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Hei wasn’t expecting Jungwoo to come back that night, though she supposed it was a good thing because her lips felt parched and hungry, despite having eaten in the afternoon. Like the last time, he was alone, though she supposed she had no more power left to summon to talk to him.

Jungwoo didn’t bother with greetings when he came inside. He set the food—this time accompanied with half an apple—and drink on the side of the hard bed, then folded his arms.

Hei glanced up at him, and despite herself, felt slightly amused. He wasn’t much older than Sehun—Sehun who somehow still looked up to Baekhyun, brilliant, quick Sehun. And then there was Jungwoo, with his perpetually black clothing and carefully guarded expression—except she could still see the shared look Sehun got also when he wanted to ask questions.

“What is it?” she asked. 

Jungwoo raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

She picked up the slice of bread. It was slightly softer than the last piece, which was a bonus. “You’re here to ask questions.”

Jungwoo opened his mouth, undoubtedly to reject, before he snapped it shut. “Just one thing,” he said. “You mentioned Junmyeon. I thought—I thought he was dead. Is he really in the crew?”

Out of all the questions Hei had expected him to ask, Junmyeon wasn’t one of them. She had expected Jongdae, or maybe Minseok, but…

Maybe it shouldn’t have been that surprising, considering the fact that Junmyeon had once been one of Ezentia’s best fighters, but he was so much quieter compared to his younger brother that she had always assumed more people knew about Jongdae than Junmyeon.

“Junmyeon’s alive and he’s in the crew,” she replied. “Why?”

Jungwoo hesitated, then, “I thought he was dead. But it doesn’t really matter.”

Given that he had mentioned it, she had an inkling that it did matter. “Did you know him before?”

Jungwoo glanced towards the door, shifting his weight. He was very different, Hei thought, compared to before. Perhaps it was unintentional on his part because she was pretty sure Kim Jungwoo wouldn’t purposefully make himself more vulnerable, but the guard must’ve been slipping bit by bit until it became noticeable.

“Does Junsu know you're here?” she asked, since he didn’t answer.

“Junsu doesn’t need to monitor every single one of my movements,” Jungwoo replied in a way that was all too obvious that Junsu didn’t know. “He doesn’t care what I do as long as it doesn’t interfere with his plans. And this doesn’t change anything.”

This time, Hei couldn’t tell whether or not he meant it. She could only hope that something had changed, and that it would be in time for her to pull everything off properly.

“Did you know Junmyeon?” she asked instead.

Jungwoo looked at her for a little while longer, then gave a brief nod, so slight that she nearly missed it. Then, he seemed to find a need to elaborate, because he started, “Not really well. I lived—I lived kind of close to them when I was younger. Saw him and Jongdae around. I talked to him a couple of times over the fence.”

Hei blinked in surprise. “You talked to Junmyeon?”

Jungwoo gave her a dry smile. “Yes, and because his younger brother didn’t want a little kid tagging around with them everywhere, Jongdae never humoured me. Junmyeon did. Until the Kim family moved them somewhere else. I never knew why, and I never saw them again before I left.”

This time, a laugh bubbled up and Hei didn’t bother stopping it. “Sounds like Jongdae. And sounds like Junmyeon, too.”

Jungwoo shrugged. “I don’t know him that well. It was only for a couple of months, anyway.”

Silence followed his words, and Hei tried, “You’d probably like him now as well if you met him.”

She half expected Jungwoo to look away and to change the topic like he had the last time she had said something familiar, but instead, he only shrugged. It was a change, and enough of an indication for her to go on. “Even Jinqiong likes him, and she acts like she hates everyone in the crew. Except Junmyeon.”

“Song Jinqiong sounds pleasant to be around.”

“She’s even less talkative than you.”

To Hei’s absolute surprise, that coaxed the barest hint of a laugh out of Jungwoo, but it was something. He seemed to notice it, and like it were some mistake to be corrected, straightened and schooled his expression back into impassiveness. “I need to go soon,” he said, the topic lost once more. “Junsu might be looking for me.”

Her mood, which had just lifted slightly, dropped again. “For what?”

“For tomorrow,” Jungwoo replied, and Hei didn’t have to ask to know what tomorrow encompassed.

Jungwoo noticed her expression because he added, “If you do what Junsu says…”

“If I do what Junsu says, he’s still going to kill us all. It doesn’t matter unless something changes, and—”

“No,” Jungwoo cut in. “I won’t. That’s final.”

“He’ll kill us all. Not just Jinqiong. You know that he wants to get us back for what happened, because we tricked him back in Xiyuan. Are you just going to do nothing?”

Jungwoo bristled. “It was you that came here on your own, not me. Just because you thought of a ridiculous plan that happened to include me doesn’t mean that I have to follow your plan because of that.”

“So you’re fine that Junsu doesn’t have a shred of honour—no, forgot honour, decency—and you’ll watch him slaughter all of us? And you’re going to help him?”

The boy seemed to flinch slightly. Hei watched, barely daring to breathe, as he glared back at her. All signs of the tentative amiable attitude were gone, but finally, Jungwoo shook his head. “No,” he said. “I won’t. I’ll make sure he keeps his end of the bargain, but that’s all I’m doing. I won’t help you apart from that.”

I’ll make sure he keeps his end of the bargain. That was something, but it wasn’t enough. Even if Junsu didn’t hurt the rest of them, his end of the bargain encompassed the map falling in his hand, Luhan with him, and Jinqiong dead. They wouldn’t be able to free Taeyong, they would be unable to get back through the gates…

“You’d still be sentencing us to die in Hell’s Gate.”

Jungwoo whirled around and pointed a finger at her. “Then what?” he demanded. “Even if I do that for you, I’m putting my neck on the line. I need him to help me. Maybe you signed your death warrant the day you decided to help Song Jinqiong. That’s not my problem.”

“You don’t mean that.”

He grit his teeth, and Hei wondered if he could tell how unconfinfident she felt, because she really didn’t actually know what he felt, what he did mean and what he didn’t mean, and the more she spoke to him, the more uncertain she was. Every single improvement was accompanied by two more steps back until she wasn’t sure if they had gone anywhere.

“You,” Jungwoo said slowly, “don’t know what I mean. You don’t know me. You can say that I’m not a murderer or that I’m not cruel or whatever it is that you want, but the one thing you’ve got wrong is that I don’t care about any of those things. As long as I can get what I want.”

He his heel sharply, apparently having forgotten about the plate and cup that he had left lying on the corner of her bed. Hei opened to say something—even if she couldn’t formulate her thoughts into words—but before she could speak and before Jungwoo could leave, a silhouette blocked out the light streaming through the opened door. Even if Jungwoo’s back to her, Hei saw the boy stiffen.

The cold fingers of dread climbed up her back when she recognized Junsu.

His presence seemed to bring some sort of silence that followed. Jungwoo had obviously frozen up at the sight of Junsu, which only confirmed her suspicions that he wasn’t supposed to be interacting with her—at all.

“Jungwoo,” Junsu’s deep voice rumbled. “What are you doing?”

Hei swallowed. “I needed water—”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Junsu snapped. “Didn’t I give strict orders to leave her alone?”

Alone. Apart from the fact that nothing would’ve worked if she didn’t have at least a chance to talk to Jungwoo, being left alone in a dark room with no food and water for three days… it was too much for Hei to think about without shivering.

“She could die from dehydration,” Jungwoo argued, casting Hei a quick glance. “Then it would’ve been useless. If Baekhyun had realized she was dead…”

Junsu threw her a glance. “He wouldn’t know.”

“You promised that if he gave you what he wanted, you’d leave them alone. Now that you don’t need your father’s help, you don’t need to hand Byun Baekhyun and Hei over to—”

“Jungwoo,” Junsu warned in a quiet voice. The boy broke off immediately, and Hei could hear the obvious warning in his low voice. “Know your place to speak.”

A second passed, then two, before it was obvious that Jungwoo wasn’t going to refute anything. Still, he didn’t move, and Hei turned turned her attention to Junsu. “So what are you going to do?” she asked. “Massacre everyone anyway? Will that make anything better?”

Junsu didn’t spare her a glance. “Be thankful you’re still alive,” he snapped.

“Do you have any sense of honour?” Hei shot back. Perhaps it was a stupid risk to take, given that Junsu didn’t know why she was really there, but she couldn’t help herself anymore. “Or did your father damage you so far that you don’t care for these things anymore?”

He stopped walking out the door. She had half the mind to think that she had obviously hit some sore spot and it would’ve been smart to shut up then and there instead of provoking him further, but Hei heard herself continuing. She was pretty certain there would be consequences, but it felt strangely good to say it after being locked up for so long, and seeing him dismiss Jungwoo in such a way made her angry as well. “There’s no difference between you and your father.”

She heard the snap of the whip before she felt it. Then there was tearing pain spreading across her shoulder despite the dress and the coat she had on—Junsu’s whip had torn through the thick cloth as if it were nothing but a thin sheet of paper—and a small gasp of pain escaped her before she could stop herself.

He stalked towards her as Hei struggled to lift her other arm to her shoulder, the manacles heavier than they felt before. Through the ripped clothing, she could feel the warm feeling of blood blooming, accompanied with a stinging, white-hot pain that seemed to cut through her whole body. Her fingers came away sticky, and while the wound wasn’t deep, it stretched long over her shoulder to nearly her back, skin torn.

Junsu’s whip was barbed—it was no surprise. But it still hurt, and it took all of her self control not to curl up in an attempt to ease the pain and instead stare Junsu in the eye when he approached her.

The whip dragged loudly behind him on the floor. Underneath his golden helmet, his lips were curled, the hint of what seemed to be charred skin hidden beneath the metal. Hei glared back. “You don’t scare me,” she grit out. “You’re a coward who hides behind other people to get what you want. The Byun family leader did the same thing.”

Junsu’s eyes were blazing. “Brave words from someone who’ll die by tomorrow.”

“You won’t get what you want,” she promised. “It doesn’t matter if you end up with the gem and freed from the curse. You’ll find that at the end of the day, no matter what happens, you’ll still—”

The whip flashed. Hei didn’t have the time to even think about moving away before it struck her other shoulder in the same spot. She had a feeling that Junsu knew very well where it landed, symmetrical to the last wound. The whip coiled back, ready to strike again, and Hei braced herself for the blow, lowering her hands to her abdomen. The thought passed that it might’ve been obvious and she didn’t want anyone—not Jungwoo and not Junsu—to know that she was pregnant, but there was no telling where he would hit.

There was a crack, then the sound of metal against metal and Hei flinched. It was harder not knowing where he would strike, but the pain never came.

She looked up to see Jungwoo standing in front of her, arm raised. It took Hei a couple of seconds to register what he had just done—the whip had landed, instead, on Jungwoo’s shortsword. Half coiled around the metal, the whip had even then just missed her.

Junsu the younger boy. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded. The whip drew back to his side, though Hei couldn’t be sure if he was going to strike or not. “Didn’t I tell you to step back?”

Jungwoo lowered his blade slowly. “I’m sorry,” he began. “But she’s already injured, and tomorrow—”

The crack of the whip sounded again. Hei flinched, but it wasn’t aimed towards her—in the blink of an eye, the barbed ends had wrapped around Jungwoo’s sword arm. The boy swore before he dropped his blade with a clatter, other hand immediately reaching for the whip that was wrapped around his forearm, but Junsu’s grip was unrelenting. Hei could smell the blood thick in her air—hers, most likely, from how much she was bleeding from both shoulders—and the pain blurred her vision even though she forced herself not to cry. Through watery eyes, she saw Junsu yank Jungwoo towards him, still connected by the whip that had seemed to latch itself on his arm.

Jungwoo stumbled forward. If he was in pain, the expression had been wiped completely from his face, and he met Junsu’s gaze with the same impassivity that he had treated her with.

“You’re going to kill her,” he repeated. “This isn’t…” His eyes flickered back to Hei briefly. “This isn’t the same as Jinqiong.”

Junsu ignored him. “I told you to stand down,” he snarled. “That means no matter what I do to her, you don’t interfere.”

She shouldn’t have provoked Junsu, and that much was clear. Not only was it stupidly bold and mindless but it wasn’t just herself that would get hurt if she pushed his limits, and Hei tried to calm her breathing. In front of her, Jungwoo finally dipped his head.

“I’m sorry,” she heard him say quietly. “That won’t happen again.”

Junsu released his grip on the boy. The whip uncoiled from his arm, dripping blood—hers or Jungwoo’s, Hei wasn’t sure anymore—and the man waved a dismissive hand at him. “Get yourself cleaned up,” he commanded. “If I find you down here one more time, I’ll kill the girl right there.”

Jungwoo’s expression didn’t change. He dipped his head at Junsu, then, without casting one more look at her, turned towards the door.

If it weren’t for the fact that he had stopped the blow most likely knowing the consequences full well, Hei would’ve had a hard time convincing herself that he cared. But the fact that he did said something—or it had to, because that was her last chance.

A couple seconds later, she could hear Jungwoo’s footsteps travelling up the creaky staircase, and she was alone in the room with Junsu.

The lamplight glimmered off his golden armour, and Hei swallowed thickly. The previous adrenaline had worn off, leaving the burn on both shoulders even more intense, the pain spreading down her arm and back and then radiating dully through her whole body. Then there was the fact that she was scared—terrified, really. Her only source of comfort came from the fact that Junsu’s whip was back in on his belt, coiled neatly again. Then again, she’d witnessed how fast he had been to take it out, so perhaps it wasn’t really any comfort.

Junsu stood in silence for a while longer, and Hei waited. She wouldn’t touch her wounds until he was gone—she could rip part of her dress and bandage it enough to stop blood flow, but there was no guarantee about infection and she had limited abilities and supplies. Still, it wasn’t as if she’d get linen from Jungwoo, much less Junsu.

“He’s been down here more than once,” Junsu finally said.

Hei couldn’t make out if it were a question or a statement, so she opted not to answer.

Junsu didn’t seem to need her answer, because he waved a hand at her. “The next time you speak out of line and you’ll end up worse than with only two whip lashes.”

“Only,” Hei echoed quietly.

He turned around to look at her, eyes blazing behind the helmet. “Only,” Junsu repeated. “I don’t suppose you want a taste of what worse is right now.”

A small part of her was tempted to taunt him more, but there was so much more at stake. Instead, Hei shook her head—it didn’t take much effort to pretend she was scared, because she was—and managed, “No.”

Junsu scoffed. “Sit tight, then,” he told her, the mocking undertone clear in his voice. There was a clank as he moved away, starting towards the door after Jungwoo. “This might be the last night you make it through.”

Before he left the room, Hei watched as he picked up the lantern. Then the door slammed behind him, followed by the click of the lock a couple of seconds later, and then she was alone in the dark once more. 

***

“We practiced this,” Jongdae said.

Jinqiong