Got my claws in you

Chapter 83- broken alarms

(Y/N) POV:

"Are you okay Hoseokie?" eyes immediately narrowing onto the slightly dazed expression in his eyes as he enters the office again. Expression slightly lost and vacant. Body jolted to alertness, stumbling out of my seat to get to him.

Because his scent—

His scentblockers have worn off.

Because his scent's turned acrid.

Burnt.

Sharp, burnt caramel and nuts. The taste of smoke and burnt, burnt caramel. Thick and viscous and cloying.

"Hobi what is it? What's happened?" voice sharpening with alarm, eyes falling to the folder he clutches tight, in a bruising grip.

The vacantness in his eyes seems to recede a bit. Chocolate-brown eyes seeming to thaw from their frozen state. A flicker of life, some awareness sinking in.

As if perhaps... he hadn't realised he'd made it here.

A kernel of worry sinks in.

"Hm?"

"What is it? Your scent—something's happened... what's happened?"

"I just—" there's a warring debate visible in his eyes.

Choosing whether or not to even say and that guardedness makes a slither of something cold and uncertain trickle down my spine.

"What?"

"I went to file the paperwork. And... and someone had accidentally filed your employee file under the child trafficking category."

There's something intense and pleading and searching and—

"Why?" confusion filters through me as I look at him.

His eyes widen minutely before relief and bubbling hope and eagerness spills from his gaze, from his words. Hand darting out to grip my arm, a grateful firm squeeze of fingers against me.

"Right? It's a mistake—the case file mentioned a (Y/N) and a Dong-Min..." words stopping abruptly when he feels my body stiffen under the press of his hand, ears ringing at the name.

I haven't heard that name in years, haven't heard a name that's nothing more than phantom and long gone... so where's Hobi heard it?

"(Y/N)?"

"Dong-Min?" the name a heavy weight on my tongue. Echoes and flashes of nightmares blurring behind my eyes.

An apprehension.

The hand at my arm loosening, brushing down my side.

The air in my lungs choked full of the scent of blood and tears—the phantom taste of it lingering on my tongue, feet fumbling back a step.

"You know the name?" cautiously. Warily. Eyes trying to search for something. Something Hobi doesn't want to find but must see in my own stare. Gaze dropping hollow to the file in his hand.

Where on earth did Dong-Min's file get dug up from?

I didn't even know it existed on paper.

And why does Hobi look haunted by the name too.

Hobi doesn't know Dong-Min... not when the name ceased to exist nearly two decades ago.

Not when the name no longer exists. And therefore that person doesn't exist... Dong-Min was an eight year old boy whose name and data and life all got erased and re-wiped.