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The first to awaken from the sedation was the eldest of the group. Seokjin's head throbbed, his vision blurred as he tried to piece together his surroundings. The air was thick and heavy, tinged with the unbearable stench of stale urine. His charcoal eyes flickered across the dimly lit room, where a single lightbulb hung above a row of creaky chairs, casting long, grotesque shadows against the walls. The emptiness of the space was suffocating, and the silence was broken only by his shallow breathing.
To his left, he could barely make out the outlines of Taehyung, Jimin, and Minjun, while on the other side, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Hoseok were similarly bound to their chairs. Each of them, like Seokjin, had their wrists and ankles cruelly fastened to the unstable metal frames.
"Pleasant sleep?" A voice, ragged and mocking, slithered through the air. It was unsettling, a strange blend of amusement and menace.
Seokjin's head snapped toward the sound, his heart hammering in his chest. "Who's there?" His voice, shaky and hoarse, was barely above a whisper.
The voice was silent, but Seokjin could hear the soft, deliberate scuffing of shoes on the dusty floor. He felt his pulse quicken, panic rising like bile in his throat. His breath became shallow, and his body tensed involuntarily. Then, the groans and whimpers of the others began—soft, strangled sounds of men waking to the same nightmare.
"What's going on?" Seokjin's eyes darted around, landing on Taehyung. The younger man's face was a mask of fear, his wide eyes glistening with unshed tears. Seokjin's voice faltered, but he forced himself to speak. "It's okay. Just relax."
Before Taehyung could respond, the door at the far end of the room crashed open with a deafening bang, the hinges screeching in protest. Seokjin flinched, squinting as the sudden flood of light stung his eyes. The room seemed to expand before his eyes, the shadows retreating to the corners where they had no place to hide.
"Is this all of them?" The voice was cold and calculating, its owner stepping into the room with deliberate steps. A tall, imposing figure, surrounded by a few of his men, entered with the air of someone used to inflicting fear.
He looked down at each of them, eyes narrowing as he took his time, almost savoring the moment. When his gaze landed on Minjun, the youngest of them, his expression turned into a sneer.
"Tell me, this is your little brother from BTS?" His words dripped with mockery, and the sound of his laughter filled the room, sharp and unnerving. "What kind of gangster pisses himself?"
Minjun's face flushed crimson with shame, his eyes wild with terror. He recoiled as the man approached, whimpering in his seat, but his eyes sought Seokjin's. Desperate, pleading—an unspoken request for help.
Seokjin's heart clenched, and he glanced toward the others. Namjoon's calm demeanour stood in stark contrast to the panic building in the younger boy's eyes. Minjun's lips quivered, and through a strangled breath, he finally spoke.
