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• ᴀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴀɴᴅ

┎┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┒• ᴀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ʜᴀɴᴅ •

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THE night is a cold one. Winds blow roughly past buildings, roaring against the atmosphere. The city is sound asleep. At a distance from the city, encircled by the woods, the prison tower stands.

Metals clank while guards patrol the tower, as usual. The prisoners are scarred — on their bodies and in their minds — and the sheer aura of the place is horrifying.

"Torn," a guard laughs lewdly as he passes the cell of women they have held captive, knowing well about the fate of these women when they are taken to the most secluded part of the dungeon to quench the thirst of Changwon's defense.

The lack of mercy and abundance of cruelty that dominates the prison tower is ruthless. So inert to any emotion apart from evil, so profound with sinister activities.

In the topmost room of the tower, another enormity crowns.

"I have told you already," Beom-sok sucks in a breath, leaning backwards on the wall, the smoke from his cigar forming a transient cloud. "All you have to do is sign the contract, that's all. It's going to be a run-of-the-mill life after that."

Jimin's grunts and groans of pain fill the cell. The skin of his torso now begins to go pale and white, as he loses his sense to feel the coldness of the ice. Jimin's numbing; hugely physically, but still fighting to not let any of these atrocities reach his insides.

"Your brother is quite the hotspur. I did not want to start war here, you seemed like the correct one to discuss the matter with." Beom-sok says. "You can change your kingdom's fate if you sign the contract."

"And bring my country doom?" His voice is shivering, but he stays strong. "And let you bring my country doom?"

Beom-sok hisses in disagreement. "You break my heart with your harshness, prince." He taunts. "I prefer: change." He takes an agonisingly long stroll around Jimin's pained body. "The contract will bring change to your country. Not doom. I will ensure that no doom will stare upon the lovely lands of Busan."

The king remains quiet. The difficulty of refraining himself from picking up a sword and slicing off this crude bastard's neck is reaching extremes for Jimin. "A massive dip in lifestyle is what you call change?" He scoffs, "You've never heard of literacy, prince."

"Perhaps not," Beom-sok's ability to keep such a cool yet hellish persona irks the life out of Jimin.  "But you see, I have heard of politics. I have learned about politics, I have lived through politics, the worst kind of it. And I will have my way one way or another." Beom-sok's voice deepens even as he stiffens.

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