Pieces | Heejake | Enhypen

chapter thirty three (I)⚠️

Disclaimer: physical abuse, domestic violence

Before discovering the secret, the characters are Myung and Jaeyun; afterward, they become Sunghoon and Jake.

-----

The table lamp formed an oasis of light in one corner of the room, where an eleven-year-old boy sat, deeply focused on his studies. Rivulets from the soft rain ran down the window of Myung's room, but he refused to look at the dreamy natural glitter reflecting the lights outside.

The wall clock ticked quietly, maintaining the stillness of the night.

It had been a long day for Myung, but despite his exhaustion, he turned another page, diving into the next topic. His eyes were heavy, and his mind wavered between a blur and consciousness. He let out a weary sigh before resting his head on the table. His eyes shut on their own, seeking rest. At that moment, the serenity of midnight felt soothing to him.

This peace was soon shattered when he heard his father's car pull into the garage. He jolted upright and quickly pulled his chair closer to the table, nervously adjusting his posture as anxiety filled his gut.

A familiar fear began to rise in his body. He rubbed his eyes aggressively to look awake before returning to his books. He heard the main door open, his heart racing with trepidation.

With each approaching footstep, Myung's heart seemed to jump out of his chest. Soon, his father stood in the doorway. The door creaked open, and the lights flicked on. Myung glanced back at the tall, forbidding figure. Myung's scrawny body became evident as he nervously stood up, his chair screeching against the floor.

He looked disheveled, his face blank, his lips maintaining a straight line, while his eyes refused to leave the ground.

"Bring me your report card!" His father's unfriendly command pierced the air. As Myung made his way toward his father with a white sheet of paper in hand, he knew exactly what was about to happen.

Standing before his father, he handed over his report card. Glancing up through his lashes, he saw the same apathetic look in his father's eyes, underlined with disgust—the look he had seen almost every day. "D-Dad, I–" Myung stammered before his body met a series of harsh blows.

The young boy couldn't help but beg for his father to stop, sobbing helplessly. Each slap was harder than the last, and his body shifted almost instinctively to protect itself.

"Dad, Dad, stop... I'm sorry," he cried continuously.

"What have you been doing all this time?!" Mr. Sim's voice was thick with anger. "A fourth place is all you have to show me, you worthless bastard!" The grade sheet lay discarded on the floor like a meaningless scrap of paper. All the hard work Myung had put in to earn his position couldn't bring even the slightest happiness to his father. Once again, he was a disappointment.

That’s how it had always been for Myung, for as long as he could remember.

The saying "villains are not born but made" seemed to apply perfectly to Myung.

In the beginning, he was just like any other introverted kid.

Just another introverted child exposed to harsh verbal and domestic abuse. His childhood memories were filled with sorrow—a painful past that often haunted him in nightmares.

During moments like these, he longed for a safe place to hide, but he had none. He remembered how he had never experienced the warmth of a hug or a comforting touch. To him, those words were imaginary and meaningless, things he had read about in storybooks.

On dreadful nights, when he was dragged into the middle of the house to be beaten in front of the servants—and sometimes even guests—he couldn’t help but question what he had done to make his father treat him so cruelly.