[CONTENTID1]CHAPTER FOUR - KNOWLEDGE IS POWER [/CONTENTID1]
[CONTENTID2]

Weeks passed like minutes. I continued to behave for Master Wu only because willingly offering myself to him and his men meant they treated me better, they weren't as rough. I didn't think I'd ever enjoy , not after the way I'd interpreted it now: as a means of getting information and keeping myself safe. The only thing I looked forward to everyday was sneaking out of the house and going up to the mountains to train with Jackson. He treated me the best, he treated me like a person not like a toy. He treated me like an equal, not a slave. I liked Jackson a lot but at the time, I didn't know it. Sure, I knew I appreciated his help but I didn't know that there was more than that. 

"Get up," he orders, staring down at me as I struggle to catch my breath. I've always thought that I was good at fighting, that taekwondo taught me everything I needed to know but I guess I was wrong. Jackson has proved that there is never nothing more to learn, there is always another move to master, another technique to practise, another skill to obtain. The mind can never be too full with knowledge. Knowledge is power, he says. 

"I can't," I tell him, gulping. Sweat drips down from my bangs, dotting my already oily face. I know he won't take no for an answer, he does not believe in giving up, not even in your last breath. I do not believe in giving up either but Jackson takes it to another level. His belief is what drives him whereas revenge is what drives me. "I'm tired."

"Your opponent won't care if you're tired, all they'll see is an opportunity to finish you off," he  growls, obviously annoyed at how easily I'm worn out in comparison to him. "Get up and fight me." I wince as I force myself to my feet, slowly but steadily. One of Master Wu's men did a number in me last night and this morning I was ordered to clean the living room after one of their poker parties. I had little energy to spare Jackson but still, I came. However, that is not enough for him. My legs are shaky but I keep my eyes locked on him, my hand gripping my staff not too hard but enough for me to manoeuvring it fluidly. 

"I told you I'm tired," I grunt as I move to strike him. He blocks the hit and pushes me off, the two of us circling each other. 

"Stop ing," he says, spinning and whipping his staff around with him. I duck and roundhouse kick the stick, though he easily evades it. We spar for another several minutes, only the sounds of grunting and swishing filling the room. I decide I've had enough, I'm too tired to continue, and so I drop kick him in the groin and he lets out a yelp. Using his moment of weakness for my own benefit, I jump onto him, my legs wrapped around him, and flip him around. We land on the mat with a thud, though he takes both of ours falls. We're both panting, our breaths mixing as we stare at each other. I realise I'm on top of him and immediately stand up. 

"I win," I boast and he rolls his eyes. He juts out his hand for help and I extend my arm to him. Our fingers clasp around each other but instead of hauling himself up, he tugs me down and rolls us over, pinning me below him. My heart is hammering in my chest and panic sets in. I know he won't try anything, he doesn't see me that way, but the fear is still there. 

"Never think you've won until your opponent no longer has a heartbeat," he reminds me and I nod quickly, desperate for him to get off me. He stands himself up with a grunt and helps me to my feet. "Are you okay? You're breathing heavily."

"I'm fine," I lie, gulping in more air. He brushes hair over my ear and I freeze, my eyes locked on his. His hand is still on my cheek, his thumb lightly it. He steps back and I let out a breath I didn't realise I've been holding in. "What now?"

"I have some people I want you to meet," he replies and the fear is back. This is okay, just the two of us. I've learned to trust him a little, not completely because, after all, trust is not going to get me very far. Introducing others to our sessions was never the plan and for him to spring this up on me makes me angry. I do not know what to do with that anger and so I bottle it up, for the time being. "Do you trust me?" His question throws me off but I quickly recover, nodding slowly. "Say it."

"I trust you," I whisper, my cheeks suddenly hot. He smiles and my cheek again then looks away. 

"Come on in!" He shouts and I hold my breath as I await the intruders. My heart almost explodes when two males walk in, both dressed in white clothing similar to what I am wearing. I acknowledge the fact that they are attractive but different in terms of looks: one is very tall, his hair a strawberry blonde-brownish colour and the other is short with a blonde patch in his hair and cute, babyish features. I subconsciously take a step back but Jackson's hand stops me, resting on the small of my back. "You're okay. They won't hurt you."

"How do you know?" I ask but my voice comes out small and breathy. He takes my hand in his and pulls me forward until we're just a foot or two from the two males. They both look at me, their eyes taking me in. I know what they're thinking, I can see it in their eyes, but what shocks me is that they do not act on it. Instead, they bow for me. "W-what-"

"Mannaseo bangapseumnida," they say in unison, then straighten back up. I bow for them, but I say nothing. The fact that they speak Korean is enough to render me speechless.

The taller one steps forward. "My name is Henry Lau." 

"Kunpimook Bhuwakul but you can call me BamBam," the other one says with a cheery smile. Jackson nudges me and I shoot him a glare. "You don't have to be scared. Look at me, I'm adorable." I can't help but laugh out loud, the sound foreign to my own ears. "What's your name?"

"Hyerim," I reply. 

"Alright, the introductions are out of the way. It's time to train," Jackson declares and I gape at him. "What?"

"What part of 'I'm tired' did I fail to make you understand?" I demand and he shrugs, giving me his signature grin. "I don't want to train any more today. Please, Jackson." He sighs and shakes his head, indicating that I've won and I'm getting my way. I grin and clap my hands. 

"We can spend some time getting to know one another, I guess," he grumbles as we all sit down in an attempt at a circle. He looks at Henry. "How was your flight?"

"Loud," the other make replies. "Almost got taken down by a rocket launcher but thankfully, we made it." Over the next half hour, I learn that Henry was born in Toronto, Canada. His parents are friends of the emperor, like how Jackson's father is. BamBam, on the other hand, is like me. He's a slave, he belongs to Henry though the other male does not treat him as so. The title is just a formality, a means of getting BamBam a ticket to every place his friend travels to. I'm told that BamBam saved Henry's life during a bombing a few years back in Hong Kong. As a token of his appreciation, Henry purchased him from the malicious owners that the boy had previously belonged to. 

If only I were so lucky. 

"So what's your story?" Henry asks as we're all lying down, staring up at the ceiling. It's dark outside and I have to leave in a few minutes if I want to make it back in time for my curfew. Punishment is not an option. "How did you end up here?"

"My camp was invaded by the Chinese," I start, my eyes already b with tears. I wonder when I'll be able to tell my story without having to fight the urge to cry. "They killed everyone except me and another boy. Jongin is his name. We were taken here and sold separately." 

"That's odd," he mumbles and I nod, because it's true. Males are not often sold as slaves, not to the public. They're made soldiers and if by some chance they are indeed sold, it's to work on farms, in stalls or in the market. Still, they're treated far better than the females. "Do you know where he is?"

"Not anymore," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "I last saw him...almost two years ago. He's strong, though. I'm sure he's doing okay."

"And you?" BamBam asks but I do not dare look a