SHADOWS OF DECEIT

Chapter 37

The garage looked ordinary from the outside—faded red brick, rusted metal shutters, an old, flickering bulb above the entrance. There was nothing about it that should have made the hair on the back of Wonwoo's neck stand on end, but it did.

He clutched tighter onto Jungkook's small, trembling hand, feeling the way his younger brother pressed into his side, tiny fingers digging into his palm like he thought if he let go, he'd be swallowed whole.

Wonwoo wanted to tell him it was okay. That everything was going to be fine.

But it wasn't.

And he couldn't bring himself to lie.

The hand on Wonwoo's back was heavy, cold, suffocating—not a comforting presence, not something meant to guide, but to restrain. The man pushing him forward, Kyofu, had a grip so light it was almost mocking, as if he didn't even consider the idea that Wonwoo might run.

Because he wouldn't get far.

He knew that.

They stepped inside.

And that was the moment Wonwoo realized—this wasn't a garage.

At least, not in the way it should have been.

The inside was eerily clean, too clean, polished floors reflecting the glow of overhead lights. Desks lined the walls, strange machines humming softly in the background. There was no smell of gasoline, no oil stains, no scattered tools or half-fixed cars—nothing about it screamed "workshop."

But something about it still felt wrong.

Jungkook clung to Wonwoo's side, his breath coming in quick, panicked hiccups, and Wonwoo knew his little brother sensed it too.

They were led through a dimly lit hallway before Kyofu finally pushed open a door, revealing a room that felt far too comfortable for the pit growing in Wonwoo's stomach.

And there, standing behind a desk, was Kuro.

His hair was still black, his skin not yet marked with the deep lines of time. He was in his prime, his features sharp but not yet as hardened as they would be in the future. There was still youth in his face, a deceptive smoothness that might have made him look kind.

But his eyes.

His eyes were empty.

"Well, what did you bring me this time, Kyofu?"

His voice was calm, almost amused, like he was discussing a business transaction rather than the two terrified children standing in front of him.

Kyofu smirked, shoving Wonwoo forward slightly. "Both of them are pretty. Young."

Kuro hummed in interest, leaning back against his desk. "How young?"

"One is eight. The other, nine."

At that, Kuro's gaze finally shifted, really looking at them. Assessing.

Jungkook shrank further behind Wonwoo, his small hands fisting into his brother's jacket, body trembling so violently it was making Wonwoo shake, too.

Wonwoo fought to stand firm, even as his own legs threatened to buckle.

"History?" Kuro asked lazily, as if he wasn't even that concerned.

"Street kids. Lost their way. Both Korean. Neither of them speak Japanese. No particular background, no one searching for them."

Kuro clicked his tongue, nodding. Not caring.