There was a story Yoseob’s grandmother used to tell him. A legend of the house, if you will. It was interesting, terrifyingly so but still interesting. You see, the story was one that many would not like to hear, but with Yoseob’s personality and interests, it appealed to him too much than it should to any normal person. Maybe it was because Yoseob was simply not normal. And his grandmother could tell that, could tell the torturers that was simply his own self was ripping at his mind, his judgements, making everything disgusting and grey seem wonderfully beautiful to him.