(A/N: Hi! I... don't have a good explanation for why this update took so long. 

So, over the next couple of days I'm going to post some new story summaries. I have another supernatural AU I'm working on (vampires!) and two western AUs, but this story is going to be my main focus. Since it's nearly October and scary stories are MADE for this time of year, my plan right now is to have this finished by Halloween.

Good news about this chapter: if you've forgotten what happened in the first couple of chapters, this one should jog your memory. :) Thanks for your patience!

Oh, and please check out the new header images, made by ramendates /peculiarnuisance at this tumblr post.)

-

The drive takes them out of the city streets and onto a lazy road, lifting uphill until the mountains seem like a destination instead of a backdrop. Finally, Leeteuk’s car turns onto a private lane thick with trees, the sloped roof of a hanok coming into view. The tires of their cars kick dust into the dry air as the pavement gives way to crushed gravel.

“Woah.” Hyukjae slides the gear shift into park and Donghae ducks his head to get a good view from behind the windshield. “Is this the right place?”

Ahead of them, Leeteuk steps out of his car. Before either of them even unbuckle themselves, the heavy wooden door opens in front of the house and a man comes down the step. He says something to Leeteuk that Hyukjae can’t make out.

“Looks like it,” Donghae replies. The hanok seems to be the reason the drive had sent them to the mountains: it looks older in parts, but the houses are linked together with obvious remodeling. An older home, especially a drafty one like this, means they’re probably looking at a family whose children have active imaginations and have heard one-too-many ghost story at school. Hyukjae thinks this will be an easy one to explain.

Donghae gets out of the car, startling him. When Hyukjae climbs out and shuts the drivers’ side door, he sees Donghae standing at his still open door, squinting at the home with a frown.

Hyukjae can admit when he’s too quick to judge, at least. “Donghae?”

Before he can respond Leeteuk is heading over to them with the other man in tow. “Lee Donghae-ssi, Lee Hyukjae-ssi, this is Kim Youngwoon,” he introduces with his dimpled smile, looking less anxious then he had at the university. They exchange polite bows.

“You can call me Kangin. The kids do.” When he smiles, Kangin’s eyes crinkle up good-naturedly.

Donghae snaps out of his distraction at this, smiling in return. It’s his business smile, mouth a flat line but the sincerity in the shape of his eyes makes up for it. “Well-met. Leeteuk said something’s frightening your kids?”

“Not just the kids,” Kangin admits. “You can come inside, if you want to do – uh. Whatever it is… you do.”

Hyukjae laughs, bounding ahead – probably impolitely, but he wants to get this show on the road. “You’ll see. Or hopefully you won’t see, if we don’t find anything. That would be best, right?” He grins back at them, but the answering smile on Leeteuk’s face isn’t the dimpled kind and Kangin still looks dubious. Donghae is following behind, distracted again.

Hyukjae is polite enough to wait and let the couple invite them into their home first. He nudges his shoulder against Donghae’s while Leeteuk’s friendly voice calls out to the children for “meeting time, quickly!” and raises his eyebrows when Donghae looks over: everything ok? Donghae just smiles flatly with his eyebrows lifted: not sure yet.

Two children come into the entryway and bow politely. One of them is tiny, probably only a couple of years older than Ara, his bow timid but careful. Hyukjae glances over to see Donghae’s reaction – no doubt he’ll be going on about how cute the kid is on the drive home – but he’s just in time to catch a worried expression on Donghae’s face before he schools it into a warm smile.

Another child comes in behind the two. And from the other direction, two more. The size of the house makes a little more sense now.

The oldest probably can’t be considered a kid, he looks like he’s at least old enough to be in high school. He gathers the other four into order and, with a muttered countdown, makes them all bow and chorus a “hello!”

“My name is Sungmin,” the oldest says, “and these are Shindong, Yesung, Kibum, and the youngest there is Ryeowook.”

“These are Hyukjae-ssi and Donghae-ssi, and they’re our guests,” Leeteuk cuts in pointedly.

“Are you here to kill the ghosts?” says Shindong. Kangin palms his forehead.

Hyukjae laughs. “We don’t know if there are any ghosts, but if there are, we’ll do our best, okay?”

“You can’t kill ghosts, they’re already dead,” Yesung puts in, and then furrows his brow. “Can you?”

“Not ghosts,” says Donghae, and Hyukjae almost startles – he’d been so quiet since they drove up. Donghae turns to Leeteuk and Kangin, business-like again. “Can you show us what you’ve been experiencing?”

“Show you?”

“We like to get a feel of the house,” Hyukjae clarifies. “And to try and figure out what’s causing the disturbances if it’s not paranormal.”

The children shuffle their feet. “Guys, can you play outside for a bit?” asks Leeteuk. Yesung tears out of the house almost instantly, tugging the youngest behind him. Shindong looks uncertain but follows suit, and the one who hasn’t spoken yet, Kibum, goes without complaint.

“Can you watch them?” Leeteuk asks Sungmin. He opens his mouth to reply, glancing between Hyukjae and Donghae, but closes it without saying anything and follows the others.

“They’re amazing,” Donghae remarks once it’s just the four of them in the house. Kangin nods proudly.

The room they’re in is long and unfurnished save for a desk along the back wall. Hyukjae gestures to it, some things beginning to make a little more sense. “So this is a guesthouse?”

“It was supposed to be,” Leeteuk says. “We’d like to try and get it operating one day when the kids are older, but no, we didn’t buy this to be a guesthouse. It was sold in foreclosure. They told us the previous owners spent a lot of money on permits and repairs, but they left it as-is before they started taking guests and stopped paying.”

“We figured they ran out of money,” Kangin adds.

Hyukjae taps his fingers against his thigh. Pretty soon he’s going to have to stop telling himself there’s nothing paranormal going on here, but he – he wants to take Donghae home. He sighs, resigned. “Renovations like that, when people start tearing down walls and changing things, often stir up paranormal activity. Spirits who have gotten comfortable start to get upset, and they usually let you know it.”

“When did you start noticing activity?” Donghae asks, but Hyukjae knows he means where.

“Um, the first morning after we moved in?” Kangin phrases the question at Leeteuk, who nods.

“In the one of the kids’ rooms. There was a smell like something had died in the walls, but we didn’t think anything of it until we noticed it in other places of the house.”

Hyukjae’s stomach drops. He looks at Donghae, who doesn’t seem surprised to hear it. “Can you show us?”

The house is set up with a large common room in the center, sparsely furnished with a couch, various cushions strewn about, and a fireplace. There’s a TV set up in there as well, cords blooming from the back and plugged into a power strip, video game controllers piled on top.

“We slept in here for what, a week?” Kangin remarks.

“All of you?”

“Yeah. Felt safer to be all together. Sorry it’s so cold. It used to just be kind of drafty in here, but now it’s just cold all the time, even with the floors heated.”

“Heating won’t help,” Donghae remarks. “It’s not a natural kind of cold.”

They continue walking, but Leeteuk sneaks a look at Donghae over his shoulder. Hyukjae looks too, but Donghae’s attention is elsewhere. Usually they wouldn’t say that sort of thing on a first meeting because they can’t prove that activity is unnatural just yet.

They keep following through to one of the wings leading off the north wall of the common room. Donghae is dragging his feet, though, casting his eyes around the common room again before he exits. Still, he says nothing about what he might be thinking and Hyukjae is itching to know what’s going on in his head. He isn’t usually this absent during investigations.

They turn a corner and enter a hallway lined with doors, all of them slid open to reveal rooms full of the children’s things. Despite toys and dressers and posters on the walls, none of the rooms look lived-in.

“So, this is where it started,” Leeteuk says. “First with the smell that I mentioned before –“

“No, it was the mirrors.”

They all turn to look at Kangin. “The mirrors were all broken when we woke up the morning after we moved in.”

Hyukae lifts his eyebrows. “Every mirror in this wing?”

“Every mirror in the house. I almost forgot about that.” Leeteuk’s face looks pinched and worried. “We replaced them. But Kangin had to go back to Seoul for a few days and when he was gone, we were all woken up by the banging.”

“Banging?” Donghae finally speaks up. “What kind of banging?”

“In intervals. Exactly on the hour at one, two, and three.”

“Loud banging too,” Kangin adds, “It would shake the doors. That’s why they’re all open now.”

Donghae nods, reaching out to run a hand along one of the doorframes. “Three knocks, right?”

“How did you know that?”

Hyukjae looks between the two of them and sighs, reminding himself to stay as professional as he can. Leeteuk and Kangin keep exchanging a look; Hyukjae hasn’t known either men long enough to be able to read them, but he’s done a lot of investigations. He knows that mix of relief and dread when your experiences are validated. That you’re not going crazy, but you wish you were.

“Malevolent spirits hate the divine. They like to corrupt anything that’s holy. Three repetitions – the trinity – for three hours. It’s mocking God.”

There is a silence. Leeteuk passes a hand over his face, visibly composing himself, but his voice still comes out smaller than normal when he says, “I think the children have seen it.”

Hyukjae winces. “Where?”

Leeteuk points just across the hall, into the room whose doorway Donghae still leans against. “Shindong and Kibum’s room. That was the first time. Shindong doesn’t like to talk about it.” He glances sideways at Kangin. Hyukjae doesn’t manage to catch Kangin’s expression before Leeteuk continues on. “I woke up that night because he was screaming, and when I tried to get into the room, the door wouldn’t open. It was like there was too much pressure on the other side. Eventually it just popped open and Shindong was crying, saying he saw someone in the room. Kibum claims he didn’t see anyone.”

“Okay.” Hyukjae rubs the back of his head, watching Donghae pace around the room in question, touching things here and there. He doesn’t speak up, so Hyukjae assumes there’s nothing out of the ordinary in there. “There’s a phenomenon called hypnagogia. It’s when we experience things in between waking and sleeping, like dreams that still linger. It can be very confusing. Anything that wakes a person up or is experienced just after waking is hard to prove as paranormal. Usually it’s just a trick of the mind. If Kibum didn’t see it, then it’s possible Shindong was only having hypnagogic episode.”

“But you said that was the first time. Have you seen the apparition again?” Donghae asks, stepping out of the room.

“Yes, but that was in the north wing. Shindong didn’t see it then, it was Sungmin and Kibum who were sharing a room. They both saw it.”

Hyukjae curses under his breath. “Can you show us that room as well?”

Kangin nods his head back the way they came, toward the common room. Donghae heads down around the corner immediately, Hyukjae following at a slower pace, turning this new information over in his mind.

He’s so busy trying to think of a way to debunk the sightings that Hyukjae almost walks straight into the back of Donghae, who has stopped in the middle of the hallway.

“Donghae, what –” Following his line of sight, Hyukjae looks at the floor, where a small… something is lying in a crumpled heap, like a cloth napkin. “– is that?” he finishes. He bends to reach for it but Donghae stops him with a hand, looking at the thing curiously.

“Oh! Sorry, that, the kids found that when we moved in, I thought I threw this away?” Leeteuk trails off, leaning over and scooping the cloth easily into his hand. Hyukjae sees Donghae make an aborted movement with a hand as if to stop him, but curls his fingers back into his palm instead and drops his arm.

Hyukjae peers down the end of the hallway. He can still hear the children’s voices, muffled and far away, out the front of the house. “Everyone’s still outside?” he asks, barely waiting for Kangin to nod before motioning toward the thing in Leeteuk’s hand and saying, “That wasn’t here when we walked in, was it? Someone would have noticed.”

There’s a long pause. Donghae clears his throat gently, extending his hand palm-upward. “May I?”

The little thing tips easily into Donghae’s waiting palm. He cards his fingers through the worn, dirty strips of cloth.

“It’s an old jegi,” Kangin explains.

Donghae nods and his fingers fumble at the tight knot in the center of the cloth. Time has tugged it together too tightly, so he finds a loose thread below the knot and tugs. The bundle rips open easily, giving way like ripened fruit, and a small, dull coin tips into his palm. “Very old,” he confirms, handing the coin to Hyukjae absently.

It’s warm. The markings are tarnished around their raised edges, but still easily readable. 1 yang, it says along the side.

“Woah,” Kangin says over his shoulder, “Do you think that’s worth something?”

Hyukjae grins when Leeteuk elbows Kangin in the side. “Stop,” he chides. “I threw that away, I know I did.”

“You said the kids found it?” Donghae asks, finally looking up from his close inspection of the remaining cloth.

“Yeah, they were playing a game the day we moved in. I thought it was just junk leftover from the previous owners or something. I take it I was wrong?”

Donghae looks at Hyukjae, mouth set in a tight line. “It’s just a toy,” he tells Leeteuk, “it’s not, uh, it’s not a threat. It’s tied to positive energy. But it doesn’t make sense just yet. Can I keep this?”

Leeteuk half-shrugs, half-nods.

On the way to the north wing, they don’t pass through the common room again. Instead, they follow a hallway that runs around the perimeter of the common room, from which the other rooms of the house – which used to be separate buildings themselves – can be accessed.

There are four entrances to the common room, Hyukjae notes. Four exits to the perimeter hallway.

They pass a kitchen and what looks like a study or computer room, still partially filled with unopened boxes, presumably still packed from the move. They don’t stop in any of the rooms, save for Donghae peering through their doorways. Hyukjae hangs back to keep pace with him. He seems completely lost in his thoughts, only giving Hyukjae that polite smile of his when he nudges him with his shoulder.

The layout of the north wing is exactly like the east wing. The only difference is that the rooms down the hallway aren’t full of toys and clothes, just beds and linens, crisp like a hotel room.

“You’re not sleeping in these rooms anymore?” he ventures.

Kangin shakes his head. “No, we’re pretty much sleeping wherever we want at this point. Most of us are back our rooms.”

“I think all the kids were in Sungmin’s room when I left this morning,” Leeteuk chuckles.

“The knocking has stopped?”

“Everything pulled back a little after the other night. Since then it’s been mostly quiet, just… strange,” Kangin says.

“Strange how?”

Kangin shrugs. “Feels strange. It’s cold, it’s like everyone’s just. Waiting.”

“Was it in here?”

Three heads turn down the hallway. Donghae is standing at the doorway of one of the rooms, looking at them expectantly.

“… Yeah.” Leeteuk says. “Sungmin and Kibum were sleeping in there. It was… it was a strange night.”

“Strange how?” Hyukjae prompts softly. Leeteuk’s eyes aren’t focused, his thoughts probably back to a confusing evening that his brain has trouble processing. Most people have trouble processing this sort of thing. The brain likes logic. It doesn’t like puzzles it can’t solve.

“I woke up in the middle of the night,” Leeteuk goes on, rubbing gently at his collarbone. “I thought I heard the kids running around out of bed, playing a game and making a lot of noise. But when I went to scold them, I couldn’t find anyone. They were all in their beds. But I... heard someone. At least I thought so. Right in my ear, like a child’s voice. But the moment after I heard it, Sungmin started shouting.”

“It woke us all up,” Kangin explained. “Sungmin looked pretty shaken up, he said he saw someone in his room who didn’t look human.”

“Oh, and Shindong.” Leeteuk says this to Kangin pointedly.

“Yeah, Shindong. I guess this thing spoke to him the first time, but he was too scared to talk about it before.”

“It spoke to you?” Hyukjae meets Donghae’s raised expression. “What did it say?”

Kangin’s expression darkens immediately. “Something about an abomination of a family.”

“And, ‘She belongs to me,’” Leeteuk quotes.

Hyukjae looks at Donghae again, mouthing, she? But Donghae just shakes his head and moves forward to place a hand gently on Kangin’s back.

“Don’t worry about what it said. It was just trying to rile you up. Demons like to exploit weaknesses.”

“Demons?” Kangin echoes while Hyukjae closes his eyes, resignation dropping into his belly like a weight.

“Leeteuk-ssi, Kangin-ssi, is there a place we can all sit down? We should probably have a talk.”

-

They end up at the long kitchen table, Hyukjae and Donghae on one side, Leeteuk and Kangin on the other. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Hyukjae puts it on the table between them and pulls up the voice memo recorder “Can I make documentation?”

Leeteuk nods mutely. Hyukjae hits record and rattles off the date and time. “Can you guys just tell us your names and the full address of the house?”

They do, and Hyukjae smiles at them, continuing, “This is Lee Hyukjae and I’m here with Lee Donghae. We’ve been given permission to document and record by Park Jungsoo and Kim Youngwoon, is that correct?” They both say yes. “Sorry about that, it’s just for legality’s sake. Normally I would have you sign something for me before we even look at the house, but we had short notice today. I can bring a form by tomorrow if that’s okay?”

“Sure. Do you… often need legal help?” Kangin asks.

Hyukjae laughs a bit. “No, we’re just being careful. Most of the documentation is for our sake, and for… well, in case we need outside help. For now, can we have you two just summarize what you told us today?”

“Okay. Where, uh, where do you want us to start?”

“From the beginning,” Donghae says politely.

“Well,” Kangin starts, “We put in an offer for the house the day we saw it…”

They talk freely, mostly Leeteuk’s narration with Kangin adding notes here and there. Hyukjae shifts in his seat, letting his knee rest lightly against Donghae’s. He feels oddly cut off, Donghae’s mind elsewhere. Hyukjae tries to focus on the strange disconnect and his own agitation, hoping Donghae will pick up on it. Usually Donghae blocks out common emotion; it’s too messy, too loud. But after a minute, he does notice – Donghae moves a hand to curl his fingers around Hyukjae’s under the table. Just a quick, reassuring squeeze and then he lets go, but he’s back, focused now on the people in the room and the task at hand.

Leeteuk’s story leads up to the present. “Sungmin read about your presentation at the university over the internet and we had to try,” he concludes.

“Thanks. Donghae, you want to tell us what you know?”

Donghae nods, sitting up straighter. Here is where he usually reassures people that nothing is going to harm them, his expression so sincere and calming. But today, he just focuses on the two men before him and says, “There’s something dangerous in your home.”

It’s not new information at this point, but Leeteuk looks even more exhausted than Hyukjae thought was possible.

“I think you all feel it, which is why we’re here. Anything that can manifest physically and make its presence known on this scale is… it’s not easy to deal with. I’d say – “ he glances at Hyukjae’s phone where the voice memo app is counting up the minutes. He thinks for a minute, spreading his hands on the table. “Unofficially, since we don’t have evidence yet, I would like to say that you’re well into an infestation. Maybe even obsession. I saw it with your children. I saw it with you. It’s already angry that we’re here. I don’t… want to scare you, I just want you to know.”

Silence falls in which Donghae stares down at his hands. He doesn’t like to give bad news. He’s surprisingly good at hard truths.

“We’re going to do everything we can to help,” Hyukjae says quietly.

Kangin laughs humorlessly. “Thanks, because if I had to take this into my own hands I’d just be cursing at the air all day long. And you said it’s bothering our children? I’m -”

“Kangin, don’t.” Leeteuk sighs. “I keep trying to tell him anger is going to make things worse. I don’t want him to provoke this thing.”

 Kangin shuts his mouth, but he fidgets unhappily. Hyukjae glances at Donghae, who nods, then says, “Which is exactly what we’re going to do.”

“… What?”

Hyukjae takes a breath and folds his arms across the tabletop. “We’ll have to head home for tonight to get some equipment and see if we can dig up any information on the property, but we’d like to – if you’ll have us – do some investigating. Get some proof. Having Donghae here will go a long way towards provoking some activity. Leeteuk-ssi, you heard me talk about this earlier today, but in cases like these proof is more important than trying to satisfy any curiosity or earn credibility. We’re in a potentially dangerous situation, and if we need any help from the church, they’re going to require more than just your word.”

After some silence, Leeteuk says, “Okay. Okay?” The last he directs at Kangin, who nods.

“Whatever you have to do.”

“We can probably swing a couple hotel rooms; how long do you think –“

“You can’t leave,” Donghae cuts in. His tone is flooded with sympathy. “It won’t help. This thing is already attached to your family. I know you want to keep your sons safe, but there isn’t anywhere safe right now, please understand. Hyukjae and I are going to stop this, but we need your help, and we need to keep this contained.”

Leeteuk looks carefully into Donghae’s face, and then Hyukjae’s in turn. He says in a low voice, “How many?”

Hyukjae’s lost. “Excuse me?” he starts, but beside him Donghae says, “One. Her name is Ara. She’s three.” And Hyukjae understands.

His mind flashes on Ryeowook’s small face, how he’d immediately reminded him of their daughter. Five children, all in harm’s way. There’s no turning back.

-

Keying back into the hotel room is more subdued than it was the first time. Hyukjae files in after Donghae, body tired but brain buzzing.

Like before, Donghae flops onto the fluffy bed immediately, but unlike before, he just lays flat out and sighs heavily. The sheets are still mussed from this morning. Was it really only this morning?

His shoulders feel heavy. He must be picking up on Donghae’s mood – or maybe he’s just carrying some bad energy back from the house. It’s possible; Donghae says that all people are sensitive to paranormal energy in the right circumstances.  He doesn’t even want to think about how draining it must be for Leeteuk and Kangin’s family to be living in that house day in and day out.

“Ah,” Hyukjae whines, stretching his shoulders, “and I had such good plans for tonight.” This earns a laugh from Donghae, but it comes out sounding more like a groan. Hyukjae kneels on the bed and swings a leg over to straddle Donghae’s hips, leaning forward and supporting the weight of his upper body on his hands. He knocks his forehead gently against Donghae’s.

“I think I’m too exhausted tonight, Hyuk.”

“’S okay,” Hyukjae says lightly. If being in that house took its toll on him, he can’t imagine how Donghae must feel.

He shuffles down to settle his hips over Donghae’s thighs, curving his back so his head can rest on Donghae’s chest. Donghae’s hands immediately settle in his hair.

“You’re sure it’s demonic?” It’s been on both their minds and Hyukjae knows it, but someone has to say it. Donghae heaves out a long sigh.

“Yeah.”

There’s a long minute where neither of them say anything. It’s the first preternatural presence they’ve directly dealt with since the last possession three years ago. Hyukjae knows they have to get back up on the horse, and he knows what’s at stake for that family.

He’s about to ask if Donghae is going to be okay with this, despite his better judgment, but when Hyukjae lifts his head he sees that his eyes have closed. He waits. When he’s sure Donghae is asleep, Hyukjae eases off him slowly.

He lets him sleep. They have research to do, but Donghae isn’t likely to fall asleep very easily on his own afterward, so he needs every minute of rest he can get right now. Hyukjae’s research goes nowhere fast: he digs as far back as he can and only comes up with retail listings on the property. He’ll call the company in the morning and see if they have any history on it.

Donghae stirs awake after little more than half an hour. “Hey,” Hyukjae says, “go back to sleep,” but as soon as Donghae notices that he’s got his laptop open and the hotel room’s complementary notepad paper covered up with Hyukjae’s scrawl, he gets up.

“Find anything?”

“Nope. Sleep some more, I’ll catch you up later.”

Donghae ignores him and picks up the notepad. It’s pretty much gibberish and crossed-out leads, so he puts it back down and leans over Hyukjae’s shoulder to look at the webpage he’s on. It’s the personal page of the realtor that sold the property, and Hyukjae snags the notebook back to write down the number.

“It was turned into a guesthouse after this, right?” Donghae points at the photo on the screen, stamped with SOLD.

“Yeah, but I can’t find anything else about it. We’ll have to see what the realtors know, I’m going to call in the morning.”

“Okay. Let me see if I can learn why the guesthouse was sold,” Donghae says, scribbling the address down in his illegible handwriting. “How much documentation did you get?” He moves off, getting his personal laptop out of his suitcase and propping himself up against the pile of cushions at the head of the bed.

“Most of the walkthrough and the interview. Should be a couple hours of review, I really don’t want to transcribe right now.”

“Let’s make Kyuhyun do it.”

Hyukjae snickers but doesn’t object. Transcribing audio takes forever; he knows they’ll end up splitting the work between them like they always do. After pulling up the audio files and fitting headphones over his ears, he makes a crude drawing of the house’s layout based on memory and begins to fill in each room with information. Tomorrow they can go through it with Kyuhyun and decide where to set up all the equipment. He glances at Donghae every few minutes – he’s clicking around on this laptop with frustration in his expression, and once, Hyukjae sees him with his phone in hand, looking down at it curiously.

The first audio file ends and he draws his attention back to his laptop, opening the file that contains the interview they’d had in the kitchen. Something’s wrong.

At first he thinks there’s been a malfunction, or that the program settings have been messed with – the sound wavelengths on the timeline are interspersed with long breaks of flat lines, indicating silence. He starts playback. It’s his voice stating the date and time; introducing himself and Donghae, then Leeteuk and Kangin; Hyukjae explaining why they need to document. Then begins a few seconds of silence. Donghae’s voice comes next, saying, ”From the beginning,” followed by Kangin telling them about buying the house. More silence.

He scans the rest of the audio file to see if it’s consistent, and it’s full of inordinately long breaks in between the wavelengths. Leeteuk’s voice is nowhere on this recording. Every time he should be speaking, there’s just a flat line of silence, without even background noise. If he didn’t know better he would assume that someone went through the entire file and just replaced everything Leeteuk said with computer-generated silences. He stops scrolling when he gets near the end of the file: there’s a spike of sound, spanning three or four times the frequency of the rest of the speech wavelengths. Had someone bumped the mic?

Scrolling back, Hyukjae finds the nearest long silence that denotes Leeteuk was probably speaking and sticks the cursor in the middle of the speech wavelength before that, so he can get some idea about what was being said prior to the spike of sound. He presses play.

“… -ver you have to do.”

Silence in place of Leeteuk’s reply. Then:

“You can’t leave. It won’t help. This thing is already attached to your family. I know you want to keep your sons safe, but there isn’t anywhere safe right now, please understand. Hyukjae and I are going to stop this –“

And then Donghae’s voice is interrupted by a high-pitched squeal of static, so ear-splitting that it makes Hyukjae throw his headphones onto the table with a clatter, skin prickling with adrenaline, breathing hard. Donghae stares at him wide-eyed from across the room, the sound so loud that it can still be heard coming through the headphones’ speakers as Hyukjae mirrors his expression.

Any doubts he had about how soon this needs to be dealt with are gone.

-

Next time: Heechul.