Echoes in the forest | Minsung

The Shadow of Memory

The cold, damp air of the cell clung to Jisung's skin like a shroud. The stone walls seemed to press in on him, their rough surfaces closing him in a cage of despair. His hands trembled as he clutched the thin blanket they'd thrown at him—little more than a ragged piece of cloth that offered no warmth or comfort. The pill they'd forced down his throat left his mind hazy, his thoughts slipping through his fingers like sand.

He sat curled in the corner of the cell, his knees drawn up to his chest as he tried to keep himself from falling apart. The small, dim light above flickered intermittently, casting eerie shadows that danced across the walls. Each time the light flickered out, the darkness swallowed him whole, leaving him alone with his fear and confusion.

His ankle throbbed, the pain a constant, sharp reminder of his failed escape. It had swollen badly, the skin around it purple and bruised. He had tried to stand earlier, but the pain had sent him crashing back to the ground, his body too weak and injured to support him.

Time had lost all meaning in this place. Hours, maybe even days, had passed since they'd thrown him into this cell, and Jisung had no idea how long he'd been here. The darkness, the pain, and the relentless fear were all he knew now, an endless cycle of suffering that he couldn't escape.

His thoughts drifted in and out, the drug's influence making it hard to concentrate. Faces flashed through his mind—Chan, Lee Know, Changbin, Seungmin—but they seemed distant, like memories from another life. He tried to cling to them, to hold onto the hope that his friends would come for him, but the fear was too strong, the darkness too overwhelming.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, snapping Jisung out of his daze. He tensed, his heart pounding in his chest as the footsteps grew louder, closer. The heavy door creaked open, and a figure stepped into the dim light, silhouetted against the darkness.

"Get up," a cold voice commanded.

Jisung tried to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. His legs buckled beneath him, the pain in his ankle shooting up his leg like fire. The figure moved closer, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him to his feet with brutal force.

"Move it," the man snarled, shoving Jisung forward.

Jisung stumbled, barely able to keep himself upright as the man dragged him out of the cell. The cold air hit him like a wall, the damp chill seeping into his bones as they moved down the dark corridor. His mind was a foggy haze, the drug still clouding his thoughts and making it hard to focus.

As they walked, the man's grip on his arm tightened, his nails digging into Jisung's skin. "You're lucky," the man muttered, his tone laced with something that sounded like resentment. "Someone decided you get to live. For now."

Jisung's heart raced, a mixture of fear and confusion swirling in his chest. Who had decided to let him live? And why? His mind raced with questions, but he was too weak, too drugged to voice any of them. All he could do was keep moving, stumbling along as the man led him through the twisting corridors of the dungeon.

They reached a door at the end of the corridor, and the man shoved Jisung through it with a rough push. Jisung stumbled into the room, blinking as the bright light hit his eyes, momentarily blinding him. When his vision cleared, he saw two men standing in front of him—one he recognized instantly.

Chan's father, his face hard and unreadable, stood tall and imposing in the middle of the room. His sharp eyes locked onto Jisung, his expression giving nothing away. Beside him stood another man, shorter and older, with a look of disinterest on his face.