Someone's pov:

It was midnight in Seoul.

The streets were quiet, and a black car stopped at a red light.

Inside, an 18-year-old boy slowly opened his eyes. His head was heavy, and everything felt strange. He looked around—Four men, silent, rough-looking, were asleep in the car.

His heart started pounding.

Something felt wrong.

Then, a flash of memories he couldn't fully grab. Panic crawled into his chest.

Without thinking, he reached for the door and stepped out. But before he could run— A hand shot out.

One of the men was awake. He grabbed the boy's T-shirt, pulling him back with force.

" Where do you think you're going? "

The man growled.

The boy struggled hard. He twisted, kicked desperately. His T-shirt ripped, but he didn't stop. He threw himself out of the car and bolted down the street.

He didn't look back.

He ran like the night was chasing him.

His bare feet slapped the pavement.

Cold wind burned his lungs.

But he didn't stop—He couldn't stop.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he turned a corner and stopped.

Breathing hard, he spotted a narrow staircase beside a bar. He rushed down the basement.

There, he found a small basement door. It was dark inside, but he didn't care.

He slipped into the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

In the darkness, he leaned against the wall and let out a deep breath. For a moment—he felt safe.

Out of nowhere, the pitch-black room lit up with a sharp beam of light right in the center.

The boy froze.

His breath caught in his throat, Heart pounding like a drum.

He had no clue where he was moments ago, he was running, running from them.

And now this.

He crouched low, hiding behind a broken door, and slowly peeked through the crack.

His eyes widened.

In the middle of the room sat a man tied to a chair.

He looked around 50, maybe older.

His shirt was soaked in dried blood, His face was bruised, lips split, one eye swollen shut.

He looked like he'd been beaten for hours and was barely alive.

The boy's stomach turned.

Then he heard footsteps.

Not from inside the room but from behind him.

The boy slowly turned his head.

The entrance door creaked open, A shadow moved in the hallway—Tall, Slow, Heavy boots on the floor.

The boy flinched.

A cold shiver ran down his spine.

Fear. Darkness. Obsession.

It was like something evil had just entered the room.

And it was getting closer.

The boy didn't dare move. He pressed his back against the cold wall, barely breathing.

He looked at the man entering the room.

His eyes were like storm clouds, dark, obsessed, full of something twisted.

It wasn't just anger in his eyes—It was something deeper.

A kind of cold rage that had been waiting for too long.

One hand stayed buried in his pocket.

The other held a cigarette, burning slowly.

He looked like he had total control, Powerful, Calm But deadly.

He just stepped into the hallway with the calm of a predator slow and sure.

He placed the cigarette between his lips and took a long drag—

Smoke swirled around his face and throat, giving him the look of a king walking into his kingdom.

His black suit was clean, sharp, and professional like someone important—

Someone dangerous.

The boy watched in silence, frozen with fear.

The boy felt it in his bones: this man wasn't here to talk.

He was here to finish something.

The boy watched from behind the door, his breath shaky, his body frozen in fear.

The man in the black suit walked slowly toward the old tied man.

With each step, silence grew heavier like the room itself was holding its breath.

He crouched down to the man's level, eyes burning with something more than hate—

It was anger.

Betrayal.

Obsession.

Control.

A twisted smirk crept onto his lips.

The old man's head hung low, barely awake, like death was already wrapping its fingers around him.

But that wasn't enough.

The man brought the cigarette to his lips. Took one long drag—

Then pressed the burning tip into the man's exposed hand.

A scream tore through the room.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air.

And at that moment the old man came back to life.

Just like the man wanted.

He smiled—

A devil's smile.

Behind the door, the boy's entire body shook.

He had never seen anything like this and never felt this kind of terror.

Not even in his worst nightmares.

Tears filled his eyes.

And then, a sound escaped his mouth— Small, Broken, Fearful.

He quickly slapped his hand over his lips, but it was too late.

The man heard it.

His eyes shifted slowly, like a wolf scenting blood.

Then he turned.

His gaze cut through the room like a knife.

And he knew.

He wasn't alone.

He walked forward slowly, calmly, and deadly. His boots echoed against the floor like a countdown.

The boy sat frozen behind the door, dressed in torn clothes, his soft pale skin scratched and shaking.

His crop top hung off his frame, revealing a fragile—milky waist.

He held both hands over his mouth, eyes full of tears, trying not to cry.

But the fear was louder.

He shut his eyes tight, trying to disappear.

But the man stopped and—

Stared.

What he saw wasn't just a frightened boy.

He saw something beautiful.

A trembling, soft, broken beauty.

He licked his bottom lip slowly,

Thinking.

Imagining.

Then the boy's soft sobs reached him delicately, real.

And it broke something in him.

He stepped closer and gently pulled the boy to his feet.

The boy's body was light, almost weightless. He looked like he hadn't eaten properly in weeks.

Still, his shape was hauntingly perfect like someone had crafted him just to be—desired.

The man's eyes scanned every inch of him,his trembling hands, his torn skin, his delicate neck, his waist, exposed and pure.

Then he spoke. Voice low. Cold but curious.

" Hey, little thing...what are you doing here? "

The boy didn't answer.

He stared at the floor, tears falling silently.

" Do you even know where you are? "

The man asked again, voice firmer.

" This is the basement of Min's Bar... You're not supposed to be here "

Still no answer.

Only soft, shaking sobs.

The man's patience cracked.

His hand gripped the boy's wrist tight—Hard enough to bruise.

The boy gasped in fear, crying harder now.

The sound made the man pause. 

He looked at the boy again.

Then his voice changed.

Softer now. Almost gentle.

" My name is Yoongi... Tell me yours, boy "

The boy looked up, barely able to see through the tears.

Their eyes met.

And for a split second—Yoongi's breath caught in his throat.

He had never seen eyes like this before.

So scared.

So full of pain.

But still— beautiful.

" J-J-Ji-min... "

The boy whispered his name, barely a sound at all.

Then his body gave up.

Too much fear.

Too much pain.

He collapsed into Yoongi's arms.

And for the first time in a long—long time.

Yoongi felt something he couldn't explain.

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