Chapter Text
His life should morph back into a tranquil and serene path, no more suffering in pure agony at Eden residence — no more fear of a certain presence that lurks in the dark, tailing behind through his blind spots and observantly inspecting him like a stalker with an unhealthy obsession on him.
Unfortunately, Seo Moonjo does seem to have quite a mortifying fixation solely on him. Thankfully he doesn't have to deal with the man's peculiar shenanigans anymore, he vividly remembers murdering the man — and Jongwoo basks in that huge sense of accomplishment and the peace that comes within, but he can't seem to erase the dullness that a small part of him deeply feels.
Months have passed since he got out of that shit hole Eden residence, yet why does he still feel immensely trapped?
He's trapped. Chained and caged up in the pits of hell. With each passing day, the chains gets tighter. Heavier. Bigger. A weight that will eternally drag him down until he's left buried and deceased. His body is present, still capable of achieving multiple tasks and moving through his usual cycle of routines. However his mind is lost, drifted off to somewhere far. Full of void. Painful. And despair.
It's unfathomable to Jongwoo how everything only further worsened. He's more unstable. Impulsively violent and bipolar like a lunatic, slightly deranged and pathetic all due to the cause of Moonjo's impeccable trauma he planted inside Jongwoo. And it's permanent, a constant reminder of every conflicting predicaments he had encountered when his life all fell apart.
He was once a normal piece of art, until Moonjo shattered him into countless pieces and glued him back together in all the wrong places and ways — building him as something Moonjo finds him astonishing. Exceptional. A divine masterpiece.
As the late night arrives, people roaming around at the train station reduces into a few counts — passing by a zoned out Jongwoo staring at a vast space. He has remained motionless the entire time, people spotting him might hilariously mistaken him as a statue. Jongwoo is deep in thought, yet not at the same time.
The concept of his thoughts contains a few mundane subjects, a positive sign that he's calm, collected, and sane. But it can immediately transform into a disturbing and concerning notion — plus if he's going a little deranged he'll hear chants of voices ravaging his brain. That one particular voice is the loudest, it's smooth, feathery, and luscious but it holds a malicious intent beneath it. Jongwoo knows exactly whose voice it belongs to. However at some point his brain goes static, empty and eerily silent. Jongwoo can't decipher how he gained this ability. It only ever happens when he spaces out for too long.
Right now? He's in that mental state where the chatters in his mind are decreased into pure hollowness, confined in the dark fortress of his head. That is until he felt a presence take a seat from besides, at first Jongwoo couldn't care less to glance up nor spare the person a swift look. He huffs a small breath, not in annoyance but as if Jongwoo actually forgot the process of breathing after acting like a statue in misery since the last few hours.
"Do you know how to play Ddakji?" The man spoke, Jongwoo could feel his eyes gaping at him in anticipation. He returns the man's gaze, scanning his eyes on the man's appearance. He looked quite decent, a professional one at that and certainly not someone who's a weird ass asking him if he has any knowledge to play a kids game.
After a few minutes of Jongwoo's judgement, he releases a low sigh before tearing his eyes away from the man and staring off at somewhere else. "Who doesn't? But if you're asking to play, I refuse." He grumbles like an old man, his eyebrows furrowed slightly —feeling irritated for no absolute reason. He hardly remembers the last time he had a typical human interaction.
"If you accept to play, in exchange of winning I'll give you ₩100,000 won. However, if I happen to win you owe me the same amount yet if you can't pay me back you get a hard smack on the face. Isn't it a pretty deal?" The man replies, his words immediately caught Jongwoo's whole attention. He side eyes the business man, a random stranger who can see through his financial struggles, or perhaps practically an angel sent by the Gods above — before fully turning his head towards him.
"What did you say..?" The man's persuasion and offer circuits his brain, it would be an honor to even play Ddakji with this man if he gets to earn a tremendous amount of money and who was he to decline? He have gone through extensive moments in his life where cash is a massive conflict and this right here is a true blessing.
Soon enough Jongwoo finds himself competitively playing, it was just a mere kids game but his heart is roughly pounding in his chest like a drum and he's subconsciously holding his breath. After approximately the sixth round of their game, he was able to equalize the man's score. He won at least ₩300,000 won and three hard slaps on the face, making his cheeks feel numb and sore.
Suddenly the man halts, emitting a low chuckle while carefully tugging his blazer. It causes Jongwoo to raise his eyebrows in confusion, a perplexed look judging the man— quickly feeling impatient. "Why'd you stop?" He blurts out, his tone coming off irritated but the man gave no little attention to that, he just kept the innocent smile plastered on his face.
"If you wish to earn more, you may join this game. Trust me, it's a lot better and...fun." He shortly responds, handing out a tiny card towards Jongwoo. He felt quite uncertain of the man's words, Jongwoo sensed like he was confidentially hiding something. Pretending. And deceiving. But it wasn't enough to convince him to not take the card and contemplate his decision.
That was it. The man gave him a final look, the smile still glued to his face — somehow creeping out Jongwoo now. He turns his heel around and strolls off to somewhere else, leaving Jongwoo staring at his retreating figure. He glances back down at the card, flipping it around and then noticing the three shaped figure at the back. A circle, a square, and a rectangle. What a unique logo, it must be really interesting to participate.
That was all it took for Jongwoo to finalize his decision and become a participant in the game where he'll allegedly earn more money! Yoohoo! However, he should've really asked for further detailed insights and information of it. Who knows if it's dangerous? Risky? And perchance illegal?
Ironic for him to fear of possibly engaging in an illegal crime game when he's literally a murderer. Which is far worse. But it was just once, it'll never happen again so he technically doesn't consider himself a murderer...
Near the distance, he spots a black van driving to his direction. As the vehicle got closer, he takes a quick look around to check if there was any person to witness him stepping into a suspicious black van and possibly remember in the future his face because this game might actually consist of crimes disguised as innocent games. He would hate to have the police coming for his ass.
Instead he's met with this eerie feeling, the tiny hairs on his nape rising as if it's highly alerting his instincts. His body froze, being motionless at the moment. This feeling is way too familiar to him, and he knows it all too well. He recognizes how his shoulders tense, his breath halting and how he can loudly hear his heart throbbing. This is when Jongwoo feels like he's watching him.
How's that possible though? Seo Moonjo is dead.
A blaring honk of a vehicle snaps him out of his panicking state. He jolts up in surprise, then darting his eyes towards the van waiting from the side of the street. He takes a step forward, however he stops for just a second so he could glance swiftly from behind. He's greeted with the emptiness of the night, indicating no soul is present.
Jongwoo looks back at the van and quickly strides towards it, trying to push away the doubtful thoughts running through his head. He's now seated inside and he realized that he's the only one. He anticipated there would be at least two or more possible participants like him. "Uhm, excuse me, will more people fill this van up soon?" He asks, but the driver doesn't bother to give him a respond nor a simple hum. He received pure silence.
"Oh, thanks a lot." He added, rolling his eyes in frustration. He already feels a tad bit regretful by his poor decision. Out of the blue, a white cloud of gas slowly pours in the van. Feeling extremely confused, Jongwoo wasn't even able to register that he's gradually succumbing to the gas' effects. Defeated—Jongwoo sat unconscious in the van, unbeknownst to him that this would be the beginning of the true hell in his life.