I desperately hope that none of them
will notice my sudden disappearance anytime soon— that would ruin the entire point of my plan. And the plan was strictly one requirement— to not involve them in this rescue.

If it worked, and I freed Jungkook, then that would be the absolute best case scenario.

But I knew that wasn't how things were going to work.

And if stuff went dreadfully wrong, then at least I would be the only one caught between the crossfire. No one other than me would be— even though that would be terrible for Jungkook.

It made my head hurt just thinking about this, and I convince myself to figure things out once I had the compound right in front of my eyes.

While running there, I'd thought of a brief strategy on how to get inside. The main problem would be getting out— getting in would be easy.

So first part— check.

A few times I nearly run into a search patrol, but I manage to avoid them as I continue to weave my way between the crowds of people, all out to get their hands on me.

It would be terrible if I got caught even before I took a step inside the compound.

But now the fade converts itself from a curse to my greatest blessing.

I literally go right through the people looking for me— unseen, unnoticed. Masked completely from sight.

And with my heart rate only escalating with excitement and anxiety, I am certain that I will remain this way for a while before the magic fizzes out.

The best part was that I could just causally walk through the rows and rows of barbed, electrified wire, then the heavily padlocked doors, and the walls reinforced with inch-thick titanium.

Nothing could stop me while the magic was within my body.

Once I easily slip through the guards and through the final set of double doors, I look around to see what part of the compound I am.

The Western Wing— Jungkook wouldn't be here. I remembered from my time here that my father usually preferred to conduct whatever devil experiments he came up with in the East part of the compound— and the prisons would usually be near.

But I doubted that my father would keep Jungkook in the prison cells. He would make sure that he was unable to escape— which would put him in the isolated Tower where no one could get to him.

But I could.

Keeping my breathing fast to ensure rapid heartbeat, I run— straight through patrols and through walls and rooms. The East Wing was where I knew myself best. I'd been in and out of the different spaces there since I was just a small child.

It was where my father had carved me, molded me, broken me.

And now it was somewhere that Jungkook would be broken if I didn't start moving.

I urge myself to push faster as I run up the winding stairs, trying to pace my breaths. My body wasn't exactly out of shape, but rushing up at least nine flights of pure stairs without breaking a sweat was impossible for me.

Even though I knew for a fact that V would be able to do it quicker and arrive at the top floor with his heart rate still calm and normal, I push any thoughts related to the man to the very back of my mind.

Thinking about him brought me pain. It reminded me of the terrible things I told him— things that I said just to get him upset.

But I had to do what I'd come to do here first, even if that meant ignoring the tremendous amount of guilt tugging consistently at my conscience.

Waves of dismay washes over me when I see that Jungkook isn't there— the topmost room is empty, without any signs of life.

I'd just climbed all those stairs to waste precious seconds.

But I whip myself back into shape, knowing that any more moments I spent sulking over my terrible luck and instinct was going to be another wasted. I had to keep moving, even if it tore my lungs apart and set my heart on fire.

But thankfully, the way down proves to be much easier than going up— and I'm successfully arrived at the rows and rows of experiment rooms in just a few minutes.

Jungkook had to be in one of these rooms.

But which?

My heart pounds with anxiety as I peek in through the room filled with electrified water, something I'd been to forced to experience before.

He isn't here.

Not in the next, the next, and even the one after that.

The panic in the back of my head grows even greater as I keep finding nothing but vacancy inside each room.

Where was Jungkook?

Even worse, where was my father?

By the time I check all the labs built for experimentation, my body is flickering dangerously. Even though I try to get my heart rate back up, I'm already too dizzy, too lightheaded. Any more attempts like that might set me off for good.

The explosive worry rapidly increases in the back of my mind as I find all the rooms completely empty.

Please.

Please don't tell me they already killed him.

My vision spins just thinking about the idea, and I quickly decide to go in complete denial. He couldn't be dead— he was Jungkook. He possibly— there was just no way.

The cells.

Could he be there?

Rubbing the goosebumps off my upper arm, I hurry through the rows of empty cells— peering through each of them in desperate hope to find the maknae. If he wasn't here, I couldn't think of anywhere else.

If he wasn't here—

The thought is suddenly cut off when I glimpse a dark silhouette, collapsed against the dull, cold walls of the cell. Hope sparks through my body as I backtrack my steps and examine the figure.

It was Jungkook.

In the darkness, I could only see him curled up against the corner— his hands pressed to his chest. Waves of relief crash down on my heart as I quickly fade, slipping through the tightly locked bars with ease.

He was alive.

He was—

My entire body goes still.

"Jungkook." I whisper, my voice full of shock and numbness. The first thing that I recognize is the scarlet stains of blood as he shifts toward me, his eyes wide and filled with pain.

What had they done to him?!

A sob escapes my throat as I rush to his side, only realizing now that I'd mistaken the darkness on the side of his face as mere shadows.

They were sickening stains of blood.

The crimson was absolutely everywhere— covering his ravaged arms, his torn clothes. Tears blur my eyes as I see his shaken look underneath his hair, which is dyed with another shade of red that can only be more blood.

"Oh my God."

I press my hands against his pale face, brushing his bangs away to get a better look at his surprised eyes. Unable to hold back the tears streaming down my cheeks, I hurry to wipe the drying blood off with the sleeves of my shirt.

"What did they do to you?"

The tears only get heavier when I look down, noticing the deep cuts and bruises that mauled his skin. His shirt is completely ragged— just a piece of cloth hanging on his shivering form in this cold, lonely cell.

Monsters.

They're all monsters.

While I'm wrapping my jacket around his body the best I can, I feel his head fall heavily on my shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Noona." He murmurs, the words sounding terrifyingly lifeless and raspy in my ears. "I didn't know— I didn't know you had to suffer through this every day. I'm sorry. I'm—"

"Shh, Kook." I say urgently, pressing a ball of cloth against the deepest wound I can find. Thankfully, nothing seems to have dug in too deep in— the cuts on him are mostly shallow and light, aimed to draw blood and bring pain.

After all, I think bitterly, curses bubbling on the tip of my tongue. They still weren't done with him.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. Let's just get out of here, okay? Let's get you to safety."

His hand weakly grasps my wrist, his eyes wide with knowing.

"You came here alone?"

"Yes," I whisper, motioning for him to lower his voice as well. My back prickles with anxiety as I attempt to calm his shock down.

They could be here any moment.

"Noona," He makes a stern face, similar to the one that he'd given me the last time we'd seen each other. "You need to escape. I'll only drag you down, but you can fade. You can get out of here— you have to."

"I'm not leaving without you."

Then a familiar voice rings out behind me, sharp and pleased. I recognize the voice the moment he says the first word. Panic is the immediate response as it fills my blood, roaring through my ears and cutting off my breath.

"Oh, trust me, dear. You're not leaving again."