Hideous Soul [Minsung]

12. Hospital bed

The night hung heavy as the cars raced down the dampened road, flying at their top speed—all driving for two lives: Jisung's and theirs. Headlights sliced through the mist, tires screeching against the slick asphalt as the convoy wove through the winding streets. In the backseat, Jisung lay slumped, his breathing shallow, blood seeping through the half-ripped satin shirt pressed against his side. All voices turned into a frantic blur, his mind shutting down—yet the memories did not fade.

"No, no... Dad—wait" he managed to utter, his soft voice turning into a whimper. It felt just like the last time.

Guilt overtook Minho like a massive wave at sea. His hands trembled as he did his best to stop the bleeding, pressing onto Han's cold flesh. He didn't know if Han could make it out of this turmoil, but Minho would never forgive himself either way. It was all his fault, and he knew it all too well. He had been too selfish this time.

The tires roared against the hard gravel as they came to a halt at the hospital. Doors flew open, stretchers ready as soon as they entered. Every living soul knew: if anything were to happen to this 19-year-old boy, Lee Know would burn every inch of this building down.

The injuries weren't major, but Minho was too pissed off to be argued with. It took four skilled surgeons and nine experienced nurses to stitch Jisung back together. It would've only required one or two nurses to do the job, but they couldn't risk their lives—for all they knew, they could be the ones on the stretcher next. The hospital staff laid Jisung on a comfortable bed in the VIP section; the sweet scent of the room was a stark contrast to the usual gloomy hospital smell.

Lee Know sat at a distance, hands clasped, head bowed down as if he were praying to a god that never heard him. Finally, after a while, he looked up to face the mistake he had made. Just then, the doors slid softly open, revealing CB still wearing his attire from the club.

"Chan..." He stopped, his words straying off, unsure of what to say next.

"Is he okay?" CB asked, his voice becoming unnaturally gentle.

"He has to be" Minho said, and Bang Chan could see the lava brewing in his eyes. At that moment, it felt like Lee Know would drag this boy back from hell if he had to.

The clock ticked like a time bomb, and soon four hours had passed. The birds chirped outside as the sun roared back to life, but the room remained silent. Minho had worked up the courage to sit closer to Jisung. He held his hand ever so softly, playing with his delicate knuckles and small nails. A soft hum reached his ears. Minho looked up to see Jisung staring at him—his soft doe eyes gazing from beneath long eyelashes. Suddenly, everything Lee Know wanted to say disappeared. His mind went blank, and his voice started to shake.

"Jisung... I—" he started, every thought from the past four hours, every feeling, exploding in his mouth, begging to escape.

"Don't you dare" Han uttered, half asleep, half angry. "I don't want—" he took a breath, still worn out from the night before, "—to talk to you. Ever."

His words were sharp, but Minho didn't care. He had lost the privilege of being upset. He was just glad to see Han awake.

Light travels fast, but information travels even faster—and soon enough, every person under the Han clan traced their way to the hospital. The night had been long, but the day was only going to get worse. The clock struck 6:00 AM and tires screeched across the gravel again—seven cars, one after another. Each was loaded with firepower and artillery the average man wouldn't have even heard of. And amidst it all was Han Soohee. She had lost many things in her life, but what she wasn't going to lose was her younger brother. Not again—at least, not this time.