbird, why are you sad?

 

The angel looked up to see Minho, his eyes concerned. Full with happiness, he hugged him suddenly, hugging him so tight that he feared that they might pull him away into the darkness that lingered closer to the duo.

 

“Minho,” he sobbed, “Please, please! Find a way to get me out of here!”

 

Little girl, you should run. I will never free my little Dove.

 

For I am a monster that will eat your beating heart.

 

Screams of the little girl echoed inside the area as Mr. Blackbird ruthlessly tore her apart.

 

“Sorry,” Taemin froze and looked up at his face, his eye widened to see those evil, orange-red eyes, his horns lit up in flames as he smirked. “You should go.”

 

He felt him pushing him into the darkness that had already crept up behind him. Hands were grabbing him. These hands felt familiar—this reminded him of that day when they captured him.

 

He shrieked at the tugs of his clothes, the hands on his shaft and the tweaks of his buds. He did not want to relive this nightmare again.

 

He groaned at the movement of the hands rubbing , hands holding onto his ankles and wrists. He struggled against them, crying out in displeasure as he looked at the smiling Demon in front of him.

 

“No! Minho-hyung!” He cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks as he watched the demon turn his back on him. The darkness had already engulfed half of the boy and had only his arm to spare. In his decaying vision, he outstretched his arm, reaching out for the fading figure.

 

“Minho-hyung…please, I beg you! Do not leave me!”

 

However, his words were gone as he vanished into the darkness.

 

 

Taemin was squirming, screaming, kicking, and flailing all over the place in the bed as the person held his wrists to hold him down.

 

“Let me go!” He cried out as he kicked his shoulder. “Please, no more! I beg you!”

 

“Taemin!”

 

Tears ran down his cheeks. “I do not want to die like this! Oh God, no-no-no-no—!”

 

“Taemin! Taemin, wake up!”

 

The shorthaired male snapped open his eyes, the irises had changed its color. It was yellow—full of fear. A circle of fire emerged around the bed, trapping the duo.

 

Clink!

 

The crack on the power seal had widened.

 

His third power had emerged from fear.

 

Taemin wanted to burn the memories that haunted him—burns those who mocked him and lied to him—burn those that tortured their kinds.

 

He wanted to burn anything that scared him so.

 

“Taemin!”

 

He blinked, the color draining from his eyes and the flames had lessened to nonexistence, leaving no marks of its place.

 

M-Minho-hyung…

 

He began wailing, struggling against the demon’s grasp, trying to push him off. His ‘betrayal’ had blinded him into anger, into pain that he no longer trusted him.

 

You betrayed me!

 

You killed me constantly until I never existed!

 

Why must you hurt me so?

 

“Taemin…” He felt his hand on his cheek as the angel writhed in agony. Then warmth…

 

He felt warmth on his forehead.

 

Those same lips that brought him life and comfort were pressing against his skin, its touch burning into his flesh.

 

The angel calmed down, his screams lessened to no more than whispers and quiet sobbing. Minho got off him and climbed into the bed with Taemin, who quickly crawled near him and clutched onto his shirt, burying his face into his chest.

 

“W-Where am I now?” He whispered out, his voice almost inaudible as he was still in the state of panic, his eyes darting around the place, scanning for more of those things who were after him.

 

“We’re in my bedroom. I brought you over here after you passed out.”

 

Taemin let out a shivering sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around Minho’s waist. Tears never seemed to stop flowing out of his eyes.

 

“I was scared… so very scared. Those nightmares…they felt so real… Why?” He sobbed, his hands turning into fists as he gripped onto the demon’s shirt.

 

Minho felt guilty—this is why he did not want to drink the blood from Taemin. His power had seeped a bit into him and—even if it was a small drop—caused all of these realistic nightmares to happen. He did not want to ruin Taemin’s mind with his hellish power. One small drop contains extreme torture. Imagine how painful it would be if they had been poured a large amount into Taemin? Minho shuddered—he did not want him to die from that.

 

Even if he kept him alive, his power was too much for him to handle. His power was too much for anybody to handle—for it goes into the darkest corners of their hearts and make them relieve the torture.

 

Even Angels have dark corners of their hearts, despite them being purifyingly, innocent white.

 

Just that was enough to kill a person.

 

He was so glad that Taemin was still alive. He did not know what he would do without him, now that the blood contract has connected Taemin to him.

 

“I’m so sorry Taemin, I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have drunk some other Angel’s blood rather than yours.”

 

The angel just buried his face deeper into his chest, crying more.

 

It is all right, Minho, he wanted to say, this was better…

 

However, he could not say them. How could he say them? After experiencing the worst of the worsts, how can he say those words to him?

 

Minho would think that he had gone mad. He knows he would. Taemin knows that he himself had gone mad if he had said that in his face.

 

Then, between hiccups and in a soft voice he asked, “A…Am I… your slave?”

 

He heard the latter sigh at this. Then he found himself staring at brown eyes. “You have not got a choice.”

 

That is a yes, then…

 

He let out a shuddering sigh, blinking his reddened eyes before wrapping his arms around his neck, wanting to get as much comfort from the demon. He felt him wrap his strong, muscular arms around his thin, small waist, holding him close. He softened a little when he whispered sweet nothings in his ears, but he was still scared.

 

It had gotten him that bad.

 

Taemin asked again, “Minho-hyung… do you think I’m weak to you?”

 

Minho shook his head, the brunet’s hair, feeling his short locks curl around his fingers. “You may be weak now, but you’re strong deep inside. I know you can get stronger as days pass.”

 

He wanted to hear these words. He wanted comfort. Taemin pulled back a little and stared into Minho’s eyes – those eyes that were full of sparkling emotions, full of light and purity. It almost made him jealous.

 

“I-Is it over?” He whispered, the last of his tears rolling down his flushed red cheeks.

 

The dark-haired demon reached up to wipe away the tears from his eyes before cupping his face, pressing his forehead against his as he closed his eyes to give him some comfort. Taemin did the same, closing his eyes as he leaned more into his warmth.

 

Minho could feel his body trembling from the horrid experience. He had never felt so sorry. He knew he should not have done it, but Taemin… he was so determined to get him to drink his blood that it stunned him.

 

He was amazed. He admired his passion and the courage he has for certain situations.

 

Did he ever regret letting him to do this? He must have. He must have wanted him gone. After all, he is the one who brought the demon that infected the boy’s innocent mind.

 

No, he could not say innocent anymore. His heart may be, but his power has completely corrupted his mind.

 

He did not want it like that.

 

It was his entire fault. It was his responsibility, now that Taemin is practically in the palm of his hands.

 

Taemin is his pet now.

 

He grimaced mentally—’pet’, it is horrid calling Taemin that. He is not an animal, nor was he one. He could never harm him in such a way. He will be willing to protect him even if it is the last thing he will do before he dies. He must make sure that nobody can harm Taemin in any way.

 

He eyed the bandage on his neck. The Goddess—for she is Taemin’s mother—will surely be mad at both him and Taemin, but he will be there for him when he is in need.

 

He rubbed his cheek with his thumb, rocking him smoothly in the bed, just as a mother would do to a baby as he kept his forehead glued onto the angel’s head. He could still hear his quiets sobs as his body racked with every hiccups he made. His face swelled with his tears, his hair is in a mess, and the black nightgown was out of order, the sleeve slipping off his shoulder.

 

This shows how terrified he was.

 

Minho was going to receive some serious scolding from Jonghyun—and perhaps Taemin’s best friend, Key as well.

 

However, he knew he deserved those.

 

It was his fault that Taemin is like this now.

 

“It’s over now. It is finally over, Taemin. You can breathe now. I will assure you, my little angel…it’s over,” Minho whispered in his ear as he held him close, patting his back.

 

“They won’t come back… ever.”