Hahm Yunhee is home. A place of safety. A place of comfort. And yet, a large segment of her heart is missing, left behind in an unreachable world.
Park Jimin is trapped in a parallel universe, fighting for survival while striving to find a way back...
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Jimin was not impressed.
As a formidable man, he prided himself on being resilient, quick witted, and capable of holding his corner in a fight.
Several days without food and water, however, and his muscles were weak, his brain caught somewhere between the gates of hell and the abode of the damned. The combination left him significantly powerless and no match for the two brutes carting him out of Taehyung's dungeon.
His sense of humour, on the other hand. No one could touch that.
'You gentlemen are scuffing my shoes,' Jimin drawled as they dragged him up the basement steps.
Sagged like a ragdoll between them while their fat fingers bruised his arms, they hauled him into the foyer, but Jimin's gaze flitted around, absorbing every detail he could.
Security, where they were stationed, how many guns they carried.
It was nothing he couldn't handle when the time was right.
The pair of meatheads lugged him up the staircase towards the array of bedrooms. Taehyung had only paid him a visit this morning, but now that the debilitated bastard had licked his wounds and crawled out of his self-indulgent arse, he perceived that he was eager to chat some more.
To what end, Jimin had no idea.
He was as clueless about the vortex as Taehyung, and even if he did hold all the answers, he'd die before helping him pass through it.
Jimin grumbled when he was pulled towards a bedroom in the east wing. In his house, it was the smallest of the eight. This one was stripped of all furniture, and the bar spreader hanging from the ceiling did little to put him at ease as he was tossed to the ground.
Scrutinising the contraption above his head, he rubbed his aching neck while the two security guards encircled him. 'You guys feeling frisky?'
He was all for taking a few knocks while having a chat, but that thing crossed a line.
'Why don't you shut your face?' one of the thugs barked.
Jimin's laugh was humourless as he took note of the holster straining over the man's bulging chest. His sidekick was just as wide, his tattoo laden arms the size of ship cannons.
This was really going to hurt.
Licking his lips, Jimin carefully rose to his haunches and eyed their pistols. These men were enormous, but with the right amount of skill - combined with adrenaline and will to escape - he could outwit them.
That's what he thought, until one of them produced a sharp needle.
'You come near me with that thing, and I will hunt down your daughters.'
The threat didn't work.
Jimin was on his feet, deflecting the chubby hand swiping at his throat. The needle fell and clattered along the floorboard when he uppercut his fist into the base of his spine, but the second beefcake struck from the side. Jimin sprang away in the nick of time, smacking the man square in the jaw before diving for the syringe.
