Your worst nightmare is about to come alive - but do you even know what your worst nightmare is?

He keeps falling in and out of sleep, the line between the reality and a dream getting blurry as he knocks his head against the wall, his body tensing as he takes more than a few minutes to get his brain in tune. Somewhere in the distance he hears the sound of sirens and his tired body starts to get lifted up by hopes of getting rescue, but then he laughs at himself when he realizes that it's only his imagination making up the sounds, the sirens gradually becoming fainter and fainter. His sense of time is practically nonexistent, the weather outside failing to tell him what time of the day it is supposed to be. Sometimes he wakes up to a sunny sky, sometimes the rain pelts on the window, and sometimes the darkness surrounds him, soundless. The weather is as crazy as him, changing skies so fast that it works like the hands of a magician. It could have been a day since Seonghwa's body was found, or it could even already be Monday. Shouldn't someone be sent out to find them because they hadn't showed up to work or returned home if that was the case?

After the meeting with San, no one came to visit him when he was awake. Any of them might have came in when he was asleep, because the lights that he left on as he hurriedly ran out of the room was switched off when the sun was shining from outside. The mess that he made with his limited reach was cleaned up. He wakes up to the ominous message every time, the knowledge of him knowing it's there making him unintentionally turn towards it. He tries to avoid it but as he becomes desensitized because that is all that he comes to see, he analyzes the words as if he were a detective looking around for the clues to his case. He reads the sentences over and over again, as if he could decode and read between the lines. Is it supposed to be direct or is there a hidden message somewhere? He is overthinking again, but that is the most he can do as he is left alone with his thoughts, slowly becoming crazy and sore due to his current position. Is this what they're trying to do, watching him as he slowly becomes crazy?

He hears his stomach grumbling for the umpteenth time but he ignores it, because food is the least of his worries. He folds his legs, then unfolds them until he gets bored, trying to find something else he can do to pass time. He gets dull headaches that emanate from the pain on his neck, both from the blow and the weird angle he rests his head at when he sleeps. He throws his head back, hitting it softly against the wall in a rhythmic manner.

"Who or what were you scared of, Park Seonghwa? Was it only the alcohol talking or were you genuinely scared of someone... or something?" he mutters to himself, remembering the night Seonghwa held onto his hand as he was about to leave. Did he know something we don't? Was that why he was attacked first? He screams in frustration, his voice coming out in pitiful croaks. There are a lot of things he wishes he did and did not, but the only choice he has now is to forget about them. He has slept too much that even now, sleep is not something lucrative to him. The stultifying view of the room makes him wish he can close his eyes to find something else to rest them upon, but as he stares at the back of his eyelids, the horrifying image of the murder scene replays against the black canvas. He forces himself to stay awake to rid of the nightmare, but it is all the same as he looks around the room.

Maybe death is an even better choice.

The door is unbolted from outside hastily, and he expects to see the same silver-haired creep that had served him food, but he lifts up his chin to exchange stares with the other who still bears a smile as if his face was tattooed with it. Only now the curl of his lips is cold and wicked, not radiating the same warmness he had given when he first greeted them. The captive's eyes travel to the captor's hands and he scoffs in disbelief at what he's seeing. One of his hands are holding a plastic bag, and the other, a baseball bat. Yeosang refuses to let himself think on what Wooyoung plans to do with both of the objects, but his mouth is itching to spit poison onto the latter's face, inching him forward so that he will get it over and done with.

"Why don't you just kill me like what you did to Seonghwa? Wouldn't that be faster and simpler?"

"You have a big mouth for someone who's too weak and incapable of fighting back. Do you really want to die that quickly?" Wooyoung hisses back, letting the plastic bag drop near Yeosang's feet. The captive remains silent, so he taps the bat on the floor and then points it to the bag, "Freshen up and change."

"I can't do that when my hands are tied, can I?" Yeosang snaps.

"Stop trying to be smart with me, you fucker. I'll untie your hands but I'll make sure that you won't think of doing anything funny. If you ever do I'll beat you to death you won't even have the time to finish saying your own name." He steps over the plastic bag, reaches for the bind and unties it easily. Yeosang's arms fall to the floor, taking some time to adjust to the sudden abundant blood flow. Wooyoung sits on the chair - the only furniture in the room - facing him, while he places the bat in between his knees. He juts his chin towards the bag, "Go. I'll wait here until you're finished. You better not take your own sweet time or I will break the door down."

Yeosang obeys, dumping his hands into the bag to feel its contents and he takes out his toothbrush and toothpaste, bodywash, a set of clothes and a towel. He slowly gets up, making his way to the bathroom while warily looking over his shoulder towards Wooyoung. Wooyoung does not look at him straight, but he is merely leaning against the chair, arms crossed and facing the window. He has lost the smile and is seemingly drowning in his own thoughts, but Yeosang knows that he is secretly watching him from the corner of his eyes, his hands at the ready to swing the bat if he needs to. The pink-haired man eyes the door to the room, thinking, it's so damn close but it's too out of reach. Wooyoung would not be that stupid to leave the door unlocked, would he?

He stands a fair distance in between both the doors to the hallways and to the bathroom, thinking on which one is the wiser choice. He throws a look over his shoulder again, but gets slightly frightened as Wooyoung is staring at him, right hand already rested on top of the handle of the bat. He pretends that he never had the thought of running away and scurries to the bathroom, slamming the door and immediately twisting the lock. His heart is hammering in his ribcage yet he doesn't know what he's feeling right now; scared, sad, angry, frustrated? He undresses, steps into the shower and winces when the stream of water hits the bruises and cuts on his body. Letting his hair get soaked, he watches as the water flows down his torso, and to his legs, draining into the hole at the corner of the cubicle. He takes his time to brush his teeth, studying the layout of the bathroom in case he could find a route of escape.

His train of thoughts gets interrupted by a pounding on the door by an impatient Wooyoung, warning him again to step out and not try something stupid. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, uttering an assurance to him that he is simply freshening up per instructions. He steps out with a bed of wet hair and a frown adorning his face. He finds the situation too ridiculous that he doesn't know where to start, his mind still failing to wrap around how things started going wrong, and how they got involved in the mess. There are two psychopaths running a guesthouse - which according to the reviews on the booking website is an excellent one - but somehow it does not ring true with them. Why does it stop with them?

"What did we do to the two of you?" Yeosang says through gritted teeth. He stands in front of the bathroom, hand clutching the towel like a weapon. "I don't... understand. What kind of captors ask their captives to go and wash up first? What's the point if you're going to end up killing us anyway?"

Wooyoung sighs, but as his head snaps towards Yeosang, he smiles, "So I see you're the smartest out of the rest. You're asking the right questions." He laughs, but it sounds forced. He taps the bat twice on the floor before using it as leverage to push himself up, advancing towards Yeosang. The latter takes a step back when he feels that Wooyoung is too close to him. Wooyoung levels his eyes with Yeosang's, before smirking. Yeosang gulps as the towel in his hand drops to the floor. "The answer is, none of you did anything to us. As for why we're asking you to wash up," he shrugs, "Isn't that the role of a good host? We're just trying to be good hosts. I cooked for you," he spits, "but you don't appreciate that, do you?"

"Both of you are messed up in the head, do you know that? That Choi San who acts like he's so innocent-"

Yeosang receives a hard slap to his face, making him stumble to the floor. He manages to stop himself from hitting his face on the floor by extending out his arms, but Wooyoung presses a foot against his spine, giving him in to gravity. Wooyoung grabs his wet hair, snapping his head to the right, forcing him to stare into his eyes once again. He breathes, "If you talk like that again about San I will fucking kill you, do you understand? I will beat you until you can't walk anymore, but I won't give you the liberty to die so easily. I will bury you alive that the last thing your eyes see are dirt piling on top of you, do you understand, Kang Yeosang?" He pushes him away roughly and Yeosang lays sprawled on the floor, not wanting to get up. "Why? Cat got your tongue now? Do you not understand what I just said?" he shouts.

"I- I- understand," he replies pitifully. He lays flat on the floor, only feeling the presence of Wooyoung beside him. His cheek is red and burning, and he feels humiliated.

Wooyoung only stares at the back of his head, smirking. "You can't die yet, Kang Yeosang. You still have a game left to play."

---

Yunho stands with his back straight, hands clasped behind and his mouth pressed into a thin line as he hears another retch followed by a lungful of cough coming from the bathroom. He raises a hand to knock on the door but just as he is about to, the door swings open, revealing Jongho, his whole face pale and painted with discomfort. A hand is wiping his mouth while another is clutching his stomach, and he goes straight for the floor, curling himself up in a foetal position. The appalling taste of bitter bile remains in his throat, and it takes a fair amount of will for him to not go for another round at the bathroom. Hives and rashes are starting to creep up on his arms up to his face, which is also showing symptoms of swelling. He refuses to look at the other person in the room with him, embarrassed that he is showing this side to his superior, and another part of him just wants this to quickly end.

Whatever the end may be like.

"Are you... alright... Jongho?" he asks carefully, but quickly backtracks as he hears Jongho emitting a sound that is a cross between an animal dying and an inhuman cry. He presses two fingers to his wrist to feel the youngest' pulse, and he notes that the beat is rapid. Sweat is forming on his forehead and his breath is hitching. Red alert. Throwing a glance to the plate served by San just moments ago, he tries to piece the puzzle together. The plate remains untouched except for a small bite of the quiche Jongho took, and after that he had ran to the bathroom to throw away whatever he had ingested.

The quiche is filled with seafood and he now remembers - his assistant, Choi Jongho, is allergic to them.

"I... need... my... EpiPen," Jongho struggles to pronounce the sentence as he coughs, his airway becoming more constricted by the second.

Yunho runs to the closed door, practically raps on the door with such force that he could punch a hole right there and then. "Is anyone there? He is dying; he's allergic to the freaking food!" If not for the situation, he would laugh, considering how ridiculous it is for him to be begging for them behind a closed door, asking them to save Jongho who's about to get anaphylaxis. Why should they care anyway?

He eyes the handle before his mind subconsciously reaches for it but before he is able to grasp the metal, it is pushed down, signalling that the door is about to be opened. No words are exchanged through the small opening, but a hand, as swiftly as it could, appears and drops an EpiPen to the floor. Before Yunho could reach out to stop the door from closing, the door is shut and bolted, leaving him staring at the EpiPen before his mind registers on what he's supposed to do next.

He grabs the equipment from the floor, almost having it slipped out of his hand from the rush and sweat, before fumbling towards Jongho. The youngest can only signal with his eyes, lacking of words, pleading him to plunge the needle into his flesh. Yunho uncaps the pen before aiming it at the inner part of his thigh, closing his eyes as if he's the one getting the dose, before he jabs the needle into his skin. Jongho can feel epinephrine coursing through his vessels and delivered to his whole system, the effect showing up within minutes. His airway widens, allowing him to breathe in air that he thought he would lose forever. The swelling hasn't gone away and the abdominal pain is still there, but he's feeling much better. He gives a grateful nod to Yunho, who is sitting slumped against the wall, the pen in his hand and a sigh of relief escaping past his lips.

It's been a long time since he had a near-death experience like this, because he has always been very careful to avoid seafoods. He was too hungry that his allergy completely went over his head when San peeked inside the room and pushed a plate of the slice across the floor. Both him and Yunho were huddled at the corner of the room, too out of their minds. He had dived in first, but the moment he swallowed the food he knew he made a big mistake. After being injected with what he guessed was a sleeping drug at the beach, he had woken up to a room occupied with Yunho, who seemed to have woken up before him. They blinked at each other awkwardly as their eyes meet, then their attention shifted towards San who brought the plate with him.

A plate that nearly costed his life.

Yunho is tidying up the plate, pushing it as near as possible to the door with a disgruntled look and dumping the pen on the quiche. He returns back to Jongho, dusting his hands and giving a smile that does not reach his eyes; a soulless smile that cannot be deciphered. He sits next to him, hugging his knees to his chest.

"Ah, sir... why won't you eat the food? It's supposed to be for both of us," Jongho asks. "I'm sorry for whatever happened... I must have made you uncomfortable from all the scene."

"If you can't eat it then I won't eat it too," Yunho replies. "They're making a joke out of us right now and they're probably out there laughing when they see us suffering like this. You see how fast he gave us the EpiPen, didn't you? Somehow they found out about your allergy and they're using it against you."

"But considering how fast they reacted they don't want us dead... just yet." He buries his face in his hands and messes his hair in exasperation. "I'm sorry, sir, this is all my fault." The director looks at him while lifting an eyebrow, not understanding where he is coming from. "When you asked me to go and book this place on Friday I had a bad feeling, but I pushed it away. I could've said something but I decided to only let it pass. If only..."

Yunho pats a hand on his back, saying, "Choi Jongho, everybody makes mistakes but it's not your fault we got stuck in this mess; I was the one who decided to go here. And," he chuckles, this time sounding genuine, "I don't always make the right decisions. Like yesterday, I made the wrong decision didn't I?"

His question is left hanging in the air as the door is unbolted again, but this time Wooyoung peeks in, letting his black hair fall over his eyes while he scans the inside of the room. They simultaneously turn their heads to the owner, who is gesturing towards Yunho. "You, tall guy. Come out."

Yunho and Jongho turn to look at each other as the former slowly gets up then walks towards the door. Wooyoung takes out his arm to grab him by the shirt roughly, as he's walking too slowly and he's getting agitated. He widens the door, just enough for the man to pass before they leave Jongho alone in the room. Jongho winces as the door is slammed shut, hard, his gaze falling towards the uneaten quiche. He puts a hand to his swollen cheeks, his mind wandering. He can still see the shadows of their feet from under the door, as if they are purposely waiting there. He creases his forehead when something comes to his mind, but he cannot make sense of it yet. His gut feeling is telling him that something worse is about to happen.

To Jeong Yunho.