"It's nice to meet you, Daehyun Prosecutor-shii.. I'm Yoona, previously derived from Yonghee. Annyeong haseyo."

Daehyun sighed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall outside the confinement room. Yongguk mirrored the discontent flickering to and fro within Daehyun's hardened irises. "It's not your fault," Yongguk murmured sympathetically to the distressed younger. "It was me who made her forget the meds."
Daehyun shook his head. "It's nobody's fault," Daehyun smiled wistfully. "It was going to happen sooner of later anyways; it was to be expected, so don't fret yourself so much, sunbaenim."
Yongguk opened his mouth to say something, but a loud crash echoed from inside the room, causing the two men to erect their backs with alarming concern.

Daehyun was the first one inside, scurrying into the room to find Yoona tipped over, still strapped to her chair. She winced, struggling desperately to wriggle her way out of her strait jacket. "That won't do," Yongguk heard Daehyun mutter softly to the woman. "Stop wiggling; you're just going to hurt yourself."
Yoona spit fiercely at Daehyun, causing the latter to grimace distastefully. With the sleeve of his blazer, Daehyun wiped away any excess saliva and sighed, tilting her chair back upright. "Stay still, Yonghee," he uttered softly.

Yoona kicked him in the chin; Daehyun, as a result, stumbled back, clutching his wounded leg. He grimaced, but the monotonous expression remained, his features void of any vulnerable emotions. "You can be as stoic as you want," Yoona snapped. "I'm not going anywhere.. let me out."
"You said you weren't going anywhere, though," Yongguk pointed out, tightening the jacket rather than loosening it. He strapped her even more onto the chair, chaining her to the table now, so she wouldn't be able to re-commit her frivolous acts of attempted escape. "So we'll oblige to that."
"You son of a , that wasn't what I meant!" the other party argued, squirming desperately in her seat.

Daehyun pulled Yongguk back before the latter could launch at Yoona. "Leave."
The elder male glanced increduously at his younger momenatarily, before nodding slowly. "I'll be right outside --"
"I won't be needing you," Daehyun voiced softly, a determined glint resonating behind his twinkling irises. Daehyun crouched before Yoona with a grunt, hearing the click of the door echo across the room. "Talk to me," he ordered casually, placing his forefinger onto his lip. A thoughtful pose, he was in; a bemused look traveled nonchalantly across his profile as Daehyun's gaze lingered upon Yoona's contemptuous features.

Meticulously, she examined his immutable eyes, scoffing beneath her breath. "I've got nothing to say to you --"
"Now that," Daehyun interjected rudely, an accusing finger lifting to point at Yoona, "is a lie. You have a lot to say to me; you just don't know where to start."
"You bast --"
"How about you start with how you feel about me?" Daehyun suggested casually, leaning back onto the table as he recomposed his posture.

He crossed his arms. "What do you see in me? What makes you so angry? Why do I make you so mad?"
"You're a man. You're a pathetic species looking for nothing but ; you only want to harm women!" Yoona cried ferociously. 
"Tell me," Daehyun remarked promptly. "When you look at me --"
"I see a monster! An old balding monster is what I see! You're fat and ugly; nobody wants to be with you! That's why eventually you're going to force me to --"
"To what?" Daehyun whispered, slowly approaching Yoona's quivering figure. She hunched over, her arms crossed tightly across her chest beneath the tight fabric strangling her trembling form. Her shouldres slumped tiredly and her disheveled hair fell into her eyes, shielding the watery eyelids from Daehyun's probing sight.

"You're going to force me into.. You're just like him -- everyone is," Yoona grunted fiercely, her voice raspy with woeful disgust. She scrunched up her nose, eyes crinkling with hostile hatred. "You're ugly and fat. Fat and ugly. Bald and gross. You disgust me and gross me --"

Yoona' eyes widened as Daehyun began to unlock her jacket. She wriggled, squirming futilely to escape his wandering hands. It wasn't until she was fully released when Daehyun grabbed her hands tightly just as she was about to punch him. She thrashed weakly about in his gruff hold, squealing and shouting against Daehyun's favor.

"Stop moving," the young prosecutor ordered gently. Tenderly, his hand caressed her bare arms, rubbing up and down to radiate warmth into her cold, shivering frame. "Stop moving."
"Stop touching me," she whispered redundantly, pushing him away. "Don't touch me, you can't touch me, stop touching me!"

Daehyun sighed shakily, feeling his heart wrench with sympathetic pity. He took a light hold of her hands, his slender fingers enveloping her digits slightly. "Trust me - I'm here to help - so trust me," he stated, voice barely above a timid whisper. Yoona squeezed her eyes shut, as if bracing for the worst. Slowly, however, she fluttered them open, incredulously gaping at Daehyun as he lifted her hands to cup his cheeks.
His fingers interlaced with hers, guiding her slim hands tenderly as he moved them to caress his defined cheekbones and jawline. "Do I feel ugly and fat to you?" Daehyun whispered painfully.

Slowly, he traced his lips with her fingers, rubbing his eyelids gently with her palms. "I look nothing like your father, yet you see me as him," he retorted languidly. "Why?"
She was silent, blinking as a flabberghasted expression crossed her distorted features.
"Because you're deluded, Yonghee," Daehyun said. "You're so heavily influenced by your trauma, you're losing sight, losing touch of reality. You need to stop," he demanded, giving her a light shake. "Stop."

Her eyes fluttered, flickering slightly before she scowled, ripping her hands away. Her lips trembled with trepidation, a tingling sensation lingering mysteriously atop her fingertips. "You stop," she barked back fiercely. "What are you doing to me?"
"I'm just trying to help --"
"I don't need your help!"
"You just don't want it!" Daehyun shouted back, taking the other party by fervent surprise. Daehyun's silhouette shook with impatience and penetration frustration. "I don't need your help: that's all you say, that's all you think. Why can't you just for once, accept what I'm trying to do for you? You're a sick killer. Yoona doesn't exist. She shouldn't, she doesn't have to, Yonghee. You're just letting her control you -- don't let a traumatizing past ruin your life; you could go so far!"

"Stop it," Yoona growled, clutching her head tightly. 

"You have to trust me," Daehyun restated, walking slowly toward her.

Eventually, the elder had Yoona cornered, his eye focused upon her cowering, flinching figure. Tears leaked from her eyes, cascading down her reddened cheeks with hostile woe. She bit on her lip, a confusion crossing her distraught profile as she locked eyes with Daehyun. Determination streaked his sculpted feat. Courageously, before she could even blink, Daehyun reached out to her, despite her profuse protests, and pulled her into a tight embrace.

His arms locked around her, enveloping her securely into his grasp. Her wriggling reduced submissively, and she soon fell limp in his hold. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered into her ear softly. Daehyun's knitted eyebrows furrowed deeper together, feeling her hot tears seep through the fabric of his outerwear. He held her tighter, feeling her clutch the front of his shirt with her clenched fists.

She bawled relentlessly, her limpen form stuck in his grip like a rotten vegetable. She was weak, and frail, drowning in her own self-despair. Daehyun sighed, the small of her back affectionately, as his other hand moved to smooth out the tangles in her dark hair. She continued to weep into the junction in between his shoulder and neck, tears slipping out of her eyes like the rain falling from the skies. 

Silence overwhelmed them, closing in on the two figures inside the room in a dark, mysterious abyss of pity and contempt. She was the first, however, to break it.

"What's wrong with me?" she wailed.

"Just some things."

"Fix me."

"Anything for you."