P L A Y L I S T / / T H E  L O N E  S U R V I V O R

III WRECKED III

A couple days passed since that call. Mingyu had thrown his phone onto whatever surface was in front of him. The device scattered, breaking the haunted reflection ever so slightly. Mingyu only wanted to make himself happy. He did not want to make the shameless person on the other end of the line reward himself with a sinister smile. Mingyu didn’t want to bring light joy and happiness to his father.

He wanted his father to suffer from betrayal, from madness and anger. He wanted the man to die in front of his eyes because said man had no right. He has no right to control Mingyu and use him for all the gladness and merry. In the end it will end up to someone dead. Anyone. Unfortunately, those fake smiles and foolishly happy faces will never rest on Mingyu’s face. He doubts it. Not when he’s like this. That’s why, he disobeyed. He disagreed with every single ing word his dad told him. He is doing the opposite. Protecting instead of killing. Mingyu doesn’t know if in the end it is the right decision, what he does know is he won’t end up alive. Especially if his family found him. Never would a single puff of air escape his plum lips.

-

Morning were usually quiet. They weren’t loud, and they weren’t hasty either. The two were very calm individuals. They never got to learn about each other. It takes no detective to realize that Minghao didn’t want to know anything, or more so, he didn’t need to know anything. The boy was an assassin. Defenseless and hidden in the shadows yet the scars on his body stay hidden. It makes him seem invulnerable.

The thing with Minghao is, he knew everything about everyone not because he was a dangerous young boy lurking in the shadows but because he, himself was part of a mafia. His family’s more specifically. It used to be the most strongest in China, at least, that’s what they thought. It wasn’t long after another Mafia had outrun them, almost way too easily and Minghao ended up as a target. So he ran. The way he reached Korea was classified, a fact that no one should know.

This morning, though, they woke up thanks to the bullets of guns. Snipers and heavy armed men flooded the area, each going inside building by building. The cress on their vests doesn’t make it less obvious they’re part of a gang. Two normal teenage boys would hide, they would scream and run. Minghao and Mingyu? No, they weren’t normal. Slender finger find their way onto the closet handle, opening the door to be welcomed with the sight of bladed and loaded weapons. Minghao pulled on his leather jacket, sliding in a coupe knives onto the side pockets of his pants. Mingyu’s hands wielded a pistol. A weapon small but strong. It was a gun Mingyu was born to wield.

///

Day ???

He had forgotten. Lost track of time. Lost track of the days. Lost track of the useless numbers in his head. He had long forgotten what he did. Amnesia was not what Wonwoo was affiliated with but more so, a spark inside him that makes him choose to forget. An instinct. He doesn’t know if it’s right or wrong nor if it is good or bad. Wonwoo always assured himself that all his doings only mattered if it did him any good. He would only do things that matter. To him.

Yet he still doesn’t know what he’s doing, spending another year in a place he doesn’t know of. It’s dark, warm and its shelter is promising. The rough skies and coughs of thunder falling from the clouds, they did nothing to Wonwoo. Wonwoo was practically immune. He doesn’t get hurt, sad, and happy. He’s lifeless moreover emotionless. He wishes to stay unknown. He wants to hide in his own cave forever, letting the crepuscular moon ignore his existence. However, people know him. They know what he holds and what Wonwoo can do. They all know of his power and strength. His value.

“He’s much more valuable than a pearl”

Wonwoo is a living wea