POMEGRANATES AND TULIPS: Book 2 (Jeon Wonwoo) EDITING

37 | Watch It Burn

I woke to the feeling of cold metal beneath my cheek. Not a bed, not a carpet, not anything familiar. Just a floor.  My arms ache, wrists tender and cold, and my breath came out shaky as I slowly pushed myself up. A dim light flickered somewhere behind me, stuttering like an old dying bulb. The air was stale enough to feel untouched for years. A storage room? Basement? Someplace forgotten by the world.

My head throbbed, a dull, nauseating pulse. What happened? Where am I? Memory came back in jagged pieces. A voice humming a tune too casually for a man committing a crime. And then— a face...Jinyoung. I remembered the eyes first: gleaming, sharp, too excited. The smile. That smile—wide and bright, like he was greeting a friend he'd missed terribly. But why? I wasn't close to him. I'd never met him, only heard of him from Wonwoo and Detective Yoon—Wonwoo barely even talked about him. So why did Jinyoung need me?

Pulling my knees to my chest, trying not to shake. Trying not to panic, trying to think clearly. What would Wonwoo do? He would analyze, he would breathe through it. He would keep his mind sharp. So I tried.

Footsteps echoed outside the door, slow, and purposeful. Too light to belong to someone normal, too cheerful in rhythm to belong to someone sane.
The door creaked open, soft, almost polite.
Jinyoung stepped inside, hands in his pockets, head tilted like he was studying a curious animal.
"Good. You're awake." His voice was warm. Friendly. Wrong. I swallowed hard. "Wh-why am I here?"
Jinyoung's grin widened. "Ah. Straight to the important questions. I like you already." My pulse spiked, and he crouched down in front of me, eyes shining with manic delight.

"You're wondering why a stranger like me would bother with a sweet little thing like you." He leaned in, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret, "I didn't take you because of you, Lizbeth." My blood ran cold. "I took you because of Wonwoo." My breath stopped for a minute, Jinyoung's smile gentled, almost affectionate. "Isn't it beautiful? Watching what people do when you steal the thing they care about most?" My heart hammered violently against my ribs. He knew. He knew about Wonwoo and me, he knew exactly what strings to pull.

Jinyoung giggled—actually giggled—as he stood up.
"Let's see how long it takes him to find you." He winked, then closed the door. The finality of the lock clicking shut felt like a nail being driven into my spine. Pressing my forehead against my knees, I exhale shakily, knowing one thing with absolute certainty. If anyone could find me...It would be Detective Yoon—better yet Wonwoo.

But I also knew Jinyoung wanted that. Wanted the chase, the suffering, and the unraveling.
Then suddenly I understood—I wasn't kidnapped to be hurt, I was kidnapped to break Wonwoo. And I don't know which is worse.

~~~ Wonwoo ~~~

Chaos had its own sound, for me it's the echo of Minghao shouting my name from across the room,  his voice hoarse from arguing.

"You were supposed to walk her home!" I snapped, shoving his phone into his chest. "You said you'd make sure she didn't go alone—" My tone was flat, but my eyes burned. Neither of us backed down. "HEY—enough!" Mingyu stepped between us, pushing back with a hand on each chest. "Fighting isn't helping anyone." I didn't respond, I couldn't. My throat felt too tight, Lizbeth's name lit my screen. That silence was killing me.

Jeonghan stood behind Mingyu, arms crossed, eyes glued to the CCTV monitor. Seungcheol analyzed timestamps beside him. "Rewind ten seconds," Jeonghan murmured, my jaw clenched. The monitor flickered, Lizbeth appearing at the bus stop. Sitting alone on the bench, looking over her shoulder nervously. Checking her phone, Minghao's hands trembled. I noticed, "She was waiting for one of us," Minghao whispered. I said nothing, Jeonghan leaned in closer. "Pause." The screen froze on a tall figure stepping behind Lizbeth, too close, face blurred by a baseball cap.

My heart plummeted, Seungcheol spoke quietly. "That's not a random stranger." I already knew, I recognized the posture. The angles, the gait. "Jinyoung," I whispered. The name tasted like poison in my mouth. Mingyu stepped back in shock. "Your cousin? Why the hell—"
"He's not my cousin," I snapped sharply, the tone colder than ice. "Not anymore." My breath shook.

Jinyoung, brilliant and unstable. Cruel in a way that didn't look like cruelty—just curiosity warped into something monstrous. My hands curled into fists so tight my knuckles went white, Minghao's anger vanished, replaced with fear. "Wonwoo... you don't think he'd—"
"Yes," I said, voice cracking. I didn't have the luxury of protecting anyone from the truth. "Yes, I think he would. He's done worse." The room went dead silent.
Jeonghan sighed, "You need to tell us everything. Every history. Every motive. Every warning sign."
I stared at the monitor.

Lizbeth's frozen image, eyes wide, unaware of the danger behind her. I swallowed hard, "This is my fault." I whisper.  "No it's not," Mingyu said immediately, gripping my shoulder. "Wonwoo, look at me. None of this is—"
But I only shook my head, because I know Jinyoung. I know the games he played, I know the twisted fascination he holds for causing spirals of pain and fear. And now Jinyoung had taken the only person I would burn the world for.

"She didn't get taken because she was vulnerable," I whispered, voice hollow, Jeonghan lifted his gaze. "Then why?" He questions, I closed my eyes, pain twisting in my chest. "She was taken because she means something to me." Silence settled like death, I opened my eyes, cold and sharp. Ready to break the rules I live by, "I'm bringing her home," I said quietly. "Even if I have to tear Jinyoung apart to do it." I muttered.