BOOK 2 of 'Bubblegum Gucci Punk & Gangster Model Hunk'
•Be it night or be it day, the voices in his head, always mange to stay•
Ex-underground fighter and overnight sensational idol Park Dae Ho, dropped out of sight, making the people of South Korea...
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Drip. Drop.
The falling of water droplets is what first registers in Dae Ho's brain. His head feels as if it's been smashed by a rock, eyes still not adjusting to his surroundings. He opens them, vision blurred and head unfocused, dizziness overpowering his senses. A loud thud jolts him, eyes shooting wide open, a searing pain electrifying him. A heavy iron door glares at Dae Ho, the poor lightning adding more effect.
"W-where...am I?" The model breathes weakly, taking in his unusual position. His weight is supported on his knees, each of his hands locked in a metal cuff branching from a thick chain about a meter long, attached to the low roof.
"You've had more than enough rest, let's get to work now," a husky voice speaks from the side, the same one he heard before getting hit. He pulls a chair in front of Dae Ho and sits. "Where are the files Park Seonho gave you?"
What in the world is the man talking about, Dae Ho has no idea. He looks at him dead in the eye, a bored expression taking over. It's not the first time he's been in a dangerous situation, although it's been quite some time now. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb! You know it costs a fortune and you'll give it to us if you value your life."
Dae Ho snorts, raising a challenging brow. "And what makes you think I'm not serious?"
The next answer he gets is a punch to the jaw, his head snapping to the right due to the force.
The man is still masked, his gloved fingers reaching for the back of Dae Ho's head, yanking his hair. "Where did you hide it? Park said he has given you everything." He grits with lethal eyes, pushing the model away, the clangorous sound resonating in the basement.
"He gave me nothing!" The name of his adopted father leaves a bitter taste, stopping his mind from reeling into unsavory memories. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"The project SH-832, the one he stole from us."
"Go and ask him yourself then. Whatever Park does is none of my business."
"That's where you're wrong," the masked man cackles, clapping his hands. "Being registered into his family simply makes everything your business too. You must think you're all important since you're a model now but you've been a dirty rat since your early days, just like Park Seonho."
Blood rushes to Dae Ho's brain, anger rising in his gut. He's had enough of people belittling him, Haneul last night, and now this man. There isn't any need to be reminded of who he was in the past, Dae Ho himself is his first critic. He isn't angry at Haneul, he knows the man inside out, but his words still felt like a harsh slap. The sober Haneul would already be preparing a long apology for him, his actions in the next days proving it. And perhaps Dae Ho would've enjoyed exploiting the man if he wasn't chained here for a reason he has no involvement with.
