violent delights, bangtan

12. silenced

Upon finishing your final task, you start to make your way back to where you came from; the reception. It was only your second day but it had become easier to navigate and find your way around the lavish and humongous area that seemed to be a maze at first glance.

The receptionist sits behind the counter, engrossed in filing her nails. You catch a quick glimpse of her, noting how she blows a bubble with her gum, the pink sphere expanding until it pops with a loud snap. She doesn't acknowledge your presence, her focus fixed on her nails, her demeanor radiating disinterest.

Your mind suddenly replays what was said to you by Bora when you first arrived, you vividly recalled her mentioning something to do with the case files of the patients and how due to your tardiness you were unable to go through them.

This was it. This was your opportunity to find out if what Isla was saying is true. Her voice kept repeating itself in your head, and you struggled to keep it quiet.

Making a U-Turn back to the receptionists desk, you stood in front of Bora, waiting for her to notice you. Unsurprisingly, your presence went unnoticed by her, having to clear your throat to gain her attention.

She looks up, regarding you with a look of disgust. Her lips started to form a frown and the look in her eyes screamed that she was annoyed. "What now?" she asks, dropping her nail filer and folding her arms.

"I was wondering if I could go over the case files now," you say, your voice tinged with embarrassment as you glance down at your feet. It feels awkward asking for them this late; every other volunteer had already reviewed the files on their first day. And here you are, asking to see them two days after your arrival.

"Alright, come through here," Bora sighs, her irritation becoming more obvious.

You make your way through to the reception, closely following behind her as she opens a door to a completely closed off room that you didnt even realise was there, aggressively pushing it open and waiting for you to enter.

The first thing you noticed was the overwhelming smell of dust and aged paper. The room is dimly lit, the only light coming from a flickering bulb in the corner. Rows upon rows of old metal filing cabinets line the walls, each drawer labeled with patient numbers and names in faded handwriting. It's quiet—eerily so—and you can't help but feel a chill as you step inside.

Bora gestures to the cabinets, "They're all here. Take your time, but don't touch anything you're not supposed to." Her tone is sharp, and she leaves the room, the heavy door creaking shut behind her.

You stand there for a moment, staring at the cabinets, feeling a strange mixture of anxiety and curiosity. The files—this is where the truth could be hiding. The truth about how all the boys ended up in this mental asylum.

You walk toward the first cabinet marked with an "M" for their surname. Your hands tremble as you pull open the drawer. The file on the top catches your eye first: Min Yoongi. His name, written in bold black ink, sends a shiver down your spine. You reach for it and gently pull it out.

Opening the file, the first page lists basic details: age, background, reason for admission. But something catches your eye—a missing page. It's been ripped out cleanly, leaving only a jagged edge. You frown, flipping through the remaining pages. They reveal little except generic notes about his "mental instability," vague references to hallucinations, and an incident that occurred just before his admission. The missing page feels significant, like it held the key to why he's here.

You return the file and pull out the next one: Kim Seokjin. Again, a page is missing. And once more, it's ripped from the middle of the report, just like Yoongi's.

One by one, you pull out the other files. Jung Hoseok, Kim Namjoon, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, and finally Jeon Jungkook. Every single one of them has a page mentioning a court case a couple weeks before their admission, and how the same judge gave them the same ruling. Every single one of them has a page ripped out, and each file seems to hint at something deeper—something that ties them all together.

The same diagnosis: "mental instability," followed by vague descriptions of violent outbursts, hallucinations, or paranoia. But none of it seems concrete. It all feels like a smokescreen for something darker. Your stomach churns as you begin to piece together the fragments.

They were all declared sick and placed here around the same time. But why? What had happened that led them all to be admitted under the same judge's ruling?

You spot a small, old notebook tucked at the back of the drawer. Curious, you open it. The handwriting is unfamiliar, but the notes seem to be from one of the staff members. Skimming through the pages, your eyes land on a passage that makes your blood run cold:

"The judge was paid well to ensure the boys were deemed unstable. The father oversees it all, hiding the truth. They weren't sick."

The words echo in your mind. They weren't sick. The judge was paid well.

Your pulse quickens, and you slam the drawer shut, backing away from the cabinet. This place wasn't just a mental asylum. It was a prison—one designed to bury secrets, to silence those who had stumbled upon something dangerous.

Before you can fully process the gravity of what you've uncovered, the door swings open, and Bora reappears. Her expression is unreadable, but there's a flicker of suspicion in her eyes as she glances at the open drawer behind you.

"Find what you were looking for?" she asks, her voice icy.

You swallow hard, trying to maintain your composure. "Not yet," you lie, pushing past her to leave the room.

As you walk back through the dim hallways of the asylum, one thought echoes in your mind. You've only scratched the surface of something far bigger than you imagined. And now, you're in too deep to turn back.