"Please stop hitting him; he's our son!" the woman shrieks as she descends the winding stairs, her house slippers thumping on the soft carpeted steps. Her nightgown billows around her, making her seem larger than she really is. Her small mouth twists, the wrinkles at the end of her eyes grow deeper and her hands fly to her mouth as she witnesses her husband hitting their second son with his golf club, the few times he has done so. Before this it never lasted more than a few strokes, but this time, her husband is going all out, producing bruises on his son's body like he was a lifeless punching bag. Her husband has never laid a hand on her and is gentle in treating her, but with their two sons, he has decided that he would have to be tough on them so that they will grow up as the sons he wants them to be. However now it seems, their second son is the opposite of everything that he wanted him to be.

"You stay out of this!" her husband roars, lowering down the golf club when his wife crouches over his son, throwing herself so that she will be a shield for him. "Your son is only bringing shame to our family! He doesn't even care for us! All he cares for is his impulsive young blood, thinking that being young would last forever. What do you think you're doing?" he nudges the second son's head with the toe of his golf club. "Ruining my image?"

The second son looks up, but his face remains impartial, unaffected by his father. He has prepared himself for the reaction from him, coming back home to his father fulfilling his expectations as soon as he sees him. He bites his lip, his teeth touching one of the sources of his father's wrath: his new lip piercing. It doesn't stop there, as he itches to touch his new cartilage piercings, his newly-dyed hair, the chain he bought around his neck and the tattoo he had gotten on the flesh near his tailbone. He just recently turned 19, putting on the title as an adult proudly, knowing that he will finally do whatever he wants - which means going against his father's idealistic view of him. He doesn't regret it one bit, for this is his plan all along. Plus, he's very well-versed in what's going to stumble out of his father's mouth next.

"Since you are intent on going against me, leave my house this instant! Why can't you be more like your brother? He always follows my words and he's studying hard so that he can inherit my company one day. Why can't you be more mature like your brother?" he hisses. "You're always a disgrace to our family, playing around and gallivanting with girls."

"I don't go around with girls," he replies, "Who told you that? Did Yoochan say that about me?"

"You will address your brother properly!"

He ignores his father as he rises up from his mother's embrace, standing to face the head of the family, although he's shorter by a few centimetres that he can't level his eyes with the man. Still, he stands rigidly, puffing out his chest to show that he's not intimidated, not scared of the man that has always been rough on him just because he is born a son. He refuses to live in the shadow of his older brother anymore, knowing that his father would always favour the eldest no matter what he does. His acting out is only an excuse for him to finally kick him out of the house.

"Fine, I'll gladly leave this goddamn house if that's what you want. I don't want this mansion, your company, your money or any of your properties! You better watch me, because you don't know when I will come back to stab you in the back. You better watch me, because I will learn to live even without this dysfunctional family."

He catches sight of his brother standing at the entrance of the kitchen; the older is trying to keep a straight face, but it's clear that he's hiding his satisfaction at seeing his younger brother being rebuked. Their relationship as brothers is never established as one that people envy; they are polar opposites, with Yoochan being the nice, obedient older brother while he is the troublemaking younger brother.

But he knows that his older brother is only putting on a mask, carefully hiding away his real colours. He finds it ironic that his parents, who are always so meticulous, fail to see past the cover and manage to fall for his brother's acting. His brother should have been an actor, instead of pursuing his studies in the biomedical field. A pride of their parents, but a devil to him. He's impressed by how long his brother has managed to fool his parents, putting up his goody-two-shoes act. Behind their parents' backs, he steps on him like he is a doormat, and then threatens to do something worse if he were to ever report to his parents. He doesn't have the intention to complain to them anyway, because they will always believe the older one.

"One day," he enunciates. "That sad excuse," he points towards Yoochan, "of a human will be the reason for your downfall. If you think what I'm doing is enough to make you angry, wait until he comes back home with blood on his hands. Mark my words. Only then you'll be crawling to find me back. Whoever you think Yoochan is, he's not it."

"Stop talking smack about your brother, you need to learn how to respect him!"

He lets out an exaggerated sigh, knowing that he has hit a sensitive spot for his father. It's always the older brother, and he cannot say anything bad about him. He chuckles, resigned that things will never change if he doesn't leave the house. Determined, he storms up to pack his bags in mere minutes, just like he had planned to leave before. He stomps down the stairs, passing by his parents, who are already joined by his brother. His mother is the only one sobbing for him, but the two men's faces are stony as he drags his bags towards the entrance. His mother runs after him, grabbing his wrist, begging him to stay. He shakes his head, showing that his time at the house is finally over. His eyes turn soft at the sight of his mother crying, but he is already disheartened by the house and its contents.

The maids open the door for him, and he snickers at this; even his exit is being celebrated. He turns back one last time to look at his father and his brother. Yoochan lifts up an eyebrow discreetly, egging him to spill whatever he's about to say.

He takes in a deep breath before he says, full of spite, "Looks like Yoochan has told you a lie anyway."

His father's face changes at this, but he doesn't let himself falter. Even his brother is starting to shift his weight from one foot to another, seemingly anxious. He has told too many lies to them, and they have never found out. Now, his younger brother's expression looks like he's about to drop the biggest bomb that could shatter the image he has been building.

"What do you mean by that?" his father retaliates, angry.

He can't stop himself from smiling when he sees that they cannot sit still. He chortles lightly, amused that he's able to make them fidget from his words. If he's going to storm out of the house anyway, he might as well go all out. Judging from their reactions, they didn't expect what he says next. His brother sighs, relieved that it's nothing that could endanger his image, but his father drops to the floor, clutching his chest, on the verge of a heart attack. His mother runs to his side, crying again. He looks on with no feelings, then turns around to leave the house, which soon becomes a forbidden place to him.

What was it that he said, the last words that hammered the last nail on the wall between him and his family?

"Yoochan has been saying I've been going around with girls, but not even one of it is true. I never fancied them, because I find guys to be more interesting anyway."

---

Yeosang opens his eyes slowly, hard for him as he feels his eyelashes sticking to one another. Maybe it's the dried up blood, or maybe he has kept them shut for too long that they feel heavy. The first thought that comes to him as he wakes up is: I hated my family, and I still do. He has managed to bury the memory of him leaving the house deep, and it has never sprung up the moment he steps out. However, now that he fell into a long slumber, his mind decides to roll the play instead of giving him a plain, black canvas. Of course, he would rather have a nonsensical dream rather than being reminded of his family's faces.

I hate them.

After proclaiming his hatred towards them, he studies his surroundings next. His head rests on a pillow, and the curtain around the bed is drawn, keeping him in his own space. A wave of nausea rushes over him as he's reminded of the claustrophobic space of the torture chamber. He brings a hand to put it over his mouth, feeling like he's about to throw up, and sees that his hand has been injected, the tube joined to the IV drip stand next to him. Only then his ears register the beeping sound, a signal that his heart is still beating normally.

He's in the hospital. Or at least, it looks like one.

We were finally rescued. Or did we? Am I simply dreaming up a scenario I wished that could happen?

A pain jolts through his arm, so sharp that it took him a while to finally register that a male nurse has drawn the curtains apart and has come to his aid, shouting something along the lines of 'the final victim has woken up!' So it seems that the rest are brought together with him, and he almost cries at the thought that he they are finally rescued from the hell they fell into. He did not almost cry, he does cry. Loudly, into the arms of the nurse that looks shocked he's suddenly pulled into the embrace. The nurse pats Yeosang's back awkwardly, trying to ease himself out of the patient's grip. He manages to do so, but not until the latter wipes away his tears with the hospital attire.

A doctor rushes in to examine his condition, fussing over how he's lucky to have survived. The doctor is a tall, lean woman with a mop of black hair on her head, her face aged with wisdom and experience. Yeosang stays jaded along the entire procedure, his mind only focused on the wellbeings of his other colleagues. His mouth itches to ask the doctor, and only when she's done, he gently grabs the older woman's hand, begging to see how his colleagues are doing.

"I... need to see those who were brought together with me. I need to know if they are okay."

The doctor's face frowns for a fleeting moment that Yeosang fears only the worst will come out of her mouth. The doctor with the white coat and 'JIN SEOL-A' nametag puts a hand to her chest before a look of realization comes over her.

"Ah, they are in the wards next to you, but one of them refused to speak until all of you have waken up. It's the one with the red hair, Kim... Hongjoong?" the doctor offers.

"Please, I need to see them."

She takes a long look at him, assessing his request. Then she nods before letting him go. "Do that, but make sure that you don't wander too far. Your body went through so much so you need all the rest you can get."

---

He walks among the doctors, nurses, staff and patients at the hallway, dragging the IV drip stand with him after getting advice from his attending doctor. She had left him with a gentle but firm warning for him not to exert himself excessively. He sent her away with a brief nod, not meant to be rude to the older woman who could be his mother's age, but rather a sense of exigency, the need to confirm that they are alive. He needs to see them with his own eyes, although the pair of eyes make the floor sway and lines distorted at times. He shakes his head to clear his mind.

The hallways are a maze; he gets lost a few times even with the instructions from a nurse who has told him that Hongjoong is not in his room. He was informed that they were gathered at the rooftop patio because a detective had paid them a visit and wanted to hear every single detail of their story. Every step he takes seem to enforce the bad memories they went through. He stops in his tracks when he feels his body quivering and tingling as if he can feel the insects crawling all over his body. The acid in the water seeps into his wounds-

"Are you okay?" a nurse asks. "Are you hurt somewhere?"

Yeosang is crouching on the floor, head in his hands, muttering, "Please stop," repeatedly. He receives stares from the other patient, probably wondering if he just got back from the psychology department. The nurse helps him to sit at a nearby chair, but he quickly brushes her off by convincing her that he is absolutely fine. Sitting on the metal chair, his eyes get caught by the display on the television; it's the evening news. The sentences roll at the bottom of the screen, and on the left corner of the screen is the date and time.

Date: 16 December 2024
Time: 20:12:57

Today is the 16th of December, which means that it was only 2 days after they started their trip. But it felt so long.

So that was why nobody came to find them; because there wasn't a need to as their family members still think they were on the trip. Now a day had passed since their supposed end of the trip, so Seonghwa and Yunho's family must have been informed of their passing. They must have already tracked down the killers; the two psychotics that did this to them.

Suddenly, he feels saddened remembering how things changed so fast during the trip. Single-mindedly, he stands up to make his way to the rooftop patio. He wants to hear good news; good news that the murderers are finally caught. He is still in a blur, unsure of what happened after he fainted in the enclosure. He finds himself gliding towards the rooftop patio, pulled by the urge to find out the truth.

It takes him no trouble to spot the redhead as soon as he emerges out into the open, sitting with two other men; one is Jongho while the other one seems to be the detective-in-charge. Already having a bad feeling at the pit of his stomach, he creases his forehead.

Where the hell is Song Mingi?

The detective is already jotting down notes in his book, his hands working fast as he nods occassionally, showing that he's listening to every word from Hongjoong. Jongho stays quiet most of the time, expression darkened and heavy. It's the same as when he's back at the villa; his body present but mind gone. His lips part slightly and he stares at the distance, his eyes focused on nothing in particular. Even as Yeosang approaches them, he gives no reaction.

The night is starless.

"Kang Yeosang," Hongjoong greets him weakly, dipping his head slightly to acknowledge him. Jongho remains impassive while the detective stands up to shake his hand and offers the pink-haired man to sit at the table.

"I'm Detective Yoon Dowoon. I have been assigned to the case after we received the information that there is more to this case. Your colleague has told me everything he knows from when all of you arrived until you were found," he gestures towards Hongjoong, in which Yeosang finds to be useless since Jongho doesn't seem to be the one who did the talking. "Since you are here, is there anything more you would like to add? Any small detail would be helpful to assist in the investigation."

Yeosang takes a moment to consider; he is in the dark for most of the part, as he doesn't even know how they ended up at the hospital. The last memory he had was at the basement, and even then he was unsure how they managed to escape from the villa. He doesn't know where he should start, or where he should end. He straightens up when someone comes to mind, then he decides he would start talking from that point.

"When we... found Park Seonghwa that morning, we went separate ways while thinking that we were waiting for the police. I went out through the front door and found a throwing knife plunged into one of the tyres of the minivan. When I pulled it out... I saw blood on the blade," he relays. "I can't tell whether it was the murder weapon or just a distraction."

At the mention of a throwing knife, Jongho stirs and closes his mouth. He looks like he wants to say something something but goes against it. Yeosang notices this, but he doesn't want to pressure the youngest to talk because he really seems to be out of it.

"So was that when you were injected with the sleeping drug?" the detective asks.

He shakes his head. "No. I was hit from the back with something blunt, and I fainted after that. I'm not sure whether they injected the drug when I fainted, but I'm sure they did. I couldn't move the way I could if I'm not under any influence."

"Did you hear anything or anyone coming?"

"After I saw the knife I heard Mr. Yunho calling out my name, something like a warning to me, but it was too late. That was the last time I heard him."

Dowoon taps the pen against a page of his book, deep in thought. He's trying hard to piece everything together, trying to find a motive and connection, but it seems that they are simply lunatics that find pleasure in torturing random people. His teammates are already dispatched to the location of the villa the moment Hongjoong opened his mouth; he was the only one who would talk and they needed directions from him. It would take them quite some time to reach the villa, and he still hasn't received any favourable news. He can only wait, and try to gather up as much information as he can.

"Anything particular that happened when you were trapped alone in the room?"

He looks away from the detective, his breath getting irregular from the flashbacks. The detective looks concerned, but relaxes when he starts replying again, "There was a message written on the wall in the same fashion as what we saw in Seonghwa's bedroom." He pronounces the message and then looks at Hongjoong. He receives a nod from the redhead, telling him that he has already told the detective about the message on Seonghwa's bedroom wall. Then he relays about San's attitude and how he kept on insisting that they weren't the one who killed the assistant. He told about Wooyoung coming in and asking him to freshen up, before they were dragged to the basement. He refuses to elaborate, because he's sure that Hongjoong has told everything, and he doesn't want to recount the horrible experience.

The detective lifts up the book and puts it at an arms' length, as if he could see the whole picture of the case by doing so. He has drawn a timeline and mind maps to link every information he has received. The names of the victims, perpetrators and their MO; but his mind bounces back to the start. He puts down the book.

"Could any of you think of a reason why they would do so to the five of you particularly? Maybe they hold a grudge towards any of you?"

Hongjoong shakes his head slowly, trying to convince himself in the process too. "We're only colleagues that are not close with each other, and none of us seem like we knew them before. It was our first time meeting them."

Yeosang agrees with him.

"So they drugged all of you before separating you into different rooms," he consults the book, "Mr. Kang alone, Mr. Kim and Mr. Song, while Mr. Choi are put together with Mr. Jeong, am I correct?"

They both nod. Jongho gives a slight shrug, but it seems more like him trying to shake off the memory of the insects baring their mandibles onto his skin.

"Can you think of why they did so? Why Mr. Kang was left alone while the rest were in pairs?"

"No," Hongjoong answers, lacking strength. "At this point I'm just convinced they are only targeting us at random."

"Then they brought you to the basement, before playing this... game as what they called it."

He receives nods again.

"After putting you through all of that, they asked you to run and tell the police everything? Even their names?"

This time, only Hongjoong nods, because Yeosang isn't aware of it. The latter turns to look at the redhead, already becoming an audience rather than the teller. He becomes interested too, because that is as far as his memories go.

"Mingi and I carried both of them to escape, and we did until we were quite far from the villa. We took a rest and the next thing I knew I was already in the hospital. I told you they're both lunatics; I think they're sick in the head. One moment they're the devil and the next they're an angel."

Dowoon leans back against his chair, running a hand through his hair. He's beffudled by the case, which seems pretty straightforward on the surface, but is a tangled mess underneath. "If Choi San is really convincing people that one of the two was not the murderer, then there could be another accomplice."

"He could be lying. Jung Wooyoung was manipulative; San was always following his orders and he could have asked San to play that part. They're good actors."

The detective closes his notebook before rising from the chair. "Very well. Thank you for cooperating and I will come back if I have extra information for you. I will keep you updated with the case and I hope..." he eyes Jongho, "that all of you will be able to get better soon. I am very sorry that you have to go through the horrifying experience. Some officers will be stationed at your ward so you don't have to worry about them coming for you again. I will make sure that we will not rest until we catch them." He shakes their hands, but Yeosang stops him from leaving.

"Wait, what about Mingi? Are you not going to ask him questions once he wakes up?"

Dowoon licks his lips before shifting his gaze towards Hongjoong, whose body language shows that he is stressed. Sensing something is not right, he quickly asks again, "Mingi still hasn't waken up, has he? Did something happen to him?"

"It's not that..." Hongjoong replies in the detective's stead.

Dowoon cuts him off, "There were only three of you when you were found, unconscious. Song Mingi was, and unfortunately still is, missing."

---

[A/N: Another chapter today because I'm impatient lol. Also I would like to take the opportunity to give a shoutout to @elfinlia1661, @HakunaMatataYUh, @Atiny127, @diabolicdeceiver and @InBrilliantViolet for supporting this story, your votes and comments really make me happy and I can never thank you enough (this story is a flop sksksk). Also to the others who are giving this story a chance, thank you <3 I love all of you and I hope your days are peppered with good news uwu]