[ClarenceYoo_EXO]

His mind wondered after he gave the boy his order. If he was lost in his thought or just simply lost- he didn't know. The general was blank but full with questions, he just can't voice it out or even mutter it as sentence. Maybe he can, but just chose not to. He was confused. Should he bestow punishment upon the dancer whose wrong was only a few steps of a routine? If he doesn't, what would happen?

"You ask for my suggestion, sir?" His focus went back on the boy's face, and he could see the corner of the boy's lips twitch into something- was it a smile? But before the boy could even smile, he noticed that he stopped himself from doing so. The general snorted to himself. Does he find this amusing?
"Do what you must. This subject will not be easily fazed." He continues, but voices another thought. "You shouldn't fret. It does not suit your disposition."
As the passive person he is, he replies, "I am thinking on what would happen if I chose to not do my duty." His eyes looked like he was lost again, wandering to somewhere that only he can go. "Aside from my own punishment of course, if ever."
Silence ate the cell, and his shadow flickers as the flame moved.
The good man in him wanted to take pity and not hurt the boy, get him out of the dungeon and maybe send him to his hometown and ask his mother to take care of him, but his rational self is saying that it isn't right. No, he thought. It is right, but not today. He finally decides and he stands up again, looming over the boy.
"I'll give you light cuts all over your legs and arms. It will hurt a lot, but it will heal fast and it will look like I have punished you severely." He says in a low whisper, hearing light footsteps nearby. "When I do, scream loudly."
He wears an expressionless face once again, now walking towards the boy and kneeling just in front of him. His senses were telling him someone was close- and he needs to start soon.
"I apologize." He whispers and then he draws a small knife, a metallic shink coming after and he slashes at the boy's robes, keeping a light touch on the other's pale skin, drawing lines on his legs and blood following the cut. He looks at the boy with heavy guilt, but he needed to do this tonight.

Shrill screams of pain echoed through the dungeon, waking up other sleeping prisoners, the guards nearby shivering to themselves and mumbling, "What do you think the general is doing to him?"
"Hearing those screams, what do you think?"
"Of course it's something not good!"
"Do you think General Do is whipping his back?"
"We could've heard the whip then."
"With the boy's pretty face, he could've done anything.."
Brows furrow and minds go think of something else. Cries were still loud and clear, the boy's voice piercing through the silence of the night.

Breathing heavily, he looks at the boy, who was now covered in cuts, blood, and torn robes. He wasn't panting because he was tired.
He doesn't really know why.
He keeps his knife again, approaching the boy. "Scratch my face. I need a reason to walk out of this dungeon with anger. And a reason to come back here again." He urges.
"Do it, and make it bleed." He says between his breaths.



General Do walks out of the iron doors with a dark expression, blood on his robes and a scratch on his face. His soldiers standing outside immediately lines up behind him, marching with him away. The curious dungeon guards goes back into their posts and shivers upon seeing the poor dancer in torn clothes and with nasty looking cuts on his legs and arms.

But then, it was still a silent night.