“Ah, we’re dead, Suho,” I said to him when I sensed his body behind me.

“I don’t think so,” he said and to my surprise, he walked to the man and talked with him. I was shocked. Again, I’m confused. “I guess you stick to your words,” Suho told the Betrayer.

Wait, what? Did they connive to get me out of that mansion of hell?

The old man half-smiled and nodded firmly to the serious Suho, and as what I watched, he tapped him on his shoulder. Uh, I’m not getting it, really.

“Jun—“

“Suho,” he said. “I’m Suho.”

The Betrayer, though there’s an obvious discontent, smiled and continued, “Suho, you have to drive her away from here. There’s only 10 minutes for that.”

The white young man nodded and turned to me, dragged me away. But I managed to stop and faced the man who has been warm to me since I got in that mansion. He’s not scared the hell out of me nor hurt me like what the monster did to me.

“Wait!” I shrieked. He looked at me. “Thank you, kind Betrayer,” I said, so low that only I could hear. But the man nodded and half-smiled.

Just then, the ever bipolar Suho dragged me to his motorbike and made me ride on it. I was feeling uneasy because he wrapped my arms around his body. I tried redeeming them but he warned me that if I do, he’ll throw me down and let me die. I can’t risk that. I just agreed. He’s looking so angry right now and I’m worried he’d do it.

With a roaring sound, we drove off. But before we could finally disappear from the Betrayer’s sight, I looked back at him. There’s something between him and Suho, that’s what I noticed. They seemed attached yet having this feeling of hatred in them. It’s a bit broken observation and it might be just an illusion. With the pain and distress I’ve gotten in that mansion, it’s sure going to mess with my head.

But I’m glad. I’m glad that I am saved and that Suho saved me from my supposed to be death tomorrow. I’m glad he’d shown that he cares for me. But then, I’m not that sure. There is always guilt that can always be mistaken as feelings. But what I am feeling for him is surely not guilt, but true feelings. And it knowing he wouldn’t feel the same because if he does, he’d have not lied to me about his true identity or about being such an innocent typical