(20)

                  Whip.

                  Lash.

                  Whip.

                  Lash.

                  Wh –

                  “What did I tell you?” Sang Hyun gripped onto the edge of his whiplash tightly and circled around the chair Jongin was sitting at. His face was grim – not a hint of liveliness, but there was a ghastly smile in the back of his mind. The boy was fourteen then, and in Sang Hyun’s opinion, he was mature enough to bear the responsibility of an adult. Hence the notoriously merciless training was taught by Sang Hyun himself to ensure that everything went perfectly as planned.

                  “Nothing –,” Jongin groaned and spat the blood on the floor. He was half- and his whole body was tied up in glues and plaster, and it hurt so much if he tried to move even one muscle. It had been approximately a day since he last saw sunlight and two nights since he touched food. At one point in time, his feet were starting to grow numb. Sang Hyun only whipped at the open area the plaster did not cover like his shoulder, his neck, chest and his hips. Everything aside from his face was bleeding, because it was the only part Sang Hyun had never touched for years.

                  He whipped like an angry mad man. The blood had not dried yet. It was gushing out of the wound like small streams. Only after seeing the blood did Sang Hyun calm down for a while. He was huffing, his heart pounding loudly against his chest. It was always a joyful moment for him to see more blood spill in his hands. And that was not often done because he was often at home – doing works a leader was supposed to do – or travelling to places. It got boring after a while, so he resorted to something more violent and justified – training the young protectors with his own hands.

                  “I will repeat the question once again, and this is the last time, boy,” Sang Hyun grabbed Jongin by the hair and forced him to look upwards. Blood ran out from his nose and spilled from his mouth. His eyes contained the same fierceness they possessed since his childhood. It was one thing that set him apart from the other Elites – that he was so willful and fearless in everything. Not once did he cower in front of Sang Hyun, no matter how bad the situation was. He never showed any sign of nervousness and the elderly man loved that about Jongin. “What.did.I.tell.you?”

                  “Nothing,” He coughed and purposefully spat it at Sang Hyun. The latter chuckled and smeared the mixture of his blood and saliva onto Jongin’s eyes. “I said nothing, and the answer will remain the same until you kill me. Perhaps that is what you want since you seem very keen in wasting my blood on the ground. Mind you, my blood is quite precious.”

                  “Good, I love big mouth like yours,” Sang Hyun pressed a part on his neck that jolted him up with immense pain. The stinging sensation was ringing in his head and brought tears to his moist eyes, but he refused to let it show. Jongin had learnt a long time ago that this old man did not tolerate any kind of weakness – be it crying or begging. Sang Hyun continued pressing onto the wound and dug deeper onto Jongin’s flesh and enjoyed the look of agony on his face. Thank God they were not normal human. Else he would have died from the tortures. “But you should understand that you are now under my care, and that means that I can do whatever I want. That includes ripping your pretty skin off or burn some marks on it.”

                  “Sure, scar me until no one could recognize my body. Mutilation might be better, takes long to find the bodies – not that the police would care, heh,” Jongin coughed again. He could feel the consciousness slipping in and out of his body, but he was not weak enough that he would pass out from the whipping. No, that would only give Sang Hyun the pleasure of giving in. “Burn me until I’m nothing but ashes. But if you could do me one last favour, please don’t spread the ashes in Han River. I don’t want to be buried there.”

                  “You’re not in the position to negotiate, kid,” Sang Hyun growled and picked up a lighter from the table. The dark room had nothing but a long table with different tools of torture and a chair where Jongin was currently sitting at. “Are you sure you won’t give me any answer? Even if I burn you off? Or shall I start with your face first since you seem to treasure it so much?”

                  “You can try. At the very worst, I’m just gonna die if I can’t cope with the pain, but you,” Jongin’s half-lidded eyes formed a small crescent as he smirked and looked up at the hazy figure of Sang Hyun. “You won’t be able to get any answer. The moment the clan realises I am missing, you’ll be a goner. I am not the only capable one, . There will be thousands of people hunting your head, and when they did find you, you would be praying you were dead instead.”

                  The elderly’s smile slowly formed as the fire in the lighter flickered and gone. He enjoyed the defiant expression Jongin had. Sometimes he wondered if this child would know true pain at all, because no matter what kind of torture he used, Jongin never relented. He might be a masochist for all he knew, but at this very moment, Sang Hyun did not care. He was ready to throw the lighter and watched his body lit up in flame, “Very well. You have been brave. I shall spare you the agony and burn you instead.”

                  Instead of throwing it towards Jongin’s direction, Sang Hyun hurled it to the wall behind him and approached the semi-conscious boy. He mercilessly picked Jongin’s head up and examined his open wounds, “You’ve done very well, Kim Jongin. I am satisfied with your pain tolerance and insistence on keeping your mouth shut under pressure. You got A for this week’s training.”

                  “Is that all?” Jongin panted and let out a pained sneer, “I didn’t just do very well, old man. I was amazing!” He struggled a bit under his touch and huffed with lack of oxygen, “Now when are you going to let me out of this plaster? It is ing uncomfortable.”

                  Typical Jongin, Sang Hyun reminded himself. He ripped off the tag on his arms, the front and back of his chest, the length of his hands and feet. The blood flew even harder when he was finally free. With a slow motion movement, Jongin fell forward after being restrained for so long. His entire body was numb and frail. And not to mention the dried white glue on his face and hair. The first he would do after he was well-fed was to get a haircut.

                  “You can slack off for the whole day tomorrow. There is no need to come for training,” Sang Hyun stood at one side. He did not bother to help Jongin standing up. The boy just lied down with his face against the hard, dusty ground. “Kim Jongin, why don’t you stand up and face me or you dare be so weak that you could not stand up anymore? Pathetic creature,” He kicked his body and watched in satisfaction as Jongin struggled in vain.

                  “Now let me remind you once again,” He continued kicking, “Who do you belong to, boy?”

                  Cough. No reply.

                  No sane human would treat his family this way. But Yoon Sang Hyun was not sane. Some psychologists said that psychopaths were not made by society and environment influences – unlike sociopath – they were born with the incapability to feel empathy. He had long lost sense of his humanity the moment he decided he would rule the clan. Interrogation and torture were two of his special fortes because he was a sadist who loved watching people suffer as much as he enjoyed a glass of good wine on his days off.

                  “You belong to Sena,” He sneered coldly, “Don’t you forget that.”

.

                  Jongin woke up from the dream with cold sweat all over his body. His eyes were wide-awake, but they were filled with fear and hatred. It had been months since he last had that dream. The last time he fell asleep with this horrid nightmare was the night before Sena’s arrival. Disgust filled his system and he blinked his eyes to Sehun’s figure by the balcony of his room. He did not notice his arrival and he was usually a light-sleeper that such movement would not escape his ears.

                  “What are you doing here, Oh Sehun?” He grabbed a towel to cover his toned upper body. Jongin reached out for the half-empty water bottle by the side of his bed and headed out to join Sehun to stare at the sunset view. The beauty did not faze him a little – not after he dreamt of that old man and one of his training sessions. What he needed now was a warm embrace from someone, but he did not feel like hugging anyone at the moment – not if that person was not Sena.

                  “You were grunting in your dreams and it didn’t sound like a wet dream to me,” Sehun stared down at the older male. Clearly he had heard everything while Jongin was sleeping. He heard his pained groans and hand movement. If he guessed right, Jongin was possibly dreaming about their grandfather – the one man they both hated with passion that ran deep into the bones. “Another dream?”

                  “None of your business,” Jongin gulped down the water in one go. He did not feel like sharing, but somehow Sehun was the only who understood him without having to talk verbally. Perhaps it was due to the intense rivalry that they had since youth that shaped them this way. They were not close, but they had the same purpose in life – though the way they did it differed greatly. “What are you doing here?”

                  “It’s Christmas, Jongin,” Sehun scolded lightly, “We are expected in the main hall in an hour.”

                  “I’m not going,” was his immediate reply. “Tell them my wounds are acting up and I need to rest.”

                  “Yeah, that’s a really lame excuse, Kim Jongin,” Sehun raised his eyebrow. Amusement was written all over his face as he watched Jongin’s side profile radiantly highlighted by the orange color of the sun. He had known this man since he was seven, and Jongin had been trained longer than Sehun had. They hated each other with passion – that was one thing for sure, but in this world, they only acknowledged each other as capable rivals in everything. “Besides, Sena is going, too, and if you’re not going, then I will snatch her away from you for that last dance of the year. Who knows how many guys out there are waiting for a chance to be with her. Are you sure you are okay with that?”

                  Jongin turned his head around and a smirk was evident in his thick lips. His eyes held both irony and sarcasm, and that was the only reply Sehun needed.

(21)

                  “Do I really have to wear a dress?”

                  I looked at the impressive amount of dresses in the closet. One of the Genbu Elder’s wife, Joonmyun’s maternal aunt Kim Go Eun shook her head with a pleasant smile and spoke in a rather melodious voice, “You are such a child. Of course you have to! Everyone in the headquarter is gathering for the Christmas party – including the lower servants. It’s festive mood, so everyone dresses to their best. The young, singles are looking for partners and the old ones chat in the back. Isn’t it wonderful?”

                  This must be the aunt Joonmyun mentioned. Her facial features were sharp and oriental – monolid eyes and small pink lips. She was conventionally beautiful and elegant. There was a sense of calmness that washed over me when she talked, just like Joonmyun. This was the woman who took care of the abandoned Joonmyun and Jongdae after he came back from overseas. According to his story, her husband, Kim Yoonjung was the biggest supporter of Joonmyun, and he was the only Elders to do so.

                  “Yes, now go and try this black dress,” She held up a mini black dress for me to try and I sheepishly smiled. It was a little too short for me, but being the obedient girl I was, I had to try it before I told her my opinions. I stood in front of the mirror shyly and pulled down the hem of my dress. “Auntie, it’s really short. Can I try another one, instead?”

                  “Ah, pity,” She clicked her tongue and shook her head. The smile on her warm face was contagious. “The dress looks alright on you. Let’s try another one, then. What color do you look best in?”

                  I thought hard for a moment, then nodded enthusiastically at her. She chuckled at the sudden change in my attitude and waltzed around, trying to find a perfect dress for my figure. I was neither too skinny nor fat – just somewhere in the healthy weight and figure. It wasn’t that hard to find a dress size for me. Kim Go Eun was a fashion designer with limited clients as she only catered to the top one percent of the world, “Try it, try this one! Oh, I bet Yoon Sohee will be jealous of you tonight.”

                  That was… definitely an exaggeration. But the dress was really pretty, indeed.