The Mafia's Dove (Hyunjin centric)

Static

(⚠Warning: Attempted Murder⚠)

-Hyunjin's POV-

I sighed heavily as I took a seat at my dorm room's desk, the cushions of the chair flattening pathetically under my weight. For a school that had enough money to afford its own forest they certainly cut corners on the furniture, though based on the state of Chan's dorm, that didn't seem to be the case for every room.

The crisp night air was allowed entrance through the window I had cracked open, the scent of the forest seeping in through the opening and mixing with the scent of clean linen that permeated my dorm. A hint of chlorine was also present, most likely from the olympic size pool they had located near the dorms. Even from a different building the scent was apparent, though thankfully not enough to spoil the earthy smell that seemed like a permanent addition to the campus itself. Though I guess with the school's location, that should have been expected.

I hadn't bothered to organize the papers scattered across the desk's surface, their random and disorderly formation somehow still allowing proficiency as I sorted through them, my eyes scanning through each of the student's profiles with a quick yet attentive speed.

While I had gone through all of the profiles for the more influential or troublesome students- though there seemed to be an obvious correlation between the two- I had yet to read through the rest, and as the case was currently at a standstill, any and all information could potentially lead to a breakthrough.

It definitely wasn't the most enjoyable way to spend an evening, but ever since I started living with SKZ, I found myself with a lot more downtime than I was used to. It felt nice to be productive, because while I hadn't exactly been sitting on my ass the last couple of months, I still hadn't been working as hard as I used to.

Consistency hadn't exactly been my closest friend throughout life. I had spent my childhood constantly practicing and working to become a good enough heir for the Red Sparrow Mafia. I rarely had downtime, and any "free time" I ever received was usually because I had been overworked to the point of requiring bed rest.

I went from spending every waking moment working on something to wasting away in a basement for over two years, nothing but my thoughts to occupy me between bouts of torture. I stayed in that closet of a room for twenty five months, my strength greatly declining as I struggled to move more than a foot away from the wall I was chained to. Managing to escape was a miracle, my desperation to get away from my brother apparently being strong enough to fuel my starved and injured body.

And then I had ended up on the streets. While living on the streets wasn't the worst part of my life, it was when I was the most lost. When I was with my father, I had a purpose. When I was with my brother, I had no choices and had no need to think. I was at someone else's mercy, and for two years, I had done nothing but simply exist. But suddenly, I was on my own. I had no purpose, no one to control me, and though I had full control of my life at that point, I had no motivation to do anything with it. I wasn't in a good enough place to continue the work I had started when I was still with my father, nor did I desire anything but a swift death.

But then SKZ found me. I guess "found" might be too nice of a word, but out of all the people who had ever imprisoned me, they were definitely the nicest. They treated me better than anyone ever had, because while plenty of my connections were rather pleasant to me, it was all a formality. But with SKZ . . .

It seemed like they actually cared. Perhaps it was narcissistic of me to assume anyone could care for me, but I couldn't help the opinion I formed of them. Even if their care towards me was only possible because of ignorance, they still helped me recover from the damage I received over my life.