Yoon Bum entered the room, his footsteps echoing softly in the quiet. The room, a carefully constructed facade of normalcy, was a sharp reminder of the world beyond—unreachable and fading from Sangwoo's grasp like the sun he no longer felt on his skin. In his hands, Yoon Bum carried a child's puzzle, its pieces bright and colorful, inviting yet oddly out of place.
Sangwoo watched him approach, a blend of confusion and mockery clear in his expression, mixed with an unacknowledged anticipation for the company and diversion Yoon Bum provided.
"What's this?" Sangwoo's voice cut through the silence, dripping with disdain as he examined the puzzle Yoon Bum had laid out before him. "A game for kids? You're running out of ways to entertain me, Bum." Despite his mocking tone, a part of Sangwoo couldn't ignore the growing dependency on these interactions, a truth he buried deep within.
Yoon Bum responded with a simple shrug, his smile puzzling and hard to read, hinting at layers of emotion Sangwoo could only guess at—desperation, perhaps, or a deep-seated hope. "It's part of the rules," he stated calmly, his tone betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. "A simple task. I'm sure it will be easy for you," he added, suggesting a purpose beyond mere entertainment, perhaps a step towards the healing and closeness Yoon Bum so often spoke of as their second chance.
Sangwoo snorted, skepticism and a flicker of amusement in his gaze as he eyed the colorful pieces. The task was absurd, almost laughably so, beneath him. Yet, as his eyes scanned the easy assembly of pieces, he felt a stir—a blend of boredom and an emerging curiosity to see what Yoon Bum considered a reward. It was a distraction, however trivial, from the monotony that enveloped him.
With an eye roll and a begrudging sense of curiosity, Sangwoo relented. "Fine. This is ridiculous, but if it gets you off my back..." he muttered, his fingers moving with dismissive ease. The puzzle, clearly designed for much younger minds, was completed in mere minutes, not that it needed much brain power to complete.
Yoon Bum watched the entire process quietly, his expression unreadable yet tinged with a faint, knowing smile as Sangwoo placed the last piece. "I knew you could do it," he said, his praise simple yet laden with deeper implications, touching on the potential for growth and understanding he saw in these minor challenges.
"It's a child's game. Next time, bring me something that actually challenges me," Sangwoo retorted, his voice laced with dismissive pride. Yet, deep down, the simple task had ignited a spark of stimulation, a welcome distraction from the sameness that filled his days, marking the passage of time by Yoon Bum's visits alone.
"Of course, I'm happy that you're participating," Yoon Bum agreed, his smile persisting, unshaken by Sangwoo's facade. "As for your reward, you get to choose what's for dinner tonight," he offered, presenting an unexpected but intriguing choice.
Sangwoo eyed him, a complex mix of interest and indifference swirling within. The reward may have been trivial, but the opportunity to make even a small decision about his own life unexpectedly compelled him, highlighting the extent to which his existence had been reduced to these moments with Yoon Bum.
"Fine. Then I want something with beef," Sangwoo said, deciding not to dwell on the significance of such a minor choice, yet internally acknowledging the importance of these small freedoms.
Yoon Bum offered a nod of acknowledgment to Sangwoo's choice for dinner, the atmosphere in the room already beginning to shift. "Sounds good," he said, his voice carrying a formality that hinted at the depth of their next interaction. "Now, let's get started with our session for today." He moved to the center of the room, the space between them charged with unspoken tension.
Yoon Bum sat down first, positioning himself comfortably on the floor. He patted the space in front of him, inviting Sangwoo to join. Sangwoo, watching Yoon Bum's deliberate movements, hesitated, the action alone a small rebellion against the situation he found himself in. With a quiet clink of his chain, he reluctantly moved to sit across from Yoon Bum, stretching to the very end of his tether to do so. Each movement was a reminder of his constrained freedom, the metal cold and unyielding.
"I want you to know me better," Yoon Bum initiated, his voice carrying a mix of determination and vulnerability, once Sangwoo had settled into the limited space his chain allowed. He held the shock collar's controller in one hand, a subtle but constant reminder of his control, while extending his other hand towards Sangwoo. "I've done things very differently this time around, compared to our first life."
Sangwoo's expression hardened with skepticism, his patience thinning. Despite the intrigue Yoon Bum's words sparked within him, his frustration at being put in such a position—forced to partake in Yoon Bum's delusions—was obvious. Reluctantly, he reached out, his touch to Yoon Bum's hand cautiously, as if contemplating the weight of his own pride against the curiosity that Yoon Bum's narrative piqued.
The connection, if it could be called that, was more a game of reluctant compliance from Sangwoo's end as their fingers touched. Yoon Bum's voice, heavy with an emotion Sangwoo chose not to dwell on, filled the silence. "My earliest memory from our first life began the day I moved into my uncle's house," he continued, his gaze fixed on their joined hands. "At first, I thought they were just fantasies," he admitted, his voice sounding distant, as if he was lost in the memories he was about to share. "But then, things started happening that mirrored those memories too closely. It felt... real."
With each word Yoon Bum spoke, Sangwoo felt the pull of the chain, a literal and metaphorical reminder of the gap between them—between his desire for control and the current reality where Yoon Bum dictated their interactions.
Sangwoo listened, his expression carefully neutral. The idea of past lives was absurd to him, a concept as foreign as genuine affection in their twisted relationship. Still, he couldn't help but note the seriousness in Yoon Bum's retelling. 'Could there be any advantage in his delusions?' Sangwoo pondered, his mind always searching for leverage.
Yoon Bum's next words were barely above a whisper, yet they cut through the air with clarity. "The abuse... it escalated. I realized I couldn't just suffer in silence like before. But I lacked the strength to confront him directly, to end it the same way you would have." His gaze lifted, meeting Sangwoo's. "You killed him for me in that other life. I wasn't grateful that time, but having to go through it again, I realized what you were trying to give me then. But even though I was on my own this time, I had to put a stop to it."
Sangwoo's interest peaked, a visceral need to know if Yoon Bum had crossed that last line. "So, did you kill him this time?" The question was more than curiosity; it was a test, a measure of Yoon Bum's resolve. Sangwoo found himself craving a yes, eager for the details of the act. There was a part of him, dark and unyielding, that wanted Yoon Bum to have experienced the same brutal satisfaction Sangwoo found in the demise of those who wronged him. If Yoon Bum had succumbed to that primal urge, perhaps Sangwoo could forgive his transgressions.
"No," came Yoon Bum's soft yet resolute denial, stirring a whirlwind of emotions in Sangwoo. The disappointment was noticeable, a cold splash of reality against the fiery intrigue Sangwoo had felt moments before.
Sangwoo's interest sharpened, the undercurrent of his own dark inclinations pushing him to probe further, seeking a glimpse into Yoon Bum's psyche. "So, did you finally do it? Did you kill him?" His voice carried a blend of casual curiosity and an uncharacteristically keen edge of anticipation. It was the closest Sangwoo had come to showing genuine interest in Yoon Bum's actions, a veiled test of Yoon Bum's will to see if he harbored the same darkness that Sangwoo did. There was a part of him, perhaps more curious than he cared to admit, that was almost hopeful for a shared kinship in their capacity for violence.
"No," Yoon Bum replied softly, the firmness in his voice betraying the weight of his decision. The word landed like a stone in the quiet room, sending ripples of complex emotions through Sangwoo. The disappointment was immediate and sharp, a contrast to the brief spark of intrigue that had flared within him.
Sangwoo's reaction was almost reflexive, a mix of disbelief and a hint of disdain coloring his features. "So, you did nothing? You let him get away with it?" His words were a thick with accusation.
The slight amusement in Yoon Bum's eyes, however, was not the reaction Sangwoo expected. It was laced with a melancholy understanding. "I thought you might say that," Yoon Bum murmured, his attempt at a smile not quite hiding the sadness beneath. "The Sangwoo I remember felt the same. Does it disappoint you?"
Sangwoo experienced a flare of irritation, a sharp departure from his usual stance of detached amusement. It was disconcerting, this insinuation by Yoon Bum, that they shared some deep, intrinsic connection across supposed past lives. It was an intriguing puzzle, one that Sangwoo found himself reluctantly drawn to, even as he debated its significance.
As Yoon Bum's expression hardened with determination, he reached out, reclaiming Sangwoo's hand with a firmness that left no room for argument, forcing a physical connection as he delved deeper into his narrative. "Simply killing him would have been too easy, too quick. He deserved to suffer, to lose everything." Yoon Bum's tone was icy, calculated, as he described the lengths he went to punish. "I collected evidence, meticulously, over the years, until I had enough to guarantee the police would have to act. But that was just the beginning of his downfall."
Hearing Yoon Bum describe his plan with such cold clarity, Sangwoo felt an involuntary surge of respect for the man's strategic mind. The detailed recounting of how Yoon Bum methodically destroyed his uncle's life revealed a side of Yoon Bum that Sangwoo hadn't anticipated—a capacity for cold, calculated malice that mirrored his own approach.
"I watched him lose his freedom and even paid to a few people to make his life in prison as miserable as he made me," Yoon Bum said, a subtle but unmistakable note of satisfaction in his tone. "And it wasn't just about him. My grandmother, too, she gave me scraps of affection, so I gave her the same in return. The bare minimum. I give her just enough to survive to the next day for a lifetime of indifference."
Yoon Bum's grip on Sangwoo's hand tightened as he spoke, a physical manifestation of his commitment to his cause. "No one, not even family, can betray me without facing consequences. I made sure of that."
Yoon Bum's voice took on a sharper edge as he recounted his ultimate act of vengeance. "It wasn't just my uncle or grandmother. The agency too, their neglect had a price. Holding them accountable, making sure they recognized their failure, it... it helped me find some peace. It was my way of closing a chapter filled with years of neglect and abuse."
The sight of Yoon Bum's grim satisfaction, that dark smirk and the cold, calculated glint in his eyes, struck a chord within Sangwoo. It was unnervingly familiar, echoing the euphoria after a satisfying kill. This revelation, the recognition of a shared darkness, sent an unexpected thrill through Sangwoo, unsettling yet oddly invigorating.
"And I did it all for you," Yoon Bum's words cut through the room, his gaze intense, pulling Sangwoo back from his thoughts. "By eliminating them, I freed up the resources needed to find you, to set up... all of this for us." His voice, though soft, was charged with a conviction that underscored the meticulous planning behind his actions, revealing the depths he'd gone to for their twisted bond.
The revelation of Yoon Bum's actions hung in the air, casting a new light on the extreme lengths he had gone to. Sangwoo, caught between shock and a grudging respect, found himself reevaluating Yoon Bum. His strategic patience, akin to a spider carefully weaving its web around its unsuspecting prey, patient and hidden until it's too late, painted Yoon Bum in a different light. A sudden realization struck Sangwoo that he was also ensnared in Yoon Bum's intricate scheme, both humbling and unnerving.
Yoon Bum had evolved in Sangwoo's eyes, from a mere survivor of his tormented past to a meticulous planner. His calculated approach starkly contrasted Sangwoo's own impulsive methods of dealing with those who crossed him. Yet, despite their differing tactics, a dark thread of similarity wove between them—a mutual understanding of control and retribution that tied their fates together more tightly than Sangwoo cared to admit.
"Your turn," Yoon Bum's voice cut through the stillness, his tone both soft and insistent, a quiet storm brewing in the calm of his eyes. It was an invitation, laced with the weight of a challenge, for Sangwoo to step into the light of vulnerability they had momentarily shared.
Sangwoo tensed, his body's instinctive reaction betraying the turmoil swirling within. The thought of laying bare his own demons, especially in the wake of Yoon Bum's confessions, was unsettling. "I thought you already knew everything about me," he replied, his voice edged with a defiance that failed to mask the unease beneath. His attempt to divert the focus was a thinly veiled effort to shield his innermost vulnerabilities from view.
Yoon Bum's grip on Sangwoo's hand tightened, a silent assertion of the seriousness of his request. "This isn't about our past lives," he pressed on, his voice maintaining its gentle firmness, a contrast to the tension in Sangwoo's posture. "We have to do things right this time. You only gave me glimpses and fragmented truths of your past. But by the end, I knew enough to understand that so much linked back to your mother." His words, carefully chosen, aimed to pierce the walls Sangwoo had erected around his darkest memories. "Every word, every act, always had something to do with her."
A wave of irritation washed over Sangwoo, heating his skin beneath the bitter touch of the chains. He masked his growing anger with a smirk, leaning back as if Yoon Bum's words were of little consequence. "Oh, my mother and I had the perfect relationship. She was the model of a doting parent," Sangwoo scoffed, the sarcasm thick in his voice. Yet, the mention of his mother stirred a restlessness in him, a desire to push back against Yoon Bum's encroaching presence.
Yoon Bum's gaze never wavered, his eyes a steady force that seemed to see right through Sangwoo. "I know you're holding back," he spoke with a quiet intensity, "And I know because... because I've seen parts of you that you've never shown anyone else." His voice, though soft, carried an undeniable weight, pressing against the walls Sangwoo had meticulously built around his darkest truths.
Sangwoo's veneer of indifference cracked further, his irritation flaring at Yoon Bum's persistence. Pulling away under the guise of needing to stretch, he masked his discomfort with a scoff. "You're more delusional than I thought."
Yoon Bum's response was calm, unfazed by Sangwoo's mocking tone. "You can dismiss it all you want, but deep down, you know I'm right. About your father, your mother... what really happened in that basement with her?" His voice dipped, touching on subjects Sangwoo rarely dared to confront, even within the confines of his own mind.
The mention of the basement was the spark that ignited Sangwoo's barely contained frustration. With a sudden, impulsive movement, he lunged towards Yoon Bum, a desperate attempt to silence the truths being unearthed. Yoon Bum, however, anticipated the reaction, swiftly crawling out of reach with a grace born of necessity, his actions a clear sign he had expected Sangwoo's violent rebuttal.
Left sprawling on the floor, Sangwoo was a vivid picture of thwarted aggression, the sound of his chain a mocking reminder of his restraint. His failed attempt at dominance left him simmering with a volatile mix of anger and vulnerability. Yoon Bum maintained a cautious distance, his expression a blend of caution and resolve, determined to pierce the armor Sangwoo so fiercely guarded.
Regaining his footing, Sangwoo could only pace within the confines of his chain, each step a manifestation of his caged fury and desperation.
To regain some semblance of control, Sangwoo redirected his venom towards Yoon Bum. "So, what about you? Too frail to fight your own battles? Needed the law to fight for you?" His barb was to demean Yoon Bum's account of his past, to minimize his struggles and the choices he made.
But Yoon Bum stayed calm, his steady gaze meeting Sangwoo's storm of emotions. "I made a careful decision," he whispered, his eyes holding Sangwoo's with an understanding that cut deep. "I picked a path that would set me up for the future. Going the violent route would've left me with nothing. Not all of us had a house to fall back on."
His soft-spoken words hung heavy in the air, a gentle dig at Sangwoo's own situation.
Sangwoo, annoyed by the reminder of his own circumstances, shot back, "Oh, the house you burned down? Should I be thanking you for that?"
Ignoring Sangwoo's sarcasm, Yoon Bum kept on, steering the conversation back to more uncomfortable waters. "And your dad?" he pushed, cutting through Sangwoo's attempts to dodge the question. "Did you have a hand in what happened to him, or was it all her?"
Sangwoo, surprised, quickly said, "That's none of your business." The tension between them spiked, filled with the unsaid things Sangwoo was desperate to keep hidden.
Yoon Bum, not backing down, softly insisted, "You won't find peace by running from these things, Sangwoo. You have to face them."
Sangwoo's mocking laughter did little to mask the inner turmoil triggered by Yoon Bum's words. Every mention of his past, his mother, seemed to pull apart the carefully constructed facade Sangwoo clung to. Yoon Bum's persistent nudging, though gentle, felt like a relentless challenge to face the darkness Sangwoo had long evaded.
"Peace? You think you can psychoanalyze me into healing?" Disdain dripped from every word, "You don't know a damn—" Sangwoo's voice broke off, a sudden tightness in his throat as the collar seemed to tighten around him. He swallowed hard, fighting the surge of emotions threatening to spill over. "—thing about me," he finished.
Pacing resumed, the sound of his chain echoing in the room, a constant reminder of his limited freedom. Sangwoo pondered, how did Yoon Bum come to know so much? His history wasn't common knowledge, yet Yoon Bum spoke with unsettling confidence. Was Reid the source of this information, feeding Yoon Bum details to use against him?
Yoon Bum watched Sangwoo with an intensity that felt invasive, his voice low but unyielding as he began to unravel the threads of Sangwoo's tightly wound past. "The other Sangwoo... he shared things with me, fragments of his childhood. But he was never consistent, always switching between affection and disdain, especially for his parents."
Sangwoo's movements through the room grew more agitated, the chain's clinks a soundtrack to his rising anger. Yet, he couldn't help but listen, a part of him trapped by the need to hear what Yoon Bum believed he knew.
"Wasn't your father abusive, similar to my uncle? You've mentioned it before... even replicated the dining scenario with me, making me eat the same small table," Yoon Bum noted, touching on a sensitive aspect of Sangwoo's past with a precision that felt almost intrusive.
Sangwoo stopped in his tracks, his posture tensing as Yoon Bum's words struck a nerve. "Where are you getting this?" he demanded, his discomfort palpable.
Undeterred, Yoon Bum continued, "And your mother... there was an obsession, wasn't there? It seemed like you were trying to see her in me."
"Enough," Sangwoo interjected sharply, the mention of his mother bringing a flood of conflicting emotions to the surface—a mix of pain and twisted affection that he was loath to examine too closely.
Yoon Bum's gaze softened, but his resolve did not waver. "Sangwoo, hiding from these truths won't erase them. Your father's death, the poison... tell me what happened?"
The accusation hit too close, and he sneered back at Yoon Bum. "I was the one that killed him. He was an eyesore, so I got rid of him," Sangwoo blurted out, a confession torn from the depths of his turmoil, but this was an easier confession to make.
Yoon Bum's approach became more insistent, driving Sangwoo metaphorically against the wall. "And your mother? You can't keep shouldering that blame alone."
The pressure of the chains against his neck became suffocating as Sangwoo lashed out in a burst of anger, the physical manifestation of his emotional suffocation. Yoon Bum, recognizing the danger, quickly retreated, the session coming to an abrupt and tense end.
"I might have gone too far," Yoon Bum admitted, his voice filled with regret. "Let's take a break, and we can revisit this when you feel ready."
After Yoon Bum left, Sangwoo was left to catch his breath, his stare lingering on the door through which Yoon Bum had disappeared. Alone again, he was consumed by a whirlwind of emotions.
The room fell into a heavy silence, leaving Sangwoo to grapple with the impact of their conversation. He was caught in a tug-of-war between his instinct to guard his secrets and the unsettling thought that Yoon Bum might be capable of breaking through his defenses.
The depth of what had been unearthed today, coupled with the mystery of how Yoon Bum could possess such detailed knowledge of his past, left Sangwoo questioning everything. The possibility of Reid playing a role in this information leak crossed his mind, adding another layer of complicated to his already chaotic thoughts.