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Collateral 🗡️: Christian POV

All Christian wanted was to make enough money to return home to Australia and help his mother retire early. Instead, he becomes entangled with some dangerous men who completely turn his life upside down. And at the center of it all is you.

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❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

even if you have not been reading the POV chapters, i highly recommend reading this one because it is going to set up the remaining chapters and make Christian more of a 3-dimensional character.

🗡️Christian x Reader, Christian x Sunmi

🗡️ word count: 16.6k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: mafia shit (talk of receiving, packaging and shipping drugs; use of cocaine; torture involving being tied to a chair for a long time and some eyeball gore; a bit of piss, shit, and vomit; recovering from wounds;) semi-explicit smut (blowjobs; mentions of sex; begging) angst (homophobic remarks; grooming; lying; infidelity - but not between yoongi/namjoon and mc; mental and emotional anguish; not everyone is in their right minds at all times; )

🗡️ notes: hello, friends! i am once again crawling out of a long hiatus. the woman in the header is Sunmi, my queen. but THE MC IS IN THIS CHAPTER!!! with you/your pronouns used. and there are a lot of fun callbacks from chapter 1, as well as some other chapters. the next normal chapter is nearly finished and will be coming soon. please don't skip this one, though. it provides a little extra context that i think will make the upcoming chapters a little more meaningful!!! also please take the warnings seriously! this one gets a bit gnarly!!! (siri play katseye) also!!! this chapter does contain infidelity, which i know a lot of folks hate, but please read with an open mind!!! it does NOT take place between Yoongi/Namjoon and the mc which is why it's not listed in the main fic warnings (i don't want to give new readers the wrong idea since this is the only chapter we see it in).

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted may 2026 | read on ao3

*

The clouds that hang over are thick and dark grey, heavy with moisture that has not yet broken through as rain, but that has permeated the air, making it damp and sticky. An omen. A sign that all of this is a mistake and that Christian needs to turn back and return to his leaking, roach-infested, semi-basement flat, and come up with a new plan. Or, maybe he is just feeling paranoid.

Taking cover under an awning in front of a convenience store, Christian watches and waits. A large black door across the street is going to open at any moment, and he will be given the signal to approach and enter. With each second that passes, his pulse becomes heavier, less steady. He feels dizzy with an anticipation that borders on fear, which he attempts to quell with nicotine, but each time he reaches up for the cigarette that is clenched between his teeth, the tremble in his hand practically causes him to punch himself in the face.

After what feels like an hour— approximately six minutes, realistically— the large door swings open and a man walks out. The man wears a black satin shirt unbuttoned to the center of his chest and tucked into fitted black slacks. His hair is light brown and short, styled in a wave over his forehead. Rather than signal, or even so much as look in Christian's direction, he allows the door to slam closed, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a metal cigarette case. Christian watches intently as the case springs open and the man chooses what appears to be a hand-rolled cigarette. He places it between his lips and pulls out a gold Zippo lighter that he rolls against the thigh of his slacks to simultaneously open and ignite it in a quick, practiced motion that looks like something out of a movie.

Christian knows it is rude to stare, but something tells him that this man is putting on this performance for him. Any moment now, he is going to look up and make eye contact and then nod or wave or something, and that will be Christian's cue to follow him. Perhaps the man is building anticipation, or testing to see whether Christian is rude enough to make the first move.

The man tilts his head back as soon as the cigarette is lit and takes in a deep, slow inhale. Christian takes in a deep, slow inhale on his own cigarette, filling his lungs with smoke until they burn. He practically gags on the need to breathe and huffs out a plume of smoke that pours from his mouth and nose. It is sharp and stings his eyes, nearly causes him to cough, and he does his best to hold the urge in and keep his cool, only letting out semi-silent coughs behind his closed lips, through his nose.

When his gaze finds the man across the street, he realizes that the man is standing with both hands in his pockets, staring straight at him, cigarette cradled between his lips. Christian freezes. Was he wrong to assume this would be the man who gives him a signal? The way the man stares at him is not at all welcoming, and Christian second-guesses this entire situation. Should he turn back and run, pretend this was all a coincidence, and hope the man doesn't fire a bullet into the back of his skull? His hands stretch open and squeeze closed at his sides as anxiety courses through him.

Before he can get his bearings and figure out what to do, two large hands settle onto his shoulders, causing Christian to practically jump out of his skin.

"This way," a deep voice says from his right as the man to his left shoves him forward.

Christian's body does not quite get the memo, and so he stumbles. This causes the man to his left to snicker and shove harder. The three of them walk toward the man with the cigarette, and as he comes into clearer view, Christian begins to catch glimpses of this man's wealth and status. Gold drapes around his neck, diamonds glimmer in his ears and on his hands, and as he reaches up to remove the cigarette from between his lips, Christian is mesmerized by the gold diamond-encrusted timepiece on his wrist. On the large swatch of visible tan skin is ink that peeks through, showing off what looks like scales on the body of a dragon. Christian is not well-versed in local gangsters, but he knows enough to know that a dragon tattoo in this part of town, on a man dripping in expensive jewelry, with eyes that pierce into his soul so sharply, likely means trouble. The man stands tall and slightly turns to reach for the door, revealing the long black handle of a hwando, and Christian would laugh if this situation weren't so fucking scary. What type of man is strapped with a sword rather than a gun?

Sword man pauses, sizes Christian up, and nods to the man to Christian's right, then he opens the large black door and walks inside. The men who flank Christian hold him still, gripping onto his shoulders until the door swings closed in a sound that is heavy and final.

"Against the wall," one of the men barks as Christian is shoved forward. He turns his head in time for his cheek to be pressed into the cold, porous brick, and he bites into his cigarette to keep it from falling, causing loose tobacco to sting his tongue and make his mouth water. The men frisk him right here, out in the open, and Christian closes his eyes as his arms are lifted above his head and his palms dig into the brick.

This is humiliating, and Christian blocks out the thought that strangers on the street, in the convenience store, and in the apartment buildings are watching this take place. The men are rough with him, yanking on his trousers and digging into his pockets. His cigarettes and lighter are pulled out and then shoved back in, as are his phone and wallet. When one hand slides up his inner thigh and fingers dig near his balls, Christian jolts and practically yelps. Suddenly, he is pissed off. He wants to tell the man to watch his fucking fingers, but he doesn't feel like eating a knuckle sandwich, and so he bites harder into the cigarette, which burns dangerously close to his lips.

"All clear, pretty boy," one of the men sing-songs, then the hands yank Christian off the wall. He spits his still-burning cigarette butt onto the ground as he is turned and shoved toward the door, which one of the men opens. Briefly, he feels guilty for littering.

The entryway is dark, and Christian's eyes fail to adjust. As he is shoved forward, onto a carpet that feels like velvet and catches on the rubber soles of his boots, he tries his best not to stumble. What the fuck was he thinking? What has he gotten himself into? This has to be, without fail, the most idiotic situation he has ever found himself in. But returning to his mother at her beautiful home in coastal Australia would bring him too much shame. He cannot admit that his dream to become an idol was an abject failure and that all he has been able to land are dead-end jobs that barely make rent. He cannot return to her with his tail between his legs after all she has sacrificed to raise him on her own.

They seem to be traversing through a dark hallway, and as it opens up into a large, dimly lit room, Christian blinks rapidly, attempting to adjust to the scene before him. On a large ornate red couch is a man sitting with his legs spread wide. Draped across his lap is a woman with long, straight black hair, and she leans into him, palm splayed over his chest with long, blood-red nails digging into his black satin shirt. The white satin adorning her body could hardly be called a dress. The back dips low, the straps are spaghetti thin, and the skirt rides so high that Christian can glimpse red panties peeking out between her thighs.

The pair seems to be conspiring, giggling with their lips a centimeter from each other, and as Christian and the other men enter the room, neither of them stops their private conversation. The sword man takes a seat beside the two and leans close, pressing a hand against the other man's knee while whispering to the woman. The pair continues to chatter for another moment as sword man stays perched on the edge of the couch, before the woman presses her lips to the other man's cheek and slowly gets up. She sashays out of the room, never so much as glancing in Christian's direction. Again, he would laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but the gun holstered under the new man's arm keeps his lips from twitching out of their grimace. Either these men are extremely deadly, or they put on one hell of a performance to creep out newcomers.

"Barom," the new man says in a voice so deep and rough that Christian barely hears it.

Barom is Christian's Korean name. He lifts his gaze and he meets the man's eyes, then he drops his head into a bow.

The man says, "Come," and Christian lifts his head once more, watching as the two men stand from the couch. The one with the gun rubs his palms against his slacks and rolls his neck, then walks past the couch and deeper into the room before disappearing. Sword man follows, and then Christian is shoved in their direction. He stumbles forward, unconcerned that he has no clue where the men disappear to behind the large velvet curtain ahead, as the hands on his shoulders guide him. A tattooed hand adorned with gold rings and a gold timepiece reaches forward to part the curtain, and Christian continues ahead. Everything is red. Red lighting, red curtains, red carpeting, red upholstery. When Christian is led into a smaller room with a red couch and three red leather chairs, he is steered toward the middle-most chair, and he sits. The men who guided him take the chairs to his left and right, and gun man sits in the center of the large couch while sword man stands behind him with his hands clasped at his stomach.

"You can call me Min," the man on the couch says, and Christian is somewhat taken aback. This man is the Min Yoongi?

Min sits at the edge of the couch, leaning forward. On the table before him is a pile of white powder, some of which has already been organized into neat lines, and Min leans forward, using a short metal straw to snort a line of the powder into his nose. As he lifts his head, he closes his eyes and sighs with a smile. This man is handsome in a delicate way, with hair long enough to tuck behind his ears. He wears a thick gold Cuban chain around his neck, and the various rings on his knuckles shimmer in the red lights, bulbous enough to leave a nasty mark if those hands were to meet flesh.

"N-nice to meet you, Min-ssi," Christian says, head still bowed but eyes looking ahead.

"Just Min," the man says. "No honorifics needed. Unless, of course, you find yourself on your knees begging for your life.”

The request confounds Christian, but he nods. "Understood, Min."

"Although… you may call me sir, if you want to," Min adds, saying sir in English.

"Yes, sir," Christian responds in full English, automatically.

Min appears amused. "Good."

Sword man rolls his neck from side to side as Min lifts a hand, palm facing upward. Without a word, sword man pulls his cigarette case from his pocket and places it into Min's hand. Min settles back against the couch, putting his booted feet up onto the table, heels barely missing the powder that covers it, and he retrieves a cigarette and tilts his head back so that sword man can light it for him. The gesture almost feels romantic, and Min keeps his head back for several beats while sword man replaces the cigarette case and lighter in his pocket. Christian itches to taste nicotine on his tongue as the smoke begins to travel in a dancing line toward the tall, dark ceiling, and he watches as Min sits forward and takes in two long drags and puffs them out in his direction.

"I have a rather delicate assignment," Min says, "higher paying than any other position. But first we need to test your loyalty."

None of these words bode well for Christian. He nods his head.

“The boys were able to dig up some rather interesting information about you, so I know you have worked with high profile individuals in the past and are able to be discreet.”

Christian nods, nervous to imagine how much these men may already know about him. What must they think of a man who works as a bottle service host for wealthy, married older women?

“And I believe you worked in acting for a bit as a child and teen.”

Christian nods again.

“Why not act now?”

Shame courses through Christian's veins. “I, uh. I wanted to be an idol.”

Min nods and hums knowingly. “An idol. That is a lot of hard work.”

Christian nods some more, feeling like a bobble-head.

“And it is not as glamorous as it seems.”

Christian stops nodding, surprised by this statement. Sure, training is hard work, and there is no guarantee that it will result in being put into a group, but he cannot imagine what in the world could be more glamorous than being an idol on stage, performing for thousands of adoring fans.

“You become a slave to the government,” Min says with a shrug. “A slave to the music industry, to the fans who turn on you the second you say or do anything that they deem out of line.” He pauses, sits forward, and takes a deep drag off his cigarette. On the exhale, he says, “Better to be a slave for me. I am far more generous than fair-weather fans. I can put those acting skills of yours to work.”

The tone of Min's voice, the blood-red room, everything sets Christian on edge. The tremble in his hands returns.

"Have you run drugs before?" Min asks.

Christian shakes his head. "No, sir," he says in English. Then he pauses and corrects himself, "Well, I used to sling Adderall in college."

"Adderall?" Min asks, impressed. Adderall is not legally for sale in Australia, although there are plenty of legal alternatives, and Christian is under the impression that it is also illegal in Korea.

"In Australia," Christian adds.

Min nods.

"Jeongguk will train you on how to receive drugs, then how to package them, and finally how to run them," Min says, nodding to the man on Christian's left as he says the name Jeongguk. All Christian knows of the man is tattoos and gold, having never turned to look at him. He keeps his gaze ahead even now that his curiosity is piqued. "Once you have a few months under your belt and have been branded as a loyal member of the team, I may shift gears. So, for now, work hard and look forward to a potentially handsome raise."

Christian nods, nervous but excited at the prospect of a lucrative job, despite how dangerous it all seems.

"Any questions?" Min asks.

Christian shakes his head.

Min chuckles. "You have no questions about this new job, which entails handling dangerous, illegal substances?”

Christian shakes his head again.

“None, whatsoever?”

“No, sir,” Christian says. “I trust Jeon—” he pauses, forgetting the man's name.

“Jeongguk,” Min supplies.

“Jeongguk,” Christian repeats, then swallows thickly, hating the way the man's name settles on his tongue and forgoing honorifics because Min asked him not to use them. “I trust Jeongguk to tell me all that I need to know. For now, the less I know, the better.”

Min hums and nods, seemingly satisfied, and Christian is glad he is not asked to elaborate. It is not that he would be unable to keep his mouth shut; he has nobody to nark to about any of this, and he has no interest in informing the corrupt police about this operation, if it is as big as it seems. Yoongi, the man who has taken a page out of his late father's handbook and goes by his family name in public, is, after all, the only known kingpin in the city, and seemingly the most powerful man on the entire peninsula. Christian has done at least that much homework before agreeing to this idiotic meeting. Although Min's existence is a bit of a ghost in normal online spaces, Christian was able to dig on the dark web to find snippets of his life as a child and as the leader of the nation's mafia. So few photographs exist, however, that Christian always imagined this man to be much larger and more intimidating.

Christian does not wish to know more at this time because he does not wish to spiral. The less he knows now, the less likely he is to change his mind and go into hiding. After all, there is no way Christian comes out of this meeting with his heart still pumping if he chooses to turn down this job. Walking through that large black door has sealed his fate, and he knows this to be true. He has known men from previous jobs who have become employed by Min and his gang, and the only one to ever speak of wanting to get out turned up face down in the Han with a bullet hole between his eyes. Foolishly, Christian saw that as an opportunity; a newly open job position waiting to be filled.

“How soon can you start?” Min asks.

Christian shrugs and feigns nonchalance despite how desperate he feels. Tips at the host job are not enough to keep him afloat. The real money comes from getting a hotel room with the clients, but Christian has become bored with sneaking around with wealthy married women, many of whom remind him of his mother. It all feels so unfulfilling. He says, “As soon as you will have me.”

Min smirks. The look in his eye is dark and devious, and it sends a chill along Christian's spine. He has heard so many rumors about Min: the man with Korea wrapped around his pinkie, the man who men and women fall to their knees for in droves, swearing fealty. Christian always thought the rumors were silly and exaggerated, spoken by men so down on their luck that they were willing to spin tales of sugar about the benevolent man who gave them a new opportunity to be rich. But sitting here, in Min's presence, he can get a sense that it is not an exaggeration. He can see how Min's mix of soft and sharp features and soft-spoken voice lull and sway his targets, luring them into camaraderie-turned-servitude like a trap.

As Min stands, so do the men who flank Christian. Christian stands. His heart hammers in his chest, and he feels all the blood rush from his head. What has he agreed to?

“Ever handle a gun?” Min asks.

Christian swallows a lump. “No, sir.”

“Guk, Tae, show Barom the ropes and take him to the range.” Min levels his gaze on Christian. “You have three days to become a perfect shot. We do not have time to waste.”

“Yes, sir,” Christian says.

Min grins. “Good.”

* * *

It takes two days for Christian to become a near-perfect shot, thanks to the endless supply of cocaine, which at first makes his hands shake.

“A tremble is good,” Taehyung insists as he lifts his own gun and aims. “In a situation of life or death, your hands are going to tremble. And despite that, you will need to kill a man without a moment of hesitation.”

Taehyung is, without a doubt, the scariest man Christian has ever met. Tall, tan, with a mouth that is always slightly downturned into a frown, his hair, clothing, and accessories are always styled down to each perfect detail. There is a softness in his eyes reserved for the men in his close circle, particularly Jeongguk, who appears to be the youngest in the group. Otherwise, Taehyung is severe and clinical. A medical doctor, everything Taehyung does is with surgical precision, even after he has consumed enough whiskey and cocaine to kill an elephant. Nobody questions Taehyung, and Taehyung appears to never say or do anything without careful consideration and conviction. He is never given orders below his position as one of Min's close confidants, and nobody has the nerve to tell Taehyung no. At least, that is what Christian picks up on while more or less becoming Taehyung's shadow.

So, when Christian finds himself exhausted and dizzy, worried he has pushed his body beyond its limits, and famished despite the stimulants dulling his hunger, he pushes through some more, unwilling to say no. Only when he shoots the paper man-shaped target beside his head rather than between his eyes, does Taehyung tap his shoulder and instruct him to set down his gun.

“Pack up,” Taehyung says, pointing to the black duffel bag that sits open on the booth counter. "I think we're done for the night."

Christian turns on the gun's safety and pulls out the magazine, surprised to find it is empty of bullets. He places both the gun and the empty clip into the bag and zips the bag with hands that shake from hunger more than nerves. Taehyung and Jeongguk had been discussing food moments ago, and Jeongguk had gone ahead to get fried chicken and beer to take back to the compound. Christian allows the thought of sticky-sweet and spicy sauce on his lips push him forward, out into a cloudy evening, and toward a large SUV.

Since joining the team two days ago, Christian has only lain on a bed for about four hours. He hardly recalls what the compound looks like, and he has no idea how to locate it, knowing only that it is tucked deep within the hotel where he met Min, but that the entrance is neither through the large, heavy door, nor at the front of the hotel, which is lavish and stretches high toward the clouds, a beacon of wealth than any passerby can gawk at and wonder who in the world would build such a thing. Through a secret third other door, the compound lies deep in its underbelly, a dark rectangle of cement that holds a smell of moisture which sinks deep into Christian's lungs, reachable only by tunneling staircases and hallways that may as well be a labyrinth.

Except he knows enough to know that Taehyung is not driving him in the direction of that hotel, and he begins to question whether the compound was mentioned at all, or if he had assumed that was where they would go. The further the men snake through traffic, the further the city becomes, until they are on the outskirts. Christian begins to wonder whether he is being taken out to a field to be shot and left in the dirt. He does not think he has done anything wrong, and yet all he can imagine is the SUV pulling off onto the shoulder and Taehyung instructing him to get out and walk into the long grass before— bang!— everything goes black. Had he done so horribly at the gun range that he is being disposed of before his three days are up? Last bullet notwithstanding, Christian thought he was doing great, but maybe their standards for greatness are higher than he can possibly achieve.

“Probably should have blindfolded you,” Taehyung says, voice low and deep, showing a hint of playfulness that feels foreign to Christian.

“Pardon?” Christian asks, nerves spiking.

“Newbies aren't privy to our living quarters,” Taehyung says as the car peaks a hill, causing Christian's stomach to drop. If there was anything in him at all, he might vomit it up onto himself. Only now does Christian realize Taehyung is driving way too fast. “Of course, if you were to ever tell the others or try something stupid, we could always put a bullet in your head.”

Christian nods, staring out the window at the tall trees that fly past. “Of course,” he mutters, making Taehyung chuckle.

Luckily for everyone, especially Christian, there is no way in hell he would be able to trace this route back to wherever the fuck these so-called living quarters are. Gun to temple, Christian would have to say his prayers, because he cannot even fathom where he is now. And, being that his cellphone has been confiscated until he is fully brought into the fold, it is not as if he could sneak a peek at a map.

Christian is shocked by the fact that any of Min's team lives out in the middle of nowhere, rather than choosing to live in a penthouse in the middle of the city. He imagines every hotel in Min’s name has a room that overlooks the city that is worth more than Christian could possibly fathom. But he does remember reading something about a family property that Min's father did his business out of, despite famously hopping between penthouses to appear before the paparazzi. Father Min liked the spotlight way more than his successor seems to. Perhaps that property is where they are going to now.

A mansion comes into view, tall despite being at the bottom of a short but steep hill, and Christian sits up in anticipation. He is so dizzy from hunger that just that motion makes him feel sick. He is relieved when Taehyung begins to slow down, but is confused when the vehicle turns onto a driveway at the top of the hill that seemingly does not lead to the massive home ahead. They stop immediately in front of a large metal gate.

"Close your eyes," Taehyung says as he rolls his window down, leans out, and keys in a very long pass code.

Christian has no way of seeing the small metal box, especially with the way Taehyung's body takes up the entire window opening, but he closes his eyes anyway. He is simply too tired and hungry to not follow directions. They drive into a covering of trees before there is another large home. To Christian's surprise, Jeongguk stands on the front stoop smoking a cigarette in a black tee and silver basketball shorts. He is not sure why he would be surprised; it was Jeongguk who left to get them food. But seeing him dressed down is definitely unexpected.

Taehyung parks behind a flashy black sports car and turns off the ignition, and Christian pours haphazardly out of the vehicle, motion sick from the way Taehyung drives and on the brink of starvation. Taehyung approaches Jeongguk and mutters something below his breath, then the two of them turn to the front door, which has been left wedged open with a black sneaker.

"Welcome to mi casa," Jeongguk says in a blend of English and Spanish that sounds awkward and endearing, making Christian crack a smile. As he walks into the massive space, he is shocked to find that what he assumes would ordinarily be a living room is full of workout equipment.

Taehyung scoffs. "Still no couch?"

Jeongguk shrugs. "When have I ever had time to sit down on a couch?"

The two of them share a glance that seems to be communicating something private. Christian ignores it and follows the two men into a dining room that actually contains a sizable wooden table and seven chairs. In the center of the table are several white plastic bags filled to the brim with white and black takeout containers, and the smell of gochujang and honey hit Christian's senses in a dizzying wave. Taehyung rounds the table, and Christian takes a seat across from where he stands. In a swift motion, Taehyung whips out a knife that flicks open, and then he gets to work cutting open the bags, which have been tied tightly. Jeongguk brings over two glasses of water and sets them down, then returns to the kitchen, just past a large black marble island, to fill a third from the tap.

"Beer?" Taehyung asks, but it is unclear whether he is asking if Christian wants beer or if Jeongguk has beer.

Jeongguk grunts, sets the third glass of water down, then returns to the kitchen, opening a massive refrigerator door and revealing mostly empty shelves, save for an open case of beer, several soju bottles, and what look like protein drinks. The absurdity of this situation is not lost on Christian. How is someone as young as Jeongguk able to own a house so massive that he clearly spends little to no time in? Does Jeongguk actually sleep here? He is curious to know what the rest of the rooms are like, but he is certainly not brave enough to ask for a tour.

The three of them reach into the various bags to pull out and open the boxes. Fried chicken with a variety of sauces assault his senses, as do containers of tteokbokki and fries. There is enough food on this table to feed a small army of men, so Christian allows himself to be greedy and helps himself to more than he has eaten in weeks. Maybe months.

No conversation occurs while they eat and drink. Only when the three of them are sitting back in their chairs, holding their stomachs and slowly sipping their beers, do the men begin to discuss Christian's work ethic and how quickly he is catching on. Starting tomorrow, he will learn the ropes of the warehouse and receive orders. If he does well in that, they expect one to two weeks on packaging. And then the big leagues, Jeongguk calls it. Drug running.

The thought of drug running makes Christian feel sick to his stomach, but he swallows it down. He needs the money more than anything, but he is also excited to finally be regarded as someone who is a worthy member of a team. For the first time in a long time, he actually feels like he might fit in.

* * *

Working with Jeongguk feels equivalent to working with a Pitbull that has been both domesticated and taught the hard way how to fight. He has a chill, almost soft personality, but without notice, he turns and becomes extremely violent. Christian has yet to piss him off, but he keeps his head down, does as he is told, and keeps his questions to a minimum just to be safe. He gets a sense that Jeongguk is being nicer to him than usual, possibly because of the mission that Min has hinted at; he wonders whether Jeongguk has been given special orders not to flay him open and leave his entrails hanging from the rafters of the warehouse the way he so playfully threatens to do to others.

It all makes Christian extremely uncomfortable, and he does his best to perfect this task so that he can move forward and onto the next. Thankfully, Jeongguk does not keep him as high as humanly possible for this experience, the way Taehyung had been doing. Christian creates a schedule that involves eating meals, getting a good night's rest, and wearing himself out so much that he only has one drink with the guys at night before turning in and crashing.

He can tell that many of the other men despise him for the special treatment that he seems to be getting. He hears grumbles of men who have been stuck on receiving shipments for the last year, with a promise to move up to sorting— a position that Jeongguk considers more dangerous because of the loss it could bring him, should something happen. But everyone knows receiving shipments from gangsters from Japan and Russia is far more dangerous than standing around in a circle weighing the merchandise.

The warehouse men call Christian Pretty Boy and Baby Boy, seemingly in an attempt to get under his skin. They whisper about him being Jeongguk's new plaything and make blow job motions with their hands and tongues as the two of them walk by. When Jeongguk isn't around, they whistle and make remarks about how the two of them resemble each other enough that whatever they are doing behind closed doors might be considered incest. Christian knows that men with nothing to lose resort to gay jokes and rape threats to wear each other down, and it does get under his skin a little. If Jeongguk notices, he says nothing. Christian would think that those kinds of remarks would offend Jeongguk, but by the end of the first week, when he is transitioned out of the warehouse, and none of those men have been flayed open, he has decided that he cannot possibly fathom what might offend Jeongguk.

Sorting and packaging drugs is a killer on the shoulders and back. They stand around a tall table, delicately handling pills and powders, weighing them and stuffing them into various-sized baggies, then storing everything into dark, air-tight containers. Cross-contamination is strictly forbidden, and there are cameras everywhere pointed at everyone's gloved hands. Although there are armed guards and management who watch over the operations, Jeongguk often oversees the process. Packaging is a sporadic job that happens the moment shipments arrive and is over as quickly as possible, usually only taking six to twelve hours, so the men who work this job spend most of their time at the compound or out blowing their money in clubs and dives. At first, Christian questioned how so many men were able to keep their mouths shut about this job. Then he discovered, on his second night of packaging, that two of the men were overheard bragging about how they had come into so much money and were found dead several hours later.

"How did you find out?" Christian asks cautiously over beers with Jeongguk outside the warehouse. They sit on metal folding chairs waiting for the management team— four grunts barely paid more than he is— to finish weighing and recording everything for the night.

Jeongguk takes a long pull from his beer bottle, then makes a loud, comical ahh sound. "We have eyes and ears everywhere," he says, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

Christian finds this hard to believe. "Like, men who are employed to follow us?"

Jeongguk grins at Christian with something terrible glinting in his eye. "Why do you ask?"

Christian shakes his head. "I just mean. I don't know. I can't really fathom the scale of this whole operation that Min runs."

"He has connections," Jeongguk says, tipping the bottle to his mouth and holding it up tall to get the final drops of his beer. He sets the bottle down. "You'll learn eventually, if Yoongi-hyung promotes you.”

Christian is somewhat taken aback by the casual way in which Jeongguk addresses Min to him. He tries not to even think of the man as being named Yoongi, worried he may slip up and call him that by accident after he had been clearly instructed on what to say. Min or sir.

"But the woman you saw the first time we brought you to meet him," Jeongguk continues, reaching to the open case of beers on the cement between them and opening another with the blade of a pocketknife, "that's Sunmi-noona. You'll get to know her once you start running. She's affiliated with us, but she runs her own operation. Kind of. It's complicated. She has eyes and ears that follow whoever needs to be followed, and Hoseok-hyung taps into CCTV without going through the authorities, so it's not easy to fuck us over."

Jeongguk winks, then chugs from his fresh bottle. Christian nods, remembering the woman in silk with long black hair whispering a hairsbreadth away from Min's lips. He assumed she was a pretty ornament to hang off Min's arm and that they were just fucking, and for that, he feels a bit guilty. More than that, he feels intimidated by the fact that Min and his organization are so powerful. It seems as if Christian truly couldn't get out of this mess if he wanted to.

Two weeks on the packaging line is enough to make Christian feel insane. His body aches, he has no time frame for when drugs come in, so he is often called between ten and one, either heading off to bed or already asleep, to get dressed and go meet the team of obnoxious, disgusting men to stand around a tall table and weigh cocaine for hours upon hours. The compound has no windows, nor does the warehouse, so every time Christian steps outside, the time of day is a surprise. Sunshine threatens to burn his retinas, and the nighttime is too quiet for comfort.

He is thankful when he gets the call to go shopping for a nice black-on-black uniform and an ironing board. Jeongguk outfits him in plain but sleek clothing that fits a little too nicely, hugging his muscles a little too tightly. Christian sips champagne, nervous to be in such a fancy clothing store, but Jeongguk, crass as he is, seems to fit right in, flirting with the sales girls and asking for high-end brands by name, gathering nice black leather belts and shoes that are "sleek but have good traction for running."

Christian is surprisingly adept at running drugs. He is the guy who sets up the actual dealers with their stock, and occasionally meets with wealthy clientele to sell to them directly. In this element, where he is determined to make a good impression, Christian finds that, for the first time in a long time, he is charming, funny, and easy to get along with, and he looks good in a gun holster. And he finally gets to have a semi-normal sleep schedule, returning to the compound around two in the morning to pass out.

He even finds himself propositioned by Sunmi one night and is blown away by how eager and talented she is with her mouth. Her lithe, long limbs are delicate as she crawls onto his lap and adept as she slides down his body and very quickly does away with his slacks. Jeongguk did instruct him to get information from her in any way that he could, because she does enjoy gossiping from time to time, so he decides that allowing this is all part of the job.

"Don't tell daddy Min," she winks as she wipes his cum from the corner of her mouth. Christian is too blissed out to do anything but shake his head.

He feels proud and happy for the first time in a long time, but living at the compound, especially after being promoted as quickly as he has, is becoming hectic. He feels like he has a constant target on his back, and his sleep is beginning to suffer. Taehyung and Jeongguk certainly don't stop the other men from picking on him, but they are kind to him and straightforward in the way they train him in each new task, never feeding him bullshit or empty promises. He is surprised to find that he is quite desperate to prove himself to these men, and especially to Min.

When Jeongguk calls early one morning to say, "Dress your best in all black and meet us in the penthouse at one. A card is waiting for you at the front desk," Christian nearly cries with joy.

* * *

Christian stares at the photographs, mapping the lines and shapes of your face, the way your eyes and mouth frown and scowl, how you are never smiling. From high angles or zoomed in with expensive lenses, each shot is candid or pulled from a surveillance camera, and you appear to be a normal woman living a normal life with more sadness in your eyes than he can fathom.

He is not given much to work with, not even your name. Min is strict about how important it is that he learns everything there is to know about you on his own. There is only one chance at getting this mission right, and he needs to carry it out with utmost care and consideration.

"Fuck her if you need to, shower her with gifts, make her feel like the only woman in the world who exists, and in return, I will give you a penthouse suite in any hotel in the city and chaebol-like status. I want her entire wardrobe replaced with designer within the first year, and I will provide you with a sports car to drive her around town in. It is your job to groom her for a life of wealth and status, with the promise of a lavish wedding and large house in the future. Begin planning for that future as fast as possible. I am giving you two years. Under no circumstances should you fall in love, but you absolutely must make her believe that you are. Do not fail me, Yu Barom."

Groom her for a life of wealth and status. The entire sentiment feels like acid in Christian's guts.

* * *

Finding you is easy. The bar you work at is close to the apartment that Min has purchased for Christian.

Getting to know you is easy. You light up at genuine, casual conversation, and although you are guarded and do not seem to understand many pop culture references, you have a snappy, fun sense of humor and are fun to talk to. Contrary to what the photographs led Christian to believe, you actually smile quite a lot. You open like a flower under Christian's touch, and it only takes a week of consistent pestering for Christian to finally get you to come to his apartment and sleep all morning in his bed. Struggling to make ends meet and living in squalor too far from your job, you are easy to convince two months later to move into Christian's flat, since you spend all your time there, anyway. It all moves so fast that Christian is certain this will be the easiest job of his life.

Grooming you, however, is like pulling teeth. You are unimpressed with the way Christian dresses in designer clothing and roll your eyes at his sports car. You insist on walking to work and taking a taxi around town, and you refuse to wear any of the jewelry and clothing he buys for you, even going so far as to accuse him of trying to get you robbed for wearing that shit to the dive bar. You also refuse to look for better work because you like mixing drinks and getting to know your patrons— specifically those patrons at that bar. And you only agree to finally get dolled up in expensive clothing and taken out to a Michelin-star restaurant on your six-month anniversary when Christian is literally down on his knees begging you to let him spoil you.

Christian is, unfortunately, disgracefully, horribly in love with you. The way your eyes soften when you see him, how you are so demanding and giving in bed, and the fact that you are so fucking stubborn that it makes him crazy. Min insists on the two of you having dates and outings in large public places so that he can monitor you. So when Christian gives you a very expensive pair of diamond earrings and takes you to a stand for a dish of your favorite ice cream, it is at a park near the river, at the same spot he first confessed to being in love with you months ago. Standing about twenty feet away are Min and the sword man, eating their own cups of ice cream and watching your every move.

"Bring me here again," you insist as you watch the sunset on the river, eyes filling with tears.

Christian buries his nose and lips against your neck, behind your ear, smiling against your skin and making you shiver and giggle. "I'll bring you here as much as you want."

The two of you have eight incredible months together. And then you begin to change.

You can clearly tell that he is holding back and being dishonest. He refuses to talk about his job, how he has come to have so much money, why he lives in this fuckass apartment when he can afford something much better. Incidentally, Min is harassing Christian to move into a nicer apartment, but everything he offers to buy, you decline, hating how far away each one is from your job, and mocking Christian for how expensive they are because other perfectly good, less expensive apartments also exist and are closer to this neighborhood.

Nothing makes you happy. First, you accuse him of living a double life, having a secret family, and a number of increasingly absurd things. Then you completely shut down and seem to remain in this relationship because it is clear that you cannot afford to move out. The sex dries up, and Christian finds himself turning to Sunmi frequently to let off steam. Some days, you barely speak to him.

Christian still runs drugs for Min. During the day, while you sleep, he is out making deals with very high-profile clients. He takes business trips to Japan to be the face of Min's organization, and fills in for Jeongguk at least once a week to oversee the production line overnight. And, of course, he never has a good excuse for any of it, making you increasingly angry. He tries to lie and say he is meeting with his mother when he goes to Japan, but since he never invites you to tag along, you do not believe him.

On your one-year anniversary, Christian takes you to one of Min's premier restaurants overlooking the city. You seem begrudging but agree that it would be nice to get dolled up and spoiled again, but only after Christian begs at your feet. Plus, you concede in part because you were given the night off from work and have nothing better to do. You look absolutely breathtaking in a long black slip dress and red-bottomed heels, dripping with gold and diamonds, eyes bloodshot after several glasses of wine, and Christian's heart softens a little each time you crack a hesitant smile.

Min, along with several of his family men, sits at a corner booth and watches as the date unfolds. Christian feels terrified, but does his best to play it off. This is far from the first time Min has watched the two of you on a date, but this is the first time you have been so clearly unhappy with him. He keeps his eyes on you and the table as much as he can, and even leans his cheek on his hand, blocking Min from his view. By mid-meal, sweat drips from his hairline that he has to continually dab at with a napkin. He worries that if you appear visually disgruntled—which takes almost no effort these days—Min is going to think of Christian's job as a failure. And you do become increasingly cold as you become drunk, much to Christian's chagrin.

"She is certainly a spicy one," Min jokes at the sink in the men's bathroom, where he had followed Christian after he had gotten up to take a piss. "But please, do not worry. You are doing fine. Perhaps, if she is fed up with you by the time I make my introduction, it will be easier to convince her that she belongs with me."

"She still thinks I'm living a double life. I need an alibi for all this money."

Christian has been saying this for months, and for months, Min has brushed him off, claiming that he wants you to come to accept a life where you are not privy to all that goes on around you. Clearly, that has not been working out.

With a sigh, Min says, "Well, after a year, you need to come up with something slightly nefarious or she really will think you were lying through your teeth."

"Or," Christian says with a sigh, making Min's eyes widen, "I confess to something embarrassing like being a trust fund kid."

Min lets out a deep, guttural laugh that takes Christian by surprise. "Perfect!" His shout echoes off the tile walls. "A trust fund kid who trades in stocks and bonds. During the day, you meet up with fellow finance guys." He is laughing hard now. "Truly an embarrassing lie. Good luck keeping her after that confession, kid."

You buy the lie, and it clearly drives a wedge between you. No doubt, you think he is pathetic. He wonders whether you would be less disgusted with the fact that he sells pills and designer drugs to wealthy assholes, instead.

After about a month, he claims to have gotten a new job working as an assistant to a wealthy businessman in Hannam-dong. He describes the hotel covered in red velvet, actually amusing you with his description of how goofy and stupid it all is. You buy it and, surprisingly, don't ask many questions.

By the time the one and a half year mark rolls around, you are sweet, clingy, and loving. You seem to have dropped your paranoia about Christian living a double life and sleeping with other women to the point of eagerly joining him in the shower and begging for sex. Christian even stops fucking Sunmi. But then Christian gets the call.

Things had remained on a bit of a roller coaster during the final six months, to the extent that Christian has no idea how much time has actually passed. Min has been too preoccupied to call and check in, and Christian has taken over so much of Jeongguk's work that the two have barely crossed paths anymore. Currently, the roller coaster is on a slow ascent back up. Although he has changed his style to be more contemporary and less gangster, and you seem to find his distressed jeans and polo shirts disgusting, you have been kind and caring, and open to the occasional fuck. All of your clothing, with the exception of the plain clothes you prefer to wear to work, has been replaced by designer, which you have become more receptive to wearing, and you have even begun asking regularly to be taken out and spoiled on your days off.

When he calls, Min is brief, speaking quickly, as if he has no time to waste chatting. "Saturday night at the top floor restaurant, let her know that you are celebrating your new promotion. I will arrive for dessert and make my move. I do not plan to take her away that night, but I am receptive to seeing how things go. You are almost off the hook, pretty boy. Do not fuck this up."

Christian feels like vomiting. As he stares ahead at the blank white wall, he has to swallow down the urge, breathing slowly through his nose. His entire world may as well be coming crashing down, because despite how much he has tried to distract himself in the arms of another woman, he is totally and insanely in love with you, and he is terrified to let you go. Especially to be with a cold, manipulative man like Min. You are somewhat secretive about your past, but you have alluded to traumatic experiences at the hands of greedy men, and Christian can't help but worry he could be setting you up for more trauma.

What the fuck had he agreed to? You are a human being, and Christian has more or less brought you straight to the jaws of a greedy, hungry lion. He has treated you like an object to be passed around despite growing deeply fond of you, and it is eating him up inside.

He is in shambles when he brings a shipment to Sunmi later that evening, in tears as he turns her advances down. He tells her about the stipulations of his job, how much he cares about you, and how, in less than a week, he may have to say goodbye. He had assumed that she was aware of the arrangement the entire time, shocked and fearful when her face falls, and anger rises in her eyes.

"You did what to this poor girl!" Sunmi shrieks as one swift hand slaps him hard across his cheek.

Christian leaves her penthouse in a hurry, and his heart wages a storm inside his chest. He has no doubt that she will call Min and tell him that he narked. How could he have narked?! He was certain that if anyone knew about Min's devious plan, it would be the woman who has eyes and ears everywhere, a person whom Min seemed extremely comfortable confiding in, and continues to confide in, if what Sunmi has said about his frequent visits is true.

He formulates a plan to get out of the city and run to Australia, buying a burner phone with cash and then purchasing two one-way tickets for the Friday before your big dinner. Sure, you will be angry and resistant when he tells you he planned a surprise vacation for your anniversary, but you have several days to find coverage for your shifts. Besides, you have been saying you want to go meet his mother someday.

When Min shoots Christian a text that says, "Change of plans, be there tomorrow at 8," he is sure that the boss is onto him.

All he can think to send in reply is, "Yes, sir."

* * *

Christian is tired of feeling weak and pathetic. It is always the same bullshit over and over, a never-ending loop of letdown and despair. He made an idiotic deal with an insane man, and he knows deep in his heart that he would rather die than watch you leave with him.

As the two of you run through the upper floor of the hotel, Christian's head is spinning. He placed an order for a taxi before frantically leaving the dinner table, and now he needs to get you downstairs, outside, and into the backseat safely. He is leaving his car, which Min has undoubtedly attached a tracker to, in the parking garage as a decoy, hoping to buy the two of you a little time. That is, unless Min is also tracking his phone. But he is certain that if he can just get the two of you back to the apartment, he can explain everything and give you the opportunity to leave, whether it be with him or on your own. He is ready to pay for another plane ticket, or anything else, regardless of what it means for him. Even if it puts a target on his back.

But when he confesses to being a drug dealer, you are surprisingly nonchalant about it. In fact, you treat him like an idiot for seeming worried. By the time the two of you reach the cab, he is sick of your attitude.

He asks, "Why are you always like this," before he can think better of it, and you look at him as if he is the biggest dipshit in the world.

"We didn't even get our steaks! I'm hungry!"

Jesus Christ, you are infuriating. “We can order something when we get home,” he concedes. He just needs a chance to think.

“Wait," you ask, tone somewhat softened but still angry, "doesn’t he know where you live? Why are we going home?”

Fuck. Christian had not thought of that very major, very obvious detail when he panicked and decided to run for his life out of that hotel. Of course, Min knows where he lives; the apartment is in his name. With the taxi pulling up to the apartment, Christian feels gobsmacked. He glances around, expecting to see Taehyung's SUV screaming down the road, surprised by just how quiet it is.

“Sh-should we go somewhere else?” he asks, brain feeling like sludge.

You glance around despite not knowing what to look for, which Christian finds endearing but also frustrating. This is not a moment when you need to be taking charge, yet here you are, trying like always to be in control of every situation. He has half a mind to ask the taxi driver to take the two of you somewhere else, but you interject with a shrug, saying the coast looks clear and handing the driver your credit card. When he gets out and makes a beeline to the apartment, he is shocked to glance back and find you leisurely making your way to the door.

Christian is certain that all he has to do is pack a quick go-bag while you change into something more comfortable, then he can call another cab, and you can be on the road before Min has a chance to get to the hotel and realize the two of you are gone. That is, if he was not already there watching everything unfold. Although he is certain that if any of those men watched the two of you flee, there would be a bullet in his brain already. Min does not strike Christian as the type of man who would hesitate to open fire in a crowded dining hall.

"I'm gonna shower," you say, stripping your expensive clothing off and leaving a trail of it through the apartment. "I may as well go in to work tonight."

Christian is shocked. "Work? What? No. Baby, we have to go."

"Christian," you groan, fed up and leaning naked in the bathroom doorway. "Listen, I'm not wrapped up in all of this, okay? And I can't afford to not work, so just... I don't know. Flee the city for a few nights if you have to, but leave me out of it."

"You don't understand," Christian begins, but you close and lock the door before he can say more.

Min calls while you shower, and Christian decides he would rather be aware of his death sentence instead of ignore the man and try to hide. It's not like he has anywhere to hide at the moment.

"Boss," Christian says as he answers.

Min snickers. "Boss, hmm? Interesting title for a man whose orders you are unable to follow."

Christian closes his eyes. He feels like crying. "I'm sorry, sir."

"What happened?"

Deep breath in. "I, uh. I got cold feet."

"Cold feet?"

Christian's eyes frantically scan the room, looking nowhere and everywhere as he struggles to formulate a thought. He begins to cry.

Min hums. "You fell in love."

"Yes," Christian whispers.

"My deepest condolences, truly," Min says in a flat, unapologetic tone. "But a job is a job. You have one more chance to do right by me. Tomorrow night."

Christian's shoulders drop, and he lets out a deep sigh. He could make this right and get the two of you out of town by tomorrow night. Easily.

He mutters, "Yes, sir," and Min ends the call.

Christian decides that he will at least prime you for what is happening by the time you exit the shower and begin to get dressed. But all he manages to say is, "The truth is, I was working for this guy the entire time," and you throw your hands in the air, exasperated at the fact that you knew he was lying. He worries in this moment that he is truly beginning to lose you. There is only hate and anger in your eyes, and you refuse to hear him out.

You are dressed and out the door before he can say another word, shutting him up and screaming at him about how much of a lying weirdo he is each time he attempts to speak. He stands dumbfounded, watching you leave, then he decides that he will use this time to form a plan. He packs all of his clothing into a suitcase, leaving out an outfit for tomorrow. He keeps your things unpacked so you can decide what you want to bring with you. In his suitcase, he puts two framed photos and three photo strips of the two of you into his bag. Then he goes over his script in his head, doing his best to stay up all night by snorting through a baggie of cocaine that has him mentally and emotionally sparking like a live wire.

He mutters to himself, pacing back and forth in only white socks and briefs, wondering whether it would be possible to set up an entire alias, questioning whether he could take this kind of thing to the police. He knows better to assume that police care enough about the well-being of a woman to spring into action and protect you, and ultimately, he decides that he will talk to you the moment you are home and make arrangements right then and there to flee the country. He will get down on his knees once more and plead his case to you, no matter what it takes. Begging has always worked in his favor in the past.

Christian has no memory of falling asleep, but when he hears the door open, he stretches and yawns and says, "Baby?"

The sound of a gun being cocked inches from his head springs him into full wakefulness, and he opens his eyes to find Taehyung standing over him wearing all black, with black leather gloves on. Christian scrambles to sit up, hands and feet sliding against the sheet frantically as he struggles to get his bearings.

Taehyung sighs. "You really fucked up, Barom."

Everything is a blur, and Christian struggles to keep his wits about him. The gun is so close to his face that he is frozen and struggling to breathe. He says nothing. What could he possibly say?

"What time does she get home?" Taehyung asks, looking at his watch.

Christian is barely able to whisper the word, "Three."

"Not a lot of time," Taehyung says, sighing. "How often are you gone when she gets home?"

Christian's mouth feels like sand. When he says, "Maybe once a week," he stammers, struggling to get the syllables out.

"Alright, then, get dressed and come with me."

Taehyung drops the gun to his side and watches silently as Christian's brain buffers and he gets his bearings. When he stands, it is on shaking legs while bile rises up his throat. He gets dressed in jeans and a plain white tee and walks outside in his socks, too in shock to remember to put on shoes. Only when Taehyung mentions it does he turn around and grab a pair of sneakers. Taehyung gathers the mostly empty baggie of cocaine and Christian's phone, shoving them deep into his pocket, then he turns off the lights.

When they approach the SUV waiting outside, Jeongguk is in the passenger seat. Christian has never been so scared as he is in this moment, to the point where he thinks he is going into shock because all sensation of the outside world is dull. He has no sense of what temperature the air is, and he can hardly feel where he places his feet. When he gets into the backseat, he can barely hear the jeers and snickers from Jeongguk, who looks back to threaten him pretty much the entire ride. He mostly just hears, "Fucked up, man," over and over, but he is not sure whether Jeongguk is actually saying that, or if he is imagining it. He feels stuck underwater.

A bag is placed over his head somewhere downtown, and for a time, he has no idea where they take him. But then he recognizes the scrape of a metal gate and the sound of tires on gravel. He thinks that it could be Jeongguk's mansion again, but he is led into a building, down a ramp, and through a large room that is definitely not in Jeongguk's home. He hears what sounds like a large, heavy door being opened, and then he is tied to a chair. Eventually, the heavy door closes. Rather than scream or beg for help, he cries and cries until he wears himself out, and then he drifts in and out of sleep, jolting upright each time his head hangs forward for too long, never able to get any actual rest.

When the bag is removed from his head, he is surprised to see that it is Min standing before him. Min wears a tan suit and leopard print shirt, and he looks ridiculous. Christian is so out of his mind that he actually begins to laugh. When Min grabs him roughly by the hair and asks just what the fuck is so funny, the pain that seizes Christian from his head, down between his shoulders, is so sharp, he frantically says, "Nothing, nothing, I'm sorry, sir," before he is let go.

"Didn't shit or piss yourself," Min says, surprise in his tone, eying up Christian's crotch. "Good. You have one final performance."

When Min unties Christian, he is not gentle about it. Christian is jostled around, and at times his circulation feels cut off from how tightly the ropes are yanked before being released. Min leads him by gunpoint through a massive fluorescent-lit room, up a ramp, and outside, to an SUV that is being driven by sword man, although today he does not appear to have a sword. He is taken to the hotel with the compound and led upstairs, flanked by Min and this man, who he calls Joonie. In the room, he is ordered to shower and get presentable. Then, at gunpoint, with the cellphone Taehyung confiscated earlier, he messages you and says to meet him at the park at 3 p.m. sharp.

"Tell her to dress nice," Min adds, which makes Christian feel increasingly antsy. That is definitely going to piss you off.

* * *

The sun is so bright, it stings Christian's eyes. Of all the days to have a perfectly clear sky, it had to be today. The beautiful, expansive blue feels like it is mocking Christian, whose head is tilted upward. Luckily, with a blade to his throat, everything in his field of vision goes hazy, and the sun is blotted out. Christian is on his knees, drooling from the desire to vomit and thankful his stomach is empty, as much as it aches. He trembles like a leaf, and Min's grip on his hair is the only thing keeping him from face-planting into the grass.

He cannot fathom how quickly everything has turned sour, and he wants to curse Sunmi, who had to have tipped Min off. If he had been paying attention rather than going with the flow, he could have come up with an escape route sooner, but he lost track of time. He was certain that coming to the river with these men and watching the way they assert their dominance would have scared you off, or, at the very least, convinced you to hear Christian out so that he could explain himself. But he was never given the chance to speak.

Instead, you are being led away by that Joonie guy, and— is he imagining it, or did you seem to go with him willingly? Surely the last two years were not so horrible that you would just hand yourself over to these men? You must have some kind of plan for escaping, but what could it possibly be? If they take you to that mansion out in the middle of nowhere, how will you ever get out?

"This isn't right," Christian mutters, voice struggling to push between his lips. "She deserves to know the truth."

Min must pull the blade away from Christian's throat because the next thing he knows, he's being pummeled in his right eye by Min's fist before knuckles connect with his nose with a loud crack that echoes throughout his head. Christian groan-yells in pain, but quickly shuts up as the bag is placed back over his head and pulled so tight that when he inhales, fabric presses inside his mouth and cuts off his air supply. He can hardly breathe, and when he is yanked to his feet and dragged away by what feels like two men, he waits to feel the cold sting of the Han River engulf him at any moment. He is surprised when he is thrown into the trunk of an SUV instead.

* * *

Tied to a chair, presumably left to die, with a bag on his head, Christian feels as if he might go insane.

He holds in his piss for as long as he can, but when his bladder begins to burn, he finally concedes and lets it out. The bag prevents him from smelling the piss, and for that, he is grateful. He imagines there are much worse smells in this place. Before, when he was too afraid to get his bearings, he thought it smelled metallic and musty. That had to have been earlier today, before the trip to the river, but Christian has no concept of how much time has passed, or if he is even in the same place as before. The chair feels the same.

He thinks he hears the squeak of pipes, but worries that it could also be rats. If there are rats trapped in this place, how long will it take for them to begin nibbling at his flesh, starting with his ankles? His legs are stuck in place, tied to the legs of the chair, and he would be unable to kick them away.

Occasionally, he thinks he feels an itch near where ropes pull the denim up against his skin, and Christian freaks out. What if there is something crawling up his pant leg? Can it chew through denim? Rope? Sometimes his leg attempts to kick so violently that the chair rocks, and he has to do his best to breathe through his fear without allowing too much fabric into his mouth, because if he falls over, then whatever is in here could get at his neck, and possibly even into the bag to eat away at his face. Christian is not ready for his lips and eyes to be devoured while he lies on his side, unable to defend himself.

Behind the black bag, Christian's eyes are open, and he sees light and color dancing against the fabric. He thinks of the kaleidoscopes his mother would buy him from the fair, cheap plastic and paper things filled with beads and other small, colorful bits. He cries at the thought of his mother, at her loving brown eyes and soft hands, her gentle voice. He cries until his lips are coated in tears and snot, and he struggles to breathe. Then he calms himself down.

"Stay focused," he mutters to himself. "Listen for clues. Know your surroundings. Anything."

But there is nothing. No clues, no sound whatsoever. No way of seeing.

He begins to dream up stories in his head. His limbs are somewhat numb, no longer itching, and he rewrites the story of how the two of you met. He is on break after filming a really cool action film where he isn't the star, because he's not that famous yet, but he is the star's witty best friend. He has a cool apartment that just so happens to be near the bar you work at, and when he walks in and sees you pouring a foamy, off-white drink from a large metal shaker into a glass of ice, it is love at first sight. You don't recognize him, and haven't seen any of his movies, and he feels happy because he wants a shot at really getting to know you naturally again. You move in right away and fall in love right away because Christian is too antsy to get to the good part.

In this story, he doesn't even know Sunmi and has never touched her, and he doesn't have to lie to you about what he does for a living. You go to his movie premiere where he gets down on one knee and proposes to you, taking all the attention away from the film as everyone claps and cheers, and paparazzi takes pictures. Even the star of the film is happy for the two of you, and he promises to officiate the wedding. He replays you saying yes to him over and over, each time slightly different. Sometimes you roll your eyes, smiling but slightly annoyed with his dramatics. Sometimes you hold your hands over your mouth and cry. Sometimes you stare at him blankly, and he has to shake his head really hard to dispel the image and replace it with something softer. He does his best to hold onto the image of you, and he apologizes over and over, muttering and drooling and crying, and saying he is sorry. He is sorry. He is so, so sorry.

When he hears footsteps enter, he is certain that he must be hallucinating. Perhaps there is a water leak somewhere, and the insistent dripping is only mimicking footfalls. But then he hears that massive door open and close, and the sound of something heavy being thrown onto the floor in a muffled clatter that sounds like a bag full of heavy instruments. He holds his breath.

"Yu Barom," a deep voice calls. It is familiar and not. He cannot place the owner. "Today we decide whether you live or die."

Christian scoffs. Why would they let him live after everything that has transpired?

"It's not in Boss Yoongi's interest to kill a man who has been such a pivotal part of his team for the better part of two years. He has already extended you an immense amount of gratitude by not putting a bullet between your eyes."

To his surprise, Christian feels more resolved than afraid. Sitting alone in the dark, pissing his pants and waiting for rodents to begin eating him from the ankles up has had a chance to put things into perspective. Or, he is so famished and exhausted that he is incapable of thinking clearly. Regardless, what does any of it matter? He has failed you, and maybe he does deserve to die.

When the bag is pulled from his head, sword man is there with a sword strapped to his back. Christian begins to laugh, and the movement hurts his face but in a vague, distant kind of way. There is a stench about this place that is more than just blood mixed with piss and old water. Christian tries to remember whether he knows what a dead body could smell like.

"Joonie," Christian spits out, remembering what Min called him.

The man's eyes go dark. "That's Namjoon, to you."

"Namjoon," Christian repeats, struggling to make his lips form the j-shape. He grunts. "So you're n-not here to k-kill me?"

Namjoon squats before him, eyeing him up. He studies Christian's face, then cracks half of a grin. "Damn. He really fucked you up."

It takes a second for Christian to remember what he is talking about. He had forgotten about getting punched in the face. How could he have forgotten? Absently, he tries to lift his right hand to touch his eye, but remembers it is tied to the chair. Now that Namjoon mentions it, the right eye does seem swollen, making his vision blurry.

"That's…weird. How come it doesn't hurt?"

Namjoon's smile widens. "Painkillers."

"Painkillers," Christian mutters back. That explains a lot.

Namjoon nods, then reaches for his bag. "Let's get you something to eat."

Christian shakes his head. He does not want to shit on himself. Plus, what if he has been trapped here for so long that eating kills him? How long has it been?

"What do you mean no?" Namjoon asks, digging into his bag. "It's been six hours since we brought you back here. I know you're hungry."

Six hours? Christian feels like he has been here for days.

Namjoon pulls out a few pouches of what appear to be protein shakes. Christian attempts to tighten his lips, but the muscles tremble, and he is unable to keep them steady. Namjoon twists off the lid and shoves the small plastic straw-like tip into Christian's mouth, knocking him against the teeth as he squeezes the pouch, forcing the thick liquid through. Christian gags and then swallows, first angry but then pleased to be tasting something that comes close to chocolate and peanut butter. He downs that pouch rather fast, giving himself a stomachache. The motion of sucking also somehow manages to make his nose hurt a little. When Namjoon pulls the pouch away, Christian is trying to catch his breath. And now that he has tasted a little something, he is definitely hungry.

Namjoon assists Christian with drinking down two more pouches. With his wits about him slightly more than before, he glances around and realizes this is not a warehouse but more like a…a dungeon?

"Where are we?" he asks, eyes landing on a rusted metal rack covered in tools, including what appear to be electric saws. Christian swallows thickly, tearing his gaze, which is blurring over with tears, away from the horrifying sight. Are those Namjoon's tools? Does he plan to use them? Some of them look pretty worn, covered in dark rust, but they can likely cut through bone. Or worse, fail to. Looking down, he realizes the cement floor has a gentle incline toward a small round grate. Then he tilts his head back and notices that right above him on the ceiling is a large metal hook. Just what in the hell goes on in here?

Namjoon cocks his head to the side. "Where do you think we are?"

He thinks that perhaps he should lie. Perhaps there is danger in telling the truth. But he decides to be truthful. His voice trembles as he says, "The property where Jeongguk lives."

Namjoon grins. "Why do you say that?"

Christian feels nervous. Has he said too much? "The gate," he begins, watching as Namjoon nods once. "And the driveway. I remember there being gravel."

"I keep telling hyung to pave this side," Namjoon says in a tone that almost seems cordial.

Christian nods.

Behind Namjoon, a large metal door opens, and in walks Min. Dread settles in Christian's belly. Of course, it is inevitable to see the kingpin himself. But Christian was hoping that perhaps he would be too busy to pay him a visit.

Min wears his standard uniform of black. He begins by unbuttoning his cuffs, then he starts at the neck of the shirt, unbuttoning to his waist, untucking, and unbuttoning the rest. He is delicate with the dress shirt as he pulls it off to reveal a black t-shirt tucked into black slacks. Rather than dress shoes, Min wears leather boots with thick rubber soles that make no noise as he walks.

"Tell me, Barom," Min snarls as he approaches, handing his shirt to Namjoon, "how do you think I was tipped off that you were planning an escape?"

Christian licks his dry lips, worried to speak. When he does, his voice is barely above a whisper. "Sunmi-noona."

Min lifts an eyebrow.

"Ah, I see there is a bit of a brain behind this thick skull of yours." Min lifts a hand and knocks on Christian's head hard enough to make him wince. "And tell me…how did Sunmi-noona find out?"

Christian moves his lips, about to speak, but Min continues, his face coming so close that it blurs in Christian's vision.

"Or, rather, why were you spending so much time with Sunmi-noona that she was able to glean such sensitive information? Were you…confiding in her?"

Christian nods, gulping despite there being no spit gathered to swallow. Min strikes Christian against the right cheek hard enough to make the entire right side of his face flare up momentarily in pain. The medication must be wearing off. He grips Christian by the hair and leans in so close that tobacco and whiskey come off his breath. He says, "Use your words, pretty boy," in a tone that is low and oddly seductive.

"Yes, sir," Christian mutters.

Min's grip tightens, making Christian wince.

"Were you fucking Sunmi-noona?"

Christian sighs, eyelids fluttering from the pain. "Yes, sir."

Min releases Christian's hair and lowers into a squat, then leans with his elbows digging into Christian's legs. To his surprise, Christian barely feels it. Concerned, he wiggles his toes. Is he losing circulation?

"Interesting," Min says, "I only remember giving you permission to fuck one of my girls. And here, you were fucking two?"

Christian's lips move, but no sound comes out. Was Sunmi-noona also his? Sure, they seemed close, but she wasted no time getting onto her knees for Christian. Why should Christian assume that Min has laid a claim to every woman in the city?

Min sighs, leaning with his cheek against his left fist. "Do you know what it costs me to lose someone like Sunmi-noona? The range that her eyes and ears manage to explore the city is unmatched. And it is going to cost me a lot of business, never mind weakening my firm grip on many of my more lucrative operations." Min seems to wait just a moment for a response before continuing. "Luckily, we had been planning for a rift to occur. It was only a matter of time; you saw how fickle and temperamental she can be, I presume."

Christian nibbles on the inside of his lip and shrugs. He only witnessed her lash out the last time he saw her.

Min sighs and continues. "In that time, however, Seokjin-hyung and Hoseok were only able to amass a fraction of the power that she has. But that is just no good. A fraction is not close to a whole. And power is priceless to a man such as myself."

Min stands, digging his elbows in much harder as he does so, and this time Christian does feel it. The pain is simultaneously dull and sharp, and it causes the spots on both muscles to ache and seize up, shooting pain down into his feet. Christian grits his teeth, eager not to show weakness, but by the time Min lifts his arms away, Christian is letting out a pained groan.

"It is as they say…an eye for an eye." Min pulls out his switchblade and holds it in Christian's face, right in front of his left eye. "You fucked up my surveillance, Barom. What is a man without his hold on every single person in this city?" Min leans closer, touching the tip of the blade to Christian's eyebrow. "You impaired my vision, so now I am going to repay the favor by impairing yours."

Fear and adrenaline spike through Christian, and he attempts to push himself backwards, but the chair only rocks weakly. The momentum is just enough to cause the tip of Min's blade to poke into Christian's eyebrow, and he winces and attempts to move his head to the side, but he only manages to slash himself horizontally.

"Gonna do all the work for me?" Min jokes, grin widening while his shoulders shake with laughter.

Christian begins to cry. He can't help it. What the fuck is happening to him? How the fuck did he get here? He just wanted to blend into a team of men doing something illegal for an exorbitant amount of cash so he could return home to his mother wealthier than he was when he left, and give her a cozy retirement; how did everything spiral out of control from the moment he met these guys? How could he have been so stupid?

With one hand, Min grabs Christian by the hair. With the other, he presses the blade straight into Christian's eye. The feeling is so intense that Christian simultaneously screams and pisses his pants. His entire body convulses as he vomits all over himself, unable to control his limbs from revolting against the pain, feeling all of the muscles in his face, neck, and shoulders stiffen in agony. It feels like he is crying uncontrollably, but he is unable to blink, and he frantically tries to move his arms and legs, desperate to stop this feeling and to let out the energy that is building and building inside of him.

And then, suddenly, he passes out.

* * *

When Christian awakens, he is lying down in a bright room with a tall white ceiling striped in fluorescent lights. As he blinks, lines of the room blur, and when he moves his head to the left, details rove in and out of focus. He appears to be in a large hospital room, but he has no idea how he has come to be here, and he wonders whether he has been in some sort of accident.

As the details of the room come into focus bit by bit, he realizes that the vision on his left side is impaired and his right eye seems swollen. He tries to lift his hand to feel whether there is a bandage over his left side, but finds he cannot move his arm. In fact, he cannot move either of his arms or his legs, and he is overwhelmed by the smell of vomit and piss. And then it hits him: the dungeon room, Min and his switchblade…his eye. Christian screams and thrashes, making as much noise as he can muster before his throat becomes so dry that he coughs uncontrollably. He cries, and it burns the wound of his eye. Whether he still has an eyeball is a mystery. Regardless, something is extremely wrong.

Min appears over Christian and punches him hard in the jaw, causing the back of Christian's head to slam against the thin pillow and firm mattress. Christian continues to scream and thrash, desperate to be heard. If this is a hospital, surely there is someone else who will hear him, right? Except he is certain that he has overheard Taehyung talk about the equipment and rooms he has set up in his own home. And if that's the case…

"Kill me," Christian begs, vocal cords raw and voice rough. "Please just kill me. Please, please."

Min punches Christian again, causing him to bite his tongue so hard that his mouth fills with blood. He lets enough pool in his mouth, and then he spits it into Min's face. In an instant, Min has a handgun drawn and cocked, pressing cold and heavy into Christian's temple.

"Give me one more fucking reason," Min threatens, leaning close, putting his weight into the firearm. He is clearly drunk, eyes glazed over and bloodshot, and he looks like he has not slept in days.

"You ruined her life," Christian sobs. He wants to curl into a ball, and he is furious that his wrists and ankles are restrained. "You ruined her life. She doesn't deserve this."

"And you are blameless?" Min asks, chuckling sardonically.

Christian closes his eye tight. He prays to whatever gods there may be that Min squeezes the trigger and blows his brains out. Let this be the way it ends, just so long as it fucking ends.

"She came willingly to my home," Min says inches from Christian's ear. "She already sleeps in my bed. And pretty soon I will have her on her hands and knees begging me to make her mine."

Christian imagines you lying back against the pillows, naked and shy, with your knees slightly touching. How soft your skin was when he dragged his lips along the slope of your knees, how your thighs would part and fall open for him. Min does not deserve you. Neither of them does.

"Please," Christian cries. "Please kill me. Please. I can't live with what I've done to her."

The gun lifts from Christian's head, and then Min leaves. Christian keeps his eyes closed, listening for footsteps to come or go, but the room is silent. There is no machine monitoring his heart rate. No IV drip to deliver hydration into his depleted system. He is tied down once more and left alone with his thoughts, his piss-wet jeans, and his pain. He sleeps in fits, waking up screaming from the memory of being stabbed in the eye and dryly gagging with nothing to vomit but stomach bile.

Days must pass. Christian soils himself again and again. He trembles from hunger and feels so dehydrated that he is certain that he may die. When he thinks of you, of the mess he is in thanks to being tasked with grooming you— with fucking tolerating you— he feels anger and despair. Little by little, he stops thinking of you fondly and with concern. He oscillates wildly between deep love and utter hopelessness until little by little, he hopes that whatever Min is doing to you is fucking you up just as badly as he feels fucked up. He hopes that you regret walking away from him so easily. He did so much for you, putting his life on the line, and he hopes that you feel nothing but shame and regret for the way you treated him. So what, he was fucking Sunmi. You treated him like gum under your shoe. If anything, Christian begins to believe that you deserved to be cheated on.

When Taehyung arrives to unstrap him from the bed, Christian feels too weak to move his limbs. Taehyung and Jeongguk lift him from the bed and drag him off to a bathroom with a little square shower stall. They strip him of his clothing and hose him down, washing him of the piss and shit that has caused his skin to break out in rashes and sores. They gently apply salves and bandages to his broken skin, all the while he leans against one and then the other, eye barely open and head lolling to the side. The men say nothing as they dry him off and assist him with getting dressed in a paper gown. Christian feels as if he is on the brink of death. He is too exhausted to be humiliated and accepts everything that is done to him. He says nothing, silent even when his head rolls too hard and slams into the wall. When they lay him down onto a clean bed, Taehyung hooks him up to an IV and does not restrain him. Christian never puts up any resistance. He is resolved to accept his shitty fate.

The men take shifts sitting beside him, watching television. Taehyung plays Ghibli films while force-feeding protein shake packets to Christian. Jeongguk watches kaiju films, mimicking the unnatural monster sounds while spinning small, pointy knives around on his fingers. They help him with walking to the bathroom, rolling the IV bag alongside him. Then they begin to offer him solid foods, mainly plain tofu and rice with a side of vegetables. After some time, Christian slowly begins to feel like himself again. But he does not look at himself in the mirror. He does not want to see what has become of him in such a short amount of time.

When he wakes up to a stranger in a burgundy suit sitting bedside, he startles. The man, who is reading a newspaper, glances over the top of the paper and nods, then begins to delicately fold it and set it aside.

"Here you are," the man says. "Awake at last."

Christian sits up slightly, glancing around and hoping to see Taehyung or Jeongguk, but neither man is around.

"My name is Kim Seokjin," the man says, and Christian nods. He has heard Seokjin's name before. "I have a proposition for you."

Christian is unsure whether he is interested in hearing another proposition put forth by this team of men. He would rather run as far away as his legs will take him. Hell, he would rather lie down in a ditch and die.

"You can keep the job and the apartment," Seokjin says, "interest free. Boss Min is feeling generous."

There has to be a catch. There is no fucking way Min is going to just bring Christian back into the fold. Christian opens his mouth to respond, but sound barely comes out, and he ends up mouthing around unvoiced syllables before giving up.

"You want to know what the catch is?" Seokjin asks.

Christian nods.

"No catch. You were punished and now you are free to resume as if nothing has changed."

As if nothing has changed.

Except everything has changed. The person Christian was before this shit storm began is as good as dead.

For the first time since Min drove a blade into his eye, Christian lifts his hand and feels the wound. His fingers gently touch the bandage first, and then they firmly press. What he feels is unnaturally hard and round. His eye is gone. His heart beats a little harder, but otherwise, he does not have the energy in him to react. An eye for an eye. Perhaps next time, Min will cut out his tongue.

"You will rejoin Jeongguk's crew but under my employ. Whatever orders I give, you will fulfill. Understand?"

Christian shrugs. What's there to understand?

"If you're really miserable staying here, I can always relocate you to Busan. I know some girls who would use a loyal grunt like you. Or we can put you on one of the catering teams. There are countless jobs in this city that need doing.”

Christian says nothing, just nods.

Seokjin must take this as a confirmation because he nods too, then stands and begins to leave. "Heal up and get back to work. One of our men will drive you home when you are ready. This is your last chance, Barom. Fuck this up, and we will have no choice but to kill you. If you work hard and make up for all the past trifling behavior, I will personally put you on a plane to Australia."

Christian stares ahead, watching from the periphery as Seokjin leaves. Then he waits. And waits. When he has to piss, he decides to rip the IV needle out of his arm and make his way to the bathroom. Once he exits, another unfamiliar man is standing in the doorway waiting for him, holding a wide paper bag full of black clothing. Christian gets dressed, then they make their way out of the room, through the large space, and up the ramp. At the front door, as he slides his feet into a pair of shoes, he realizes that he is definitely in a mansion, which means this must be Taehyung's home. No wonder all of his screams were for nothing. Nobody was ever going to hear him.

The man, who introduces himself as Hoseok, drives Christian back to the apartment. Christian barely glances at the space as he grabs his stuff and calls a cab to take him to the compound, then he returns to the tiny cement room there, never to see the apartment again. He does not unpack his suitcase, save for reaching in through an arm-sized hole and extracting some of the clothing, scared of how he might feel if he sees the pictures of you. Instead, he buys an all-new wardrobe bit by bit, leaving the suitcase to collect dust in the corner of the room.

The other guys no longer fuck with him, and instead seem repulsed by what has happened to him. Jae, a long-term member of the team, has promised Christian that they will find a way to fuck the guys over. "We can't kill them," he whispers, checking over his shoulders to make sure nobody is in earshot, "but we can get him where it hurts by fucking with the supply of pills."

Christian keeps his head down and works. He remains on the receiving and packaging teams, seemingly too unsightly with his face bandaged to be trusted out on the streets and meeting with clientele. He barely sees the sun for weeks. But then the bandage is removed by Taehyung, who treats Christian like a stranger, and within days, he is back to running, and he finds himself standing at Sunmi's door.

"What did they do to your beautiful face?" Sunmi asks, soft almond-shaped eyes full of tears. "How could they do this to you?"

These days, Christian hardly has much to say. He goes days sometimes without hearing the sound of his own voice. Even now, he does not try to explain.

"This isn't right," Sunmi says as she stands tall and presses her forehead into his, fingertips on his cheek, below the white prosthetic orb surrounded by scars. Tears begin to form, and Christian finds that he is helpless to do anything but allow them to fall. Only one of his eyes fully blinks. "I knew he would be angry with you, but this has gone way too far."

Crocodile tears, as far as he is concerned. Sunmi is undoubtedly at least partially responsible for Min torturing him. But her hands are soft and warm, and he misses the delicate cadence of her voice. Her floral perfume. The press of her lips.

Christian continues to keep his head down and work, but he overhears the others. A storm is brewing within the lower ranks. There are talks of an uprising. Christian, fed up with all the attention it is getting, worried that one of the higher-ups might overhear it and trace it back to him, destroys a large amount of pills one night while working with the receiving team, after everything has been weighed a final time, in a dark corner of the warehouse where he knows no camera watches. When asked, he mentions overhearing Jae and fourteen other men bragging about wanting to fuck Min over. Within days, all of those men are gone, and the whispers have stopped. Christian feels a strange sense of pride.

Slowly, men begin to show allegiance to him, but in a silent way. Some of them seem to know that Christian was the one to sell out Jae and his crew. Some of them seem to revere him for it. They communicate via text on burner phones and begin to meet up outside of work, at an empty warehouse near the new apartment that Christian has begun to rent on his own dime, away from the compound.

It starts first as an underground fight club— a way to get to know each of the men who show up looking for a way to bulk up and fight back. Some of the men are experts at martial arts, others are great with weapons. They look to Christian as a leader, and for once in his miserable life, he accepts the challenge with no regrets. Maybe, he thinks, he will be able to fuck Min over and take down his empire from the inside.

It's completely insane, no doubt. But it just might work.

*

I don't wanna know all your secrets 'cause I'll tell It's hard enough being alone with myself I don't know how long I'll be holding on I know you tried your hardest, I know that you meant it well But you pushed me to the edge and I slipped and then I fell I don't know how long I'll be holding on

*

HELLOOOOO THANK YOU FOR READINGGG!!!!!!! for the record, since it is not clear in the chapter, i am letting you know that Yoongi is no longer involved with Sunmi once mc comes into the picture. he's a jerk for sure but he ain't that nasty.

ANYWAYYYYY HIIIIII!!!! it's been a long time. i know updates have screeched to a halt, and you know that i am sorry, so i don't need to say it again and again. to be honest, with the craziness of school (and getting good grades!!!) on top of deep and heavy grief that i was feeling for about 2 years, writing for my Collateral mc was really hard and i kept avoiding putting myself in that headspace. incidentally, writing this pov really pulled me out of the funk and got me back on the horse, and i have been having a lot of fun. hopefully my writing style feels consistent; it's kind of hard to come back to older work after spending all the time in between updates writing for other projects and feeling like my style/voice is slowly changing. also!!! plz lmk if you spot any errors bc it was hard to use he/him and you/your pronouns with the mc not being the pov of the chapter. i am dyslexic af and make a lot of mistakes in the writing stages lmao so idk if i always fix them in the editing stages.

chapter 27 is VERY CLOSE TO DONE, so the update should be coming very soon. i have been working really hard to get this shit cranked out for you. i love you very much PLEASE STAY HYDRATED. comments and reblogs keep me writing blah blah blah, you know the drill. (it's true, though. sometimes the only thing that pulls me back into a project is someone talking to me about it. so please don't be shy!!!) also sorry if the youtube video is awkward but i don't use spotify anymore and i wanted to make sure the chapters still end with a song.

OKAY I WILL SEE YOU SOON!!!! I PROMISE!!!!!!! VERY SOON!!!!!!!!!!!

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