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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Another four gruelling days.
The stale walls were still draped in cobwebs, the cross pattern bolt secured in place, and the unnerving silence was as crippling as the night Hoseok had tossed him onto the cell floor.
What was new?
Oh, yes, the dried blood on the wall that had soaked through his shirt and stuck to the dusty brick. Jimin wasn't a particular lover of redecorating, but watching the speckled stains turn from vibrant scarlet to pecan syrup was a distraction from the discomfort in his lower neck.
That, and keeping himself active.
It had taken ten hours to shake off the effects of the hallucinogenic after Taehyung's narcotic induced stunt. The hellish sight of Yunhee in his arms was disturbing, and he was currently in no position to fight, but he'd make damn sure he was ready to run when the opportunity arose.
Jimin climbed from the damp floor when footsteps reverberated in the corridor.
Taehyung was likely returning to maul his body some more, but if the psychotic son-of-a-bitch thought he would get the opportunity, he was severely mistaken. His foe was preparing for a trip, and the only way Jimin could stop him was to escape the grounds and beat him to the punch.
With that in mind, he was on his feet every day, eating the puny amount of food shoved through the door, moving around the bleak room to train his broken body back into action.
He was a far cry from fit, but he was ready enough.
And determined.
Facing the door, Jimin clenched his fists and waited for the bolt to slide across. The hinges creaked on the brick, a slither of light breaking the darkness as a slender, feminine figure stepped into the chamber.
For a moment, Jimin was convinced they'd slipped another hallucinogenic into his last meal, but when he blinked, and blinked again, the beautiful woman was still standing before him.
Either that or he was reliving a nightmare.
Heiran?
'Hello, Jiminie.'
No, she was real, alright. Jimin hadn't seen the tramp since university, but Lee Heiran was here, sauntering towards him with a voice like cheap silk.
'Hello, Heiran,' Jimin responded once he'd found his voice and reigned in his surprise, 'it's been a long time.'
'Hmm,' she smiled coyly as she gradually approached his motionless figure, 'not as long as you think, actually. Are you feeling better now?'
The penny dropped in a millisecond, the blood rushing from Jimin's head when he realised that it had been Heiran accompanying Taehyung.
There was no time to process it, no time to imagine the smarmy, backstabbing piece of work teaming up with Taehyung to bring him down. She was already touching him, her painted claws running along his dirty forearm as she fluttered her lashes.
