Madness and Desire || Soonhoon

One

The clang of the heavy metal door echoed through the sterile hallway, reverberating through the air like a death knell. Inside the white room, the walls were bare, padded, and imposing. A single flickering light overhead cast an eerie glow, dancing shadows playing tricks on the eyes. The air was thick with the scent of bleach, cold and clinical. This was a place meant to break the human spirit, to cleanse the mind of its darkness. But for the man who had just been thrown inside, it was nothing more than a new playground.

The heavyset guard grunted as he shoved the inmate forward, watching as the man stumbled into the room. The door clanged shut behind him with a decisive thud, sealing him in. The guard, a grizzled veteran with a face etched in lines of weariness and disdain, looked him up and down with a mix of disgust and fascination.

"Such a beautiful figure," the guard sneered, his voice thick with scorn. "If only you weren’t sick in the brain."

The man turned, a slow, deliberate movement, and fixed his gaze on the guard. His face was angelic, almost ethereal in its beauty. His skin was pale, nearly translucent, with a smoothness that seemed almost unreal. Plump lips curved into a smile, one that could have been charming if not for the madness that glittered in his eyes. A small star tattoo adorned the skin beneath his right eye, a whimsical mark that belied the chaos within. His hair, an artful disarray of blonde with pink and blue tips, framed his face like a halo, giving him the look of a fallen angel. But this was no angel. This was Woozi, the mastermind criminal who owned the underworld, the sadist, the psychopath.

Woozi’s smile widened, a hint of something feral and dangerous creeping into his expression. “Get the hell out before I bite your dick off,” he said, his voice as sweet and lilting as a lullaby, the threat all the more chilling for its lighthearted delivery.

The guard's lips twitched, a dark chuckle escaping him. He knew the stories, the whispers about the things Woozi had done, the terror he had sown. But here, in this place, the guards were the gods, and Woozi was just another inmate, another broken mind to be locked away. He shook his head, his chuckle fading into silence, and turned away, leaving Woozi alone in his new confines.

Woozi stood still for a moment, his head cocked to the side, listening to the sound of the guard's footsteps fading away. Then he turned back to the room, his eyes sweeping over the walls, taking in every detail. The white room was small, barely more than a cell, with a single bed bolted to the floor and a mirror mounted on one wall. The mirror was the only decoration, a concession to vanity or perhaps a tool for reflection. Woozi crossed the room with an unhurried grace, coming to a stop in front of the mirror. He studied his own reflection, his eyes tracing the familiar lines of his face. The plump lips, the pale skin, the star tattoo. He tilted his head, examining his hair, the way the blonde faded into pink and blue at the tips. A masterpiece of manipulation, a facade of innocence over the darkness within.

But behind the beauty, behind the disarming smile, lurked the monster. The one who had built an empire of crime, who had ruled the underworld with an iron fist and a sadistic glee. The one who had been brought to this asylum in chains, a last-ditch effort to contain his madness. Woozi smiled at his reflection, a slow, knowing smile. He wasn’t just a prisoner. He was a king in exile, a predator biding his time.

Turning away from the mirror, he moved to the bed and sat down, the springs creaking beneath his weight. He swung his legs back and forth, a childlike gesture that belied the scheming in his mind. He began to hum softly, a haunting melody that filled the silence of the room, echoing off the walls. His fingers tapped out a rhythm on his knee, his thoughts churning with possibilities. He was in a cage, yes, but he was far from defeated.

This asylum, with its white rooms and padded walls, its guards and doctors, thought it could contain him, control him. But Woozi was not so easily broken. He had turned the streets into his hunting ground, had bent the world to his will. This place would be no different.

A low, soft chuckle escaped his lips, blending with the melody he hummed. He would find a way to turn this prison into his palace, this asylum into his new playground. He would twist the minds of the doctors, seduce the secrets out of the guards, turn the other inmates into his loyal subjects. He would sow chaos, spread fear, and remind them all who he was. The mastermind. The monster. The beautiful angel of death.

With a final glance at the mirror, Woozi lay back on the bed, his arms stretched out, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. His legs continued to swing, his humming continued, a discordant lullaby that filled the air.

Yes, he would make this place his own. He would reign over it, just as he had reigned over the underworld. And when the time came, when they least expected it, he would make his move. He would tear down their walls, shatter their illusions, and walk free, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake.

The white room was his for now. But soon, very soon, it would be theirs no more.

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A birthday gift for Soon_hoonist. Love ya baby!
It's like an adaptation of Joker but roles reversed yk? Hope y'all like it!!!