Long Journey || ATEEZ

Mingi's Wound

2014

"Look at him, he might actually be useful."

"Look at how tall he is, and those eyes as well."

"If we dress him up right, he'll have Taerryans running for their lives left right and centre."

The three Reds looked at the tall, 14-year-old fairy.

"Well, the offer seems valid enough. We're running low on recruits, anyway." The first one, tall with an ugly scar running down his shaven head, turned to the boy's father. "Mr. Song, we will take your offer, and therefore cut the payment down to 6000 lykr per month."

Mr. Song failed to hide his elation. The fairy boy felt something — was it disgust? — slide down his stomach, and his knees collapsed.

"We'll have to get rid of those wings, though," the second Red said, inspecting the boy's gossamer, baby-pink wings.

"Of course," Mr Song said breathlessly. "We'll fix him up with an appointment at Heaven Hospital right away. He should be ready for work the day after tomorrow."

Dread wormed its way down the boy's throat as the words were uttered. No...not his wings! Panic scurried across his face, but he was powerless as his father shook hands with the lead gangster.

The three Reds grinned.

"Thank you for your cooperation," the first one said, and they left.

1 year later

One year. It had been one year since Mingi had been sold off to the Cherries gang so that his so-called parents could keep up with their debt. One year since his wings had been surgically removed, and one year since he'd started working with the dirtiest, blood-thirstiest gang in the city of Taerrya.

He sighed as he headed over to his office and adjusted his thick black glasses. He may have been a Green – better off than Browns – but at most, he had only the tiniest bit more authority than them. If there was a hierarchy between Greens (which there wasn't meant to be, but out of the boss and the Reds' sight, the gang members did whatever they pleased), then Mingi was at the bottom. Rock bottom.

And it wasn't like he had a chance of clawing his way up to the top of that hierarchy either. Not when Kang Jisu existed. Mingi shivered at even the mere thought of the 15-year-old that had made his life even more of a misery than it already was. Everyday since that cold day one year ago, he had been forced to endure horrible beatings, endless teasing, and isolation.

Which, to be honest, was way worse than the beatings.

Jisu had threatened the other Greens their age that the moment they made friends with Mingi, they were dead meat. So, of course, everybody started to avoid him like the plague. More than they'd initially done, of course. It was definitely the worst part; Mingi was in tears every night knowing that even if he had just one other peer to talk to, his life would be that less depressing. It was a sad reality of his.

As for his job: Song Mingi was only fourteen years old, but already he had been entrusted to deal with the various hostages, captives and prisoners of the gang. He would interview them, interrogate them, or talk to them — whichever you preferred — then write down these findings. Afterwards, somebody else would decide their fate.

When Mingi had first been taken in by Cherries, they'd shown him what happened to prisoners that were fated to death. And it had been a horrifying experience; one that had jarred him to the very bone.

* * *

"You're late," Sejun, the Red in charge of this faction, said. A frown outlined his face, a familiar, hostile look in his eye, and Mingi realised, with a sinking feeling, he'd angered his boss again.