"People hating me doesn't faze me. People loving me...that would be concerning."
A group of criminals with supernatural powers are getting ready for the biggest heist of their lives, but for it to work they need Kimhan the Executioner.
However, it'...
— so fragile, just the thought of breaking you was breaking me too —
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What would you do if you rip open your chest in front of someone and tell them your most vulnerable truth and all you get in return is silence as if you didn't say anything at all?
In Kim's case, he swallowed the bitter taste of feeling unwanted which was a little too close to how his childhood self felt all those years ago and tried to keep talking. The more he would talk to sooner he would forget about that grave silence burying his vulnerable truth six feet under.
If only he could get out of his chaos-consumed mind.
Maybe it was too soon to say that. At the moment those words slipped his dry lips, Kim had no idea why he spoke them out loud. He merely wanted to taste them on his lips, quietly, secretly as if it was something forbidden, a sin that even evil like Kimhan shouldn't be committing.
But it got out of his control, his voice with a life of its own, gained on its intensity and let the sin stain Kim's soul and haze the air between them.
Kim wondered if one day Chay would be willing to see him clearly. To see every carefully hidden scar and bruise Kim wore on his mind, that was blended in his soul, wrapped tied around his heart, and imprinted on his skin.
He wondered.
He wondered if after what he had done to Chay, there was somewhere a world in which Kim could hope for that.
Kim wanted to apologise to Chay. He didn't know when that feeling sparked inside of him but it was there and it was growing stronger, its thorns entwining themself around Kim's ribcage, making it harder to breathe, settled lazily on his chest, they were waiting for Kim to at least once in his life do the right thing. And then, maybe then they would disappear.
But Kim wanted to apologise to Porchay, not to the empty shell of Porchay that was in front of him right now. Kim knew that shell was empty only for him and full for everyone else.
And he knew that it was his own fault.
And he hated himself for it.
And he knew that it was nothing compared to how much Porchay must have hated him.
Thinking about it, a little part of Kim started to hate itself already when he carved in the first letter. Porchay looked so small, so fragile, his rosy tears-stained cheeks contrasting with the smeared black eyeliner just like the good in Porchay contrasting with the darkness in Kim's soul.
Kim never felt sympathy for those he had tortured, never had to force his hand to push harder, to dig deeper, to twist faster, and yet when he was carving the second letter into Chay's chest he almost stopped, almost dropped the knife and hugged Chay instead. He wasn't completely honest when he said to Porchay that the reason why he was talking too much was to distract Porchay so that Kim's new toy won't feel too much pain. Yes, part of the reason was that he didn't want Porchay to feel too much pain but the main reason was that he had to distract himself from his own mind that was screaming at him to stop. It never screamed at him to stop before.
