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An exaggerated groan echoed through the nursery, bouncing off the pristine walls and polished floors. Taeyong leaned against the corner, arms crossed, his expression one of quiet exasperation.
"Come on, Haeun. It's not that bad. You've been through worse." His voice carried a teasing edge.
Haeun shot him a sharp look, rolling her eyes just enough to punctuate the statement. "Do you expect me to look the same after two and a half years? Sorry to disappoint." She let her gaze drift to the ceiling for dramatic effect, but in truth, the pain had long since dulled.
Taeyong smirked, recognizing the familiar spark returning to her. "That's more like it. Last time we spoke, you sounded like the tragic lead in some kdrama."
Haeun's smirk was faint, sharp. "They kidnapped me at the worst possible time." Her words were clipped, controlled. She didn't need to show panic—until her thoughts flicked to her friends. "Right... my friends. They must be worried sick." Her heart thumped with guilt, a flicker of anxiety she couldn't mask.
The nurse worked silently, patching up bruises and cuts along her arms, stomach, and knees. Haeun's hands flew to her pockets, searching frantically, and she froze when she realized her phone was missing. Her eyes darted to Taeyong.
"Do you have my phone?" she demanded, irritation threading through her voice.
Taeyong's hand emerged from his pocket, holding up the cracked iPhone. "Kind of an old model, isn't it? Dad keeps sending you money. Why don't you have a better one?"
"Doesn't matter right now!" Haeun snapped, reaching for it. He handed it over, and she began tapping frantically at the screen, pushing every button—but the display stayed black. She glanced down at her reflection in the glossy surface of the floor. Dirt smudged her face, a thin line of blood on her forehead. She flinched, but didn't let it slow her down.
"I need to tell my friends I'm okay," she said, tone sharp but measured. Taeyong shrugged, dismissing the nurse who had finished her work.
"I'll get you a new phone. For now, all we have are burner phones." He passed her a hoodie, which she grabbed instantly, slipping it over her bare sports bra and shorts.
"Will mother and I have to move?" she asked, landing on the cold tile with a light hop.
Taeyong exhaled, tense. "It'd be better, but she's resisting. Right now, she's arguing with Dad's secretary."
Haeun frowned. Moving wasn't ideal, but she understood the necessity. "Just find something in a similar area. The gang will assume we went back to Busan or far away. They only knew this address anyway." Her eyes narrowed. "And... the tuxedo guy? Did he get caught?"
A shadow passed over Taeyong's expression. "He ran. We're sorting out the men he left behind first. Making sure they talk."
He opened the door, and they stepped into the wide hallway. Haeun's eyes scanned the modern, gleaming space, still processing that her father had chosen Seoul as the base. She had woken here after a brief blackout, only an hour of sleep behind her.
