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siennasfix · 2 months

Text

Pareidolia

Chapter 2 "Watchful silence"

*****

<<<Chapter 1 Chapter 3>>>

Trigger warnings: 1. Funeral 2. Smoking weed 3. Mentions of starvation 4. Human experimentation

Each resident of Camp Jupiter was within their right to request how they wished to be buried. Their individual choices were largely influenced by the customs of the empire over which their Godly parent presided, which served as a marker of identity even in death. Greek demigods and legacies almost always chose to have their bodies turned to cinders; their ashes preserved in urns. It was up to their family and friends to choose whether to keep or scatter them to a site of their choosing. The offspring of their Roman counterparts most often opted for inhumation, despite the practice having been just as commonplace as cremation, and there were cemeteries and catacombs designated to hold the remains for eternity.

Ruth Velasco, daughter of Mercury, had done no such thing so the decision had been left up to her siblings. Ultimately, they resolved to have her buried in the catacombs beneath the temple of Mercury on Temple Hill. The news had spread like wildfire and it wasn’t hard to understand why. A girl of twenty was found impaled on the statue of the ruler of the pantheon, her corpse violated.

The picture on the front page of Noctua Mane, Latin for Morning Owl, was nothing like the one Y/n had seen the night of the murder. Sweet smile, eyes that sparkled with good-natured mischief, olive skin, light brown eyes and arched eyebrows, and straight black hair tucked behind her left ear. She was the picture of joy. Or had been.

Now she was a girl whose life had been taken too soon, her corpse lying frozen in the morgue of the underground laboratories of the CIH, Criminal Investigation Headquarters. Somewhere, in another mortuary cabinet, lay the corpse of Juliana Pierce. Both of them were kept from the warmth of the soil so that the experts might produce some worthwhile evidence to conclude the investigation with satisfactory results. What that entailed remained a mystery to everyone but the members of the Council. There was nothing for Olympia University to do but pay their respects in the Hall of Ceremonies.

On any other day, Y/n might have taken the time to appreciate the grandeur of it all. It was immaculate, down to the most minute particulars. The Hall, a building in and of itself located 300 meters in the northeast, stood somewhat separate from the rest of the campus and the Training Center. Gardens of the most delectable fragrances and topiaries in the shapes of the most common perceptions of the Gods, celestial creatures, and animals associated with divinity made for an ethereal ambiance. Even today, the pelt of grief, in which the hearts of Ruth Velasco’s loved ones were engulfed, was not in the least reflected in their surroundings. The water pouring from the beaks of two marble swans in love remained clear, the surface of the water in the fountain before the front steps of the building unperturbed.

The interior evoked a different feeling. Significant effort had been made to convey the grief be it through the roses and violets lining the walls or the black drapes with those same flowers embroidered on them. The cushioning of the chairs, too, was black. Of course, the banners adorned with the Caduceus symbol, representing Mercury and Hermes, could not be missing from the ceremony. So large were they that the entire length of each column was concealed by the fabric.

Truly, Y/n would have loved nothing more than to sit in her chair and admire the intricacies of the edifice but how could she when the only things on her mind were the events of that night and the conversation she’d had with Luna before stepping out of the house? She’d made a repeat of the conversation this morning as well.

“Remember,” Aside from her voice, the sound of the zip of the green padded jacket coming up to Luna’s neck was the only one in the room, “Don’t talk about what you saw. Just don’t talk about it. Don’t mention it. If anyone asks anything related to it just say you feel bad that she died. Tell them she was so pretty, like a princess. Okay?”

Luna had nodded and her gaze had fallen on the place where Y/n’s fingers met the jacket.

“What- what if they take me?” Her little sister had said in a shaky voice. “What if they don’t let you take me home? Then I- then I-

“No, no, little moth,” Y/n had wrapped her arms tightly around her little sister’s shoulders and patted her back to calm her nerves (the past few days had been brutal for Luna). Then, she draped her scarlet scarf around the girl’s neck. “No, they won’t do that. They can’t do that because you’re innocent. See, you haven’t done anything wrong. You just saw something you shouldn’t have seen, something no one should have to see. But you were here, in our bedroom, and I was lying on the floor next to you. I’ll tell them that and no one will be able to hurt you.”

By now Luna’s chest is rising and falling rapidly and Y/n can feel each movement against her torso.

“But what if they don’t believe you?” She asked, fingers curling around Y/n’s jacket. “Then they’ll really take me away.”

“I won’t let them, though,” Y/n said, knowing she wouldn’t be able to stop them.

It had taken a few minutes but eventually, Luna’s breathing had returned to normal and they’d headed out the door, Luna in her padded green jacket, worn-out jeans and shoes, and Y/n in Olympia’s official uniform of dark sienna. The moist March wind had caressed their cheeks as they made the one-hour walk toward Luna’s school and when they had had to part ways at the towering gate of steel, for fear of showing up late for the ceremony, Y/n had squeezed the small hand one last time before ushering her inside. Those big brown eyes had glanced back one last time as she’d waved goodbye, trying to freeze some joy onto her face for the sake of the scared little girl. Then, she’d smoothed over the knee-length skirt that seemed a bit larger each time she tried it on, secured the pin on her chest, empty though it was, and set off for Olympia. Tardiness, justified or otherwise, would only arouse suspicion.

Professor Philomena Laqueus, daughter of Athena, head of Olympia University’s Academic Board, a senior Overseer, and an esteemed member of the Council of Rome, ascended the steps to the raised platform at the end of the Hall that allowed her an unobstructed view of each Cohort. Her appearance was enough to bring Y/n’s thoughts to a screeching halt. With her graying frizzy hair, strong jaw, and the gold and royal purple paludamentum draped over her muscular shoulders the woman was nothing if not overwhelming. The rest of her outfit was the same as that of the academic personnel seated behind to the right and the student body; a dark sienna, with the identification pin attached to the jacket on the left side of her wide chest. But she made it all the more unnerving; an exalted slaughterhouse.

As a sign of respect, each student stood. After a few moments of sweeping her gaze across the hall, the woman raised her hand for them to take their seats.

“Today,” Her voice had a heavy yet tremulous quality to it, not raspy like most would assume at first glance, and each word sounded like a boulder being flipped on its side. “We gather to bid farewell to Ruth Velasco, daughter of Mercury and member of the Second Cohort.” Y/n glances three rows to the right just as Professor Laqueus gestures to them. Some appear distraught. Others wear a mask of unflinching marble. The woman addresses the rest of the student body once again. “Miss Velasco’s kind and amiable disposition earned her the admiration of her peers and betters as she approached every obstacle with unwavering perseverance. Her courage and reverence for the Divine Rule of the Pantheon were profoundly inspiring, serving as a lasting testament to what a demigod ought to strive for. For this reason and her inestimable attributes, her absence will be felt deeply by all who knew her, even if in passing.” Her gaze slides across the hall in an almost wolfish manner, as though scouring every inch for the faintest trace of guilt. “Thus, we bid a solemn farewell to a compassionate person whose true potential was never fully realized, whose hopes and ambitions will remain unfulfilled as time moves forward towards a brighter tomorrow. But that is not to be an omen to a sorrowful ending to all things. Although her absence is profoundly felt, it may bring solace to know that her legacy can be enriched by those who have the means to do so. As a parting tribute, we make this vow to her.”

It was at that moment, as Philomena Laqueus uttered the final sentence of her speech, that Y/n felt eyes stalking her every breath.

“Though her flesh and bones may lay buried,” The grounding cadence of the woman’s voice drove each word home, “The truth shall crawl to light.”

Y/n wished she’d never craned her head to find the source of her discomfort. Four rows to her right, where the members of the First Cohort sat proudly in their black chairs, dark eyes pierced through the hundreds of students filling the distance between them. How she wished she had not picked this seat that was neither at the front nor in the far back but somewhere in between, because if she had, he wouldn’t have found it so easy to stare at her without raising some eyebrows. She meant only to glance at him but the moment their eyes met, she found herself holding his gaze. While she could feel cold sweat pooling down her back, he remained unabashed and unfaltering. He was dressed the same as the rest of the male students. His hair was in a half-up half-down style, with a few strands at the front framing his face. He looked like the only thing he had running through his veins was stardust and needed to draw blood to seem human.

Not wishing to be at the receiving end of his pursuits, Y/n turned around, swallowed, and tried to focus on the farewell speeches of the leaders of the Second Cohort, Choi Soobin, the only son of Jupiter, and Hwang Yeji, daughter of Victoria. No word stuck in her brain. Everything was an amalgam of parting words, sniffling, and silence so solemn and disquieting that Y/n found herself shifting in her seat, hands fisted on her lap. More cold sweat beaded on her forehead. It felt as though every gaze was on her, hammering guilt into the pin on her chest. The dread of being perceived as suspicious had her heart threatening to shatter the constraints of her ribcage. Over the course of several speeches delivered by Ruth Velasco’s loved ones, scenarios spun in her mind; of escape, imprisonment, torture, and execution. Not once did she imagine herself or Luna being saved.

When the ceremony came to an end, it took tremendous willpower not to bolt for the exit. She forced herself to picture their eyes narrowing in suspicion, their castigatory stares, and the disdainful curl of their lips if she were to let her panic take over. This was how she kept herself from shoving her way through as the other members of the Fifth Cohort made their way out of the hall.

Once they were out in the gardens, she decided to put some distance between herself and the rest. The topiaries were of various sizes. Some were the size of a poodle while others grew up to six meters. It was behind one of the latter that she found some solace, shaking as she massaged her knuckles. As if that would force her anxiety into submission.

Y/n could hear the students gathering at the front of the edifice while others headed back to the main building. Lectures didn’t start until 10:30 so they could afford to loiter about the grounds in the meantime. What she hadn’t considered was that other students would seek comfort in the gardens as well (she’d gone fairly deep within the labyrinthine structure after all) especially close enough for her to catch snippets of their conversation. Following the direction from which the voices were drifting, she at first estimated a distance of around five meters to her left. But upon gathering some of her wits about her, she realized it was the shadows telling her. The students, males by the sound of it, were standing in the shade of a topiary two rows behind her and likely at a far greater distance. If she made no noise, they would probably not realize someone was eavesdropping. Not that she was doing it on purpose.

“Was her corpse really missing the eyes?” One of the boys said, making no great effort to be discreet. “Or was that just a rumor?”

The silence stretched for a few seconds and Y/n could hear everything from the wind whispering in the dense forest beyond the garden to the leaves brushing against fabric as one of the boys leans against the topiary. When the response did come, it was in a voice so velvety and euphonious that she found herself pressing her left ear into the bush. The effect should have concerned her, but it didn’t.

“Yeah, her eyes had been gouged out.”

The first boy muttered a ‘damn’ before pulling something out of the pockets of his uniform. It sounded like paper.

“The killer must have taken them before fleeing. Since they weren’t found at the crime scene.” He laughed a little before continuing, “The CIH better pray the fucker isn’t a cannibal.”

The other scoffed. “They might as well save their breaths.”

That seemed to give the first boy pause. For a few moments, no words were exchanged between the two, and the only sounds were those of paper chafing against paper, birds chirping, and students talking among themselves at the front of the building.

“What do you mean?” the first boy asked eventually, in a lower voice.

“It wasn’t a cannibal.” The other one clarified. “Whoever killed her, stole her eyes, and put her body on display didn’t do it for self-gratification.”

The first sounded genuinely confused as he questioned, “What else was it then? Self-defense? But Ruth wasn’t violent. Not as far as I know.”

There was no other way to describe the moments between that last sentence and the one that followed other than grim and fretful. The blossoms around them, for all their vibrant colors and riveting fragrances, did nothing to lighten the atmosphere, serving instead as mere decorations. Synthetic. Hollow. Illusory. Y/n pressed her right palm lightly against the bush, dewy greenery against her skin, breathing as quietly as she could while listening attentively to each breath the male students took despite knowing she shouldn’t.

The boy with the mellifluous voice at last spoke, “I thought we you dragged me here for a smoke.”

The first boy let out a cartoonish snicker.

“Lo and behold, Hwang.” There came the sound of flame flickering to life. “This is prime quality weed I’ve rolled for you so let’s get high out of your fucking mind. I won’t accept anything else.”

After that, all Y/n could do was stay there and listen to them blabber about things she had no clue about. Every time the conversation shifted; it was for the worse. Whatever they were smoking was influencing their ability to hold a sane conversation. The smell wasn’t all that nice either so they must have been receiving the desired effects if they were willing to withstand it. As they were leaving, the males sounded slightly more collected, as if their brains had pieced themselves back together. Y/n waited ten minutes before following them out and heading for the main building.

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Their late breakfast was a gloomy affair, for obvious reasons. Several of Ruth Velasco’s closest friends and family sobbed into their steaming bowls of soup while others struggled to bring their spoons to their mouths with shaky hands, making sure to swallow their grief before taking a mouthful. The hall was relatively silent if one didn’t count the hushed conversations being had throughout the dining hall. Briefly, Y/n wished she could be part of a small group, weathering sudden woes together. Walking down the hallway and to Laboratory 205, where they conducted experiments concerning the field of Hematology, would be much easier then. But spying on the fleeting whispers around her would have to suffice.

Only five students occupied the spacious room by the time she stepped through the door. A girl sat on the row by the window, face hidden from view as she napped the minutes away. One of the auburn-haired girls at the front, twins by the looks of it, penciled in her eyebrows as the other cracked a joke and they both burst out laughing. So far, her feet had been going on autopilot. But right before she could make the mistake of invading her classmate’s personal space, one she had never spoken with before, Y/n stopped in her tracks.

Thoughts raced inside her head. And they were merciless. Had her seat been taken? Had Seungmin grown so tired of her that he no longer wished to be her lab partner? He’d become such at the beginning of the first semester but not by choice. Was that it? Had she made a mistake that had affected his grades? Seungmin was quite obsessed with them after all. His pride as a son of Minerva was on the line. Where was she going to sit now? If she had the nerve to ask the other boy where he had previously sat, then-

The boy clapped Seungmin on the back and made his way toward another desk near the middle. Students started pouring in, and Y/n breathed a sigh of relief before taking her seat. After that, nothing out of the norm happened. Orlova took a roll call, after which she assigned them to spot RNA and DNA abnormalities and determine what they could result in, and left them to their devices.

From time to time, she would approach students and oversee their work. Y/n always dreaded these moments. A bitter cold would sweep across the room, creeping into her circulatory system. Her very marrow seemed to freeze at the sight of Orlova heading towards their desk. The cold was without pity.

“Is there a reason you refuse to take the medicine you’re given?”

Seungmin’s voice from beside her was as low as it could be without the words being lost entirely. Still, she could detect the hint of annoyance behind his seemingly harmless question.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Is there a reason you keep asking?”

“You’re delaying our work.” He says and looks at her with utmost indifference. “I refuse to get a bad grade because of whatever complex you might have regarding your pills.”

“It’s not a complex. You don’t-

“You’re right.” He sets his pen on the notebook and looks into the microscope, adjusting the lenses. “I don’t understand. Which is why I posed the question, one you refuse to answer.”

Y/n could feel the last of the warmth in her body travel up to her cheeks, staining them a sorry shade of pink.

“Maybe you should ask the people who keep giving away confidential information.” She muttered.

Seungmin didn’t bother to look up from the microscope. “Maybe I will.”

A minute or two after their miserable and short-lived conversation, a knock came at the door and, at Professor Orlova’s permission, a boy about their age walked in, immediately making his way toward where she sat behind her desk. He leaned down and whispered something that had the woman’s mood visibly souring before stepping back as she shrugged off her lab coat.

“Continue to work on your reports.” She instructed, facing the students who had previously been immersed in work or gossip. “Do not forget that the average grade for them comprises 20% of your final evaluation for this course.”

There was only a unanimous nod and verbal affirmation before she exited the laboratory with the boy right on her heel.

“What’s going on?” A student questioned in a whisper but no one answered.

It didn’t matter anyway. They did have reports to finish after all. Liliana Orlova wasn’t one to try your luck with when it came to lab work. Many before them had attempted to pull one over her only to end up begging for the wretched yet invaluable 20% of the final grade and be met with her pitiless evaluation. She was within her right to do so. If exceptions were made, they had to be made for everyone. But that was exactly what was wrong with her. She had a soft spot for but a precious few, a group of elite students who were equally elitist, and everyone else got the stinky eye whenever they pled for leniency. Seungmin was, needless to say, a part of it.

At least he didn’t try to make her talk about the despicable medicine she was routinely prescribed by the higher-ups. She hated talking about it even more than she did ingesting the actual thing. She felt less than for being questioned about it.

Orlova returned a while later, heels clacking almost violently against the floor. Everyone in the lab could feel the frustration wafting off of her like some overpowering perfume. It made her resemble the children of Ares and Mars more than she or any child of Aphrodite and Venus would like to admit. Disturbingly similar. The space that had once been clinical could no longer be considered as such. Its sterility had become muddled.

The footsteps came to a halt right in front of Y/n. Professor Orlova’s question cut through the uncomfortable silence.

“Are you finished with the report, Miss. L/n?”

Internally panicking, Y/n looked up from her paper. “I’m almost-

“Being weak and slow-witted is not what a student of Olympia ought to strive for.” Even the way she said the words sounded cruel. How could the daughter of love speak with such loathing, looking her up and down as if picking her apart flaw by flaw? “Though I suppose it is rather difficult to be anything but given your… predicament.”

She could talk back, snap at the professor the way she had before, but where would that take her? Back to Principal Jiang’s office? The old man would love that. He must enjoy doling out punishments for the same student over and over and over again like he had nothing better to do. Right now, the only person with nothing better to do was Y/n. So, she kept her mouth shut, lowered her head, and nodded.

That seemed to satisfy the woman’s sadism because all she said was, “Place it on my desk in five minutes.”

“Yes, Professor,” Y/n murmured and watched as she walked away, taking some of her foul aura with her.

Then, just when the humiliation seemed to abate, Seungmin got the brilliant idea to speak.

“Does that mean we are being graded separately?” He asked, eyes flitting between Professor Orlova and Y/n.

The former turned and smiled slightly at him.

“Of course, Mr. Kim,” she answered in a much softer voice. “I do not wish for you to suffer the consequences of her bovine capacity. You may continue.”

Y/n dared a scathing glance toward Seungmin who had gone back to his work. Her fists itched to punch his teeth in and the sound of him breathing next to her after she had just had those words thrown at her was enough to send her into a fit of rage. It was cold though. So, the anger kept her warm. She didn’t need to look up to know the other students were staring at her. Some snickering. Others muttering to themselves. But if she had let her gaze roam, she would have met his. The one gaze that always seemed to linger when all else had ebbed.

Seungmin took turns using the microscope. A sort of silent agreement not to speak until the end of the class. They worked separately and efficiently because that’s how he liked it. They didn’t speak because that’s how he liked it. It worked wonders for him but for Y/n it was one more box into which she was shoved. When she was finished, she stood and went up to Orlova’s desk, handing her the report with trembling fingers.

“What is this?” Orlova spoke quietly, thumbing through the pages.

She didn’t look pleased. Not at all. Y/n could only curse at that.

“The report you asked for, Professor.” She answered, knowing the question had been rhetorical.

The professor stopped turning pages and glanced up sharply. Y/n would be lying if she said she wasn’t at once thrilled and scared shitless. And it wasn’t like Orlova couldn’t pick up on it. Children of Aphrodite and Venus were equipped with a hound's nose since birth when it came to people’s emotions. They knew when you were in pain or at peace. It was safe to say that she couldn’t be too thrilled about Y/n’s reaction.

That’s probably why she called Seungmin over. He glanced at Y/n in confusion as Orlova handed him the report.

“Mr. Kim, as your professor, I demand that you be completely honest with me.” Orlova’s tone left no room for interruption or defiance. She looked him in the eye. “Did she steal your work? Did you help her with it?”

If Seungmin felt awkward at the implication then Y/n was drowning in embarrassment. He took in her profile, the paper limp in his loose hold.

“No, Professor, she did not.” He answered. “Nor did I help her with it.”

Orlova was not satisfied. “Is that your final answer?”

“Yes, professor.”

Again, that did not satisfy her. Her lab partner’s answer only seemed to make things worse. Maybe he was unaffected by it or unable to perceive when authority figures saw him as a filthy roach, but Y/n was and she could. It was pointless to pretend otherwise.

“Very well, then. You may return to your seat.” She told him with a twitch of a smile and held out her hand for the report, which he placed on her palm before turning to leave. Y/n made to follow him. “Not you, Miss. L/n.”

She had dreaded this. The moment when she’d be left facing Orlova, this time alone. Seungmin wasn’t her friend, but he was just there. In his presence, Orlova softened her words, cushioned her remarks, and sugar-coated her distaste. None of that now.

The professor planted her elbows on the desk and clasped her hands. “What will it take for you to learn your place?”

Y/n looked anywhere but at the woman in front of her. “I don’t kno-

Orlova squinted.

“Enough with your pretend cluelessness.” She sneered. “You may have fooled Hajjar and Principal Jiang into seeing you as something other than what you truly are but you will find I am far more difficult to misguide.”

Her brain went into overdrive. She was short-circuiting.

“Whatever Professor Hajjar has in mind, I had nothing to do with it.” That only made the woman’s sneer grow in cruelty. “I don’t- I truly want no part in it.”

She gave Y/n such a pointed look, that she felt it poking her eyeballs.

“Then, it is only fair we question as to how a professor that has never once risen to your defense, has suddenly taken you under his wing.” Orlova unclasped her hands. “I warned you. I am much more difficult to misguide.”

Y/n glanced down at the report, finding solace in her handwriting.

“But I am not trying to.” She tried to appeal.

Orlova gave her one last scathing look. “Go back to your seat.”

She stood there, frozen, hands now purple from the cold and throat clogged up. This was bad. Whatever she had been called to attend forty-something minutes prior had ignited a new brand of hatred in the woman before her. Her grades would suffer for it. She would have no chance of being employed. Luna would have to live in even graver poverty. Penury as it was called.

The walk back to her seat was like trudging through heavy snow. She couldn’t help but bite down on her lower lip, drawing blood. Hot pain. The only warmth she could provide for herself. And he was staring. Staring while conversing with his lab partner, a boy she recognized from the ceremony. Leader of the Second Cohort and Son of Jupiter.

Y/n wanted to stare back, maybe even scowl at him. But he appeared too secure (symmetrical features, unflinching gaze, and physical adeptness) while she felt hounded on all fronts. They were horribly matched.

She had to see Professor Hajjar and convince him of the implications of going through with his plan. As absurd as it sounded for someone to say this, she had to make a son of Minerva see reason. How was she going to do that though? Genius wasn’t encoded in her DNA. She couldn’t compete with him in terms of logic, rationality, and strategy. Not when he had the advantages of both nature and nurture. Whatever her argument, he was sure to counter it with one more thoroughly constructed.

This was all she thought about while walking up the steps to his office, the same steps she had ascended just a few days earlier. Today she felt she had already received her punishment. So why was knocking on his door such a daunting task? When she managed, however, he gave her permission to enter.

“Good afternoon, Professor.” She greeted.

He looked up from his device and extracted a file from the neatly organized stack on his left.

“Good afternoon, Miss. L/n. Here,” He motioned for her to come closer and once she stood in front of his desk, handed her the beige folder. “It is your training and diet regiment. I trust you have refrained from overeating. A ruptured stomach after years of starvation is the last thing we need right now.”

She shook her head lightly. “No, I’m good. The lunch ladies are following your instructions.”

Anxious to find the right way to start the discussion on her supposed training, she began abusing her lower lip feeling the skin peeling under the brute force. Because, truly, how was she supposed to tell him she wasn’t planning on going through with it because his colleague had all but threatened her? She could just outright say it. But that was so pathetic. So fucking pathetic. It would sound so ungrateful of her after all the string-pulling he did to get permission for her to train with her peers. In each fathomable scenario, she sounded like a snob.

“There is someone I would like you to meet on Monday.” His words pulled her out of her steaming train of thought. His hands were clasped before him, but it was not meant to taunt her she thinks. “Someone I think would be suitable to your needs.”

She was back on the steaming train. “You won’t be the one training me?”

Professor Hajjar unclasped his hands to gesture at the stacks of documents on his desk.

“I am far too engaged with research and grading tests and assignments to oversee your training personally. The student I have in mind is hardworking and skilled at his craft.”

“Student?” She questioned, fingers curling anxiously around the schedule.

“Would that be an issue?”

His question would be insulting if it weren’t for the fact that Y/n fears her peers as much as she wishes she could stand by their side. Whoever it was that he was dead set on assigning as her mentor would not be gentle. He would not be patient because he didn’t have to. Not when it was her.

Y/n shifted her weight from one leg to the other until Hajjar had enough of her. He rose from his seat and headed for the bookshelf, running his fingers along the spines of books too expensive to dream of possessing. Being a renowned researcher and an esteemed professor at Olympia University meant he could afford such luxuries. Luxuries he apparently intended to extend to her.

It was curious, how this was the first time a hand stretched in her direction, not seeking to draw blood but to gift. While she fought between rejecting his gift and accepting it with a thousand thanks, he unfurled her hand and placed the book on her cold palm. Instinctively, her fingers curled around the binding.

“Just because I will not be there each day to supervise you, does not mean I will be left out of the loop with regards to your progress. One of your mentor’s duties will be to provide a weekly report on precisely that.”

Y/n nodded, unable to speak for a few moments.

“Can you tell me his name?” She asked when the initial shock had begun to subside.

Professor Hajjar regarded her stoically, hands clasped behind his back.

“As I said,” He began in an even tone, walking back to his seat, “You will meet him on Monday at the Training Center.”

What was with all the mystery? Why couldn’t he just tell her outright? Was it that crucial to his plans that she be kept in the dark? Despite having received the gift a few moments earlier, she felt her nervousness spike up again.

“Professor, can I ask you something?” The question slipped from her lips.

The man peered at her from behind his glasses once more. “Carry on.”

“Can I take some of the food back home to my sister?” She asked without delay, fearing that if she hesitated, she might never say it at all. “I thought that since raising our stipend is out of the question, I might at least take some of the food home to her. Like- like maybe half a burger, for example. Or a salad. That way she can- her stomach hurts so-

“Miss. L/n.”

“Yes?”

She was breathing erratically, something she realized after having been interrupted. Her heart beat so fast it hurt each time her chest rose and fell. But she could only look at Hajjar, sending him a silent plea.

He nodded and said, “It will be arranged.”

To say this was the best thing to have happened to her in a while would be a dishonest understatement. Because it was the most benevolent thing anyone here had desired or dared to do for her. It was the only thing anyone here, on Camp Jupiter, had ever done for her period. She would be forever grateful.

“Thank you, Professor.”

Eos Elementary would put the fear of the heavens in the foundations of any normal elementary school outside of Camp Jupiter. It was only right though, considering the attendees weren’t normal children and those other schools didn’t have to teach them how to control their gifts so they didn’t blow up the building for being upset. It was built to accommodate the talents of every young demigod and hone their skills so they could overcome the challenges they would have to face later on in examinations and quests. Easy-peasy? No. Not for any demigod, but especially Luna.

Luna, who stood outside the gate with her scarf wrapped up to her cheeks with only an armed guard to keep her company. Luna, who kicked at rocks, waiting for Y/n to pick her up so they could go home and do their homework in bed. She jogged toward the little girl, wrapping her arms around her.

“Heyyyy.” She greeted, trying to sound cheerful.

“Hey.”

Luna was less enthusiastic than usual, which wasn’t surprising. Given everything. Y/n helped take her backpack off her shoulders, carrying it in one hand and holding the other for the little girl to take, which she did.

“Everything good at school?” Y/n asked, trying to ignore the guard’s stare burning into their backs.

Instead of responding with words, Luna simply nodded and looked down at her feet as Y/n herded her through the streets.

“So, guess what,” Y/n said when they had to stop at a red light. Luna only looked up at her briefly before looking back down, kicking at the pavement. Still, Y/n tried to sound jovial as she delivered the good news. “I get to bring you food from the dining hall from now on!”

Luna perked up at her words, grinning from ear to ear.

“Really?” She said, dark eyes glinting with hope. “You can?”

Y/n matches her enthusiasm with an excited nod, fingers tightening around the smaller hand as she enumerated whatever came to mind.

“Hamburgers. Salads. Pasta. Soups and stews. Whatever is on the menu for breakfast and lunch.”

“Even the honey muffins?” Luna is practically jumping for joy at this point.

“Even those.”

The rest of the way home, Luna is asking her about how much food she eats at school, unaware that she has only recently tried the food there. But Y/n makes a good show of bragging about it in hopes that it will lift the girl’s spirits higher. It works like a charm.

There is little to no difference between their rotten apartment and the streets; cold, wet, and a tad gloomier than the lamplit alleys. But Y/n cooks a pathetic batch of what’s supposed to be pancakes for Luna (a bit of cheese as well sprinkled with olive oil and oregano she had stolen during New Year’s) and hands her a glass of water to wash it down. Then they get into bed and do their homework in silence so that tomorrow they can spend the day at the aviary. This is all fine. The problem is falling asleep. There seems to be no dream compelling enough to claim Luna’s consciousness for a few hours. No blanket so thick as to keep her warm.

Y/n tucked her black hair behind her ear. “Are you cold?”

Luna nodded slowly.

“I’m scared.” She confessed and looked up at her. “Can you stay with me?”

With that, all thoughts of sleeping on the floor were abandoned. Keeping Luna warm and feeling safe was her top priority.

“Here,” she said, cupping her hands under the blanket. “It’s better now, isn’t it?”

“A little.”

“You can go to sleep now. There’s nothing here.”

Even as she spoke the words the falsity of them rang loud and clear. Especially in a room so utterly cold, and dark, the walls of which were covered with mold no matter how she tried to scrape it off. Luna knew it too, even if she hesitated in speaking her mind. Fear did that to a person, a child.

“What if I see something again?” She asked, a tremor in her voice. “What if they kill me?”

Y/n pulled her into an embrace, bones digging into smaller bones, and rubbed soothing circles on her sister's back. She kisses her temple as Luna fists the back of her midnight blue shirt. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. I’m right here, aren’t I?”

Luna lifts her head and looks Y/n in the eye, a silent plea. “You won’t leave after I fall asleep?”

She couldn’t lie to her this time, couldn’t part from her when her breathing evened out, and lay down on the floor. She couldn’t part from her to sit at the edge of the bed, holding her hand when she was cold all over. No, tonight was going to be different.

“I promise.”

She secures the blanket around their shivering bodies.

************************************************************************************************************************************************

Monday turned out to be absolute poison. Not only did Professor Orlova keep breathing down her neck about every single noise regardless if Y/n had caused it or not, but her arms hurt like a fucking cunt from the apex of her shoulders to her wrist. She could barely write and could only take about five minutes of carrying her ratty brown backpack before removing it and sitting just about anywhere to roll her shoulders. There was no relief. It only hurt more. Breakfast went down smoothly so there was that, but other than the warm meal nothing about that day seemed promising.

The entirety of Olympia, be it the student body or the staff, had been almost a bit too eager to leave Juliana Pierce’s death behind like a rusty relic in a dilapidated museum, but the mood had shifted over the weekend. Now, everyone whispered amongst themselves, raising question after question. Some even had theories of their own to share over breakfast, and Y/n had eavesdropped from her table while pretending to revise one more time before classes began.

Lucky for her, she didn’t have to strain to catch the conversation a group of four students were having at the long table to her left which joined another, then another, to the very end of the vast structure. It wasn’t enough that she couldn’t afford to have a warm meal in the dining hall, but even when she could, it was an unspoken rule that she had to sit at a table separate from the rest. It was a mere three feet of a distance, but it cemented a tacit ultimatum; that she was not to mingle. She was not to pollute the other tables with her presence. She didn’t attempt to change that. Even if the group of students seemed to be of an amiable disposition.

Having had her blood drawn earlier than usual, as per Professor Hajjar’s instructions, Y/n had arrived there before them. She’d managed to catch glimpses of them. Not that there was any need to, as they were the same students who always sat there; two young men and two young women. The males, Jisung and Felix, were the same sons of Apollo she’d caught looking at her the week before when Orlova had put her on the spot. One of the girls was Hwang Yeji, leader of the Second Cohort. The other, whose Cohort Y/n didn’t know, she’d heard the three refer to as ‘Lia’. By now she’d memorized their voices.

“It’s been three weeks though.” Said Lia, “Shouldn’t the CIH have found a lead by now?”

A sound similar to a scoff, but more resigned came from Jisung.

“So what if it’s been three weeks?” He countered, and seemingly after taking a bite out of his cheesy bun, adds, “The paper said there were no footprints, no DNA left behind at the crime scene. So far, the only way for them to find a lead is by analyzing the killer’s method. They could just be a perfectionistic bastard who’s hard to catch.”

“The people that were there said that she’d stripped naked and skinned alive.” Said Yeji. “Remember what that girl with the black and red spiky hair said when they interviewed her?”

This time it was Felix who spoke.

“Yeah, we were about to turn off the TV when that came on and she started talking about the hole in Ruth’s chest. No heart. No eyes either. No traces of DNA, monster, beast, or human.” He paused, and Y/n flipped the page. “Poor girl looked about to have a breakdown. Good thing they cut it before they caught it on camera.”

“Like it would have mattered.” Shot Jisung through a mouthful of mushroom-and-dill chicken and dumpling soup. “She’s going to have to live with the sight of Ruth’s corpse for the rest of her life. What a bunch of pussies have to say doesn’t matter shit.”

Groaning in disgust, Yeji muttered, “Says the bitch with social anxiety.”

“Don’t start shit with me, Elmo lookalike.” Fired Jisung.

What followed was a back-and-forth worthy of the circus. Even amidst the clatter of utensils all around them, the cuss words being hurled across the table entered Y/n’s ears unobstructed. She tried to make sense of some of the expressions but without much success.

“Isn’t it strange though?” Lia spoke in a soft voice, and the rest of them stopped to listen while Y/n wallowed a spoonful of the soup.

When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to elaborate, Jisung took it upon himself to ask her to clarify.

“Lia, baby girl, everything’s fucking weird around here lately.” Y/n could hear the laugh he was trying to suppress. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“What Felix said before, about there being no traces of DNA.” She explained, voice still gentle. “There’s always something left behind, isn’t there? Cloth fibers. Skin. Nails. Body fluids.” Y/n started in her chair, soup spilling out of her spoon and back into the porcelain bowl, as booming laughter sounded from somewhere across the dining hall. It seemed to temporarily catch their attention. Then, Lia whispered. “It’s almost like whoever did that to Ruth was never even there. Like the only evidence they ever existed is the tragedy they left behind.”

Felix matched Lia’s whispery tone with his own. “What if they left something but we have no way of understanding it because we aren’t aware of its existence?”

Jisung groaned, mouth full of food.

“Whatever,” He interjected, likely wanting to end the conversation, “It’s not like we’re going to solve the case at eight in the morning.”

“No coffee today?” Asked Yeji, sounding surprised.

That seemed to ignite some kind of previously dampened frustration in Jisung as he all but pushed the chair backward, the legs screeching against the floor.

“I would have had some,” he emphasized and Y/n heard Felix make a choking noise, “If not for this chicken dragging me away from the vending machine like a wet rag going all ‘we have to cut back on coffee, Jisung’ and ‘it’s not healthy to put that much caffeine in your body, Jisung’.”

“Really? You’re trying to lay off coffee?” Yeji’s question was answered by another series of choking sounds. None of them paid that any heed as Jisung continued to do whatever he was doing, Yeji sipped from her cup, and Lia took a small bite out of the dumpling in the soup (Y/n spied from the corner of her eye). “That’s great, you know. I was getting worried seeing you chugging down liters of coffee like it’s water.”

Jisung released a short laugh of absolute derangement. “Yeah right. He just doesn’t want to have to run just to take a shit.”

Y/n couldn’t withhold her laughter anymore. It spluttered out of her even as she abused her lower lip by biting into it. Some of the soup that had barely passed her lips and that she’d been trying not to swallow for fear of choking with amusement, ended up on the silver tray. She swallowed what remained in her mouth and used a napkin to wipe her lips.

They’d stopped talking by now. Y/n could feel their gaze on her so she tried her best to act like she’d been laughing at something else, turning the page, and mentally punching herself for it as realization struck. Nothing about Hematology was amusing. In fact, it was rather infuriating considering who taught the course. Pathetic. Fortunately, the group of four had let her be pathetic in peace, not bothering with pointing out how disgusting she was, and they’d all gone about their day in peace.

The little comfort she’d derived from Orlova’s lecture was thanks to Seungmin’s presence. She would never tell him that though. Surely, he would hate to be perceived as someone she could trust, someone she could consider a friend. He made this obvious through his body language; maintaining a conspicuous distance when they worked in pairs even as the rest huddled near the microscope, mostly looking at her from his peripheral vision, giving curt answers, shrugging when she asked a question, and so on. Whatever ease she felt in his company was to be kept a secret from him.

What she couldn’t keep a secret was the unease that had taken root in her subconscious the previous week, when she’d first become conscious of his existence. Hwang, as his friend had called him, had been perusing the pages of his Hematology textbook just as Y/n had taken a few moments to look about the room. She hadn’t been paying attention to him specifically, but he had somehow sensed her wandering gaze and turned quickly enough to catch her admiring the architectural design, gazes locking. The oxygen had vanished from her lungs. Cold with fear of Luna being taken into custody, Luna charged with a murder she hadn’t committed, Luna taken away, Luna being tortured for information, she’d looked away and feigned interest in some other aspect of the lecture hall. But the dread had not ceased.

It had stalked her in the hallways, followed her at lunch, and, ultimately, tracked her down at the Training Center. She’d entered the changing room, put on her new uniform, the material of which showcased the effects of starvation on her body, and sat on the bench, waiting for her new instructor to arrive. After twenty minutes, it had become apparent to her that they were a no-show, so she’d braved the short journey across the floor to the archery area. Looking back, it had been the worst possible choice she could have made. But how was she supposed to know what to do? Just by having watched for years? She wasn’t the best at translating theory into practice, even if her imagination was what she’d relied on to compensate for the lack of tactile experience.

So, yeah, archery turned out to be the wrong discipline to start with. Not only did she not know which bow to pick from the shelves, but the gloves were tailored for each student specifically. It had either skipped Professor Hajjar’s mind or he didn’t intend for her to start with the bow just yet. Still, she’d picked a spot farthest to the right and watched the other students in action. How they placed the arrow. How they positioned their feet. The angle of their arms as they pulled the string. The required distance from the faces so it didn’t slice the flesh off once it was released. Not feeling all that confident, she’d taken her spot and raised the bow. Instant regret. Pain shot from her shoulder to her wrist as she struggled to keep the arrow in place and the string pulled. Not that she managed to pull it, to begin with. It was a rather failed, pitiful first attempt.

To make matters worse, she could feel eyes observing her. It was almost the same as before, the sole difference being the intensity of the gaze and the fact that when she looked to her right, Y/n came face to face with the person who had been stalking her nightmares for the past week. In her dreams, he was always a witness, the final nail in the coffin. Only, it wasn’t just a dream.

Her fingers trembled with the nerves. It was impossible to knock the end of the arrow on the string without the former veering to the right before clattering to the floor. She glanced at him as she crouched to pick it up. She bit her lip in frustration, tasting blood. It irritated her to no end; that he leaned against the wall, that she hadn’t noticed sneak behind her or lean against the wall, or that he made no attempt to hide the fact that he was watching, and a bunch of other things that, in the end, were irrelevant. Most of all, she loathed the effect that this man, whom only days before she hadn’t known existed, had on her. His mere presence served as an electric chair, constantly punishing her for her silence. The arrow clattered to the floor once more.

Again and again, she tried without success, and all the while, he was there to watch. Y/n wanted so badly to stomp her feet like a five-year-old. His presence deterred her. It came to the point where she worried about the smallest things; bending down to pick up the arrow, placing her feet shoulder-width apart, worrying if they were parallel with the shooting line, or when she bit back a whimper of pain as she pulled the string. That was the last time.

The fingers of her right hand clenched around the shaft of the arrow. Humiliated, Y/n took a tremulous breath before lowering the bow, picking up the quiver, and walking away, leaving the boy behind. He did not follow. Or at least, she didn’t hear him do so. To make sure, she halted and looked back just once to catch him with his gaze trained on her. Immediately, she faced the exit.

Enclosed in her own head and all the negative emotions brewing up in there, Y/n failed to notice the man headed toward her, which would be impossible in most cases considering the young man was hard to miss, even if he was clad in the same training gear as every other student. But miss him she did. And she continued to miss him even as she turned to the left toward the shelves, placing the bow on the rack with trembling fingers and the quiver where she’d found it. No amount of rubbing her palms against her thighs calmed them. This was just humiliating.

She turned and crashed into a sturdy figure. Hands came to rest on her arms, steadying Y/n as her forehead throbbed from the impact. After making certain she wasn’t going to collapse, Lee Minho stroked his chin, the flesh now rosy and tender.

“Well,” He began, looking at her, “This is going to bruise.”

Y/n didn’t feel all that sorry, but if she showed no remorse for the honest accident, she might garner the wrath of his friends. They didn’t look like the kind of people anyone wanted to fuck with, least of all her.

“Sorry.” She muttered, averting her eyes.

Before she could walk past him, he took hold of her arm and took a good look at her face.

“Did you have anyone take a look at your nose?” He asked.

Normally, it would have been hard to forget about the navy bruise since it was quite literally on her nose, but all concerns about her surface flaws tended to flee whenever more oppressive issues became the main characters of her life. Luna’s safety was her focal point, as was hunger. Her health had never been anyone’s priority, and she had learned to disregard it just as expertly. The same thing she had done with her appearance. Yet there were moments like this one when someone would point out the holes in her threadbare shirt or the hollowness of her cheeks, that she considered turning her skin inside out. Hiding her face beneath her flesh.

She looked at his gloved hand on her arm. “Like they’d waste their medicine on me.”

His hold loosened and then disappeared as he crossed his arms over his chest. Y/n looked up at him, asking herself why she hadn’t already left.

“It doesn’t look that bad considering the strength and speed of my kick. All you have to do is get someone to realign it for you.”

That was a low blow. Even for him. It was not a secret that she was quite literally an outcast, period. This truth was not easy to stomach but there was no easier way to say it either. And he knew it.

“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?” Y/n could only be thankful that the shame hadn’t drained the last ounce of strength from her limbs. “Leave me alone. You had your fun.”

Minho’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Where’s the fun in besting someone who has had no training? It’s like kicking a starved dog.” Y/n hoped he couldn’t tell how his words affected her, even if it wasn’t her first time hearing them. There’s a pause before he speaks again. “Besides, I’m not here to mock you. Professor Hajjar assigned me to be your mentor, show you the ropes until you get the hang of it. Basically, train you until you’ve built enough skill and stamina to level up.”

That caught her by surprise. Several questions started running through her head at a speed only an overthinker could achieve. Why was he so late? Why was he wearing archery gloves? Had she been right to pick up archery first? Why did he smell like the violets in the lush gardens surrounding the Hall of Ceremonies and the rum that children of Dionysus and Bacchus so often consumed behind staircases?

But what Y/n asked as she stared at him, frozen, was, “Why you?”

“Hm?”

“Why would he choose you?” She repeated, somewhat impatiently.

The pause that followed was filled with grunts, moans of pain, taunting laughter, thuds, whimpers, arrows swishing through the air, and more as he regarded her with a somewhat pensive expression. It wasn’t until she lowered her eyes to her feet as a resounding cackle sounded from the far left of the archery zone, that Minho seemed to break away from his train of thought.

With a slight shake of his head, he walked to the shelf and picked up the bow and quiver from before.

“Maybe he thinks I wouldn’t make a spectacle out of you.” He said, fingers running up and down the upper limb.

Another surprise.

As if driven by some newfound hope, Y/n stepped closer. “Is he right?”

Mouth curving up in a small smile, Minho nodded and handed her the bow.

“Any luck with it?” He asked.

Y/n shook her head, eyes on the bow as her fingers curled around the grip.

“None.” When he just stood there, staring as if he expected a more detailed answer, she went on to say, “The string- it hurts my fingers when I pull it. If I can pull it in the first place.”

“There are pads for that. Why didn’t you take a pair from the shelves? I know you don’t have your own yet.”

Because she didn’t know there were any. The archery zone was farthest from the benches, and this was her first day of training. Ever. She didn’t know her way around here, and it was only becoming more and more obvious by the second that she stood out like a sore fucking thumb among all of these well-fed, athletic, lethal cohorts. Her silence and the way she couldn’t look him in the eye was a clear enough answer for Minho as he placed his hand on her bony shoulder and led her back to the trenches of the archery zone. On their way to the farthest spot on the left, where she’d made a fool out of herself previously, he explained the parts of the arrow and the bow. They registered in her brain as follows; the point/arrowhead, shaft, fletching, nock, lower and upper limbs, grip, arrow rest, and the nocking point. Easy enough. Theoretically. Maybe with consistent training, she would get her arrow to stay still.

“Hey,” Minho says, eyes set ahead, “You’re here. Done practicing?”

She follows his gaze to the person it has landed on, and she wonders how she could have let his presence slip her mind. Had she been swept away by Minho’s explanation of the basics of archery to this extent?

The boy closed in on them as they halted at Y/n’s previous spot, and she hoped her discomfort at his presence didn’t bleed into her countenance, pale as it was. His height and appearance didn’t help. Over the past week, she’d seen him in passing and at a distance, but now that he stood before Minho and her it felt as though some looming threat had materialized before her very eyes. Some primal instinct in her urged her to scour her surroundings for an exit. It made her want to worm her way into the deepest layers of the earth if only to seek refuge from the misfortune one word from him might bring upon Luna and her. His eyes were on her for no longer than a few seconds.

“Finished a while ago,” Hwang told Minho in that honeyed yet neutral voice of his. His right thumb fit neatly inside the ringlike part of the black knife he had apparently been carrying the entire time. She noted the sinister curve of the blade. “Thought I’d try archery today.”

“Where’s your bow?”

“Changed my mind. Things are rather dull around here.” He said nonchalantly, but Y/n felt the sting. “I might go join Yeonjun and Beomgyu in the simulation chamber after all.”

Minho’s brows shot up. “There already?”

“They waited for you for about half an hour then left.” The boy’s eyes were on her, appraising her once again. “I see you had no plans of joining us though.”

“I told you gremlins on Friday that I’d be training her from now on.” Minho reminded him and suddenly he was standing a tad closer to her. “After simulation practice. Remember?”

Hwang’s gaze briefly shifted to the space between her and Minho and then he shrugged. “We thought it was a prank.”

Y/n couldn’t fault him for that. This whole endeavor sounded like a practical joke. She didn’t see how it could end in anything other than complete and utter disappointment for her. Orlova would humiliate her further if she failed. And she would fail. But the way he said it implied that she was the joke. A bleak, pathetic little gag that his friend was wasting his time on. True as it was, it still made her itch.

After that, Y/n tried to tune them out with very little success. Even with all the screaming and groans of pain around, his voice was impossible to dampen. She heard everything, from their talk about the new gear for the obstacle course to the nets on the second floor of Compartment A, a place she’d never stepped foot in. If Minho found the fleeting glances Hwang shot in her direction suspicious, he did not remark on it. In any case, Minho’s ability to pick up on the way his friend appraised her mattered little when she was cursed with feeling dissected every second of their interaction.

A bit later, the taller boy took his leave, toying with the knives in his grasp.

“Hyunjin, hey,” Minho called after him. Y/n glanced back just as Hwang tilted his head for his friend to continue. “Don’t forget about what we talked about before.”

After taking one last look at her, the boy answered simply, “Sure.”

The next 15 minutes were an overload of theory that she would soon have to put into practice. Minho was a good teacher, even if a little intimidating at times. His gaze could be equally warm and chilly, yet it appeared to melt entirely at a specific sound.

Her head snapped to the left, and surely, halfway through the thinning line of archers, stood Jisung with his brother Felix, both in their training gear. They were- well, he was cackling and pointing at Felix’s sorry attempts at hitting the target dead in the center while the blonde pouted, frustrated at his less-than-adequate skills. He must have been a healer then if he wasn’t even a little bit naturally gifted with the bow. The worst part about being a pitiful archer was probably having a brother who was just the opposite and made no effort to console you. Not that Jisung wasn’t trying to help. He just teased Felix in the process.

Y/n smiled a little at their bond before positioning her feet the way Minho taught her and made to pull the string. When she craned her head to the side for his approval, his attention was fixated elsewhere. While she’d pulled herself back to the matter at hand, he seemed to be under some sort of spell. Interest in their training had drained from his eyes. Now, the warm irises expressed something different, remote, and almost regretful. Y/n couldn’t put a finger on it.

Lowering the bow, she asked, “Do you know him?”

As if electrocuted, Minho tore his gaze away and looked at her. She felt a little sorry for having sought his attention.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding for her to raise the bow and get in position. “They’re my friends.”

*******************************************************************************************************************************************

The next day starts normal enough save for the fact that they wake up earlier as she has to get her blood drawn earlier if she wants to have breakfast at the hall. Made breakfast for Luna, and endured the pangs of pain. Stomach acidity going wild in there. Reassured her little sister for the thousandth time at home and on the way to Eos Elementary. Ran a marathon to school. Got her blood sucked through a tube which left her feeling dull and lifeless like a dish towel. Breakfast was stellar and she even stuffed an extra honey chocolate muffin into an empty pocket of her backpack, all wrapped up in foil by the lunch lady.

Lectures went on and on, and for once Y/n didn’t feel like she was about to turn into one of Medusa’s little garden companions. Seungmin and she were still not on speaking terms. Not that they had been gossiping and chatting away before. Just… the silence was stifling. She’d have to get used to it. It was no different from what she had once shared with Chiron, her caretaker. An uneasy, dutiful coexistence.

Lunch came around but she tried not to seem too excited about it. Others would think it weird for someone to be that excited over a meal. Or maybe everyone did? Food was something to look forward to for everyone, wasn’t it?

Whatever the case, she tried to put a leash on her excitement as she received her prearranged lunch. On her way to her table, she spotted Minho talking with his friends and another guy with a muscular build she had seen around before. He caught her looking and acknowledged her with the slightest nod. Not even that seemed to escape his friend Hwang. His piercing dark eyes studied the exchange, which urged her to hurry to her table.

To her left, the four students from before chatted with each other. At one point she felt them watching as she dug into her small portion of spaghetti. She put the fork down and settled for studying the floor. What magnificent patterns. After a minute of speaking under their breath, they looked away and pretended they hadn’t seen her gorge on her food like a cavewoman.

Halfway through lunch, a storm of a dark-haired young man comes their way, clasping his hands on Jisung’s and Felix’s shoulders.

“Oh, my fucking fuck, you guys,” Is his first line, “You’ll never guess what happened!”

Jisung pulls him down to his eye level. “So, tell us since we won’t.”

The man sits smack between the two brothers.

“This little girl basically went barking mad at the school. You know the one. For the little kids. The one you went to when you were little.”

The redhead speaks, sounding incredulous. “Eos Elementary, Jeongin. How can you not know?”

“Why would I know?!” The guy, Jeongin, defends.

“You’ve been here like three years!”

“And I would have lived not knowing anyway!”

Jisung intervenes. “Oh, my fucking gods, who gives a shit?!”

“Yeah, you were talking about a little girl?” Felix attempts to bring them back on track a tad more gently. “What did she do?”

Jeongin smiles big, his eyes turning into glittering jewels as two adorable dimples appear on his cheeks. He leans forward, motioning for the others to do the same. But when he speaks, he makes no effort to lower his voice.

“From what I heard, the higher-ups sent some of their own to investigate. I know what you’re thinking; what the fuck are they doing there then. Well, at first, I thought they suspected a staff member. Maybe one of them got caught selling drugs on the low. Dabbling in crystal meth or cocaine. But, no, that doesn’t make sense because they’re busy trying to catch whoever killed Juliana and Ruth. Is that it then? Did the janitor kill those two? So, then I listen closer and-

Yeji lifts an eyebrow. “Listen?”

“Eavesdropped on the professors, whatever. So, then I listen closer, and when I tell you my jaw dropped!”

All five of them fall silent, and Y/n listens with bated breath.

“Wait…” Jisung looks to others for confirmation. “Don’t tell me they suspected a kid.”

Lia cups her hand over her mouth, her appetite long gone. “No way…”

“Way!” Jeongin effused.

Yeji threw up her hands. “This is getting ridiculous.”

“Is this what they’re wasting time on while Ruth and Juliana rot?” Felix asked in disbelief and anger, staring down at his plate. “Chasing and scaring little kids?”

“But you guys don’t know the best part.”

“Best?” Yeji shot him a reproachful look, just about done with his chipper attitude towards the situation. “There’s nothing remotely good about this, Jeongin.”

Her words appeared to strike a chord within him, for he got red in the face as if he’d been guzzling down cup after cup of wine. He removed his hand from Jisung’s shoulder, whose expression let him know he agreed with the redhead. Felix and Lia shared the same opinion it seemed.

“I know. I didn’t mean it like that. I- well, you know how I- sorry, I got carried away.” He apologized, and it sounded truthful, with the way he smiled awkwardly, blushing even more with each word. Then, with a shake of his head, he carried on, “Apparently, they started to question every kid that is known to have inherited powers. Started doing blood tests. Putting them through this trance-like state. This girl couldn’t take it and lashed out, injuring the medics before making a break for the gate.”

A few unnerving beats of silence. Lia rotated the pearly bracelet on her delicate wrist. Jisung zoned out, toying with a triangular-shaped object about the size of an acorn. Felix picked up his fork only to set it down again. Yeji was deep in thought.

“Do they have her in custody now?”

The question earns her a groan from Jeongin.

“That’s what I’ve been telling you! She broke out. The guards started chasing like fools but they couldn’t catch her.”

“Couldn’t get their hands on a little girl? Are you serious?”

“Deadass.”

“Are they still out looking for her?” asked Felix, who was now trying to force himself to eat.

Jeongin shrugged, picking up Jisung’s fork to steal some of his spaghetti, which the latter didn’t seem to mind.

“All I know is that the last time they saw her was before she bolted inside the forest.”

Jisung’s eyes almost popped out. Lia gasped and the rest were just as shocked.

“Oh, no,” She whispered. “Gods she won’t be able to survive in there.”

Jeongin swallowed the food and grabbed a napkin to wipe at the corners of his mouth.

“I think she will.” He counters.

“How so?” It was the first time Felix sounded genuinely angry as pushed his plate away, almost knocking over Lia’s glass. To him, the whole ordeal is absurd at best, and evil at worst. “She doesn’t have the training to face what prowls in there.”

No, she doesn’t, thought Y/n. For the entire duration of their conversation, her body had remained stock still, a veritable statue. Her body had gone into panic mode, reserving energy only for breathing. Her limbs had lost all feeling to the point that she had felt like a spectator to her miserable form sitting there uselessly while they reacted to the unofficial news about the runaway child. A child driven mad by experiments conducted in the name of an investigation.

It took a few moments for her to reclaim her anatomy, to perceive the surroundings through her eyes; the clattering of utensils, the boisterous laughter, the brain-rotting whispers, and the light streaming in from the windows high up. Then, utter void. She could feel their eyes on her but their voices were suddenly silenced by the buzzing in her head. The ringing in her ears. The blood rushed back into her face as she forced her trembling hands to grab onto the straps of her backpack. Darkness pooled at her feet as though every crevice of her framework bled pure, unadulterated tar. A fog that, if you touched it, curled around your fingers, slowly draining your life force. Not that she knew any of this.

By the time she snapped back into her body for the second time, she had already begun running.

No one other than the higher-ups knew of this, but back when she’d first arrived at Camp Jupiter, Y/n had done so through the forest. Lupa had found her at the very edge before she’d managed one step into the green nightmare. She had smacked her around a few times, glowering over her, thinking it would intimidate her into abandoning her newfound purpose. Meeting her baby sister. In the end, the guardian had granted her entrance. Only not through the natural path, and not without a few chilling words of caution.

Now, she found herself at the edge for a second time, preparing to brave the search for Luna in the gargantuan nightmare before which she stood. No forest was so imposing, so eerie in the way only living things promising a harrowing death can be. But what did any of that matter? What did it matter if she stayed outside of it, alive and with her sister's mangled corpse painted on her eyelids when she could just step inside?

Clutching the straps of her backpack, she willed the fear to melt off her extremities. The forest closed up behind her, alive with the desire to prevent her escape. Two more steps inside and her sense of direction turned to mush. There was no left or right, no up or down. Only branches, thorns, the hooting of owls, and somewhere, what felt like but a few hundred feet from her, maniacal laughter. There was only forward because the exit had been devoured.

Her heart hammered away inside her chest. How was she going to find Luna in this leafy purgatory? Encased by darkness as she was, she would assume she was without hands or feet if not for her sense of touch. Her soles prickled with the cold and her fingers were minutes away from turning into inoperable stubs. As she walked, she resolved to prevent that by opening and closing her fists. How quickly you forget us, spoke the shadows. It was difficult to tell which. They all melted together. But that single sentence was enough to make her remember who she was. She was the daughter of Nyx. Darkness was her legacy. Speaking to it, wielding it, that was her prerogative.

Luna. She spoke as softly and as low as she could so that she wouldn’t spark the interest of any creatures lurking nearby.

Luna. She spoke her sister’s name once again, and when that went unanswered, she took several steps in an unknown direction, feeling her way around with her hands. Thorns pierced her skin. Her blue oversized blue zip-up hoodie snagged on the branches. She could swear they were clawing at her face, back, thighs, and neck. The bark was so rough, she couldn’t lean on it for long. But the cold lessened the pain of the abrasions.

Luna, it’s me, Y/n. She tried a third time, never stopping to look into the darkness for fear of what she might find staring back. Answer me if you can hear me. Don’t scream or you will alert the monsters. Listen to the darkness and it will lead you to me.

No response, and after a few minutes of unendurable silence Y/n could no longer keep her breathing steady. She could hear her heart hammering away. Her blood rushing throughout. The ringing in her ears drowned out all sounds, which was dangerous considering where she was.

She recalled the way she had torn through the forest years ago. Her tunnel vision had proven useful back then. It had given her courage, the strength she needed to charge towards her purpose. Now it hindered her senses. She was going to get mauled before she could find Luna. It would all be for naught. All because she hadn’t honed the ability to commune telepathically with the shadows. It drove her mad to think about it.

But she kept going. It seemed like a sin to stand still.

North.

She knew it was the darkness. No one spoke to her like it did. But did it actually expect her to be able to tell which way north was? She could barely tell which way was left and right. Y/n looked into the dark, truly gazed into it. She could make out certain shapes; owls on the trees, squirrels nibbling on nuts, and other larger-sized silhouettes prowling. Surely that couldn’t be north.

When Y/n turned right, the darkness spoke again. It sounded annoyed. North!

“I don’t know.” She hissed. “I don’t know which way north is. I’m not a fucking compass.”

This time she turned left. This must be the way because when she next heard the darkness speak, it sounded almost relieved. North.

“Thank you.” She whispered. “That’s how we’ll communicate.”

As she walked north for what seemed like an eternity but must have been just half an hour at most, she noticed the forest getting brighter. It flickered like the lights at their apartment. Only this fractured the darkness at even intervals, like a regular heartbeat that supplied the rest of the entire harrowing expanse of the wild with life. She gravitated toward it, drawn by the fluorescent aquamarine hue of the veiny roots and the scent of pine needles. The latter made the ground soft for walking, cushioning the footfall.

The closer Y/n got to the source, the more she could tell wasn’t the only one entranced by it. At first, all she heard were rushing currents, muffled sounds, then sobs, and lastly the voice of an adult male.

“Do you like flowers, little one,” it said, and his voice gave her chills.

Y/n didn’t need to hear the child speak. Her sniffling was enough.

“Yes.” Luna hiccupped.

Y/n was now behind the tree, petrified at the thought of what this man might be. Was he even a man? He looked like it; black hair curled at the ends, clad in a white blouse and ironed pants much too crisp for their surroundings. There should at least be some splatters of water or soaking hems. His clothed feet were in the stream after all.

The man bent down and plucked a blade of grass. It spiraled around his index finger and then sprung free, fluorescent petals of green and blue spreading like feathered wings.

“Here, then,” he said gently, waiting for her to accept his creation as he placed his hand on top of her head. “Beautiful thing, is it not?”

Luna nodded, her small fist closing around the glowing stem. The man’s mouth twitched.

“You may take it home with you if you wish.” He told her.

Y/n couldn’t hide any longer.

“Luna?” She called out, finally appearing on the other side of the stream. “Luna, throw that away.”

“Y/n!” Luna screamed for joy, crossing without fear of being swept away by the current. “Y/n, you came! You’re here! You came for me!”

The little girl pressed her face into Y/n’s hoodie and the latter responded by wrapping her scrawny arms around the girl’s shoulders.

“Of course, I did. I came to take you home.”

“I don’t want to.” Luna’s voice came out muffled.

“What do you mean-

“I don’t want to! I don’t want to go home!”

“Luna, they won’t hurt you. I won’t let them, remember?” Y/n tried to reason, rubbing the back of her head as her eyes flicked up at the man on the other side. “Do you remember what I told you to say if anyone asks?”

Her little fists tighten around Y/n’s hoodie.

“I was in bed sleeping. Then you suddenly remembered to go pick up something from a store at the square.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Y/n encouraged her. “And when I arrived there, people were crowded around the fountain.”

Luna makes a choking sound. “And then you came straight home to make sure I was okay.”

“That whoever had done that hadn’t hurt you.” Y/n finished but it didn’t do anything to calm her down. On the contrary, her body tensed up against hers. “See, they can’t say anything bad about you.”

“But I’m-

“It’s time you went home, little one.”

The man’s voice commanded their attention, even if the way he spoke was deceptively soothing. Luna loosened her hold and held onto her arm instead. Its petals unbruised, the flower remained in her hand.

“Thank you.” She said, “For looking after her.”

“Hardly. It is you I wished to have a word with.” He revealed quite plainly. Y/n waited for him to speak his peace, which he seemed to understand. “Tell the wretched vermin not to be so awfully stingy.”

Then, he turned on his heel. Before he disappeared, he craned his head a little and cast them one last glance.

“And keep that flower.” He told them. “It is, by far, the most precious thing you own.”

With that, he vanished from the shallow creek, leaving them to stand beneath the arching branches overhead, watching their glow sink into the bed of the stream, particles reflected off the current which got more violent by the second. They had to get out of there at once. So, they went south, walking as fast as they could without raising hell in their wake. Still, twigs snapped under their feet. Their breathing grew more labored as they neared the spot from which Y/n had entered. A little further and they would get to the clearing. But to do that they first had to claw through the barrier of thorns that had blocked her exit just moments before the darkness had swallowed her.

Glued to her side, Luna trembled with fear. Her heels dug into the ground.

“Please,” Came her quivering imploration, “Please, don’t take me there. I don’t want to go back.”

Y/n couldn’t see her face, only the shivering frame of a little girl.

“If we leave, they’ll find us.” She tried to reason once again. “Nothing could save us then.”

No reply. Sensing that Luna wasn’t going to be convinced to follow her out of the forest, Y/n began to panic. Nothing would convince the scared child clinging to her arm to step back into misery. A place, she was certain would not dither to sentence her for a crime they believed her to have committed. It was a losing game. The least she could do was gamble one last time.

She set down her backpack and felt around inside its pocket for the muffin she had previously stuffed in there. After fishing it out, she placed it on Luna’s hand, the one clasping hers, and let the girl bring it up to her nose.

“It’s a muffin,” Y/n confirmed. “I got it from the cafeteria like I told you I would. But if we leave, we won’t be able to have food like this ever again. I’m no one outside of this camp. I’m not a person. I can’t get a job and cook warm food for us every day. We would starve, and I don’t want you to suffer, Luna.” She clasped Luna’s hand into her own. “If we stay, I can get all sorts of things for you. Food, clothes, and maybe a better house one day. Then, you can leave and I’ll stay.”

She could feel her little sister tensing up and about to cry.

“Okay,” She said in a wobbly voice, “I’ll come with you.”

That was all Y/n needed to face the barrier of thorns and start clawing through it. She was not strong. That much she knew. But maybe her perseverance would suffice. Maybe the darkness would lend her a shadowy hand and snap each branch one by one, even as the thorns tore at her clothes and the rough branches broke the skin. Maybe crawling through it, roughed up and bloodied with her sister unharmed, would be enough. Maybe all the forest sought was her blood. Maybe it was divine. Maybe it was human after all.

It seemed like an eternity before they saw light peeking through the thorns, which somehow had made it their missing to grow behind them even as she clawed through. Meaning she had to be more brutal. Charge faster towards the beckoning light of the clearing.

What she had anticipated and tried to deny, was the welcoming party. A squadron of a hundred and fifty demigod warriors awaited their return; spears raised, blades drawn, arrows nocked. The celestial bronze was almost blinding in the glow of the afternoon sun. In stark contrast with the gloomy wilderness from which they had emerged.

An imposing figure led the troops, standing proud was Shin Ryujin.

“Do not resist.” She commanded. Luna took shelter behind her. The action didn’t go unnoticed by the daughter of Bellona, who called four of her subordinates forward. “Seize them.”

<<<Chapter 1 Chapter 3>>>

#skz #stray kids #skz godly parent au #skz godly parent #skz pjo #stray kids godly parent #stray kids godly parent au #stray kids pjo #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin skz #hwang hyunjin enemies to lovers #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin x reader #human sacrifice #human experimentation #child neglect #child abuse #hanging

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siennasfix · 2 months

Text

Pareidolia

Chapter 3 "Tipped scale"

*****

<<<Chapter 2 Chapter 4>>>

Trigger warnings: 1. Mentions of child torture 2. Mentions of child being experimented on in a lab 3. Strangling attempt 4. Imprisonment

The cold and musty dampness of the cell had numbed her buttocks. After having tried to stand for hours on end, she’d gotten so dizzy that the only choice had been to lie down and embrace the high possibility that she would fall ill. Now and again, a shudder would roll through her with such violence it almost knocked the breath out of her. She could no longer feel her nose and her toes were next. The only thing she could be certain of was the fact that none of this could be as bad for her as it had to be for her little sister.

Luna had been taken to a different cell, one used to hold prisoners charged with crimes too great for the human world, but not enough to endanger the divine order. The latter granted you a far crueler fate. A trip to the fields of punishment while you were still breathing and not allowed to die. What was the difference at that point? The possibility that you could escape? The knowledge you wouldn’t?

But she wasn’t there. She wouldn’t be sent there. Luna was only a girl of nine. What she had seen had scarred her, rendering her unable to sleep. She didn’t have the power or the training, least of all the intention, to commit those murders. The council had to understand that. With Y/n a witness, they would understand that. Maybe she could get someone else to testify as well, but so far no one came to mind. No one who didn’t have the influence or intention to make things worse.

She dreaded the moment she would have to face the council as Professor Philomena Laqueus would be in it, presiding and whispering in the Head’s ear. Her fate was largely decided by those who held no neighborly feelings toward her or her younger sister. She dreaded it… dreaded it.

But nothing chilled her blood as the thought of all those students being in the hall, a replica of the Colosseum, watching like scavengers for remains to tear off her sister’s corpse, even if they would keep her alive until Y/n died under any circumstance. They needed a blood piggy after all, and they were the last of the Old Bloods on earth. No, they wouldn’t kill her. They would keep her alive, somewhere. Keep her in a state of miserable existence until Luna truly was alone in the world.

While Y/n was deep in thought, someone was making his way down the corridor leading to the cells below Lex Principalis, each step more uncertain than the one before but with the certainty that if he were to go back, he would sorely regret it. After all the bargaining he had done, the only way was forward. Still, when he stopped before the bars of her cell, she thought him to be a mirage. A cruel creation of her fancy.

“Did you have to run into the forest like that?”

Lee Minho wasted no time with formalities or sympathy, even if he wished he could spare the time for them. They were entirely unhelpful at the moment.

Y/n looked to the wall on her right, finding comfort in the stone. Anything but a human being. Especially one standing there, safe, sound, and secure in his strength.

“You’re only here to judge I see.” She muttered.

Minho had no plans of leaving though, not before fulfilling his self-appointed mission. It didn’t matter that she turned the other way. But he could make it easier for her to adjust to his presence, and so he crouched down, careful not to touch the bars buzzing with electricity.

She looked so helpless, sitting in the damp ground of the cell, breathing in the mold, waiting out the days with only rotten food in her system. Not only that, she certainly felt weak as well. If any of the guards felt like beating her, she couldn’t fight back, even in the dark. Minho could tell by her broken nose, the bloodied hands, and the collarbones peeking over her zip-up hoodie that she was close to dying. Maybe she didn’t know it.

“She’s being held in a lab, you know?” He stated matter-of-factly, and instantly, she stiffened. “Everything she fled from is being done to her as we speak. All those tests, mostly blood tests. You understand, don’t you?”

Y/n stirred, looking at him with tired dark eyes.

“I was wrong. You’re not here to judge.” She said, more to herself than him. “You’re here to gloat.”

“Does it look like I’m gloating?”

She dug the heels of her mud-caked palms into her eyes, shaking her head.

“That’s it. I don’t know what anything other than humiliation looks like. That’s what you look like to me. I don’t know you.”

“I thought we agreed that I wouldn’t make a spectacle out of you. I’m your mentor, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t matter anymore. No one will let me train after this, and if Luna gets taken away, there will be no reason for me to do so.” The whimper died in her throat. “It’s pointless.” Minho groaned. “What’s pointless is moping around.” “Whatever.” You don’t understand anything. You’re not the one in a cell. She brought her knees to her chest, wrapping shiver her arms around them as if to keep his words from affecting her. Again, she whispered, “Whatever.”

For a minute or two, they let the sound of water leak down the stone walls, dripping from the ceiling at even intervals, fill the space between them. Silence would be either too kind or too cruel, and neither was wanted. But Minho did not have all day. He had duties to fulfill, a training regiment to stick by (though he loathed to do so), and his friends were bound to take note of his prolonged absence. Hyunjin worst of all would be able to put two and two together, and Minho, mischievous and cunning son of Hermes though he was, didn’t trust himself to withhold the truth from the beloved son of Aphrodite. It was, in every sense of the word, impossible to do so. He could be persuasive, persistent, and pitiless in his every pursuit. Especially when he believed it to be something he truly desired. It did not help that Yeonjun and Beomgyu were in the simulation chamber with him at the moment, likely discussing his nonattendance.

He had to do what he’d set out to do by coming here and do it quickly.

“Will you get closer already? I have something to tell you.” He beckoned in as low a voice as possible. She peered distrustfully at him from above her folded knees. He then added, “It’s good news, I promise.”

Minho figured her silence was as much an approval as he would get considering the way the conversation had flown so far.

“I heard, from a friend of mine who is an eavesdropper by trade, that they are considering releasing you tomorrow morning.”

That single sentence sparked hope in her heart. Those dark beads of hers lit up so much so that in the obscurity of the cell they glittered as if with tears.

“Do they believe me now?” Her arms loosened around her legs and Y/n pushed herself to crawl toward him. “About Luna and I being innocent?”

Minho chuckled. “Gods, no. They just need your blood, and being held in captivity like this is bound to kill you.”

Her emaciated face fell, the faint pipe dream in her eyes going out like a light. It was pitiful to watch, but she needed to know. Not that she didn’t already.

“Oh…” Y/n let out, her arms once again wound like vines around herself. “It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m out of here.”

Minho nodded. “Yeah, you will still be under surveillance.”

“Like… guards?” Y/n asked warily.

“Animals. Cameras.” He looked at her pointedly. “Students.”

The last one is loaded, an ill omen of sorts. The very creatures that to this day had ignored her at best and mocked her at worst, were to now become the very eyes that scrutinized her every move, the very mouths that hurled accusation after accusation. But what if it didn’t end there? What if they took it upon themselves to serve justice and beat her senseless? Would anyone care to heal her, if only so they could hurt her again?

Y/n gazed at Minho, wondering whether he would care enough to keep her alive just so she could live out the rest of her days with a tube stuck to her arm, feeding the altars. Randomly, she wondered what his friends thought of all this. Did they find it amusing, hearing about her being locked up while her sister was treated like a guinea pig, reading in the paper about how old bloods were vile creatures after all? Or did they not give a shit in the slightest?

Minho rose to his feet and produced something from the left inner pocket of his leather jacket.

“Brought you something.” He said, tossing her the Rubik's cube for her to catch. It almost slid off her grasp palms, but once it rested securely on her palm she began to study the colors swirling in each little square; aquamarine, vivid orange, onyx black, vermillion red, viridian green, and brilliant gold. Minho pointed at the cube. “Green, green, gold, red, orange, blue, black, green, green.”

Y/n had feared he was expecting her to solve it, so this was a relief. She tapped each color as he’d instructed and when nothing happened, looked up at him questioningly.

“Say “in bloom”.” And so, she did.

Where the Rubik’s cube had just sat now spread out a blanket the color of which reminded her of the forest in full bloom. In the sunlight, she might have been able to appreciate its coloring better. But it was the comforting warmth it provided that mattered. Wanting to revel in its softness, she rubbed the rim against her grimy cheeks.

“Thank you.” She sighed, tucking her shivering frame inside the blanket.

Patting down his jacket, Minho took one last look at her. Before he made for the exit, he made sure to let her know what must be done.

“In the morning,” He said, “Or whenever they come for you, say ‘nature is a whore’ and let it burn, will you?”

She didn’t need to ask what he meant by that. If he were found to have provided a means of comfort to a prisoner without being authorized to do so, his ambitions, his life even, would be put in jeopardy. All traces of his kind gesture had to go up in smoke. And so, they did the moment Y/n uttered the words upon being awoken by the sound of footsteps coming down the murky corridor. She had a good night’s sleep. It had kept her warm throughout the day as well. Minho had done enough. Far more than he was allowed.

Four guards equipped with swords handled everything (securing her hands behind her back with handcuffs of tempered steel and celestial bronze) without a word spoken between them and led her up a spiraling staircase. Once the gates of steel yawned open, the muted sun of the dusk stung her eyes. She could barely see where she was going, and if not for the guards leading her toward a vehicle, she would have hurtled down the stairs.

To her, it didn’t matter where they took her as long as it was back to Luna. But the more time passed, the closer she came to realizing that the road was an unfamiliar one. The buildings were loftier. Engines whirred to life and car honks blared. Roaring laughter echoed in the emptier parts of town. Silence died down as they drove her deeper into the heart of New Rome, where the most opulent of divinity’s offspring spent their days in unfathomable comfort. Slowly, Y/n began to recognize the paths they were driving on. After all, she’d run all the way here from their pathetic dwelling in the wee hours of the morning. They stopped at a red light and once the green flickered to life, the driver took a turn to the left. Just a little further ahead they would have had to drive around the fountain at the center of which stood the overawing statue of Jupiter. Not that it was something she wished to see anytime soon.

The uncaring attitude she’d been able to maintain began to dissipate. They were not driving her home, but neither were they taking her to see Luna. Just where were they taking her then? Was there some secret lab around here she didn’t know about? Where they could suction the blood out of her veins while sedated? If so, who would be there to make sure Luna’s innocence was proven? Who would go out of their way to search for the truth when blaming an old blood was so convenient?

“Where are we going?” She asked the guard on her left. He remained silent, so she asked again. “Can you tell me where you’re taking me? Please?”

Her question went unanswered once again, but in the mirror, she caught the driver’s eyes staring at her. Something had to be wrong with the reflection, manipulation of the light, or her eyes deceiving her, because his gaze flicked fretfully between her and the guards before turning to the road ahead. Y/n shifted in her seat, trying to keep the handcuffs from biting into her flesh to no avail. The metal had broken skin and it left her feeling all the weaker. Her barely suppressed whimpers were the only sounds in the vehicle.

The frail silence didn’t last long, however. In no time, the driver had pulled over and they exited the car. She had but a few seconds to take in the sight of the building or the garden at the front before they were practically dragging her inside the building. The five entered the elevator, her in between the four of them, and the one at the front pressed a few buttons. Instantly, it shot up and stopped at the 23rd floor with a ding. After stepping out, the guard who had pressed the buttons rang the doorbell as you couldn’t simply enter the penthouse without knowing the passcode or if you weren’t one of its inhabitants. None of that mattered right now. Why was she here? Shouldn’t she have been rotting in a dungeon? She hoped the anxiety didn’t show in her frown or in the way she shifted her weight from leg to leg as they waited for the resident to open the door.

The metallic lock clicked and a peculiar sound went off as the door swung open. On the threshold stood a tall young man clad in his training gear. He was probably heading out for the obstacle course or the Training Center. His face looked familiar, and for good reason. Y/n had seen him before. She’d heard him snicker at her incompetence along with his companions. Again. Why was she here? Clearly, he lived here. So, why was she here?

He scratched the back of his head where the dark hair had been cropped shorter than the top. The guard to her left stepped forward. Y/n couldn’t help but pity the man as he looked painfully average, in every sense of the word, next to the younger demigod.

“We received orders to escort the prisoner Y/n L/n to this address.” He reported in a clipped tone. “Specifically, to Mr. Lee Minho.”

“Minho isn’t available at the moment.” Minho’s friend informed them, meeting her uncomfortable gaze just before she turned to stare at the nape of the guard who had just spoken to him. “You’re dirtier than I expected.”

No surprise there. Actually, as much as it hurt to be told that it was also kind of pleasant. No other student except for Minho and Seungmin spoke to her, and the absence of social interaction was bound to take its toll on any human being. Still, his comment wasn’t one she had an answer to. Nor did she wish to find one.

Figuring she wasn’t going to say anything back, the young man turned to the guards.

“I’m one of Minho’s flatmates. He told us you’d be delivering her this afternoon so don’t worry.” Out of the corner of her eye, Y/n saw him open the door wider and motion for her to cross the threshold. “You can entrust her to us.”

The guard looked back at her skeptically then, after mulling it over for no longer than three seconds, replied, “We were told to escort her directly to Mr. Minho. This is not regular procedure.” The guy throws his head back.

“So annoying.” He groaned. “Just get inside.”

The guard’s posture went ramrod straight. “We cannot-

“So rigid, too.” Minho’s friend quipped, taking hold of Y/n’s arm and pulling her inside. “I know you’re not popular with the ladies.”

Then he shut the door in their face, the electronic lock making that sound once again. He walked past her but she didn’t follow, something he eventually noticed and expressed his confusion about. “Well, don’t just stand there.” He remarked. “Follow me already.”

Y/n took off her shoes and jogged up to his side. “Where are we going?”

“To the bathroom. You stink.”

She glared at him. He was starting to get on her nerves. It wasn’t like she wanted to smell bad. But it had been like what, a week since her imprisonment? They hadn’t exactly provided a warm shower back in her cell. Not even a cold one. She’d had to piss in a dingy corner and couldn’t even shit because there was nothing to shit out. Her nails were caked with blood and scratches (face, knees, and hands) from when she’d clawed her way out of the bush had become infected, oozing with yellow and greenish puss. There were so many thorns still stuck inside that it ached to rub her hands for warmth or clench them into fists. Three of her nails, two on her right hand and one on her left, had vanished in her mad pursuit of sunlight, while another had only been torn halfway and she’d had to rip it out herself her first night in the cell. So, Minho’s friend would have to forgive her for the filth that she was.

Some of her annoyance abated when she took in the size of their apartment. Spacious and luxuriously furnished, it allowed room for so many emotions to flood inside her; green with envy, a petrifying sense of awe, a nostalgia for what she’d never experienced, and more. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, its numerous tiny crystals resembling the tears of nymphs in Chiron’s bedtime stories before he started bringing picture books for her to flip through. The couches, arranged in a squarish sort of formation before the TV that occupied half of the wall, were much bigger than Luna’s bed and far more comfortable looking. Lying there must feel like floating, Y/n thought to herself as she followed Minho’s friend up the stairs. She wished she had more time to imbibe each lavish detail, from the drawn navy-blue drapes from which the sunset overflew onto the bone-white carpet, from the sculptures in the corner to the paintings on the wall, but she was even more desperate to feel clean. Perhaps then the other demigod would stop giving her those repulsed looks.

“I’ll go get you some towels and clothes.” He let her know once they reached the bathroom on the second floor and opened the door to let her in. “None of them will fit but you were never supposed to be here anyway so you’ll forgive us if we’re unprepared.”

Then he left her there to stare at all the commodities. Shampoo bottles on several stands and other containers of different sizes. A porcelain sink the shade of ivory that was so clean it sparkled and an elliptical mirror above it. Below the sink, there were lower cabinets for storing whatever (she couldn’t imagine what more they could possibly need). But the things that stood out the most to her were the shower cubicle with its glassy enclosures and the large bathtub parallel to it. Her bathroom only had a rusty mirror, a chipped sink, a toilet, and a shower head they never used because boiling water cost less.

Minho’s friend returned, placed the folded clothes on the rim of the bathtub, and started explaining everything to her like she was five.

“That’s for your hair.” He pointed to a white bottle. “That one’s for your hair too.” A cylindrical container this time. “That one for your body. That’s for scrubbing” Another shampoo bottle, this time crimson red, and a brush. Lastly, fixing her with a serious look, he pointed at a rose gold container about the size of the previous one. “That one is off-limits.”

Y/n got closer and looked up at him. “Which one should I use first? For the hair?”

His jaw all but dropped.

“You’re joking.” He tried to say as evenly as possible. When she shook her head, he pointed to the cylindrical container almost robotically. “This one, for the ends of your hair after you’ve shampooed it.”

After that, he left and closed the door behind him. Worried that one of his friends might enter the bathroom while she was showering, Y/n locked it and began to undress. There was not an inch of her body that didn’t ache. Scrubbing was difficult but she managed to clean her festering wounds somewhat. There was nothing she could do about her nails.

When she was finished, the bathroom smelled of pine needles, honey, and lavender. It was the first time she could wholeheartedly say she enjoyed taking a shower. A warm, long shower.

Then, Minho’s friend, who came upstairs just as she exited the bathroom, escorted her to one of their spare rooms, gave her a bottle of water, and told her to wait there until her mentor got back. No complaints there, even if it was so that he and his friends didn’t have to look at her. She didn’t want to see any of them either. Pompous pricks.

Sitting still wouldn’t bode well with her nerves so she spent the next two hours pacing around the room. At one point she crouched down to inspect a curious-looking object. Its translucent exterior made it appear as though nothing stood between her and the wall. But a closer look revealed the sheer glitter within the glass, scattering and converging depending on the angle the sunset impaled it. Anyone else would have moved on. But it was so pretty. Did galaxies feel like this?

Two hours later, the door opened. Voices poured in from the kitchen on the first floor.

“Hey.” Minho greeted.

He looked not much different than the day before. Same leather jacket. Same dark pants. The same black boots with mud splatters all over. The difference wasn’t in how he looked but in the look in his eyes as he watched her rise from her spot on the floor. His eyes flicked to the object that had put her in a trance then back at her. She must look a tad easier on the eye now that the filth had gone down the drain. Literally.

“Did you know?” She asked him. “That they were sending me to you?”

Minho stepped closer, unzipping one of his pockets in the process, and sat at the foot of the bed. Y/n didn’t know whether it was right to sit next to him.

“I didn’t think you’d like the thought of living here even if it’s just until the final verdict. So, I kept it from you.”

True. Y/n wouldn’t have been ecstatic to live with him and his friends, no matter how long. She hadn’t forgotten how they’d mocked her amongst themselves. The friend who had let her in was a jerk. Beomgyu had smoked weed right after Ruth’s farewell ceremony. Hwang Hyunjin gave her the creeps. None of them liked her and the feeling was duly reciprocated.

Despite all this, Y/n would have preferred to know. At the very least, she would have been prepared for his friend’s unsolicited criticism.

“Did Professor Hajjar put you up to this?” She tried to speak clearly, but it came out as inaudible muttering.

Somehow, Minho understood her.

“The way you say that… yes, he pulled strings to make this happen. Would you rather be cold and starving in that damp cell underground that reeks of dead rats?”

Somehow, Y/n had managed to incense the one person in this house who wasn’t disgusted by her. They settled in a fog-like silence⸺ him sitting, her standing⸺ with no idea of what else to say. A voice called from downstairs and Minho rose, the bed squeaking in response.

“Dinner’s ready. Supposedly. Can’t be sure with Beomgyu on kitchen duty.” He cracked his neck and, noticing her unwillingness to follow, asked. “What is it?”

This time, her voice came out much clearer. “I want to be alone.”

Minho studied her for a few prolonged moments then walked towards the door.

“Alright, I’ll bring you some food.”

That night she dreamed of fog and stars. Shadows followed her. Other shadows beckoned her. She heard them call her name, whisper vows of secrecy, screeching. At one point, it didn’t matter where she ran. The hunch of being followed persisted. Yet the entity glued to her side never showed itself. It was only when she ended up at the edge of a gaping pit⸺ no stars, no galaxies, things neither dead nor alive in sight⸺ when she felt the pull of something draconian, from time immemorial, when the ground shook beneath her feet and she almost plummeted into the yawning abyss, that Y/n felt it yank her back with unparalleled conviction. It wanted her alive.

******************************************************************************************

She told Minho she didn’t want to have breakfast not because she wasn’t hungry but because she didn’t want to be around his friends and so he wouldn’t have to play waiter for her. Despite his insistence and her desperate hunger, she refused. Everything felt too much. Too much silence. Too much noise. Too many and too few people around. Too much of everything yet not enough. She was going to throw up if she put anything in her mouth.

A royal purple hoodie and a pair of wide-bottom jeans sat at the foot of her bed. They looked brand new, like the outfits the mannequins at the store wore. She’d always wanted to try them on but one look at the rich materials and she knew it was a pipe dream. But now she could try them on. Clothes had never felt so good on her skin. Minho asked if the clothes fit and she answered honestly. Nothing ever really fit her.

Downstairs, his friends were lounging around (it was quite early after all). Upon their appearance, Minho’s nameless friend stopped scrolling through his phone, Beomgyu began tying his shoelaces, and Hwang Hyunjin put on his denim jacket. The looks they gave her were various degrees of scrutiny. Yeonjun muttered something about how she didn’t look much better than the day before, making her flush in embarrassment. His friend, the more chipper of the four, Beomgyu, looked at her the way one would at a creature at the aviary; wide-eyed, humorously, as if she had just performed a particularly clever trick. At least, he walked away. Hwang didn’t bother to do even that, glancing at her every five seconds as they walked out of the penthouse with Minho in between.

The walk to the university was tense. There she was, the sister of a suspect, confined on all fronts with no means of escape. Maybe she should have taken Minho up on that offer and had breakfast. But where would it end up? On the pavement after she hurled her guts out? Surely, Minho’s nameless twerp of a pal wouldn’t take kindly to that.

Things took a turn for the worse once they reached campus. Y/n became the sole recipient of the student body’s hatred as well as the personnel. If the hearing wasn’t in a few days, she would surely be used for target practice. Some of the students ignored her completely. But it wasn’t the kind of effortless disregard she’d been experiencing for years, but a conscious refusal to acknowledge her existence. If anything, that made her feel more visible than ever before.

It being Tuesday meant she had no classes to attend that were taught by Orlova. Still, she wasn’t allowed to sit where she usually did. Given that Minho was two years older she couldn’t be supervised by him while simultaneously attending her classes, not that anyone gave a shit whether or not she did. However, to accommodate everyone’s needs, Principal Jiang decided that she had to be seated next to Hwang Hyunjin for reasons unbeknownst to her. Maybe it was his good looks. Maybe he simply was just that good of a fighter and could knock her out. Doubtful. Even the rats in her apartment could do that with a little effort.

They didn’t exchange one word throughout each morning class. From the corner of her eye, she spied him spinning his blue pen with his fingers as if it were second nature. His eyes were glued to the board as Professor. Magnus Voelker explained the mechanics of the advanced cameras used in surveys conducted by NASA, and normally hers would be too. This was robotics after all. Thankfully, he never caught her fleeting glances. Even as he escorted her to the dining hall, his behavior was the embodiment of nonchalance. He must be quite confident that, should she try to escape, he would put an end to that fiasco.

Once they reached the dining hall, Minho took over and Hwang Hyunjin left her side to join his friends at their usual spot. After that, it was Minho’s turn to stand guard whether that be on the line to pick up her tray or at her table. She didn’t make it to the latter.

“What’s she doing here?” A voice frothing with venom cut through the hall. The only sound remaining was that of someone’s heavy breathing. “What the fuck is she doing here?”

Minho cursed under his breath, and Y/n turned to meet the source. A girl with almond brown hair whom she’d seen in some of her classes, whose name she couldn’t recall, stormed her way only to be held back by a young man with a stocky build. She struggled against his hold. He whispered something in her ear, which only added fuel to the fire.

“No, what?” She snarled, pushing him off after he muttered something only the girl could hear. “What, we’re just supposed to be cool about it? Let her stay here and stink the whole place up?! What about Juliana, huh? Ruth?” Her hazel eyes flashed as they landed on Y/n, and she stormed over. “Why are you just standing there? Get out!”

Before she could get her hands on Y/n, whose hands were shaking to the point where the bowl of tomato soup had spilled halfway and the utensils clattered against the tray, Minho stepped in between them.

“She can’t. I’m supposed to guard her and right now I want lunch.” He glanced back at Y/n. “She stays.”

The girl didn’t take kindly to that. Her face betrayed her innermost feelings; betrayal, incredulity, and, lastly, loathing.

“Fucking traitor.” She spat, slightly lowering her voice. “Ruth was your sister too.”

“Yeah, she was.”

The girl tried to push him but he caught her hands.

“So why are you protecting her?”

“Protecting?” Minho let go of her wrists. “That’s not what I was assigned to do.”

She dug two fingers into his chest and bit out. “Lapdog. That’s just what you are.”

Y/n couldn’t handle the way everyone was staring, watching the fight unfold as if it were a freak show. It wasn’t fair for Minho to be insulted in front of everyone just for trying to fulfill his duty.

Trembling, she stepped up from behind him, and said, “I don’t want to be here any more than you do.”

Minho placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t interfere.”

The girl redirected her wrathful gaze to her and knocked the tray out of her hands. The utensils clattered to the ground. The porcelain bowl shattered and the soup spilled, splatters of it landing on Y/n’s new jeans and shoes. Never before had she been so mortified to be seen. She’d wanted it for so long and now she was receiving it in the foulest way possible. Through all this, she missed the way one of the students left his seat.

“You and your sister,” The girl growled, hand wrapping around her neck and pushing her down to the floor. Minho intervened but was having a hard time overpowering her. Y/n found it difficult to swallow her fear, her energy spent on trying to claw the girl’s hands off of her. “Are the worst thing to have happened to this world. Filthy fucking creatures.”

“Cleo, that’s enough!” Minho yelled, still trying to get her to let Y/n go.

One of the male students sprinted over, grabbed Cleo by the arm, and dragged her away. The latter screeched and thrashed but the muscular male warned her not to try anything else. Minho helped her to her feet, and she finally felt like she could breathe, wheezing more like it.

“Let me go! Am I wrong?!” Cleo pointed at Y/n once the demigod he’d let her go. “Everyone thinks so! They’re just too chicken to fucking say it. She and her disgusting worm of a sister should be cut up and thrown into Tartarus. Their kind brings nothing but misfortune. You know I’m right! It’s the truth!”

Y/n suddenly became aware of someone else’s touch on her shoulder. Someone who wasn’t Minho.

“You’re the reason we can eat.” Cleo’s lips tilted up at the corners. “And soon, the worms are going to eat your sister.”

“Hey, now that’s wrong.” Said the person who stood next to her. His bleached hair and soothing, deep voice should have given him away. But maybe he hadn’t spoken until now. “She’s just a little-

“You stay out of this.” Cleo cut him off sharply. “This is none of your business.”

“But you-

“Shut the fuck up!”

“That’s enough!”

A voice boomed that shook Y/n to her core. It was as if one moment she’d been sailing on a rocky boat in the middle of nowhere, the storm raging all around her, and then a grounding silence. She looked to the right, where a male demigod⸺ firmly built, with curly dark brown hair, and eyes that might be sweet but right then expressed stern disapproval⸺ crackled with power as he took in the scene before him. Even Cleo stopped her kicking and screaming at the sight of him, as did everyone else.

“The hearing is four days away.” He stated, fixing all of them with a look that warned them not to act stupid. “If any of you have any complaints about her being here, take it up with Professor. Laqueus.” He shepherded the crowd back to normalcy, quelling the heated blood between them and Y/n (if only momentarily), and tasked the other demigod who had previously stopped Cleo from choking her to death with accompanying the girl back to her seat. Knowing better than to disobey, she marched back to her seat with him in tow.

Minho leaned in and whispered, “Let’s go, Y/n. I doubt you want to eat here after this.”

Before they began to walk out, he looked back to see Lee Felix walking back to his friends.

“You should hurry up.” Felix seemed surprised, his eyes widening, to hear Minho talk to him. “Lunch is almost over.”

Y/n didn’t get the chance to thank him or even see his response to what Minho had just said. He was eager to get out of there, possibly even more than her.

One thing about Lee Minho? He didn’t bother changing her mind when she headed straight to bed right after they went back to his apartment. There wouldn’t have been any use in it. She was but a corpse standing; her neck black and blue, no food in her system, and wounds that wouldn’t heal. Whatever he had to say could wait.

Hours later, sometime past10 PM, Y/n was awoken by a series of knocks at the door and Minho stepped into the darkness of the bedroom. She didn’t remember pulling the curtains shut, having passed out on the bed almost instantly after her body had hit the mattress. Maybe he’d thought they would help her sleep better. Now, he drew them to reveal the view of New Rome stark against the night. Y/n could swear this was when the city came alive.

Minho turned on the bedside lamp to her right and set down the tray of food. It took some time for her to finish the bowl of tomato soup as it hurt to swallow. When she was done, he put it aside. “We should talk about what happened.” He said with a serious look in his eyes. “The whole truth.”

Just as it hurt to swallow, it hurt to speak. When she did, it sounded airy and raspy, like a small rock chafing against a boulder. It came out broken the first few times until she resolved to speak slowly. “How can I trust you won’t twist anything just ruin Luna’s life?”

“You can’t. I just think that since you’re going to be living here for a few weeks we should at least come up with a plan. For that,” He paused as if considering his next words carefully, “You have to tell me the truth.”

Y/n looked down at her hands. The soft flesh where her nails had been had begun to itch.

“Those don’t sound like your words.” She muttered.

Minho sighed audibly and got up. “Professor Hajjar is doing his best to come up with a solid defense strategy. I’m just helping him.”

He sounded sensible enough but giving away information just like that wasn’t something he or any of his friends would do if they were in her shoes. In fact, Y/n was willing to bet they would withhold it just because they could. They would do it for fun. It pissed her off that he would demand it of her.

Y/n tried to tear her eyes away from her fingers but they ached and itched miserably. She wished there was a tool to scratch them and relieve her of the discomfort.

“I’ll tell you,” she said, looking up at him. “Under one condition.”

“You’re in no position to place conditions.”

“Then I won’t tell you.”

They held each other’s gaze, which was no small task for Y/n. She tried her hardest not to let trepidation show in her face, even if the golden glow of the bedside lamp was the only source of light in the room. Downstairs, a cry of frustration was heard, sounding a lot like the Beomgyu guy, but not even that succeeded in destroying her efforts. On the other hand, Minho didn’t seem all that affected. He took a few steps backward to lean against the side of the closet.

“Shoot.” He said.

“I want to see Luna.” She shot him a pleading look when he looked away. “Professor Hajjar got you in, didn’t he? When you came to visit? Then he assigned you to-

“It isn’t up to him.” He revealed. “It was Professor. Laqueus who assigned me to you. Professor. Hajjar used to be one of her students and her protégé, which is why he managed to put in a good word for me. It was easy for her to believe I wouldn’t allow you to do as you please.”

Recalling recent events, it was easy to see why. “Because Ruth was your sister.”

Minho nodded.

“Convincing her to let you see your sister won’t be easy.” He remarked. “She doesn’t stand to gain anything from your reunion.”

Y/n swung the covers off of her and sat at the edge.

“But she does.” She appealed. “If she allowed me to see my sister, she could learn the truth. I would tell her.”

Minho stared off into space, a thoughtful expression taking over, as she anxiously waited for his response; fingers clenched around the baby blue sheets.

“I’ll tell Prof-

Minho had barely gotten out those few words before she threw her arms around him.

“Thank you!” Y/n squealed into his neck.

Anyone else would have pushed her off and called the cops on her. She was a stranger known by all, including Lee Minho. He didn’t owe her anything, but if he was willing to negotiate on her behalf, she would be in his debt. Yet he let her wrap her skinny arms around his fit frame and pat her head.

“Don’t get your hopes up, though.” He told her in an attempt to set realistic expectations. “She could refuse to bargain just to spite you.”

She could. But maybe she wouldn’t. There were only two people who might be able to provide a smidge of concrete proof. A testimony of sorts. Luna must be refusing to talk or they wouldn’t be hounding Y/n about it, and the latter would keep her mouth shut unless they agreed to her terms. Putting them on the spot was a risky gamble. If only she weren’t in a tight spot herself.

In cold sweat. That’s how Y/n awoke. The fog from her dream seeped into reality, making it hard for her to even tell the time when she looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was 2:19 in the morning. She felt her cheeks with the back of her hand, sweeping the damp strands of hair away from her face. Cold, clammy flesh. Everything, from the shirt that stuck to her skin to her parched throat, would have been worth it if she could remember what the dream had been about. Only a nightmare would have her panting so.

Too afraid to go back to sleep, Y/n sat up, back against the dark blue headboard, and listened to the life of New Rome. It had dulled a little, settling into a hum with only irregular intermissions of car engines revving in the distance. The city lights grounded her but it wasn’t what she wished for. She wanted calm. Silence like never before. She wanted to hear Luna’s voice. She needed a towel and a glass of water.

The shadows in the room swam before her, performing for her and only her. In them, she saw leaves, rain, a child’s smile, hands clasped around another pair, buildings rising from the floor until back to it they returned, crumbling. She waited for an encore but nothing danced across the walls. Not a peep. Just as she was about to give sleep another chance, a bout of unintelligible whispers flooded into her ear. Y/n squinted in the dark. The shadows seemed to rain horizontally, droplets splashing on the wall with each sound. Could that be a hallucination?

“…dated her.”

Curious. Why would the shadows try to gossip with her about people’s dating lives? Why did the voice sound so familiar? There came a sigh, and after that, the sound became clearer. It was as if she were a participant in the conversation. It left her mouth feeling drier than before.

“What does that have to do with what happened?”

That voice she could never forget. Silvery with peril swimming in each note, the presentiment of being shadowed in the woods. Hwang Hyunjin. The haze of sleep had dissipated and now Y/n was left frozen in her bed, clutching the sheets tighter. The sudden awareness that he existed in the same house, at night, chilled her to the bone.

“Did you, or did you not receive her text message the night she was killed?”

She recognized the other voice as belonging to Minho. A frustrated Minho.

“I did,” Hyunjin answered. “I ignored it.”

A tense pause, and then, “Why?”

Hyunjin sighed once again.

“Because there was nothing between us and I didn’t think anything serious was going on.”

“Her message read ‘I’m being followed please help’.” Minho whispered in disbelief. “How the fuck is that not serious?”

“She used to do that the first few weeks after we stopped seeing each other.”

“After you broke things off out of nowhere.”

Hyunjin scoffed and when he next spoke, it was as if the temperature in Y/n’s bedroom had dropped at the very least 20 Celsius degrees.

“I’m not going to be lectured by you, Minho.”

The pitter-patter of the shadows played the rhythm of their breathing. Minho’s breath caught in his throat and he gulped down whatever he had meant to add. Hyunjin’s breathing was deceptively calm as if the conversation had meant next to nothing to him. Y/n wondered whether he looked the same or if there were, by any chance, a hint of a frown or a sneer. Some trace of malice to cement her opinion of him.

But what if he wasn’t even there? What if this was but a figment of her imagination, tricks that her mind was playing on her to make up for Luna’s absence, trying to make her feel in control of something as primordial as the dark? It was a fact that nothing was under her control, try as she might. Maybe her mind was desperate for the illusion of it. Any other demigod would not have questioned the veracity of their visions and jumped straight into theorizing or action. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why did she feel stranded?

Y/n sat at the edge of the bed, stopping just to listen to the sound of footsteps disappearing down the corridor. One of them had already left, but if she managed to catch sight of the other then that meant her vision had been true and not a hallucination. She forced her legs to walk and all but held her breath as she opened the door, fearing it would squeak. Leaving the door slightly ajar seemed like the safest option if she wished to be silent. Descending the stairs to the floor below had her heart pumping outrageous amounts of blood. She could hear it rushing throughout her veins. Her ears buzzed with it.

“You look scared.”

She almost jumped out of her skin in the living room. He sounded so close, almost as if he was breathing down on her neck, but when she looked to the left, she saw him leaning against one of the glass walls. He was still in his training attire, his hair still matted from practice. Had he truly been practicing late into the night? How had Y/n not spotted him when she could literally see in the dark? He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to respond.

“I was- I was thirsty.” She stuttered out.

What was she supposed to say? That she woke up out of breath and that the shadows hijacked their conversation so she could eavesdrop? Whatever they had spoken about was clearly supposed to remain between them and them alone. Hwang Hyunjin might actually kill her if she told him the truth.

He walked up to her slowly. They were almost face to face when she noticed his hair was no longer in a half-up-half-down hairstyle. Damp strands clung to his beautiful face. His dark eyes rove over her face, gleaning information from each micro expression of hers.

“Is that so?” He said, and Y/n couldn’t tell if he was genuinely asking or mocking her.

Hwang Hyunjin studied her for a few seconds longer before walking up the stairs. Shaken, Y/n went to the kitchen and drained two bottles of water, taking a third up to her room. At least she wasn’t becoming a victim of her own mind.

******************************************************************************************

Minho had promised to speak with Professor Hajjar before classes started and, though he didn’t divulge much in the way of details, he had kept his promise. It was a great start to the day. Luna and her would soon be reunited.

In all of her classes, she sat by Hwang Hyunjin. He was just as silent as the day before, spinning his pen, jaw propped on his palm as he absorbed the lesson from start to finish. It was a miracle Y/n jotted down a few sentences considering how distractingly nice he smelled. She hoped he didn’t notice her passing glances. Truly, it was embarrassing how secretive she was with it whereas he stared at her unflinchingly whenever he pleased for however long he saw fit. Not a care in the world if it made her uncomfortable. Why couldn’t she do the same? Why was she so embarrassed to look at him as they walked alongside each other from class to class, when their classmates would approach him during breaks to fool around, or when he handed her back to Minho like a fish that he’d been asked to take care of while the latter was away?

Other than that, things went as smoothly as they could, given the circumstances. Cleo didn’t get a chance to choke her as they didn’t share any classes and Y/n didn’t have lunch with the rest of her peers. She didn’t need to. Minho had taken the time to prepare their lunches (two boxes with ham sandwiches and something he called pesto sauce, sliced apples, peeled oranges, two pop tarts each, and a nasty concoction that she’d been so curious of that Minho had offered her a sip). They finished their meal in an empty classroom. No one around. Voices drifting from outside the door.

After classes were done for the day, the two of them headed to the Training Centre. Y/n had been secretly hoping he would let her skip today as well, ashamed of her lack of everything. Everything that made a demigod a demigod, save for supernatural abilities, she lacked. Agility, marksmanship, strength, speed, stamina, endurance, resilience. It was just too late.

“If you don’t master the conventional pin forget about doing anything else,” Minho repeated for the fourth time since they’d started training with knives.

“I know.” Y/n huffed. “I just don’t understand how I’m supposed to just know.”

Minho collected the knives that had clattered to the floor after her failed attempts and placed one of them in her palm.

“How could you when you’re not even present? You’re not even trying.”

Before she had the time to sulk about how he didn’t realize how difficult it was for her to get the fundamentals of knife-throwing down, a demigod she didn’t know approached them and whispered something in Minho’s ear. Y/n pretended she was busy studying the handle of the knife, but anyone could tell she was snooping. It was considered a bad habit but it had become second nature over the years. When the other student had gone on his way, Minho quelled her curiosity.

“I have to leave.” He told her. “Principal Jiang has called for me.”

Then who was going to train her? Was she to stay there and practice on her own until she managed to make it stick at least once?

“Should I leave without you?” Y/n asked as she watched him pack his gym bag.

Minho shook his head and took a swig off his water bottle.

“No, it’s forbidden.” He shot a glance across the room, where his friends were taking turns plunging knives into the target board. It seemed fun when they did it. “Hyunjin will take over while I’m gone.” He slung the strap over his shoulder and said, “See you at home.”

He approached his friends and had a word with Hwang Hyunjin who she could swear rolled his eyes at her. Asshole. It wasn’t like she wanted to be taught by him either. With Minho gone and Hwang coming toward her, the room seemed to have shrunk to the size of cardboard box. She wanted out.

He glanced down to where she ran her thumb across the handle of the blade out of uneasiness. Still, Hwang said nothing of it, choosing instead to look up into her eyes again. Y/n averted her gaze, breathing in.

“Should I throw?” She suggested.

A beat later, he plucked the blade from her hold almost as easily as a flower in a pot.

“No need.” He said simply, shooting her a bored look before walking up to the designated line. “Watch.”

Hwang Hyunjin must have been born with a blade in his grip. The fluidity of his movements and the speed with which he sent the blade flying while barely looking in the direction of the target board had her gawking. Minho had mentioned before that while he was great, Hyunjin was phenomenal. It’s just that with everything moving so fast, Y/n hadn’t given it much thought. Now that she’d seen it for herself, there was nothing she could do but open and close her mouth like a stupid fish.

As he walked back to her after retrieving the knife, Y/n pointed at the board.

“That was- how did you do that?” She stuttered. “Is there some kind of trick to it?”

“Get in position.”

The admiration faded as annoyance took its place. He could have at least answered her question, however stupid it might have sounded to him. Had it sounded stupid to him?

“The first thing you need to consider when throwing is the distance.” He explained, and suddenly Y/n was all ears as he got behind her, parting her knees and adjusting the angle of her torso. “It determines the number of rotations. The closer to the target you are, the fewer rotations you need to land a critical hit.”

Y/n nodded, all too alert. “Okay.”

“Adjust your grip.” He instructed, breath fanning the apex of her cheekbone as he fixed the placement of her fingers along the handle. “Didn’t Minho teach you this already?”

“He um- he did.”

“Follow his instructions.”

“I’m trying.”

Hwang Hyunjin scoffed. “No, you aren’t.”

Y/n caught her bottom lip between her teeth to prevent herself from crying for no apparent reason. Was she embarrassed or did she feel wronged in some way?

“Minho said the same thing.” She said under her breath.

Y/n felt his hair graze the shell of her ear as he leaned forward, his chest brushing against her shoulder as nimble fingers guided hers.

“Hold it up here,” Hyunjin coached. “The farther you move from the target, the higher you need to relocate your grip. Even though it comes down to strength at one point, the grip is still crucial.” He distanced himself, taking his pleasant body heat with him. “Throw it.”

Y/n looked back just in time for him to raise an eyebrow at her reluctance. That straightened her up real quick and she sent the knife flying. Something was wrong and Y/n couldn’t pinpoint what. Had she not exerted enough strength? Had she let go too soon? Either way, the blade clattered to the floor and she was forced to make the walk of shame to retrieve it without meeting Hwang Hyunjin’s eyes even once. He was probably rolling them again anyway.

When she got back, blade in hand and eyes on every surface but him, he spun her by the shoulders and parted her knees with his own. Hands at her waist, he adjusted the angle of her torso.

“Breathe in. Tighten your core.” She could feel his chest rise against her back with each instruction, “Throw. And this time,” The mocking lilt of his tone made her shrivel with shame, “Try to make it stick.”

With that, Hwang’s body heat parted from hers and Y/n felt like she could breathe at last. It was a few seconds until she could do as he’d commanded, and even when she felt confident that it would at least reach the target table she was met with the sound of the knife clattering pitifully on the floor, a few feet from the table. Involuntarily, she looked to Hwang and once she did, she couldn’t look away. His boredom was palpable.

“You’re so weak.” He remarked. “Too pitiful to even call you prey.”

That Hwang Hyunjin was bored out of his wits, she could understand. That he was also callous and didn’t have her good interests at heart it was hard not to notice. But he had a job to do when Minho was unavailable; he had to guard and teach her. He wasn’t happy with it? Big fucking deal! Neither was she. None of this was going to get Luna out of the lab or keep her alive, and with the way he always spoke it was becoming increasingly more difficult not to claw at him like a harpy.

“Is that why you’ve been staring me down like a creep?”

Both Y/n’s glare and question were met with an impassive look as if he couldn’t give less of a shit even if he tried.

“Is that why you ran away that night?” Hwang countered.

Her limbs froze. She scanned the room for places she could use as shelter for when the sentries came for her. The only thing she could think to do was bolt for the exit. But she’d be caught and Luna would be all alone and it would all be his fault.

“I didn’t run away.” Fuck, she was gasping for breath.

Hwang scoffed, slapping the flat side of the blade against his palm. “Of course you didn’t.”

The bastard was definitely taunting her and she couldn’t force him to stop. She couldn’t force him to do anything. On the other hand, he could. There was no place she’d rather be than anywhere he wasn’t, even if it was just for a few hours. Getting to Minho’s penthouse would get Minho in trouble, that’s for sure, but if she didn’t get away from Hwang Hyunjin, she’d pass out from poor respiration.

Y/n had just started to make a break for it when she heard it.

“Leaving already?” He challenged. She turned back only to see he was spinning the blade with his fingers. “You must not want to see your sister after all.”

Y/n glared because she did. There was nothing more she wanted at that moment than to see her little sister. How dare he state otherwise? Was he taunting her again? Was it something else? A threat maybe? Would he really tell the higher-ups about what had happened that night and cast more suspicion upon Luna?

While Y/n was busy chewing on her bottom lip, contemplating whether to try to run away (key word; try) or just swallow the fear Hwang inspired in her, he had pushed himself off the wall and sauntered toward her. Slowly, without her realizing, he’d led her back to their spot.

The demigod placed the blade on her sweaty palm and, in an even voice, commanded, “Be a good little student and get in position.”

Trembling fingers wrapped around the handle, Y/n did as she was told.

When Minho came home later that evening, he knocked twice before Y/n eventually grumbled in response and he entered.

“We don’t bite so come downstairs and eat with us.” He said, palm planted on the doorway as he peered at her bundled-up shape in the darkness. She buried her face under the blanket. “Y/n.”

“Who else will be there?” She spoke, her voice muffled.

Minho sighed and she could hear him approach her bed. Her fingers tightened around the edges but he pulled them off her with ease.

“As I said,” He turned on the lampshade and walked away like he hadn’t interrupted the first decent nap she’d had in a long while. He’d changed out of his training gear, now in an eggplant purple hoodie and grey sweats, and the pleasant scent of mint lingered. “We don’t bite so come down or you’ll go to sleep without dinner.”

Y/n planted her elbows on the mattress.

“Haven’t experienced that before.” She groused.

Minho laughed softly.

“Smartass.” He muttered before vanishing down the corridor. Didn’t even bother to shut the door.

Y/n looked around the room, examining the expanse of the wall before her for dancing shadows or morbid visions. Only after she felt certain neither would plague her for the time being did she pluck up the courage to go wash her mouth and face and join the rest of them for dinner. Surely enough there they were, eating slowly as they talked about… whatever it was they talked about. All of that died down when she pulled out a chair next to Minho. Only momentarily though. They were back at it in no time, pretending that she didn’t exist.

The first thing she noticed was that there wasn’t a fork or a spoon but two chopsticks. She’d never used them in her life. Hadn’t had a reason to.

“Hold them like this.” Minho showed her the proper way to hold them and the clamping motion. It took a few tries for her to get the gist of it (she sucked). “And don’t eat too fast.”

She couldn’t eat too fast. It made her feel sick and she’d end up vomiting on their precious tapestry. Gods knew how much it had to cost.

Y/n was trying to finish her bowl of rice when Choi Beomgyu spoke to her for the first time ever.

“How did you kill them?”

She couldn’t move a muscle. All eyes were on the two of them. “What?”

“Gyu stop this bullshit,” Minho warned.

Beomgyu waved him off, smiling like the insensitive idiot he was.

“Ruth and Juliana.” He chirped as though he was asking her if she preferred dogs over cats. “How did you kill them?”

Y/n shut her eyes. “I didn’t.”

“So, it’s true then. Your sister did?”

“No, she-

“Such a little girl with such an appetite for bloodshed.” He sing-sang. “Truly, a monster of all time, isn-

The bowl and the chopsticks clattered to the floor, the sound of metal hitting the floor and porcelain shattering rining throughout the living room.

“Shut up!” Y/n shrieked, eyes still shut tight. “Shut up! Shut up!”

Minho barely managed to get her to sit back down (she didn’t even remember standing up), when Beomgyu spoke once more.

“Don’t get all riled up now.” His did not sound as chipper as before. Perhaps the young man was afraid of what Minho might do if she broke any more bowls because of him. “I’m just asking since we’re living under the same roof you know. It’s not like-

“We didn’t kill anyone.” Y/n scanned the table, studying their expressions. So muddled were her wits that each one, be that concern, fear, or intrigue resembled that of a pool of repulsion. “Not that you care.”

With so much more than she wanted to shout but couldn’t find the courage to, and with the awareness that each step of hers was weighed down by someone’s acute stare, she walked up to her bedroom and got under the blankets once again. They’d shed the warmth and she had to rub her feet for a while until she got comfortable. She’d just started dipping her toes in the pond of dreams, light scattering at the edges of her vision as she readied herself to submerge when a knock dragged her ashore.

Before Minho had the chance to say a word, for she knew what he intended to ask of her, she beat him to the punch.

“I want to see my sister.” Her eyes remained closed. “Or I’m not telling you anything.”

He let out a sound akin to a groan of exasperation.

“The more you keep the truth a secret, the more they torture her.”

It was as if a tornado had ripped off the eyelids from her eyeballs. Frantic, Y/n threw off the blankets and got to her feet, Minho following suit in an attempt to placate her.

“Torture?”

“Calm down-

“No!” She pushed at his chest, her breathing getting shallower by the second. All sense was gradually being replaced by the gnawing need to maim. “You said they’re just- they were just running tests! She didn’t- she hasn’t done anything! You-

“Y/n!”

“What are you doing to my sister?!”

His round, brown eyes widened in disbelief at her outburst, even though she’d just had one merely half an hour ago.

“You think losing your shit will help her?” He jabbed two fingers at his temple. “Think, Y/n. Think. The only thing you can do for her is tell me the truth.”

She was already in tears, sobbing as she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand like the disgusting fucking freak she was considered to be.

“Take me to her.” She begged, looking up at Minho in hopes that he could answer the desperation in her eyes with mercy. “She has to know I haven’t abandoned her.”

“I would if I could,” was all Minho delivered. “But they’d have both our heads for trespassing. The only way I can help you is through Professor Hajjar. Think about it. You think you have the luxury to keep your mouth shut? Not talking will only make things worse for you during the hearing, which is three days away by the way. Get this in that head of yours, Y/n. Your sister might be doomed either way but you have a chance to do something to save her, yet you choose to remain silent. If she dies, the fault will be yours. No one else’s.”

That did it for her. Still shedding tears, she looked him in the eye with more hatred than she’d ever had the gall to show in front of another human being. Chiron had warned her not to, that they would treat her infinitely worse than they already had, that they would strip her of what little human rights she still possessed. But she couldn’t remember any of that. Not when Minho, who didn’t deserve her wrath, who wouldn’t hurt her even if she didn��t know that, stood before her, wearing the face of all the people who had hurt her.

“You’re just like the rest of them. You want me to talk so then you have an excuse to be rid of me and Luna for good. You want us to rot in a lab until we die just so you can eat.” Y/n spat the following sentence through gritted teeth. “I wish all of you would just die.”

Minho frowned. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Was he upset? Disappointed? So angry he could beat her to a pulp then and there? What was he feeling at that moment? Had she managed to wound him even a tiny bit?

He simply reached inside his pocket, where he’d stored a small packet of napkins, and handed it to her before walking out without a word. Sleep did not come easy this time. The pond was dry.

******************************************************************************************

If it weren’t for the stiffness of his shoulders whenever he spoke to her, Y/n would have thought last night’s conversation had been a hallucination. Minho made her breakfast, packed their lunches, bought her chocolate milk at the convenience store on their way to the university, and sat with her in an empty classroom once again. It was his duty to guard and train her. He didn’t have to take care of her, teaching her how to massage her muscles, buying her vanilla soaps and rose-scented shampoo, or even asking if she’d like to join them for movie night on Thursday. Truly, Y/n felt ashamed of the way she’d acted, even if those had been her genuine feelings at the time. Even though those same feelings persisted, she knew that he deserved an apology. But she didn’t know how to do it properly.

In the library, as she sat one table away from Minho, Y/n brainstormed while occasionally glancing his way. Each time, his eyes were glued to the page. Each time, she felt a little more guilt-ridden. At one point, someone took a seat opposite from her, and when Y/n raised her eyes, she was relieved to see him sitting there. It had only been a week or so since they’d last sat this close. He, of course, had made no effort to speak with her. Why would he? Kim Seungmin was not her friend. But she’d felt his absence nonetheless.

“It’s been a while,” Y/n said, smiling. Though she was used to being ignored, this time it felt different. His eyebrows were tense and his mouth was set in too straight a line for it to be attributed to concentration. Cautiously, she tried again. “Are you angry at me?”

Seungmin looked up then back down, turning the page. “No, but I will be if you keep talking.”

Y/n felt cold with embarrassment all over and she did not speak again for fear that her throat would clog up halfway through the sentence. She had a feeling that would annoy him more. They sat in silence, each busy with their own tasks, until Seungmin did something he’d never done before.

“Where did you get that?”

Startled that he’d struck up a conversation, Y/n looked up from the page she’d been scribbling on. He nodded at the book that lay on top of her backpack.

“I didn’t steal it I promise. Professor Hajjar gave it to me.” Yet she felt like a criminal still. She felt guilty, and it must have shown on her face because Seungmin deadpanned. Hoping to convince him, she added, “Do you want me to lend it to you?”

“I have a copy back at home.”

Y/n picked at her nailbed with the unmaimed fingers. “You must have read it front to back.”

“Three times.” He specified, taking a pencil to jot down notes on the margins. “The third part, the one on the Underworld, is the best in my opinion. Elaborate without veering off track.”

Smiling, Y/n flipped through the pages of the book until she found what he was referring to and dog-eared it. The shiver that ran through her was one of excitement. No one, other than Minho and Luna that is, bothered to talk to her. She had taken to having discussions with herself, asking questions that only she’d bother to try finding the answer to, whiling away the hours of the night when the stomach pangs kept her from much-needed rest.

“You’re shivering again.” Seungmin pointed out, sounding just as disapproving as before.

Y/n let out a sheepish laugh. “At least we’re not in the lab, right?”

The young man made as if to speak only to look back down, fingertips toying with the top corner of the page. Y/n didn’t know what came over her. Maybe it was the way he pushed up his glasses, the slightly disheveled hair from when his friend had ruffled it during recess, or the knitted cream sweater over the white shirt that made him appear the complete opposite of the way he spoke. It was all completely irrational. At that moment, it just felt like the right thing to say.

“You did the right thing.”

Seungmin examined her face for answers the way he did with samples at the lab.

“What?” He asked.

“Ignoring me.” Y/n clarified, scrawling at the edges of her handwritten apology. “You did the right thing.”

The confusion melted off his face, gradually replaced by understanding. He held her gaze for a few seconds longer before looking down once more.

“It was the strategic thing to do.”

Back at the apartment, things were rowdier than ever. Beomgyu had gotten the brilliant idea to just blast music as loud as he could without getting kicked out permanently, leaving Y/n with a brain-scrambling headache for the entirety of the evening. Eventually, Minho put an end to the madness, finally granting Y/n some time with her thoughts.

Sitting in the shower, Y/n had never felt so clean yet so filthy. Her neck was littered with bruises it was hell to scrub at it. Her fingernails were so cracked and torn that it hurt to hold a pen. Despite the stretching and the massage, her muscles ached terribly. At night, she was plagued by visions, and every time she thought that sleep might alleviate the symptoms, she was proven wrong.

She thought about the dining hall incident, Cleo’s rage, her fingers crushing her windpipe, and the repulsed acknowledgment of the other demigods. She thought back to when Luna had pleaded not to go to school but she’d forced her to, anyway. How Y/n regretted not having let her stay home and draw princesses on her little sketching pad. None of this would have happened. Luna wouldn’t be used as a lab rat, and she wouldn’t be faced with the choice of speaking or remaining silent. Both equally rotten.

For the first time since… she didn’t remember when, Y/n bit into her arm to stop herself from screaming. The tears and snot ran down her face, making her feel all the filthier. The muffled screeches were the only way she could speak. She didn’t deserve to be spoken to. She should have stayed in that shabby hut in Camp Half-blood. She should have stayed in the forest with Luna. They never should have returned. She had convinced Luna it was for the best and look where that got them. She was so stupid she wanted to die then and there. She deserved to be alone.

Minho called out to her from the other side of the door, asking if everything was fine. Y/n bit into her arm just a little harder, enough to draw blood, and then let go, affirming that she was alright. His footsteps receded down the corridor.

In her room, as she arranged her backpack for the next day so the rest wouldn’t have to wait for her, Y/n spotted the book Professor Hajjar had gifted her. She recalled her conversation with Seungmin and thought about how, regardless of her choice, she would never speak to him again. Even if Luna was released, Y/n would never see the sun again. She’d be locked up in the lab, getting drained on a schedule as the years wore on, and the rest of the demigods would go on to explore the world, creating families of their own, and share urns with their beloveds. She would get cremated, her ashes cast into Tartarus. Then, it would be Luna’s turn.

Y/n placed the book on the nightstand.

Downstairs, Minho had just finished preparing dinner. She offered to help him set the table but he shook his head saying that Yeonjun was supposed to since he’d shirked his kitchen duty and that the least he could do was help him with the utensils. The taller demigod rolled his eyes, made an offhand comment about her damp hair, and got to work. With nothing else to do but wait, Y/n sat at the table and zoned out.

Every time Minho snapped her out of it, she slid back into that empty space until eventually, Yeonjun had enough and snapped at her to just eat. Startled, Y/n picked up the spoon and tried not to let it spill. She was trying so hard not to cry again. She didn’t want them to mock her as a crybaby. Keeping her head down as she brought the spoon to her lips again and again, she didn’t know what kind of expression they were wearing as she swallowed spoonful after spoonful. If she did, she would have caught the glare Minho pinned Yeonjun with (the latter looking away as if nothing had happened), Beomgyu’s stunned countenance, and Hyunjin’s incisive gaze.

Y/n placed the spoon in the empty bowl and before either Minho or Yeonjun could say anything, she beat them to it.

“She started having nightmares a few days before Juliana was killed.”

<<<Chapter 2 Chapter 4>>>

#skz #skz godly parent au #skz godly parent #skz pjo #stray kids #stray kids godly parent #stray kids godly parent au #stray kids pjo #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin skz #hwang hyunjin enemies to lovers #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin x reader #child torture #child lab experimentation #strangling attempt #imprisonment

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siennasfix · 2 months

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Part I:

Chapter 1 "Old Blood" Chapter 2 "Watchful silence" Chapter 3 "Tipped scale" Chapter 4 "Uneven pressure" Chapter 5 "Foreboding pendulum" Chapter 6 "The voice"

#Pareidolia #skz #stray kids #stray kids pjo #stray kids godly parent #skz godly parent #skz godly parent au #stray kids godly parent au #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin enemies to lovers #hwang hyunjin skz #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin x reader

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siennasfix · 26 minutes

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Pareidolia

Chapter 4 "Uneven pressure"

*****

<<<Chapter 3 Chapter 5>>>

Trigger warnings: 1. Child torture 2. Child experimentation 3. Strangling 4. Bullying

The demigods watched and listened intently as Y/n, nervous under their scrutiny, stuttered her way through sentences. Even Yeonjun, who seldom missed out on an opportunity to put her in her place, kept his mouth shut and leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed against his chest. Somehow it made her even more anxious to speak. As if their silence was but the calm before the storm of insults and accusations.

When she trailed off in the middle of the sentence, Minho leaned forward to get her attention. “Did she tell you what the nightmare was about? Other than Juliana and Ruth being butchered.”

Y/n nodded and Beomgyu immediately asked, “Did she recognize the culprit?”

This time, she shook her head and Minho spoke again. “Don’t you think they would’ve reported it if they knew? If she’d told Y/n?”

“Hard to say.” Beomgyu shrugged. “She’s an old blood.”

The delivery was so matter-of-fact that it had her looking up from her empty bowl, frowning. Their tendency to assume the worst of her character and abilities when they hadn’t even exchanged a word before she started living with them pissed her off beyond belief. It distressed her to know that Minho’s only objective was to extract a confession out of her. All the while, Hwang and Yeonjun spectated with looks carved from a rock.

“So what?” Beomgyu’s face remained inexpressive, neither taunting nor defensive, as she spewed out the words. “You think we want you dead or something?”

Beomgyu shrugged that off as well. Whatever Y/n said in her defense could only be taken as pitiful excuses to save herself. Her ill reputation preceded her.

From the corner of her eye, she spied Hwang planting his elbows on the table.

“She doesn’t know what the culprit looks like. And you’re right.” He looked straight at her, unflinching, “She wouldn’t have reported it.”

Again, Y/n felt that she must try to change their opinion of her. “You can’t know that.”

“I know you’re afraid.” He stated and the surety of his tone caused her to cringe in shame. He allowed her a few seconds to wallow in it, less as an act of mercy than an opportunity to pick her apart a vulture did with carrion, before continuing, “But there’s something else you’re not telling us.”

Looking down into her bowl again, Y/n swallowed. “No, there’s nothing else.”

It was the wrong thing to say apparently. Or maybe it was the way she was so intent on avoiding his gaze that gave her away. Either way, Hwang didn’t believe a word she said, and neither did the rest of them, Minho included.

Like a lake frozen from the surface to the bed, his voice bore no ripples as he warned, “I will get it out of you regardless.”

Y/n almost shot up from her seat, ready to scurry into the nearest corner.

“You can’t torture me.”

Hwang titled his head. “Oh, really?”

“If you could, you would have already.” Y/n pushed on defiantly, pain webbing throughout her hand from where her fingers dug into her thighs. “You wouldn’t have waited for me to tell you all this.”

At that, he hummed and then shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been feeling generous.”

She tried to stare back at him, to defy him in some small measure, but Hwang, Y/n realized, had been moulded for a world that wasn’t for her eyes to perceive, and should she dare to try, she would have to lose an eye. That was how it felt to challenge him; like having your eyes gauged out for the audacity. She wondered if he kept the memories of other people’s submission with him as a good luck charm.

“It has nothing to do with Juliana and Ruth.” She said in a gasping attempt to dissuade him from pressing the matter. Might as well have tried convincing ice to not be water.

The legs of a chair screeched against the floor. Minho, the only one who mothered to use persuasive means, now sat closer.

“Tell us.” He urged her. “No matter how irrelevant you think it is.”

Something about how Minho said it, the permission to carry on with what others would consider absolute rubbish, chipped away at her reluctance. She could be sure that at the very least he would refrain from painting her as a dimwitted creature.

She’d seen him interact with other people, playing pranks on them, lampooning them when he thought their actions rash, never hesitating to clap back when it was called for, but toward her, Minho was nothing if not patient and forgiving. Perhaps it was her ignorance of the world’s treasures such as delicious food, the internet, slang, jokes, trends, items of various kinds, and the list went on. Maybe he simply considered her not to be worth more of his energy than he was obliged to expend by the authorities. What she knew for certain was that he placed duty to his people high on his list of priorities and being tolerant of her ignorance was the way to fulfill it.

“There was a man.” Though she was no longer reluctant to divulge, her voice still maintained that rickety quality. It couldn’t improve her credibility. “When I went into the forest searching for Luna, I found her by a stream with a man. He gave her a flower and when I thanked him for looking after her he said it was me he’d been waiting to talk to. He said,” She shut her eyes, trying to relay the man’s message verbatim, “He said to tell the wretched vermin not to be so awfully stingy.”

Only once she was done, did Y/n realize she’d been facing Minho the entire time, even before she’d begun her rant. So, when she opened her eyes, it was his she was staring into, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She never could tell what others were thinking, save for when their revulsion was so visceral it showed in the lines of their face like carvings on an ancient tomb. Right now, Y/n wished she could understand him better, that Minho would reassure her in some way, however small.

A scoff of irritation quickly caught her attention.

“You were right,” Yeonjun said. “That is irrelevant to the main issue.”

The blood rushed to her face. “Well, you wanted to know.”

“And he wanted to speak with you specifically.” He mocked her tone while making a face. “Don’t you find that odd?”

Beomgyu, whose plate was now cleared of its contents, surprised her by cutting in impatiently.

“Was it someone you’d seen before?” Curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “Someone you know?”

“I don’t think that was a someone… rather a something.” A sense of unease crawled into her and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “His clothes were too pristine for the environment, and he spoke as if he knew me; as if he’d known I’d be coming to him. It was like he looked down on everything here.”

“Could it be he lives in the forest?” Minho asked but even though his body was facing hers the question wasn’t aimed solely at her. He was asking everyone at the table to complete the puzzle.

Feeling cornered once again, Y/n glanced back and forth between him and the rest. “I don’t think so. He vanished right after he told me to relay that message.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Hwang asserted. “The forest spans for miles. He could’ve just teleported into another area.”

Beomgyu, ever so eager to get to the bottom of this, looked at the others with an almost pleading look. “Do you think it’s worth taking a look?”

Unsurprisingly, Yeonjun’s face crumpled in distaste at the prospect of having to fight his way through the accursed forest while Minho tipped his chin at Hwang and the latter shrugged as he rose from his seat and took his plate to the sink.

Minho wasn’t on dish duty tonight so she wasn’t sure if they’d like her to help. Before everyone could carry on with their evening activities Y/n plucked up the courage to ask if she could go with them.

The glare Yeonjun shot her as he buttoned up his jacket was nothing if not acidic. Maybe he thought it would cleanse him of the filth that was the sight of her before him.

“To do what?” He jeered. “Be a deadweight?”

Y/n pointed her index at him. “Do you know what he looks like? Can you be sure you’d recognize him if you saw him? He could be a shapeshifter for all we know.”

“In that case, you’d be just as useless as the rest of us, stupid.”

“I can understand the shadows.” She argued her point, hoping to at least convince Beomgyu who was lounging on the sofa playing games on his phone, and Hwang who considered her a liability in terms of combat skills. If she succeeded, it would be the two of them against Yeonjun. “They might be able to pick up on his energy or presence or whatever better than all of us combined.”

“Y/n, you can’t go with them.”

Just like that, her attempt to sway them was in vain. Minho didn’t mince his words when it came to the guidelines of his part in this process, one of them being that she was to abstain from roaming the fields, visiting the altars, catacombs, wandering inside the forest; basically any other place considered to boast profound cultural significance aside from Olympia University. Even that small mercy was more for Minho’s sake than concern for her education or wellbeing.

Desperation nibbled at her patience. “But if I can’t do anything and they can’t either then what use was it talking to you about it?”

Minho approached her and, placing his hand between her shoulder blades, led her upstairs.

“It’s worth it because now we have an alibi of sorts.” He turned on the light in her bedroom. “Luna was with you, and she couldn’t have killed Juliana or Ruth. And if that’s not an alibi, then at least it’s a confession.” He paused, searching for something in her gaze. Perhaps a hint that she understood what he was getting at. “You have a chance to see Luna again.”

Y/n lowered her gaze to the blue rug past the threshold and turned her back to him. All she mumbled in response was a resigned ‘okay’, and a few seconds later the door clicked shut.

******************************************************************************************

The first rays of dawn barely just cracked the night when Minho had turned on the light without so much as a good morning to tell her that she was to partake in the collective training for second and third years. With eyelids weighed down by lack of sleep and exhaustion, it was all Y/n could do to pretend that she was at least a bit excited to stand alongside her peers here at the foot of the Berkley Hills. It was to be her first time after all.

First-years were granted the small mercy of being trained and evaluated separately. On the other hand, the fourth and fifth years were subjected to rigorous training in preparation for the Argenti Legio, commonly referred to as the ARL, the final exam that determined their rank in the legion before they were eventually elevated to the AUL, Aureus Legio. She’d heard it was grueling and the written records detailed that ever since the treaty between Camp Half-blood and Jupiter had been signed more than three centuries prior the deceased demigods numbered in the thousands, with a yearly mortality rate of approximately 37%. Small wonder the instructors were ruthless in their approach.

Yet, as she stood there, barely able to contain her shivers, Y/n wondered why she had to become part of this. Why now that she was to be locked up for good? What was the point in keeping up the pretense of being part of the collective when she wouldn’t even get the chance to compete in the ARL? She really would rather have stayed in her bedroom, just as immersed in the third part of the book Professor Hajjar had gifted her as she had been way into the early hours of the morning. Granted, it wasn’t a solution. It did nothing but facilitate her escape from reality. Still, Y/n preferred it.

She was further convinced of it when a silhouette identical to all the rest thanks to the standard black uniform waded through the crowd to stand before her, sinewy and dignified.

Shin Ryujin, commander of the Rubeus Squadron, regarded her as one would a misplaced sock. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Y/n kicked at a small rock. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You won’t last five minutes.”

Was that necessary? Sure, Y/n stuck out like a sore thumb with her emaciated frame and lack of training. But it wasn’t as if she enjoyed freezing her ass off here with the only prospect being of embarrassing herself in front of people whom she knew to be incredibly eager to see her fail. Surrounded by the rest of her peers, Y/n felt humbled.

It took everything for Y/n to look Shin Ryujin in the eye and not pounce on her like a feral animal. For the past two weeks, whenever her thoughts would stray to her, all Y/n could see was an executioner.

“I guess you’ll just have to carry me out of here when I pass out.”

The young commander didn’t find that funny, her expression a replica of her mother’s. “Optimistic enough to think anyone will bother.”

Y/n didn’t find this unwanted exchange all that amusing either.

“Leave me here to rot then.” She said, meeting each word tit for tat.

If it weren’t for the fingers curling around the dagger, Y/n would have thought Shin Ryujin unaffected. The latter, catching on the fact that she’d noticed, strode the way she’d come from.

Not five seconds later, Minho joined her with a bottle of water in hand, leaning against the marble pillar just a few shades lighter than his sweatpants as he watched her find comfort in the engravings on the ceiling. The enormous structure was a marvel. Especially since she’d never been permitted access to these grounds before.

Minho removed the cap and handed her the bottle. “Can’t imagine she was anything but condescending?”

“You know her personally?” Y/n asked and took a sip of water.

“Not quite.” He loosened the zipper of his black jersey. “She’s three years my junior and a daughter of a war goddess of Rome, one that doesn’t often mingle with humans. That comes with a certain status, especially when you’re as skilled as she is.” A pensive frown. “But I never imagined she’d go as far as to interact with you outside of her duties as a leader of the Third Cohort and commander.”

Y/n swiped her knuckles across her mouth, wiping off excess water. “Neither did I.”

A bellowing sound reverberated throughout the grounds. It left her stomach feeling hollow as if her breakfast had been swallowed by whatever instrument had produced it. Y/n held onto Minho’s sleeve and in return, he helped her straighten up; she hadn’t noticed she’d been slouching and bending her knees as if to brace herself for a fall.

“I’d tell you not to try too hard but-

“I know. Professor Hajjar says it is imperative that I try to blend in.” It was embarrassing to hear the anxiety in her voice as well as the desperation and resentment that lingered once the phrase was uttered. “I just wish I could speak with him. Why won’t he just-

Minho cut her off by placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her down the steps. “There’s no time for that right now. They’re lining up. Go stand next to Hyunjin.”

“You’re not staying?”

It was even more embarrassing to hear the need for reassurance. She was certain so could Minho. She’d hoped that his guard duty would somehow oblige him to join her, forgetting that Hwang could effectively take over in his stead.

He peered down at her through long lashes before patting her on the shoulder. “Try your best.”

Y/n looked at where Hwang and Beomgyu stood, the former glancing their way as the latter yapped on, and asked him him to help her secure the bottle on her thigh, using the straps that came with the uniform. She bid him goodbye and joined Hwang and Beomgyu, situating herself between the two per Minho’s instructions. She must have looked so pathetic; a bony young woman and two male demigods who’d spent years breaking and restoring their bodies for combat. Hwang had put up his hair in his usual half-up-half-down style while Beomgyu had let his loose. Just like her, they had water bottles strapped to their thighs.

Hwang spared her a glance. “Keep up.”

“She’s going to die,” Beomgyu blurted out behind her.

Y/n glared at him from the corner of her eye. “I won’t.”

Beomgyu’s laugh wasn’t even derisive, just so fucking annoying.

“You look dead already.”

Y/n decided to ignore him. Nothing good could come out of giving Beomgyu a reaction. Also, there was no time for a back-and-forth as the four instructors took their place on the platform and delivered short speeches, which were just a listing of the rules, scoring system, and safety measures.

The rules would have been easy enough to follow if they didn’t include the part about surrender being forbidden. Participants had to see this through no matter the cost. It meant Y/n would receive the lowest score in decades, if not in all of demigod history.

The scoring system was divided into four parts, as was the training on the whole; strength (25 points), flexibility (25 points), balance (25 points), and endurance (25 points). The only phase of the training she might not absolutely fail at was flexibility; she had made it a rule to stretch in the morning and before bed. Strength was out of the question and so were balance and endurance. She simply didn’t have the adequate muscle mass to perform all the intricate tasks adequately. There was also the matter of the tracker injection. It felt weird to have something pistoned in instead of it being siphoned out.

As for the safety measures, Minho had already seen to it that she was provided with knee and elbow braces, a water bottle, a packet of sterile gauze, and a flat tiny bottle of antiseptic solution that he’d stuffed in one of her thigh pockets in case something happened. Something was bound to happen.

The trials began and they were excruciating. Strength was the worst of them as Y/n just was no match for Hwang Yeji, the demigod she was pitted against. Hammer throwing was impossible; it didn’t budge no matter how much energy she exerted. The following tasks⸺ rope and net climbing, pull-ups, etc⸺ in this phase were just as much a breeding ground for humiliation. Nothing changed when it came to flexibility and balance. She was tossed around, plummeted from not being able to adjust her footing on the ropes, and might have pulled a muscle overdoing it during the acrobatics part.

She should have just accepted a score of zero instead of standing there absorbing the shame each time Hwang helped her to her feet.

After a particularly nasty fall, he looked down at her. His words from the training session came to mind then; pitiful, weak, not worthy of being considered prey. Y/n knew she’d have to finish the last phase of the trials on her own, without him there to act as her disgruntled coach, rolling his eyes whenever she failed pathetically. He didn’t have to say out loud for her to understand that much. Also, she hadn’t the energy to beg him to be there for her, as desperate as she was.

As soon as one of the instructors blew the horn, the endurance trials commenced. It consisted of running through the woods to reach an area similar to this one. The instructors informed them of the distance (25 miles uphill north) and that the trackers in their bodies would monitor their heart rate, speed, body composition, and levels of cortisol among other things. Heart rate and body composition didn’t affect the score but speed and cortisol levels did. Y/n knew she was doomed to receive a pathetic score either way.

Something was wrong from the very beginning. An acidic substance bubbled up to her throat. It had her coughing and her fingers itched to rub it off from the inside. In a matter of minutes, the sons and daughters of Hermes and Mercury put miles of distance between them and the rest despite the terrain being slippery from the days of incessant downpour.

All of the students would have to scrub their bodies raw, especially the ones who tumbled face-first into the mud. Y/n managed to grab onto a branch to prevent that. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t looking downright filthy. Her hands, legs, and elbows were caked with mud and leaves. But that wasn’t her greatest concern. The burning itch in her throat persisted until it eventually turned into nausea and stomach pain. Her vision turned foggy and she could no longer tell if she was looking at demigods stumbling uphill or weirdly-shaped logs.

When she’d finally shed every ounce of energy and the pangs of pain became unbearable she decided to search around for a trunk to lie against. She thought she’d found her temporary sanctuary but was just a trick her impaired vision had played on her. Y/n sucked in a breath as the thorns of the brown bush dug into her flesh.

There isn’t much to tell about what happened after that. She slipped and tumbled down a hill. Sludge and needles painted her into a creature from beyond the grave. Similar to that day in the forest, she couldn’t tell right from left, south from north, or east from west. The only thing Y/n could make out was the belching sounds as she threw up and the dust of sunlight filtered through the cloud of green above. The curtains fell shut.

It wasn’t yet noon when she gained consciousness. Her forehead and back of her head throbbed, her skin stung, her neck ached, and her eyelids felt heavy with both mud and exhaustion. Through the haze of her senses, she could tell two people were speaking. None of the words made sense. Maybe they weren’t human. Maybe, she’d finally kicked the bucket and was on her journey across the Styx on Charon’s boat, soul ready for dismemberment.

“… unconscious.”

Fingers rubbed against her cheeks.

“… in vomit.” This voice came from her right instead of above her. “Minho… grill you.”

That name. She knew that name. Lee Minho. Lee Minho. Son of… his hair was a dark brown. Round eyes? Lee Minho. Help. Minho. The name and the cold fingers at her neck, checking her pulse, shocked Y/n into opening her eyes. She looked up then to her left.

“She’s waking up,” Her neck felt bare when the beautiful, long-haired man removed his fingers. She could see the other drawing closer. “Can you hear me?”

As if on cue, she started hyperventilating. It didn’t make sense. Where was Luna? Why was her head on this man’s lap? Had she never left the forest? Had they caught her? Had they gotten their hands on Luna? Why did the man cup her mouth in his palm? Was he trying to suffocate her? Why was the world growing dim when the sun had barely reached its peak? The lights were out once more.

The second time Y/n awoke was in her bedroom. The predominantly blue hues created a soothing ambiance. It also helped that someone had lit up incense sticks and the whole room smelled like lavender and chamomile. As she struggled to get her bearings, rubbing as if to cleanse her vision of filth, a hand pressed against her forehead. That, apparently, was all it took for her to straighten up and take in her surroundings fully.

Minho, who sat at the edge of the bed, removed his hand and watched as she sat up, restless. The memories of today’s events hit her all at once and she was left internally writhing with humiliation, something she tried to cover up by rubbing her hands along her arms, face, and torso.

Minho poured her a glass of water. “I cleaned you up before tucking you in.”

Y/n drained the glass in two seconds.

“Did you bring me here?” She asked, hoping he’d say ‘no’.

He shook his head as she handed him back the glass. “Hyunjin and Beomgyu did.”

That was it. That sent her over the edge. The mere mention of their names amplified the humiliation she had been feeling since the beginning of the trials. Tears came pouring down her cheeks that were so hot it felt as though some of the humiliation had seeped into them, inflicting physical on top of the emotional pain. She couldn’t see Minho as he fished out a packet of napkins from the drawer and handed it to her. Sobbing, Y/n blew into it.

“I told you I wasn’t ready, but you wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t listen.” She whimpered, resenting Minho and Professor Hajjar a little more with each passing second. “Now your friends are going to mock me forever, tell everybody how fucking filthy I am. No one will ever want me near.”

When she started hiccupping Minho poured her another glass of water.

“No one else saw you, and they won’t tell anyone.” He said as she drank it. Then, he set the glass on the nightstand. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Covering her ears, Y/n shook her head so violently that the pain intensified. “But they’ll remind me of it like Yeonjun always does.”

“Yeonjun.”

“He’s always wrinkling his nose, sneering, and telling me how stupid and filthy I am from the very first day. I don’t want to see him or talk to him or do anything in front of him. Every time I say something he makes me regret it.” A smidge of the built-up bile spilled. “I hate it. I hate it so much. And now the other two will act the same.”

Understanding that there was no improving her mood with words alone, Minho decided to change subjects in hopes of redirecting the conversation.

“While I was cleaning you up, I noticed you had little to no hair in your pubic area.” When Minho mentioned he’d cleaned her up, she’d thought more along the lines of him wiping off the vomit. But it made sense that more had to be done, considering she’d been lying in filth for hours before his friends had found her. It didn’t make it any less embarrassing though. “I thought that maybe it was because you just have very thin hair, but your hair is naturally dark and coarse so that’s unlikely.” Minho seemed to be uncomfortable as he asked, “Y/n, do you menstruate?”

Napkin still her hand, Y/n tugged the soft blanket closer to her chest. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“That would be cruel.” Minho chased her fleeting gaze when she looked out the window. “Do you think me cruel, Y/n?”

She flicked her index back and forth, toying with the seam of the blanket. “No, more like a trickster.”

“Courtesy of my heritage.” He remarked jokingly before his tone turned thoughtful. “I won’t pretend that you not menstruating isn’t alarming. You might be sterile. You might not. It’s not like your fertility is for public record. What I do know for sure is that you’re starved.”

This conversation had taken a turn she hadn’t anticipated. Over the years, ever since she’d learned what it meant for a woman to be fertile, there had been times when she’d sat in deep thought. What did it mean to be a mother? What kind of mother would she be if someone desired her enough to procreate with her? Would her existence be accepted if she were to procreate with someone pure? Or would her children inherit the curse of her womb? No old blood had lived long enough to answer any of these questions.

“It doesn’t matter.” She sniffled. “I’m never having children.”

“Doctors might say it matters because your hormones are catastrophically dysregulated. Your body-” He sighed in frustration. “This is why we need Professor Hajjar, why you need to follow the training regimen. Nutritious meals and training will help you gain the weight you need to get your period.”

“I tried. I tried to keep up with the rest of them but they were so much faster, stronger, and resilient.” Y/n fisted the blanket. “Everyone is just better.”

She couldn’t presume to know what Minho was thinking but even he couldn’t counter that. It was a fact that everyone was better than her. They were stronger, had been trained in every discipline there was, and were primed for the battlefield. But it wasn’t just that. By default, their existence was pure and holy. By virtue of not being her, they were loved.

“Let’s have dinner downstairs.” Minho stood and watched her expectantly when she made no effort to follow suit. “We can get ready after. There’s someone waiting to see you.”

Y/n had never stood up faster. She almost passed out.

After they had an early dinner, which Minho insisted was to be consumed slowly so as not to trigger heartburn, he drove them to the CIIL (Criminal Investigation Institute of Learning). It was only 5 miles north of the headquarters, built strategically close to Mount Diablo as it was a sparsely populated region of Camp Jupiter. That wasn’t to say that the drive was over in a matter of minutes. It took them a solid hour and a half to get there, and not a minute passed that Y/n wasn’t chewing on her lower lip, causing the flesh to tear. Minho handed her a napkin when he pulled over at a gas station.

When they finally arrived, Y/n could only wonder at the nature of the research they could be conducting past the gargantuan charcoal grey walls that rose before them. The gates, made of celestial bronze enforced with steel, bore the symbol of Olympus and reached up to the parapets of the wall where sentries took turns on patrol. The grimness of the place seeped everywhere, down to the grass that had taken on a dull shade of brown.

After a back and forth with one of the guards, Minho forced them to call over the Head of Security at the institute who initially wasn’t much help either.

He barely considered her presence as he Minho showed him the permission signed by Professor Laqueus and Professor Hajjar.

“Only the subject’s sister is permitted entry into the chamber.” He stated curtly.

Minho kept his cool, or at least pretended that was the case. Y/n herself was too anxious to tell.

“As her guard, I have been tasked with accompanying her everywhere.” Minho stood his ground, fishing his ID and another circular object out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “Even in high-security settings.”

The Head glanced back and forth from the documents to Minho’s face and from the latter to Y/n, whom he had barely acknowledged up until that point. She doubted the sight of her was what forced the man to relent. What mattered was that the gates groaned loudly as they opened inch by inch, revealing what she could only describe as a civilization within its right. Structures that far surpassed the university were commonplace it appeared. She imagined this was where most of the science-obsessed graduates of Olympia chose to spend the rest of their demigod lives. Whereas the subjects dreaded seeing the dawn of another day, the researchers bathed in the glory of its promises.

Minho and Y/n were escorted through a white-light mazelike path under the most sterile building she’d ever had the privilege to exist in, and when they stepped foot in the maddeningly white chamber where Luna was being held, she could tell their escort would be keeping guard as well as the time. Y/n had to make every minute out of all 30, count.

She practically bounded towards Luna’s bed, where she was strapped down and connected to tubes and machines that she couldn’t make sense of. Unable to bear the sight of her sister confined to her bed like an animal, Y/n began undoing all the buttons and knots, freeing the little girl’s frame of its constraints. Her eyes welled with tears as she took Luna in from head to toe. How sickly pale her sister looked, how emaciated.

For a minute or two, Y/n simply sat at the edge of the bed, holding the girl’s cold hand. She wanted to wake her up and let her know her big sister was there.

“Luna? Hey, little bug.” She spoke to her softly, brushing her dark hair aside when those eyes fluttered open the tiniest bit. “Did you have a nice dream?”

“She can’t hear you,” Minho muttered.

Nodding, Y/n tried to wipe away the unshed tears discreetly and pointed at the tubes. “What’s in them?”

At her question, he drew closer, lightly feeling the length of the transparent tubes as he inspected the fluid they transported from the cylinder at the top and into Luna’s circulatory system.

“Diazepam by the looks of it. For seizures most likely.” He let the tube go as he let the state of her sister soak in. “Whatever it is, it’s best not to pull out the needles.”

“I know. They’d just shove them back in the second we’re gone.”

“She’s in pain. Help her sit up. That’s right. Hold her still.” Y/n held Luna close to her chest while Minho unbuttoned her hospital gown and inspected her spine. He pressed his thumbs gently into the flesh, what little remained of it, anyway. “They’ve been siphoning out her marrow. Look at all the purple patches all over her back. She must have been screaming in pain so they put her to sleep.”

Y/n cupped the back of Luna’s neck, securing her head against her chest, and felt the little girl’s breathing quicken as she stirred awake.

“Y/n…

The big sister rubbed her hand over the bony little arms while Minho buttoned up her hospital gown.

“Hey, bug-bug,” Y/n murmured and Luna moaned in pain as they helped her lie down, “I’m here.”

Luna’s eyes, though barely open, welled with tears of fatigue.

“Will you take me home?” She pleaded.

Glancing at Minho, Y/n shook her head softly. “I can’t-

“Please, take me with you.” Luna’s frail grip could easily be shaken off, but Y/n could never do that to her. “I want to come with you. Please-

Y/n responded by tightening her hold, just enough to not cause her pain. “I will get you out of here. Soon. I’ll get you out of here and then we’ll go back home. I promise you.”

“It hurts.” Luna sobbed.

“I’m sorry.”

“They came back.” Y/n could feel Minho, who had been beside her the whole time, lean forward with renewed interest. “The voices. They came back and I can’t sleep. Please, please, make them go away, please.”

At that moment, it didn’t matter whether Luna’s confession could be used against them should Minho decide to report it to Professor Hajjar and Laqueus. The tremors in Luna’s hand matched the shuddering of the rest of her body. She needed sustenance and reassurance. The latter, Y/n could provide.

“I promise.” She spoke it like a litany, “I promise. I promise. I promise.”

From next to her, she felt something shift. Minho stepped closer and muttered something she could barely hear, lips almost pressed against the object in his hand. When he unfurled his fist she saw the same object on his palm that he’d produced from his jacket back in her cell. Only, this time what sprung from it was not a blanket to trap in the body heat and multiply it until the optimal body temperature was achieved. It was… a bar of chocolate, caramel-flavored. He opened it, broke it into smaller pieces, and offered one to Luna.

When she shrunk away from him, he only said, “Your sister says you like caramel.”

Luna glanced at her and only accepted the offering when Y/n gave her a nod of reassurance. That was how they spent the remaining minutes, feeding her chocolate, helping to clean her teeth however they could, asking her what else hurt, informing her about the hearing that was to take place, and simply brushing her hair with a small comb Minho kept in his inner pocket. Y/n was glad to hear Luna sigh in contentment, eyes lighting up at the tricks Minho played with the plastic wrapper. It was not enough to make her forget about the white, sterile prison she was in.

Near the end, Minho placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s time, Y/n.”

Y/n didn’t look at him, only at Luna.

“I’ll be back, okay?” The promise rang with uncertainty.

Pouting, Luna nodded and looked up at Minho.

“Can you bring chocolate again?” She asked him in a voice riddled with shame.

Minho smiled. “Of course, we will. Strawberry-flavored. Orange. Cherry. Peach. Coconut. Whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Luna murmured.

The hug was too short to count as a proper goodbye. Y/n felt like this prison was siphoning her blood out and away from her. It left her fatigued, regretful about not having said something more, confused, and angry.

“Why would they do that to Luna?” She voiced the question once they were back in their car. It had been burning and writhing in her mind for the entire duration of their visitation. “I get that she’s being held in custody. But there��s no need to drain her marrow to prove whatever they think there is to prove.”

Minho put his seatbelt on and stared ahead. “That’s sketchy for sure.”

“Sketchy?” She couldn’t understand the need for that understatement. “It’s cruel. She didn’t-

“They think otherwise.”

“They’re wrong.”

“Not to them.” He violently rammed in his car keys and Y/n stilled. “To them, she’s an old blood who ran away while an investigation was being conducted and whose sister stormed into a forest crawling with monsters so they wouldn’t get to her first.” He sighed, head on the headrest. “I get why you went after her. I do. But it was the wrong choice to make.”

Angry hot tears pooled in her eyes so she looked out of the window instead, hoping the searingly bright light from the lamppost would vaporize them. She felt like such a weakling at that moment.

“So, you would have left her alone?” Y/n tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Knowing she might get mauled by some monster. Knowing she might die thinking no one cared enough to search for her.”

His reflection in the window gazed back at her and, before she could look away, he turned the key. Y/n barely made out his words over the sound of the engine roaring to life.

“It doesn’t matter what I would have done.” He said as he drove out of the parking lot.

Halfway home, Minho handed her a napkin.

******************************************************************************************

Safe to say, Y/n got absolutely no sleep last night. She stormed up the stairs, ignoring Yeonjun’s biting comments, Beomgyu’s persistent inquiries, and Hwang’s stalking gaze as they paused the game they were playing. She didn’t care to see anything other than the pages of Professor Hajjar’s book or to hear anything other than the voice in her head reciting fact after fact on the river Styx and the goddess after which it was named. Everything else⸺ the motorcycles speeding down the road, the bustling nightlife of New Rome, and the birds pecking her windowsill (where she’d placed some seeds after asking Minho if she could)⸺ was nothing but background noise. It worked. She memorized everything to a T.

From the dawn of the Golden Age, it had been the custom of legendary heroes of old to pledge oaths in the name of the stream of hatred, the current of gloom and abhorrence, for it was that of the Goddess whom Zeus, sovereign of Olympus, considered an ally to be revered. Oaths in her name were to be kept; be it during the valor of life or the torment of death. Oaths in her name are impossible to elude.

Attempting to rid herself of the guilt, Y/n memorized the entire 3rd chapter. She labored to stave off her sleep by drinking water and going to pee at least three times, but eventually, sleep claimed her like a relentless, lurking beast that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Even then, the guilt plagued her dreams, for it was she who followed Luna into that forest. In her nightmare, the man stood behind her sister, staring at Y/n as both he and Luna plunged into the gaping abyss. She knelt at the precipice, reaching inside the pit, but an invisible force would not allow her to chase after Luna.

Her screams rang in her ears from the moment she awoke screeching and sweating, up until now, as she and Minho sat on the bench and sipped from their thermoses. She’d been unable to learn much of what he’d been trying to teach her, his words going in from one ear and out of the other. There was just… so much noise.

She heard him say they were heading out loud and clear though.

“Why are we leaving so early?” Y/n asked him.

Minho wiped at his brow with a towel. “Professor Hajjar has called me into his office to discuss the details of your confession. And you’re coming with me.”

That was certainly new.

“Really?” She said, cautious. “I thought you’d… you know, have Hwang teach me. Like last time.”

Minho tossed the towel in his sports bag and zipped it up. “Look around.”

She did as he said but… there were no signs of Yeonjun’s insufferable expressions, Beomgyu’s insupportable teasing, or Hwang’s arrogant stance.

She looked back at Minho. “Where have they gone?”

“Come on.” He slung the strap across his shoulders, clearly intending to drop the subject entirely. “Professor Hajjar dislikes tardiness.”

Neither did Minho apparently, for he ushered them out of the building, back to campus, and up to Professor Hajjar’s office. Before bringing his hand up to knock, he looked at her to assess whether she was ready. Y/n nodded at him and he rapped his knuckles against the wooden surface. They waited for Professor Hajjar to call from the other side and then crossed the threshold.

Y/n didn’t think it was possible for Minho to straighten his posture even more, but he did.

“Good afternoon, professor.” He greeted, nodding.

Professor Hajjar looked up from his book and offered a greeting in return. She almost didn’t notice his eyes flit between the two students before him thanks to the sunlight being reflected from the shelves on his glasses.

The professor angled his way so he might get a better look. “I see you’ve brought Miss. L/n along.”

Minho’s thoughtful gaze settled on her as he seemingly pondered how to answer the unspoken question. Eventually, he stared ahead.

“There was no one available who could stand guard.”

Professor Hajjar fixed him with a skeptical look, one that would have had Y/n stuttering or running away for fear of feeling exposed. But with Minho refusing to divulge further details on his friends’ whereabouts, the professor had to redirect the conversation, albeit reluctantly. Y/n was certain he would get to the bottom of this one way or another. It was in the nature of the children of Athena and Minerva.

“You did well bringing her here.” Professor Hajjar bookmarked the page and shut the book. “What we are to discuss involves both her and her sister, and now that we have a confession of sorts we can work on an alibi. Although,” He paused, gesturing for the two of them to take a seat. “I don’t presume you will listen unless I’ve answered your questions first.”

He had read her like an open book, but just this once Y/n did not mind. He wanted her to see her desperation, to feel the maggots of rage buried in her flesh each time she thought of her little sister. Perhaps then he would be inclined to do more.

“What are they doing to Luna?” She asked, hands placed on each thigh. “There were tubes and-

“A research is being conducted that demands the extraction of her marrow.”

The immediacy of his answer and the purely analytical nature of Professor Hajjar’s gaze stupefied her. She looked to Minho for help… anything.

“What kind of research?” He prodded, letting the bag rest on the carpeted floor.

“You know I am not allowed to speak further.” He stated. At that, even Minho deflated, almost shrinking back from the thought of pressing the matter. Professor Hajjar turned his attention fully on her. “Let me be clear. You have no alibi.”

Y/n leaned forward. “But-

The professor raised his hand, effectively silencing her. “You cannot prove intent and, considering the fact that you and your sister are old bloods, I would consider it ill-advised to attempt it. That would open a can of worms neither you nor I can contain.”

Minho tried to speak when Y/n couldn’t. “Is there anything we can do, professor?”

“To the Council, Luna Weisfeld’s culpability is a foregone conclusion. No amount of begging or thorough investigation can convince them otherwise, and even if they were somehow persuaded of her innocence, there is the matter of the population. The masses would never accept it as the truth.”

She could not accept this whole farce as the end, her sister’s end. Luna’s life had barely just begun. There was so much food for her to try, so many games for her to play, and so many books for her to read, should she wish to. But, to let them tear the choice from her for the sake of some old men’s bureaucratic, fanatic nonsense was inconceivable. It was just… just…

“So, this is it?” Her lips trembled. “My sister dies and the world lives on?”

It was just so unfair. She knew the whole sentence was carved on her expression. Anyone could taste the anger in her blooming tears but none would care to try. Before, she had wanted him to witness her anguish. Now, she stared down at her fists. She focused on the nails that had just started to grow back and the flesh that itched furiously.

“As you may know,” Professor Hajjar continued, “though rarely so, there have been cases when one person has taken the fall for another, volunteering to be executed in someone else’s stead. But considering you are old bloods,” He looked at her with some discomfort, “And yours is the blood that sustains the populace, there might be a way to keep the both of you alive while satisfying both the Council’s need for maintaining the status quo and the people’s calls for retribution.”

She grasped the true meaning of his words. It was unfair for Luna to rot without even getting the chance to bloom. But Y/n was… she was older. Luna could still have a family, people who would care for her. All Y/n had to do was decay. When she spoke, it was in resignation.

“I will take her place.”

Minho jumped from his seat. “Wait, hold on, Y/n-

“I will volunteer to be experimented on in her place.” Once again, only the voice in her head mattered. Everything else was just background noise, Minho’s voice included. “They can take my blood too. That way she can be free until the day I die.”

Professor Hajjar approached her, his hand resting on her head. It reminded her of when Chiron would feed her hot soup in winter. Only at night though. The gods of Mount Olympus couldn’t know he would sit next to her and let her fall asleep on his stomach. Y/n resisted the urge to flinch from it; the memory and the touch.

The professor removed his hand and walked them to the door. “Someone will be assigned as her caretaker.”

Y/n was at a loss for what to say. She was a dead woman walking, every step that of a phantom. It was Minho who thanked him, and then they went on their silent way home.

At precisely 10:37 PM, while Minho was teaching her to type out her assignments on his laptop, the sound of the security code being punched into the keypad outside announced the other boys’ arrival. Y/n prayed that the shower and the soothing creams Minho had applied to her face had lifted some of the redness around her eyes. If not, Yeonjun, who was currently stomping toward the living room, would comment on it. Beomgyu would snicker. Hwang would give her those conceited smirks of his. They irked her so badly.

“That forest is the gate to fucking Tartarus, I’m telling you.” The son of Cupid was practically seething as he unzipped the outer layer of the fitted black leather attire. His flaming eyes bore into Y/n’s, and her fingers froze on the keyboard. “How did you manage to survive that shithole?”

She felt someone tug lightly at her hair before sitting down across from her, kicking his feet up on the table. Minho shoved them off.

“The shadows speak to her,” Beomgyu repeated her words from before.

Yeonjun muttered under his breath. “Fucking freak.”

Minho, who had now forgotten about teaching her, cut in before things could escalate.

“Did you find anything?” He asked.

“Nothing useful that’s for sure.” Yeonjun chuckled bitterly as he removed all the celestial bronze daggers strapped to his thighs and slammed them on the table. Y/n flinched. “Leaves and branches and shit and filthy monsters. That whole place should be torched. Fuck! I smell like shit!”

Yeonjun was always a little pissed off. It was like he was born with a permanent distaste for anything unflattering and the mere sight of such a thing⸺ specks of dirt on the floor, dishes that had not been properly washed, or the smallest stain on a shirt⸺ drove him mad to the extent that the air around him would all but swim in heat. She’d seen it happen the day before at the Training Center when Beomgyu had tried his luck and gotten an ass-whooping for it. An angry Yeonjun couldn’t be a good omen.

It was Beomgyu who answered Minho’s question in full.

“We found the stream and searched it for footprints, hair, and other things we could use to track its energetic blueprint.” He made a zero with his fingers. “Nothing. Whatever she saw was good at covering its tracks.”

“Or maybe it has faded.” Suggested Minho.

“That could be it.”

She expected Minho to continue the dialogue but, instead, he turned to her. “What do you think?”

Their undivided attention only made her more nervous. She would rather chew her lips raw than contribute to the discussion⸺ any discussion⸺ at the moment. It didn’t help that she felt a prickling sort of heat at the back of her head like a hot rod was being rammed into her skull.

“What if it was a portal?” She proposed, reluctant.“What if that thing disappeared through some sort of portal?”

Behind her, Hwang pointed out, “Portal energy is detectable.”

It made Y/n feel so small, knowing that any mistake could cause her to be perceived as a dumb monkey who hadn’t evolved to understand common speech.

“It could have been a different one.” She chose her words carefully and buried her hands under her thighs. “Some kind of nullifier.”

Yeonjun scoffed, leveling her with a look of undiluted repulsion. “Are you an expert on that now?”

“That’s enough.” Minho intervened, forcing her attention back on him. Yeonjun could seethe for as long as he wanted but there was a job to be done first. “What makes you think it was a nullifier?”

The truth would make her sound like a pathetic eavesdropping creep, which hadn’t been her intention at all, but for the truth to come to light Y/n needed to lay all her cards out in the open. Minho was there, which meant none of the others would try to step out of line. Yeonjun didn’t seem to give a shit about Minho’s reprimands though, still looking at her like one would at a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk. But Beomgyu didn’t care to mess with her much, and to Hwang, she was no more than a weak little pest. So, really, could telling the truth be as detrimental as her nerves led her to believe?

“I heard the four of them talk at breakfast. Felix and Lia said there was no DNA, no trace of the perpetrator. I just thought this might be similar. Some kind of nullifier.” She lowered her eyes to the laptop. “Not for the DNA but the energetic trail. I don’t know. It was just a thought.”

Minho patted her on the shoulder. “It’s a possibility.”

“It’s even more plausible when you consider he was waiting to speak with you specifically.”

Hwang’s voice and the way his knees brushed against her back sent chills down her spine. It was like being doused with ice-cold water.

Y/n twisted around and looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

Yeonjun scoffed for the umpteenth time that evening.

“It means that no matter what you do or how hard you try you cannot escape the reality of being involved in this shit.”

She frowned. “I don’t even know him.”

“Doesn’t matter much when he knows you,” Yeonjun enunciated, rising to his feet.

The sight of him towering over her made her want to claw her way out of the penthouse with her barely-grown nails.

“I didn’t do anything.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but every anxious vein in her body bled into it, staining her delivery with guilt for something she hadn’t done. “He was asking Luna if she liked flowers, made grass into one, and then told us to go back.”

Yeonjun squinted. “So your sister could kill more of us?”

She shook her head, covering her ears like she did when the outside world inundated her senses.

“I didn’t know what to do.” Minho tried to touch her but she flinched away. “Luna was so scared and I just wanted to keep her safe.”

“Old bloods are ever so susceptible to suggestions from the Pit,” Hwang stated as Minho went to the kitchen. When he came back it was with a glass of water in his hand and a warning glint in his eyes. “She could easily be a conduit.”

The water felt dry as it passed through her esophagus, leaving behind a sense of dehydration more scratching than before. Their assertion of her 9-year-old sister’s guilt could not be shaken. It compelled her to her feet.

“She didn’t do anything,” She uselessly defended once again, trying to appear more threatening than she could ever hope to be as she glared at Hwang and Yeonjun. It sounded closer to a plea, further emphasized by what she said next, “Why don’t you believe me?”

She’d just spoken, and once again, her words were met with nothing but silence, minutes pelting atop her chest, crushing her ribs. None of them, not even Yeonjun who never missed out on an opportunity to spite her, uttered a word. Thinking back on her question, Y/n realized how obvious the answer was. Silence weighed all the more for it.

Usually, she would find comfort in the expanse of the sky, lit by stars or lightning, but tonight, neither the moon nor the glittery tapestry could cradle her, embrace her into a sense of comfort.

“We could try to trace the energy in the flower.”

Once again, Minho intervened by redirecting the flow of the conversation. Children of Hermes and Mercury were pros at conflict de-escalation just as they endlessly racked their brains to bring into the world. That was another gift from his father to Minho, who sat on the sofa with Y/n lodged between him and Hwang. The latter stared at her without a care in the world that the rest were there. She focused on the feeling of the cool glass against her skin and the conversation taking place.

From the other sofa, Beomgyu asked a valid question. “Didn’t they confiscate it?”

Hope bloomed in her chest, though it still did not manage to alleviate her anxiety. In her chest, her heart kept thundering, threatening to all but wrestle its way out of her ribcage.

“It could be in the same lab they’re keeping Luna in.” She suggested.

Hand on her shoulder, Minho looked at Hwang. “Do we have anyone on the inside?”

Despite wanting to, Y/n held back from looking to her right, fearing that Hwang would only refuse to help upon catching the desperation in her expression. Somehow, she could feel his breaths against her neck, his flesh melting into hers even without touching. Disconcerting. Blood-chilling. Constrictive.

It was a moment before he shifted in his place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hwang responded.

Y/n bit back a cry of gratitude and resolved to only look up at Minho with a small smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, somehow her smiles never did. But she hoped he understood.

He patted her on the shoulder and urged her to go to bed. Content that they had worked something out, however futile it might be, Enid could now go to sleep feeling somewhat accomplished. Yet, despite everything said, Yeonjun had to open a new can of worms.

“Why the fuck are we trying so hard?” When Y/n turned to face him, he wasn’t even looking at her. To him, she’d already vanished and all that remained was to cement her guilt in the minds of others. But then he pointed an accusing finger at her. “She probably lied to us about seeing that thing in the forest yet here we are running around like imbeciles, putting our lives at risk to save that of her sister. Why? She’s not our friend. Prisoners locked up for rape have more human rights than her. She’s a nobody.”

“She deserves a fair trial though.”

Y/n had never imagined Beomgyu would speak in her favor. He was too nosy and insensitive in his approach to topics that demanded caution. Yet, as he sat there, glancing back and forth between his friend and her, Y/n wondered if that was merely a mask.

Yeonjun had an answer to that it seemed.

“Is that you or your mother speaking?” He bit out.

Minho, who had been on his way to the kitchen, glass in hand, slammed the glass on the counter. “You’re overstepping.”

Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed. “Everything bad that has happened so far has been because of her despicable kind.”

It was nothing new. From the first day, Yeonjun had made it clear that her presence repulsed him, a sentiment his friends hadn’t been shy about sharing. Minho was the sole reason they hadn’t made it impossible for her to survive, and even he had a job to do. A job that did not involve babying her, comforting her, wiping the snot from her nose or the drool from her chin. She knew that.

She clutched her book tighter.

“You might be right.” The blood roaring through her system made it so she could hardly hear herself speak. But she could still see, and there the four of them were, staring at her in varying degrees of confusion. “Maybe every word that comes out of your mouth is not yours but your parents’. Maybe that’s why you’re cruel to those you don’t want to have sex with.”

Though briefly, she caught the spiteful curl of Yeonjun’s lips.

“Look at you.” He looked her up and down, drawing closer. Each step he took forward meant one step backward for her. “No one would bother being kind to you, sex or not. You’re barely human.”

“So are you, asshole.”

He reached her in such a short time that she couldn’t make out the shape of him. Perhaps he’d been close the whole time. Her heart almost burst out of her chest, and if it weren’t for Minho inserting himself between the two of them and Beomgyu holding Yeonjun back by the torso, having the heavy book knocked out of her hands wouldn’t have marked the end of it.

“Don’t fucking compare yourself to me,” Yeonjun snarled at her, his sclera glowing a sickly red. “Filthy fucking blood pig.”

“I said,” Minho extended his arm behind him protectively, and repeated, “You’re overstepping.”

Slowly loosening his hold, Beomgyu muttered, “Come on, man,”

“Get your hands off of me.” Yeonjun shoved him off completely and the younger demigod raised his hands defensively, “Don’t fucking touch me right now.”

Before stomping up the stairs, he flexed his jaw and shot them a glare. Beomgyu's face was moulded into one of guilt like he was sorry to have kept Yeonjun from inflicting harm upon her. Minho pushed Y/n further behind him until she was almost out of sight. Hwang… she wasn’t exactly certain how to interpret his expression at the moment. There wasn’t anything particularly expressive about his face right then, to begin with. It puzzled her.

Upon hearing the door to Yeonjun’s bedroom slam shut, Minho accompanied her to quarters. He advised her to lock the door and only open it if he should be the one asking to be let in.

“What if I need to get something from the fridge?” Y/n asked.

He made a gesture with his fingers. “I suggest you lock it, yeah?”

After Minho left, she didn’t bother switching on the light. It always felt so jarring to her vision. Besides, she could always use the bedside lamp to read without being forced to endure her reflection on the vanity mirror. She really didn’t wish to see her tears as she read about the Underworld.

She got under the blanket, setting her throbbing foot gently on the bed. What bad luck it had been for the corner to dig on the bridge of her foot. It would bruise and ache for days.

Still, she didn’t wish to see herself sob. In due time, eternity would be at her disposal. What remained of her could weep in the abyss, where nothing could ever see or be seen.

At 1:35 AM, Y/n plucked up the courage to tread out of her room, sticking to the darkest side of the corridor until she was finally in the kitchen. No lights were turned on, so she assumed everyone had already hit the sack for the night. She felt safe to drink without the fear of choking.

“Thirsty again.” A voice drifted from the balcony after she all but inhaled the glass of water.

She turned to the living room and indeed, the door to the balcony was wide open, the curtains billowing inside before deflating with the withdrawal of the wind. They were a sheer sort of blue, almost silver, Y/n realized. Had they changed them while she was up in her room? At so late an hour? Or was this her first time noticing?

She didn’t need to squint in the darkness to make out his silhouette. Of course, he would be awake at this hour, haunting the halls like a bewitching wraith, forever watchful, always on the prowl. He always made her feel cornered in an open space. His presence⸺ the skill, prestige, and beauty⸺ hammered her down like a nail into its rightful place. Y/n could only nod and hope that he deemed the debacle from a few hours ago beneath his consideration; unworthy of his mockery.

Afraid of pissing him off, she didn’t mean to stay. But when he drove holes into her skin, any thought she might have had of scurrying up the stairs was wrenched from her mind. Her feet moved on their own, and the outline of his figure became clearer as he leaned back with his elbows on the railing. Sweat glistened in the moonlight, gluing the dark runaway strands to his skin despite it being in his usual half-up half-down style. She also noticed he was in a similar gear from before, only made of lighter material. Ideal for late-night training.

Her lips had a mind of their own. “Why do you train at night?”

For a few seconds, all he did was look at her, head tilted.

“It’s quiet.” He answered, shrugging.

“But how do you see?” The words escaped her before she could think them through. To make matters worse, Hwang pointed op at the bulbs installed into the balcony’s ceiling. Feeling stupid, Y/n looked down at her feet. “Oh, right. Forgot.”

“You’re never going to see the outside world again,” The abrupt turn of the conversation gave her whiplash. She looked at him, wide-eyed, but he looked the epitome of nonchalance. “You know that, right.”

Y/n leaned forward, elbows on the railing. “Luna will be free to enjoy her life like a normal child.”

“Will she now?” She nodded and felt him draw closer. “Who will care for her if you don’t?”

Hwang was treating her like she was a stupid mongrel. She’d had worse epithets pinned to her name, but for some reason, him thinking of her as this unevolved ape who knew nothing of the world’s cruelty got on her damn nerves. Keeping herself from side-eyeing him was tough.

“I know people won’t jump at the opportunity to shelter and provide for her. It’s expected. Who would want to care for creatures like the two of us?” She tried to be as eloquent in her response as she could. “But she’ll have proper meals, dress for the weather, and be looked after by someone who knows what they’re doing even if they’re being mandated to do it. She will never be cold again.” She looked down at her reflection in the glass of water. “After graduation, she can choose to leave or stay until the day I die. So long as she has a choice, her decision doesn’t matter.”

Her left side itched under Hwang’s gaze.

“You’re so delusional.” He said. “It’s a bit cute.”

Reluctantly, Y/n lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Why do you say that?” She asked in a small voice.

“The bargain ends once you volunteer to take her place. After that, you get locked up in the lab and she’s delivered to a stranger’s doorstep. The guardians could be child beaters, rapists, or even decent people.” He paused only to level her with an unsympathetic look. “But don’t think, not even for a second, that they’ll do anything for her that goes beyond what is demanded from them.”

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

“You tell me how to fix this then.” Y/n retorted.

“Why would I?” He rejoined, shifting to face her with only one elbow to support him against the railing. “I don’t care what happens to the two of you.”

Her lips parted. Not in shock. No… that wasn’t it. She knew everyone wanted her locked away so they wouldn’t have to stare at her. That was repulsion. Yeonjun showed it. Beomgyu supported it. But it was there. Hwang simply didn’t give a single damn. He neither loathed her nor cared for her. To quote his friend, she was a nobody. These past few days she’d forgotten her place.

“Would you care if I told them you were there?”

He stood silent. Good. For once, she wanted to be the one to render him speechless.

“I was, wasn’t I?” He said, taking one step closer.

“They never did find her phone.” Y/n raised her chin, drunk on some illusion of invulnerability. “Who knows? You could have done something to it. What would they think then? What would you-

In a heartbeat, his slender fingers were wrapped around her neck. Wide-eyed, Y/n fought to escape his vicious grip but that only encouraged him to add more pressure on her jugular.

His features were set in a permanent barrenness. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was feeling generous.”

The more she struggled the more he tightened his grip, forcing her flush against the glass panes. She searched the surface for something to use against him but came up empty. There was nothing. There was no way for her to fight but by thrashing and kicking him anywhere she could reach.

“Go on. Tell me more, doll.” He seized her wrists when she tried to scratch at him. Pressing her harder against the glass, he whispered. “Tell me about how they’d believe a single word coming out of your mouth. Come on.” She tried but every time she opened her mouth, no words could climb up her throat. She heard him sigh, pleased. “There it is. I like it better when you squirm and look away like a skittish animal.”

As a last resort. She tried to kick him between his legs but by the time she raised her knee, he’d already seen through her futile attempt.

Her vision blurred as his grip tightened. Her chest burned for air that she couldn’t supply. Everything from her brain to her lungs was slowly shutting down, succumbing to his strength. Though her body pleaded for her surrender, she gasped, eyes bulging and turning pink as he lifted her with little effort. She was forced to stand on her toes, which made it harder to focus on kicking him. Not that he’d ever allow for that to happen.

In the haze of her vision, she searched for his eyes and gasped out, “I- please… can’t-

His face was close. She could feel it even if her senses were in disarray, abandoning their mission in alarm.

“What is it? You can’t breathe?” His thumb dug into the flesh in response to the choking sound that followed. “Call out to him, doll. Call out to Minho. Maybe he’ll come to the aid of his pathetic little pet.”

As if from far away, as though observing rain trickling down a window, she felt the snot and tears slide into her mouth.

“-jin… please.”

Just as unconsciousness reached to claim her, Hwang released her, and she dropped to her knees coughing, choking, and wheezing. She clutched at her throat as if to trap the oxygen inside her lungs. That way, she thought in her alarmed state, it wouldn’t leave.

Y/n was still wheezing when he crouched before her, lifting her chin. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

Paralyzed by terror, she didn’t even flinch from his touch.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out through quivering lips.

He dragged his thumb across her lower lip, her drool clinging to his skin. But it was neither his icy touch nor the nasty curl of his mouth that wrenched the pathetic sobs from her heaving chest. It wasn’t even the wetness running down her legs or the pajamas clinging to her skin.

“Of course you are.” He said, cupping her jaw.

It was the knowledge that she stood at his mercy. Who knew if he would bother with what Minho had asked of him? Not her, that was for certain. Not when she’d gone and foolishly tried to gain the upper hand by blackmailing him. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! So fucking stupid!

As if to add to her humiliation, Hwang yanked her by the back of her t-shirt and accompanied her to her bedroom, wishing her a good night before sauntering toward his.

In the otherwise orderly space, she felt filthy and disassembled; like prey that had been shat out. But that was just the thing. She wasn’t prey. She wasn’t a threat. In a world of things both meaningful and meaningless, she was nothing.

As Y/n gazed emptily at her reflection⸺ the bruises, her swollen, bloodshot eyes, and the mixture of snot and saliva drying on her skin⸺ she traced the truth engraved into it.

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