Department Zero | NCT Dream

Background Check #3: Na Jaemin

.......|......Candidate.....Na Jaemin.....Age 21......|compiling.....compiling.....

Candidate's Name: Na Jaemin
Age: 21
DoB: 13 August, 2000

Strengths: Genius level IQ, ability to learn and understand almost everything, memory is incredibly and he has an incredible resilience despite what happened in his youth, strong mind, very firm belief in the supernatural despite his education as a man of science, potential candidate for mythology expert, better fitted to be the teams exclusive chemist.

Weaknesses: socially awkward, failure to establish good connections with others, horrible in the field, close to no emotional empathy or understanding

- Review done by Candidate Supervisor Lee Taeyong

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[14 years earlier]

Stuffy and smelling of moth balls, Na Jaemin had found himself tucked into an ancient armoire, tears filling his eyes and snot running from his nose. The seven-year-old's bottom lip trembled and he let out an uncontrollable sob. 

"P-please l-l-let me-e o-o-out," he managed to stutter out, his balled up fist hitting the locked door, or what he hoped was the door, for darkness obscured much of his vision. Snickers sounded from around the wardrobe and Jaemin let out another sob, pain panging through his heart at the mindless torture he had been subject to. 

"You deserve to be in there!" a jeering voice responded to his pleading cries, Jaemin's bottom lip trembling more furiously as he wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them closer to his chest. He hated it here. 

"I-I-I d-didn't do-o any-anything," Jaemin whimpered softly and a small yelp escaped from his lips as something slammed against the side of the armoire, cackling and frightening laughs circling around him such as a pack of hyenas circled it's prey. He didn't do anything!

But the laughing didn't cease, and Jaemin could only tuck his head down as more slams shook the locked armoire that they had shoved him into. 

Freak

Freak

Freak

The mantra repeated over and over again, Jaemin's mind wailing in pain. Just when Jaemin thought he couldn't possibly bare it any longer, a shout came from outside his personal hell and the pattering of feet running out of the room ensued. It was only a moment longer before a saving stream of light appeared and dashed across Jaemin's teary eyes. 

A hand extended out towards him and he flinched away, struggling a little as the hand wrapped around his twig-like arm and pulled him from the confines of  the carved wooden chamber. 

"Jaemin, you have to learn to stand up to them or they'll just keep hurting you," the strict, lecturing tone scolded him and cut sharply across his ears, even if the words reflected a spark of a semblance of care and love.

His small, knowing, and burning eyes flickered up to take in the person who had saved him -- the person who had always saved him. Madame TouMonde: the primary caretaker of the orphanage. A middle-aged women who traveled to South Korea from France during a Catholic mission. 

Rich brown hair pulled back into a bun, she always had a look of unpleasantness, nose turned up in disgust as she looked down in disappointment. She was strict, but Jaemin understood that she had to be, for there were close to twenty kids in that orphanage that needed attending to.