~ 𝕡𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕠𝕓𝕚𝕒 ~ (Minsung)

🔒Chapter 22 - Level 1🔒

⚠️TW⚠️
SEXUAL ABUSE (NOT R@PE), TORTURE (NOT GRAPHIC)
(sorry:'))

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3rd person POV:

Minho groaned as awareness returned, each second marked by a creeping sense of wrongness. His head throbbed, his vision swam, and the air smelled unfamiliar—stale and suffocating. The last thing he remembered was the alley, the gnawing feeling that something wasn’t right. Then—nothing. 

Now, as his eyes adjusted to the dim room, a cold dread curled around his spine. His surroundings were unfamiliar. The walls were bare, the air heavy with an eerie stillness. He shifted, and a sharp metallic clink sent his heart slamming against his ribs. 
He looked down. 

A chain. 

A collar. 

His stomach twisted violently. His breath hitched. No, no, no!

Panic surged through him as he struggled, but the restraints held firm. His arms were bound behind him, his legs weak beneath him. The weight of his situation pressed down like a vice, suffocating, unbearable. 

"W-where am I?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper. "Jisung?" 

Silence. 

Terror clawed at his throat. He tried again, voice trembling. "Jisung—please—" 

Nothing. 

Then, the door burst open. 

Two figures stepped inside. One unfamiliar. The other—a nightmare. 

Jaehwa. 

Minho's breath fled his lungs. The world tilted. His body reacted before his mind caught up, instinctively shrinking away, his fingers digging into his palms. His vision blurred as memories slammed into him, each one more suffocating than the last. 

"Hey~" Jaehwa’s voice was sickeningly smooth, laced with amusement. "Long time no see." 

Minho clenched his jaw, turning his face away. If he didn’t look, maybe this wouldn’t be real. Maybe he’d wake up. 

Jaehwa chuckled, stepping closer. "What? No reunion hug? That hurts, Minho." 

Minho flinched as Jaehwa’s hand gripped his jaw, forcing him to meet his gaze. His touch burned, suffocating and cruel. 

"There we go," Jaehwa murmured, smirking. "That wasn’t so hard, was it?" 

Minho's body trembled violently. His eyes darted toward the second man—tall, arms crossed, watching him with an unsettling grin. 

Jaehwa followed his gaze, grinning wider. "Ah. You noticed our guest. This is Ethan." 

Ethan nodded, his smile disturbingly pleasant. "Nice to finally meet you, Minho. "You look even better in person," Ethan mused.

Minho recoiled. "H-how do you—?" His voice failed him, throat constricting. 

Ethan’s smirk deepened. "Oh, I know a lot about you." 

Minho’s stomach lurched. 

"Enough chit-chat!" Jaehwa clapped his hands together, stepping back with a sickeningly gleeful expression. "Let’s play a game." 

Minho’s pulse pounded in his ears.

Jaehwa leaned in, breath hot against Minho’s skin. "Russian Roulette. With a twist."