Drop.

 

Aeri blinked wearily, her head dizzy. The world was spinning and she waited for it to come to a stop.

 

It didn’t.

 

Drop.

 

For some reason, her vision was blurry. She squeezed her eyes in an attempt to stop the little sparkles from dancing across her eyes, but the feeling that she needed to throw up remained.

 

When she tried to touch her eyes with her hands, she realized she couldn’t because they were tied. What in the world…?

 

Drop.

 

It was at that point that she realized that she was hanging upside down, and that she was tied not by strings or a tied knot, but by shackles.

 

At that point, she also kind of realized that she was way in over her head. It didn’t help the least that she had no recollection of how she’d ended up in this place.

 

Drop.

 

She remembered… the smell of maple woods. Her commander shouting at her - but Jongdae never lost his temper, how could that be? And what had he said - something about a trap, and darn it, why do you never listen to orders, you rebellious child? Something about… how they’d gotten caught and now everything was lost. She furrowed her eyebrows, trying hard to piece her memories together.

 

And then a pair of rough hands around her wrists, swirling her around and pushing her into the ground. She’d had so much training, she’d spent countless nights kicking at the air and practicing her signature moves on poor Kyungsoo. Yet all it took to render all her powers useless was strength, masculine, raw strength that pushed her head into the pile of leaves on the ground, making her breathe in the scent of maple leaves that she thought would suffocate her.

 

Drop.

 

The continuous sound of water drops made her already-moody self groan in annoyance. “Can somebody turn this water off already?” she growled, struggling against her restraints. She wanted to test out her captors - if they were amateurs, they were bound to come running. If there would be a ransom, they’d try to be nice towards her, and if it was a rival clan… She gulped, her body already bracing for what would probably start happening soon.

 

Nothing. No answer came, which was not unexpected, and she tried to nod to herself in understanding. She knew well where she probably was and why. Being moody was good - the angrier she got, the harder she would make things for them. And hell, she would make things as hard as possible.

 

The small, dimly lit room was not made cozy in any sense - she’d already tried to stare the water faucet down so hard that it crumbled under her gaze (which of course wasn’t working), and she did not like the looks of the bloody cloths and wrapped tools - she definitely recognized her knife among them. It was the knife Junmyeon gifted her after the initiation; she would not let them use it against her clan.

 

Drop.

 

“Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid,” she muttered under her breath. She knew she was probably not going to survive this, unless something very dramatic like a volcano eruption happened, distracting everyone long enough for her to bite the iron shackles until they break. Very likely to happen, she told herself.

 

Even through the fear of being tortured, she still couldn’t shake away the image in front of her mind. Junmyeon’s grimace of disgust. She was a complete failure. There was no doubt about that. And Jongdae was completely right to be so strict to her all the time. If only she’d actually listened, instead of always making up excuses.

 

Jongdae… She didn’t dare think about what might’ve happened to him. She didn’t dare wonder if they’d kept her alive because their torture wasn’t successful. Because that would mean that her commander was…

 

Drop.

 

She couldn’t help the tears prickling in her eyes. She would not cry, not even in front of Kyungsoo, not even in the dark of the night, and especially not in front of the monsters that were about to enter the room and obliterate her existence. The last time she’d cried, she was a kid that couldn’t make her muscles work in the training room. She was the failure crumpling on the floor under the hard gaze of the fire-haired commander who’d wanted her to climb the rope; over and over again he’d made her get up after she fell. She remembered the laughter of the other trainees, who’d all done it successfully. She remembered the mortification, the fear pooling in her stomach.

 

She swore she would never allow herself to feel that way again. Not even if she ended up in the arms of her enemies. Never again.

 

All she could do was die with honor. That meant complete silence, or lies. She knew that she would not manage to not answer any of their insults, or not take the opportunity to insult them instead. So she’d lie, lie until the Oh clan was completely protected. They wanted to know where their HQ was? She’d happily lead them to the facility where the sniper shooters trained. If they asked about Sehun’s wife, she’d gladly tell them how in love she was with her husband, how happily they waltzed through their house and how much she loved them. She’d tell them everything; everything that would lead them to their demise.

 

Drop.

 

She snorted. To think that she’d once dreamed of being Oh Sehun’s friend… His guard, his most loyal assassin-

 

“Well, since it seems like you’re completely fine being here by yourself, I’ll make my leave.”

 

Her body tensed immediately, and she attempted to focus her already weakened senses to the man in the room. The walls seemed to be darker now that he was there, as if he’d the light out of the barely-working light bulb hanging over her head.

 

It didn’t help the slightest bit that she recognized this man as Kris Wu, the infamous painter who’d basically gotten her into this whole mess.

 

Drop.

 

She didn’t let the fear show on her face, especially now that there was no doubt that she had been captured by the Han clan. “Of course I’m fine. I could think about that painting of a snow man and laugh for days! It’s funny what people call art nowad-”

 

Kris’ hand was suddenly around , squeezing slowly but with strength she’d never imagined she’d be up against. It was probably because she was already weak and dizzy, hanging upside down for God knew how much time, but still, it hurt. He slowly lowered his face to hers. “I think you’ve got the wrong idea here. I ain’t here to play babysitter. If you disrespect me again, I’ll cut off your tongue, you slimy rat.”

 

She did not doubt his words for a second, although slimy rat kind of wasn’t the insult she’d expected. She resisted the urge to retort - it wasn’t worth risking not being able to talk when the opportunity arose again. She’d first study him and then make her move.

 

Kris was as magnificent as they described him to be, which was excuse enough for why she thought that painting was a fake - how could such a drop-down gorgeous man oozing with self-confidence and testosterone draw something like that child’s drawing she’d seen? It was unimaginable, and she refused to think about it any further out of fear that a similar comment would make its way out of again.

 

Drop.

 

She wondered if Kris was the man who’d knocked her down unconscious.

 

A fear made confusion, anger and dread start pooling in her stomach. What if they’d killed Jongdae, and decided that she would be far more susceptible to their torture, although she could not give them all the details they wanted? What if they’d deemed torturing her commander a waste of time and resources and murdered him in cold blood?

 

That blood would be on her hands, she knew, even if Kyungsoo told her a million times it was not her fault. If Jongdae was lost because of her… How could she ever live with it? A million images suddenly passed through her mind - Jongdae, who’d offered his hand to her after she’d finally managed to climb that rope. Jongdae, a small curve of his lips while he watched her shoot the target with the sniper gun after only three shots. Jongdae, his hand going through his fiery hair as he shook his head at her, telling her she wouldn’t be in trouble only this time for sneaking her way into the meeting of commanders. Jongdae, without the silver hairs when she’d first met him. Jongdae, with smile marks around his eyes although she’d not seen him smile more than four times in eight years.

 

She suddenly felt a lump in and prayed for his safety. She could be replaced, but Jongdae? He wasn’t the cold-blooded bastard he tried to make everyone believe he was. Whatever had scarred him in the past had made thick walls of concrete come up inside of his heart, but there was a heart somewhere in there, she knew. She wanted to live to see him come out of his shell. She wanted him to live and smile and be happy. She’d die to make that happen if it came down to it. Please, be alive. Please, please just hold on until I find a way to break free.

 

Drop.

 

Kris, who was about three times as tall as her, was now sitting on an old, rusty stool he’d brought from the corner in the dark. Even upside down, she couldn’t not notice how amazingly styled his black hair was. He looked as if he was going to advertise clothes something, not begin sticking those wrapped up tools into her body in order to make her talk. He hadn’t even begun yet, and she was already beginning to have a hard time breathing. It felt as if her body was collapsing on her, which was not a good sign - apart from the dizziness and blurry vision, this was another thing that ensured she was not going to escape from this place. How would she run if she couldn’t feel her legs? If by the time they brought her back to the ground, her inner ear was already damaged and the blood pressure in her brain too high?

 

Kris crossed his arms. A second passed. She didn’t dare breathe.

 

Drop.

 

“So, you are a member of the Oh clan.”

 

Figures, she wanted to retort. As if her tattoo and presence in front of the Oh heir’s house weren’t descriptive enough. She didn’t dare open to say any of it, though.

 

“And you’ve been assigned to guard Sehun, so I’d say let’s cut the bull and talk business, shall we?”

 

Aeri gulped, remembering how his hands felt around . Silence or lies, silence or lies. There goes my ticket for survival. Could she lie that she was one of the commanders?

 

She did not fail to notice that the cloths were no longer on the sink. Or the tools of torture. Or that her knife was in his hand, his fingers caressing the seamless surface.

 

That knife had never tasted blood before. She’d wanted for a long time to keep it that way forever.

 

A rebellious child. Jongdae was right to the very core. She hoped she could tell him that someday.

 

Drop.

 

She expected the first slash. She expected it to sting, she expected the late feeling of fire along the skin on her arm and the dull pain. She could handle it, not shed a tear or make a sound. She resisted the urge to whimper or hiss as the fire spread along her arm.

 

But she didn’t expect to see a grin on Kris’ face. She could never imagine the twisted mask that was his overjoyed expression, like she was a canvas and he wanted to slash away at her until there wasn’t a spot on her arm that wasn’t covered in blood. As if he was actually enjoying this. She didn’t doubt for a second that was true, seeing the glint in his eyes that promised more, more pain.

 

They’d told her how it felt to be hurt, and how to act in order to keep her honor through it. They’d explained what tools were usually used for torture, what they targeted to make it hurt as much as possible without making a mess. They’d told her everything, yet nothing was able to prepare her for this. Because they’d never told her that the person behind the pain would not be one and the same with the person being tortured, that they wouldn’t be just another prisoner, forced to do their awful job that would haunt them forever. She’d always imagined it to be that way, fearing that someday her clan would ask her to become a torturer.

 

“Why were you in my house, you piece of ?” Kris shouted then, his words twisting into an animalistic snarl. She felt him squeezing at the gashing wound. She couldn’t help it - she gasped in pain. “You thought that you could steal from me and get away with it? That you could make a fool out of me and take my precious paintings away?”

 

Drop.

 

Perhaps a couple seconds passed. Perhaps it was hours, or even days between the time she felt a stinging flash on her cheek and another hot slash, this time along her wrist. “You still think messing with me is fun, huh?” he snarled again. Kris didn’t wait a second for her to answer - this was not an interrogation. He did not even care if she wanted to answer him; he just wanted to hurt her. By the time she’d realized that her cheek was stinging because the bastard had slapped her, he was slapping her again, this time with more force.

 

Then she kind of fazed out of what was happening to her body. Another eternity passed, Kris started snarling and shouting and growling again and slashing at her arms and slapping her. She was thankful for swimming in and out of consciousness multiple times. She was thankful for not being fully aware of her body when he began plucking the nails out of her fingertips. Although everything hurt and she could feel the blood streaming out of her wounds, the blood drops falling down onto the ground and joining the cacophony of sound in the torture room, she had not said a single word about anything throughout it.

 

She whimpered and gasped, yes, and even screamed once - when he plucked the first nail out of her fingertip. Kris especially liked that, humming in appreciation, whispering “That’s it, give it to me, give it all to me, this is just a little taste of what I’m going to do to you” while she squeezed her eyes shut, willing her mind out of her body again. She was able to brace herself for the second nail, so she managed to just gasp and moan brokenly through it. This earned her another slap that felt more like a punch to the cheek. She felt as if her jaw was broken.

 

Most of his questions didn’t even make sense to her. “Is Sehun’s wife really pregnant? Even a servant, which you probably are, would know that in the Oh clan. They are so eager to share all news about their wretched, fake lives to everyone.” After each question, the slices became deeper and more painful. She’d already lost feeling in her legs and arms, but her abdomen hurt as if he was attacking her with a flamethrower, and not a knife.

 

If she’d had the strength to think, she would’ve wondered why it mattered to him anyway. What the hell did it matter if the clan was gossiping about Sehun’s wife? So what if she was pregnant? Was it really worth all this pain? Then she realized this was exactly the path of thoughts she should not have - soon she’d wonder if surrendering the information was worth the pain. Soon she’d determine that no, it wasn’t, and start talking like a traitor. No. I will not become a traitor. I’d rather die than do that.

 

Kris kept going, unaware of her inner turmoil. The slashes were replaced by punches, and she began feeling like the box of sand trainees used to practice their boxing skills. She was embarrassed by the whimpers that left every now and then, but she couldn't help it - the expression on Kris’ face every time he punched her in the ribs made some primal fear kick in and leave her breathless. Or maybe it was just the punches that were kicking the breath out of her lungs.

 

She wouldn't be able to hang on for much longer like this, she knew. Hanging upside down, every second making her feel more and more like throwing up, a strange buzzing constantly ringing in her head, her vision getting more and more unfocused.

 

She opted for shaking her head every time he started barking questions at her. "Were you there to plant poison in my mansion?" "What do you know about Sehun's plan for overthrowing our clan?" "When are they going to attack?"

 

The worst things was, she really didn't know any of the things he was demanding from her. She was thankful for it, because she doubted she's be able to keep herself from blurting out every single thing she knew if he continued doing this for a while longer. Not out of fear or pain, but because she felt her sanity slowly slipping away. The pressure in her head was getting unbearable. She was gasping for air, for some kind of relief, and even if Kris hadn’t been stabbing and punching and slapping her, she would’ve felt like she was being tortured due to the steady flow of blood out of her limbs and towards her brain.

 

He tried again, this time twisting the knife into what appeared to be his favorite spot on her abdomen. “Where is Kim Seo Young?” he shouted. If she’d been able to move any of her muscles, she would’ve raised her eyebrows and shouted back, What the hell does she have to do with any of this? Why were they targeting Junmyeon’s wife all of a sudden? “Where are they keeping her?”

 

She could barely see, let alone think or try to make sense of his questions by the time he decided that he’d had his fill of her this time. She knew there would be more, there would always be more for as long as there was life in her. This man who seemed to have been carved out of the coldest stone on the planet seemed to be draining her life force out of her and consuming it. Nothing but pain and darkness was left in his wake, and all she could do was whimper brokenly as his cold hands fleetingly grazed all her wounds, seemingly content with his work. He hummed in appreciation again, as if content with the results of his work.

 

“You better start talking when I’m back,” he said right into her ear, pressing the spot just under her ribs he’d just taken the knife out of. “If you still have the ability to talk, that is. All you Oh members know how to do is break down and cry.” She didn’t doubt she looked at least as bad as she felt, which was a dying stabbed fish that was set on fire. Not good, a voice in her mind said. This is not good.

 

He sneered. "Look at yourself. You are a mess, and I haven't even gotten started properly yet." His voice sounded disgusted, as if she wasn't even a human but some doll he had every right to break and slice apart. "I'd suggest you start finding coherent answers to my questions before I start cutting fingers off."

 

Oh, she didn’t doubt he’d love to start cutting her. It seemed like the sight of her bloody body - his artwork, as he said a couple of times - aroused him. His breathing seemed to grow ragged whenever she made a particularly painful sound, and every now and then he’d squeeze her neck, nearly taking what little breath she had away and promising how amazingly he was going to rip open her veins and paint her skin with blood. She knew now that he wasn’t just a sympathizer of he Han clan. No, he’d been a member long before he’d married their leader’s sister. It took years to acquire the knife skills he had. It took years of practice to be able to slice skin without going too deep, to make damage without killing immediately.

 

“Couldn’t even dream of how much fire this little thing could light on your skin, didn’t you?” Kris smirked, touching her face with the tip of her knife. He didn’t put enough pressure into it to break skin, but the gasps she let out seemed to be what he was aiming for anyway. The knife dipped lower, first onto her neck, and then it grazed the hem of her shirt. “I’ll keep it as a trophy. To remind me of the color of your blood. I might even have a little fun with you before I slice your throat. I’d like to hear those pretty lips cry out my name before I make them beg.” His words made her whole body contort in disgust, trying unsuccessfully to move away from the knife and the messed-up implication he was making with it. His hands were dirtier than his words, caressing her lips gently and dipping into for a second. She wanted to throw up. There were many kinds of torture, she knew. She’d rather die than have him touch her like this.

 

Aeri tried not to let the thought form in her mind, but it did anyway. I am not getting out of this room alive. It’s going to be my tomb. That thought, as much as it terrified her, didn’t strike her so much because of her own death. No, it was Jongdae she was afraid of. When she’d woken up, she’d wanted to save him, but now it was clear that she wasn’t going anywhere. Her body was already giving out on her and she was barely clinging to consciousness. Pathetic, she could hear her commander say in her mind. You couldn’t even climb that rope - how could I expect you to withstand this? You’re a complete failure. She had no strength to wince or even feel bad about herself. Her body was beginning to tingle, the pain enveloping her completely, and all she had to offer was acceptance.

 

Kris seemed to think on something for a second. Then his finger caressed her cheek once again, pinching it slowly. He smiled at her, and it would’ve almost looked innocent had his husky voice permeated her ears. His hand was playing with the hem of her shirt. He let one hand run beneath it, cold fingers running down her chest. His hand paused on her bra. “Let’s try that approach when I’m back. We’ll see how strong your resolve is when I strip you . I wonder how you’ll sound when I-”

 

“That’s enough, Kris,” a stone-cold male voice came from somewhere behind her. “The instructions were to begin the questioning, not have her bleed all over the storage room.” She would’ve tried to understand what he meant by storage room, but the next words made the breath catch in . She’d thought Kris’ snarl was the most intimidating thing she would ever hear, but the snarl that came from the back of the room was worse. It was dark, full of poison and disgust. It sounded exactly how she felt. “And certainly not to her.”

 

The dirty hands that were touching the top of her chest gave a final, almost possessive tug and then left her body altogether. She let out a shaky breath. Then the bastard laughed. “Oh come on, Baek,” he said lightheartedly, as if they were having tea and not torturing her. “I was just having a little fun here. I assure you, if I’d wanted to her, I would’ve had her set up in a very different position.” The sound of approval he made left her squeezing her eyes shut again although she couldn’t even see anything through her salty eyes anymore. She turned her head away in shame, as if what he was talking about had already happened and she was forever disgraced, forever branded by this sick psychopath. What had she done to deserve this? She didn’t doubt Kris would stay true to his words if given the chance. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. She’d intimidate him until he killed her, she determined. She would do it as soon as possible, before he had a chance to bring whatever messed up ual fantasy he had in his mind to life.

 

“Get the out of here,” the man - Baek, whoever that was - growled. “You’re no longer in charge. Don’t look at me like that - Lu gave the orders, not me. I have much more important stuff to do than play house here. What you’re doing is disgusting, though. Look at her, you sick bastard!”

 

She didn’t hear Kris’ response, if there was any. She didn’t hear him walk out of the room. In fact, she couldn’t hear anything - the buzzing in her ears was too loud. She could no longer keep her eyes open or breathe - she let herself sag against her restraints, her muscles aching and head spinning. She imagined she was in the tech room, untangling Kyungsoo’s hands from the wires. It was the most peaceful place she could think of, and she hoped it would make her feel safe. She tried to remember the scent of barbecue in his hair, the sound of his laughter, the feel of his arms around her as he hugged her.

 

She couldn’t remember it. All she could smell was maple, all she could hear was the buzzing of blood in her head, all she could feel was the fire Kris had lighted all over her body. She was one with the pain, burning in the bonfire of stabs, slashes and punches. She wished she didn’t remember his suggestive touches, but it was all she could feel on her body. She felt dirty. She wanted to die. At least she could still go honorably, if she let go now.

 

The scent of maple carried her to a place without pain and she let herself drift off to unconsciousness, if even for a short moment.

 

She could swear that no longer than five seconds passed when she heard a voice call out to her.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey, you.” The voice was soft and rich, and it eerily reminded her of someone. She’d heard the voice before, she was sure of it.

 

She felt someone shaking her, and she untangled herself from unconsciousness quickly, years of training kicking in and the strict routine of getting up at 5 AM every day for years finally paying off.

 

Not that it mattered much - all she could do was groan as she lifted her shaking hands to her face. Her fingers were tingling, but she could move them, which was much better than she had hoped for. She was able to open her eyes, although even her eyelids hurt from the high blood pressure she’d endured. She lightly touched her jaw, which she earlier suspected to be broken, but she was able to move it around without problems. Thank God, it had endured.

 

She was no longer hanging upside down from the ceiling. She still felt the blood gushing out of wounds all over her body and the ache from having been repeatedly punched, but at least she was no longer shackled. She could move her hands and legs, and the world was no longer spinning. Well, at least it wasn’t spinning badly, although she felt as if she was being rocked on a boat. Her eyes were able to focus on a single spot at the floor, which was also a good sign. Perhaps she could regain her balance through time. Perhaps nothing was permanently damaged. At least not just yet.

 

"Uhm, you okay in there? Should I give you more painkillers?" the voice said, and she groggily opened her eyes again. Her vision was still impaired, but it was clear that someone was in front of her, waving hands in front of her eyes as if to check whether she could respond. She waited for her blurry vision to focus so that she could see who exactly stood - or crouched - in front of her.

 

She didn’t make the same mistake as when she’d lashed out at Kris after his initial comment. She opted to stay silent this time, remembering very well that she wasn't home and that each and every one of these people wanted her dead. This was some facility of the Han clan, and she was a prisoner who was undergoing torture. She knew the protocols very well - after a while of torture, she would be nurtured back to health just to have it taken away from her once again in the next session of torture.

 

So these were the good cops, and if they didn't get what they wanted from her, Kris would come back - that much she knew for sure. And the things Kris had implied, the things he would do to her if he got the chance…

 

She shuddered, remembering the sadistic satisfaction in his eyes and his ragged breathing when he’d gotten her to whimper and moan brokenly, and how it could get so much worse than that. How jarring the tip of her own knife into her rib was nothing compared to what he had in store for her.

 

The man cleared his throat, as if running out of patience, and she decided to try to assess the situation before it changed again. There was a man in front of her, crouching in front of a chair - the same chair Kris had been sitting on cockily just a short while ago.

 

She glanced down at herself, at her torn shirt, at the bloody pants. She couldn't see much beyond silhouettes and colors, but the blackness all over her arms didn't look that promising. The fact that she couldn't quite move her legs didn't help matters either. And the metallic smell of blood in the air only made her stomach pulse. If there had been anything to throw up, she would’ve done it unceremoniously a while ago, but her stomach was empty.

 

"Uhm, hi," the man said in that familiar voice. Her mind spun with questions. Did he enjoy this like Kris did? Or was he one of those who just detached themselves from their job, like Aeri preferred to do? She’d never witnessed anything like this in her life. She’d never heard of such torture - of it being anything than means of getting information. But Kris didn’t care about her answers - it was just an excuse for his sick preferences and hidden desires to hurt people.

 

She could not make out the exact expression on the face of the man in front of her, but she decided to study him for a moment.

 

He looked like an old man in a young boy's body - as if he'd aged too fast for someone looking like they've just graduated from high school. His face was spotless and creaseless, his eye and hair color warm and light, but the way he wore his expressions indicated that on the inside, he was anything but. His hair was parted at the middle, and it fanned out his face like a curtain. It came down to his ears, and looked incredibly soft. How could someone who looked this innocent be part of this group of sadistic torturers? Was he going to hurt her too and enjoy it?

 

She looked into his eyes to try to find out, and they returned the gaze fearlessly. Where had she seen those eyes before? Why did they look kind of familiar too? She did not blink or move her gaze away from the mysterious man. He remained a statue, the only proof that he was alive the vibrant color of his eyes.

 

The smell of maples was coming from him, she realized. She hated herself for not being able to loathe it, to loathe him for wearing it whilst torturing her. The smell calmed her, made her remember the world outside of the torture room, what she was sworn to protect, what she had to lose. It fit his face perfectly. It didn’t belong in this place where pain resided.

 

And then the pieces seemed to come together. She was finally able to see the solution of the puzzle. As if a light switch was flipped on, she knew who the man in front of her was. She had seen him before - those eyes, that pleasant voice…

 

"You!" she gasped. She couldn't help it - though she'd vowed not to say a word until she either escaped or died, this situation was becoming too much for her. On top of getting caught by the Han clan, having been tortured by Kris Wu, a supposed sympathizer of the clan who turned out to be their freaking assigned interrogator, she now had to endure this too. Why was everything so entangled? Why were all the dots connected?

 

Those eyes belonged to the man whom she'd encountered in Kris’ mansion. The man who'd told her it was a decoy and showed her the China vase.

 

Who'd said he had nothing to do with mafia clans.

 

"You've ruined my life!" she screeched. It took all her willpower not to get up and strangle him with her own hands, so she opted to growl and ball her hands into fists instead. She did not want for Kris to come back, and she also kind of doubted she would’ve been able to get up or hit anything with her bleary eyes anyway.

 

The man-boy frowned. "I'm sorry, what?”

 

“Mundus vult decipi,” she spat at him. No getting out of this situation, you dirty snitch. You’re busted. “I saw it. I know who you are!” She couldn’t help the tone of her voice or how poisonous it sounded. He’d betrayed her, lied to her, made her look like a fool, stole the prize of her weeks-long effort and smiled at her as if he was her friend. She almost scoffed at herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.

 

The man froze. Gotcha! she thought to herself proudly. She shut the voice inside of her which was already wondering what this meant, why a Han clan member hadn’t killed her after catching her in his superior’s mansion, if he was actually an assassin, why he’d lied to her instead of confronting her… The situation was now ten times more complicated, but she doubted he’d explain his master plan to her if she just asked nicely.

 

She was prepared for him to take out a blade and cut . To hit her and make her fall on the ground. To laugh at her maniacally and say that yes, indeed it was him, and now she was going to pay for zapping him like the worthless Oh clan member they all saw her as. Perhaps he’d take over Kris’ torture and especially enjoy twisting his knife in her abdomen. Perhaps he’d continue where Kris left off. Whatever he chose to do, she knew it wouldn’t be anything that would benefit her. All that awaited her was more pain. Did it matter who the person behind the blade was?

 

Then the man she hated with her whole being did the one thing she was not prepared for.

 

He smiled.

 

“Oh,” he said in a pleasant voice. “You must mean Baekhyun. I’m sorry for my brother. I know he can be a bit…” He scratched his neck as he looked away from her. “...Difficult.”

 

She stared at him as if he’d just told her aliens have landed on Earth. Brother? He stared back at her for a second, his grin getting wider and wider. She didn’t get the joke, and that seemed to make it even funnier for him.

 

He must’ve seen the confused look in her eyes, because he giggled. The man crouching in a torture room in front of a bloody prisoner who’d just endured a session of torture from Kris Wu giggled, and raised up his sleeves.

 

The tattoo was not there.

 

“See? I’m not him. I’m his brother. He’s two years older than me, but we have the same facial features, so we get mixed up often. My name is Baekbeom, and I apologize for my brother’s acts towards you. I hope he didn’t do anything very bad and unforgivable, though.”

 

A part of her had felt more comfortable when she was hanging upside down. She then knew what was happening, what she could expect, how she could act. Now, she had no idea what in the hell was going on and was halfway intent on voicing her jumbled thoughts. So the mysterious man, Baekhyun and this… Baekbeom weren’t twins, but they shared the same pair of eyes - eyes that were watching her intently now.

 

A fleeting thought appeared in her mind - the man who’d come to the room and chased Kris away… Kris had called him Baek. She remembered the cold voice, the snarling, the swearing, the firm attitude towards the psychopath in the room. Had that been Baekhyun?

 

When Baekbeom stood up and offered a hand to her with an impossibly honest grin, his hand ruffling his hair and making stray bangs fall over his forehead, she felt as if her mind had been wiped clean.

 

I am a prisoner, she almost wanted to shout. What the hell are you being nice for? You think I’m going to fall for it? But then she remembered Kris, and his promises of more. She didn’t know if this guy was playing a game with her. He most certainly was, probably attempting to gain her trust and get the information they needed this way. Or perhaps this was just a short break before Kris would come back again to truly torture  and break her. She shuddered again, not wanting to think about Kris right now. She would deal with that later.

 

She looked up at Baekbeom, searching for something. She tried to compare his grin to the one plastered on Kris’ face while he’d tortured her. She noted the perfect white teeth, the thin light pink lips, the fair skin. Then her gaze came back to his eyes and hair, that light brown color that somehow seemed to radiate something under the yellow light of the lamp. He didn’t look like an interrogator. Hell, he didn’t even look like a mafia clan member at all, the only evidence against that the small tattoo on his neck. She wanted to trust him, but she knew she couldn’t - he was just another one of them. Perhaps much worse than Kris but in his own way.

 

Baekbeom raised his head, having completed looking over her bloody body, and looked straight into her eyes. The smell of maples surrounded her again, and she… somehow, ridiculously, she began to feel safe. This man would not hurt her. He was nothing like the assassin she’d encountered in Kris’ mansion.

 

Yeah, they did have the same eyes, but now that she thought about it… That face, those hands, that posture, they were not of an assassin. This guy was obviously someone who spent all his time holed up in a library and reading books. His skin tan was too white, his eyes too bright. Although there was an aura about him that promised he’d seen his share of awfulness and earned his fair share of nightmares, he didn’t look like someone who’d enjoy hurting others.

 

He nodded at her. “It’s okay,” he whispered, as if the words hadn’t left his mouth intentionally. As if he’d thought them and couldn’t help but voice the calming words. “It’s over. Kris is not coming back.”

 

She gulped. She didn’t trust this man, of course. But if his presence would keep Kris away? Hell, she’d take him over that sadistic bastard any day. She knew she was moving from one nest of snakes to another, but what choice did she have? Act like a child and turn her head from him, refusing his help? Wait for Kris to come back? Try to escape by walking through the room like a drunk?

 

She didn’t have a choice, she knew. So she did the smartest thing she could think of - she took his hand, never breaking their connected gazes. Searching again for a sign of amusement, a sign of sadistic fantasies, of pain and coldness. She found none, instead being welcomed by maple woods in October. She could almost imagine the glint of sun on wet fallen maple leaves, and if it hadn’t reminded her of being pushed into the ground when she and Jongdae had been kidnapped, she would’ve held his gaze for longer.

But remembering Jongdae was too much for Aeri, so she turned her gaze to the ground and tried to take a deep breath. She failed, her chest constricting from the pain around halfway through the breath and making her launch into a fit of coughing. It seemed like she’d really received painkillers, because the pain was gradually becoming duller. It was still there, but it felt less as if it was jabbing at her insides and more like an old untreated injury that hurt just occasionally. The pain was bearable.

 

As she got up, the whole world shifted and the boat she’d been rocked on turned upside down, flopping into the water. Her sense of balance failed to keep her upright, and she began to fall. Baekbeom caught her easily when her legs gave out on her, his grip tight on the backs of her legs and on her neck as he cradled her to his chest. The maple scent grew stronger - did this guy live in a tree house or something? “Kris will not like this, but he can go to hell for all I care. Let’s get you to the infirmary, miss…”

 

After a couple of seconds of silence, she realized Baekbeom was waiting for an answer. He began walking steadily through the room. She wanted to shout at him desperately to hurry, get me out of there and not let anyone ever bring me back into this room, but she kept shut for a change.

 

“Aeri,” she whispered. “Jong Aeri of the Oh clan.” She didn’t say what her position in the clan was - she’d initially wanted to tell them she was a commander, but she now knew they’d never believe her. She was too young for that, and probably didn’t look the least bit as intimidating or commanding as Jongdae did. She’d never pull off such a big, fat lie.

 

“Aeri,” Baekbeom repeated, his arms tightening around her body. He balanced her in one arm, leaning her into his body as he opened the door to the torture room with the other and stepped outside. “I’m incredibly glad to meet you, miss Aeri. Don’t worry - the worst has passed. You’re not going back into that room.”

 

She resisted the urge to snort. Yes, she looked too young and inexperienced to be able to pass as an Oh clan commander, but this guy looked far too young and innocent to pass as someone with any authority in the Han clan. Yeah, sure thing, buttercup, she retorted in her mind. You could also ask them all to disband the mafia clan and start working as bartenders or something. I’m sure they’d listen to you.

 

And although she hadn’t said a word, Baekbeom stopped walking and looked down at her again, grinning from ear to ear, as if he could hear her thoughts, which she knew was impossible. Her retort was probably written on her face, though. His voice was barely a whisper, a soft caress on the top of her head, ruffling her hair. “Welcome to my home.”

 

As he carried her into the hallway, something constricted inside of her chest. It was enough to be one step away from finding the older brother, Baekhyun, to strangle him and get back at him for having double-crossed her like he had. Now on top of that, she had to deal with the younger brother, who seemed to be a completely innocent princess.

 

Everyone was a player, a puzzle piece with a purpose in the larger image of the Han clan. Even this guy, no matter how innocent and disconnected from the mafia he seemed.

 

But not everyone was a deceiver. Not everyone was a sadist who lived for pained sounds and the sight of blood. Getting close to Baekbeom could benefit her in more ways than one, if she played her cards right. For starters, she needed protection from Kris. She would work on it from there, but for now it was enough. Even without the health care, just being away from the torturer would be enough.

 

If Baekbeom was a softie, though, she knew what game she would need to play and how she’d do it. And she’d do it more perfectly than at any practice course. She’d break free and make them all hurt for everything they’d done to her and her clan. And Jongdae.

 

So she forced herself to muster up her pleasant voice, hoping it wouldn’t break. “Thank you,” she said into his chest. He didn’t stop walking through the dark hallway, but when she glanced up, she saw the corner of a smile on his face.

 

Hold on, Jongdae, she said in her mind. I’m coming for you.