Gold: Kim Taehyung ✓

Diamond

My sinuses ached. Every breath sent a burn down my throat. I coughed, twice, rolling to my side, limbs heavy. Foggy. Like they weren't really there.

Slowly, my eyes fluttered open.

The ceiling was white. The walls where white, too. Brick, that had been painted over with matte-effect emulsion. I sat up, head pounding.

One wall was glass, with a door seamlessly fixed into it. I stood, walking to it, and tried the handle, though I knew it was unlikely to work. It didn't.

The glass was reflective, so I couldn't see out of it at first, but realised that, if I pressed my hands to it and squinted, I could make out some shapes. While I was doing this, though, a solid thunk into the glass from the other side made me jump. I took that as a not so subtle hint that trying to catch a glimpse of outside was forbidden.

I went back to the bed, sitting down, staring at my knees. It was scuffed, but I was still in the pencil skirt and white button-up from yesterday. Was it yesterday? Who knows.

It hadn't really sunk in yet. Where I was. Why I was here. Not that I knew the answers to those questions. I just knew it couldn't be good. If it was good, they wouldn't have knocked me out.

I felt like I should be panicking. Crying. Something. But nothing would come. No tears, no hyperventilation. I felt nothing. Listless.

I looked round as the door made a noise, the click of a latch and some kind of electrical whirr, then slid open. A stern-faced man, wearing a flu mask over his mouth and nose, stood in the entryway. When I saw the gun he held, I located the panic that I had been missing.

"W-what-?" I swallowed my words as the nose of the rifle pointed at me.

He gestured with it towards the door. "Come with me."

I closed my mouth and did as he asked. I felt as though my legs would give out any second. Exiting the room, I realised that the glass was one-way. People outside could see me, but I couldn't see them, only my own reflection.

There were more rooms- cells- along the hall. Everywhere was white. I looked back, trying to see if there were any other people, and received a harsh jab in the back with the butt of the gun. I picked up the pace.

I felt like I was going to go insane by the blinding white. I felt relieved as I entered a small room that was decorated in muted greys and browns, but that didn't last. The man forced me down by my shoulder into a chair, then snapped handcuffs around my wrists, securing me to a metal ring on the wide desk in front of me. Like I was a criminal brought in for interrogation. I wanted to protest; I wasn't an animal. Another look at the rifle stole my words before I could decide to speak them.

Like a scene from a movie, the door to the room opened again, revealing a woman in dark sunglasses, hair pinned up, wearing a blazer and skirt. Everything about her was angular, from her cheekbones to her shoes. She placed a very expensive looking bag down on one of the two chairs opposite me, and sat elegantly down in the other, crossing her legs together.

"Sung Seomin." She placed some papers down on the desk in front of her, peering at me over her sunglasses. "I'm sorry to have pulled you into this."

I didn't really know what to say. Her voice was smooth, like butter. Eyes glassy but sharp. Somewhat, though, I felt it was a bullshit thing to say. "Then why did you?"

Immediately I realised that it would be stupid to pick a fight with this woman, who seemed like the boss, when a man that probably worked for her stood behind me with a gun. I peered over my shoulder discreetly. He hadn't moved. "He won't do anything. As long as you remain reasonable."

I looked back round at her with narrowed eyes. She seemed cold, but personable, polite. Despite that, I couldn't exactly ignore the fact that I was handcuffed to this table. Or that it was probably this woman who ordered whoever it was to fucking drug me. She could be the nicest person ever. It wouldn't turn this into a casual meeting in a coffee shop. Her gaze was measuring me.

"I'm sure you're very confused as to why you're here." She said, steepling her fingers together. I rose my eyebrows.

"Obviously." I muttered. Now I could put a face to the one to blame, anger was surfacing. At this mistreatment, this disrespect. The audacity she had to come swanning in here all high and mighty, playing the part of the calm collected businesswoman, as if she hadn't stolen me from my home. But I bit my tongue, still very aware of how easily I could be killed in this situation.

"Well, it can easily be resolved." She folded her arms in front of her midriff, each hand on the opposing elbow. "You give me what I want, and I'll let you go. Mutual gain."

"Are you fucking kidding me? Do you even know what mutual gain is? You're the one that put me in here-" I cut off, again eyeing the man behind me. He hadn't moved, but I still clenched my jaw, quieting. I stared at the woman with baleful eyes. "Why am I here? What could I possibly have that you want?"

Her eyes narrowed a little, a small upturn of the corner of her lips showing. "You stole something precious. I only want it back."

"St-! Stole?!" I spluttered, in disbelief. She'd dragged me here, like this, over a false accusation? "I've never stolen anything in my entire life!"

Her nails were finely shaped, I noticed, as she laid them on the desk. "Subject 002457-B. It's been seen with you on several occasions, so I know you have it. It's no good trying to say otherwise." She tipped her head to one side as I continued to stare at her. "Why did you think my men were in your home?" She leaned back in her chair. "002457-C. Enter."

The door to the room opened again. The boy that entered- and I say boy, because he had to be younger than 20- wore no expression, a black mask hiding the lower half of his face. He was tall, and lean, brunette hair parted to one side.

He moved to her side, holding a box. He placed it down on the desk, and opened it, taking out a decently sized sealed plastic bag. Some sort of material was inside. I wondered if it was supposed to mean something to me.

Except, as long fingers deftly unsealed the bag and withdrew the fabric, I began to understand. The boy unfurled the white tshirt, and I recognised the print. Taehyung had picked it out in the store. A dreadful gaudy print of flamingos and bears. That tshirt was his favourite. Suddenly, all of this- the numbers, the interrogation, everything- it made sense. I couldn't be sure, but the numbers they'd been speaking, they seemed familiar- like the ones printed on the back of his neck.

"This, among other things in the apartment, carry 002457-B's scent." He said, shortly, placing the shirt down on the desk. His voice was somewhat muffled by the mask. Then, he stepped back, folding his hands in front of himself, eyes on the floor.

"So." She leaned forward again, smiling. "Are you going to be compliant? Or am I going to have to get... persuasive?"

I loosed a long breath. "I don't know what you want me to say." I looked to the boy, who flinched. He'd been eyeing me through his bangs. "You're like him, aren't you?" His eyes stayed fixed on the ground. I spoke softly, "Surely you can tell he hasn't been around me, lately."

He looked up. Something unreadable was in his expression. Some confusion, some mistrust. A lot of apprehension. He turned his head minutely to the woman. She gave a small nod.

He rounded the table, bending slightly and pulling down the mask. His nose twitched a little as he inhaled. In any other situation I'd be embarrassed, but, as it was, I just let him smell me.

Leaning back, he shook his head. The woman pursed her lips. "I don't believe that you could possibly have no idea where it went."

My shoulders drooped, just a little. I met her eyes, weary. "He left me."