Answers - Minho Book III

Chapter 1

Lynn settles down in her chair, crossing her legs and regarding me with that piercing gaze of hers. 

"Can't say it's nice to see you again, -"  She quickly cuts herself short, conflict flickering in her eyes. I raise an eyebrow at her in question. 

"(Y/n)," she says finally, making a slight face, the name seemingly foreign to her. I shift uneasily, feeling a bristle of irritation that my name doesn't seem to quite feel right anymore. An uncomfortable silence descends, Lynn averting her eyes to the floor. I clear my throat. 

"That's not my real name, is it?" 

"No," she sighs. "It's not." She looks up at me again, the corner of her lips tugging up into a small smile. "Surely you don't think someone in their right mind named their child Newt, out of all names?" 

"You never know." I grin at her. 

"Would you like to know your real name?" she offers nonchalantly. 

I freeze, drawing in a sharp intake of breath. Here was a chance, a chance to find out more about my past. Even if it was something as little as just a name. 

"My- my real name..." Lynn raises an eyebrow. I scan her face for clues, feeling lost, but her face betrays nothing. 

"If you told me my name, would that make me remember... more?" 

"I don't know, (y/n). Perhaps you would remember everything, perhaps it'd just give you a split personality disorder." Despite the situation, I let out a small chuckle. 

"No," I say finally. "I don't want to know. Don't tell me. I'm... fine with the way things are now." 

Lynn huffs. "I thought so." An awkward silence descends again.

"So... what are we doing?" 

"Oh. Right." Lynn cocks her head, her mouth breaking into a dangerous smile. 

"Would you be up for a sparring session, for old times sake?"

I blink stupidly. "What? You called me here to spar?" My brows furrow in confusion. "Am I not a prisoner here?" 

Lynn props her feet up on the table, mirroring my movements when I first entered the room. I watch her with slight amusement, wondering if she was the one who taught me my mannerisms. And attitude.

"Well, technically, you are. But in case you have not noticed yet, I have somewhat of a higher authority in this facility, which means you're my prisoner. For now." She smiles sweetly at me. 

I roll my eyes. "And here I was, thinking I'm about to get interrogated to death." 

"Oh, don't worry, I'm definitely asking you some questions." Lynn uncrosses her legs and places her palms on the table, leaning forwards. Her hair tickles my face, her lips now positioned directly next to my ear. 

"But the walls here have ears, (y/n)," she whispers so softly I could have imagined it. 

-----

A bunch of twists and turns and long corridors later, Lynn leads me into a large training room. The room is empty of people, with a large blue mat in the center. Lynn strolls over to a nearby pile of equipment thrown lazily in a heap on the floor, toeing through the padded vests and guards. Her nose crinkles in distaste.

I kick my shoes off, stepping onto the mat. A small burst of adrenaline courses through me at the idea of sparring with Lynn, an old partner that I've unfortunately forgotten. 

"We don't need that equipment." Lynn turns sharply, gaze dropping to my bare feet. 

"I suppose we don't if you're that confident in not getting hurt." Lynn pulls out a device from her back pocket, fiddling with it momentarily. I wince as an unfamiliar song suddenly blasts from unseen speakers, drowning the room in noise.