Chapter Text
“The worst thing you can be is weak.”
Woojin couldn’t help but think of his father’s words as the iron grip around his neck tightened. He couldn’t breathe, and no amount of punching with his mangled hand changed anything. Kang Inbeom, that damn blood-thirsty monster, delivered blows after blows to his face. His nose might have broken, but he couldn’t distinguish the pain.
If he died like this, Gunwoo would be sad, and, worse, Mom would be taken. He couldn’t let that bastard Im Baekjeong get what he wanted. However, his throat was slowly getting crushed. As much as he wanted to protect their mother, he was physically powerless to do a thing. He couldn’t even beg for mercy.
Take me instead, he wanted to yell. Please, leave Mom alone!
Inbeom was going to kill him at this rate, and his death would be meaningless. It wasn’t as if he could trade his life for the safety of Gunwoo and their mother. He was going to die a weak failure just like his father predicted he would.
His vision blurred as his arms fell limp to his side. Inbeom had stopped trying to cave his face in—thank goodness—but the grip around his neck didn’t loosen at all. He wondered what the monstrous man was thinking. Their last encounter was years ago, and, back then, he had knocked him out with a powerful punch. Woojin remembered the exhilarating feeling of being the last one standing, of being unafraid to take on a few dozen thugs. He was strong once. Strong enough to be worthy of Gunwoo. Now, he was nothing more than an easy prey. He had failed the person he loved the most.
His eyelids felt heavy as blood covered his face. He was tired. So, so tired.
“Go to sleep,” someone said. Maybe it was Inbeom. He couldn’t really tell.
He hoped that Gunwoo would not be the one to find his body. The poor kid would blame himself forever. He should have kissed him for a little the last time they were together. He should have told him how much he meant.
Truthfully, if they had never met, he doubted he would have lived this long. Gunwoo was the only light in his bleak life, the only reason he found any joy. They had promised to live and die together, but it seemed he would have to break that promise.
I’m sorry, Gunwoo-ah. Please forgive me for being so weak.
— — —
Woojin groaned at his throbbing head. He felt as if a truck had just run him over and then reversed. Wait, not a truck. It was that bastard Inbeom. Fuck, did he manage to live after all?
As he tried to open his eyes, the fluorescent light above him blinded him. He wasn’t in the hallway of the hotel anymore, that was for sure. Maybe this was a hospital room or a morgue. No, wait. Woojin rubbed his eyes to get a better look—well, at least he tried to. It was then that he realized his arms were chained above his head. The decor around him was too expensive to belong to a hospital, and the sheets beneath him were definitely silk. Where the fuck was he? A weird circle of hell?
Before he could fully process his situation, a door creaked open. He hissed as he turned his head to the side. Fuck, it hurt so bad.
The footsteps drew closer to his bedside. “You’re awake.”
Woojin widened his eyes. Im Baekjeong.
“So, you’re the boyfriend,” the man remarked. Then, he chuckled dryly. “I should’ve known. No wonder you two are always together.”
Woojin opened his mouth to make a snarky comment, but no words came out. Dammit. Inbeom had damaged his vocal cords.
“Sorry, I forgot you couldn’t speak.” Baekjeong smirked. “You seem shocked.”
Well, yeah, I woke up chained to a bed in the middle of God-knows-where. He wished he could sign out some insults, but his hands were tied (literally).
“Y’know, I’m just as shocked as you are. I told that big dumb idiot to come back with Gunwoo’s mother, and he brought you instead. Was about to kill him right there on the spot, but then he told me you were more to that kid than a coach. Hah. Who woulda figured?”
That means Mom is safe?
“I guess that makes sense.” The man stood over him with a look of contempt. “I always thought you were too weak to be his coach. Turns out, you’re just his whore.”
What? Woojin shot the man a glare. If he wasn’t chained right now, he would have socked that guy in the face.
“Don’t give me that look. It’s annoying. It’s like you think that without the chains you could hurt me.” Baekjeong hovered closer to him before grabbing his jaw tight. “You can’t. You’re just someone’s slut. Don’t you ever even think you could take me on.”
Go to hell! He spat at the man’s face.
“Hah.” Baekjeong’s expression twisted as he wiped away the saliva. Then, he struck him. Hard.
Woojin nearly blacked out from the impact as his head jerked to the side.
“Try that shit again, and I’ll sew your mouth closed.”
His ears rang. The sharp stinging in his cheeks reminded him that Baekjeong was no low-level thug. This guy was the real deal. A real fighter.
“Behave,” the man stated as he walked toward the door. “We have better uses for that mouth.”
What? Woojin shook his head. He was too tired to dissect the implications behind those words. Besides, he knew when people bullshitted. This was nothing more than a dumb threat to keep him in line.
“I always thought you were too weak to be his coach.”
No, he couldn’t let that bastard get in his head. Who did he think he was? Hong Woojin would never stand back and let himself be rescued. No, not again. He couldn’t put Gunwoo in danger again. He would rather die than do that.
He had to find a way to escape. He absolutely had to.
There was no way in hell he would let himself become a bargaining chip.
Never.
— — —
The minutes felt like hours, and hours like days. Woojin sighed as he scanned the room for the hundredth time. There was nothing he could use to escape. No nearby lamps or loose screws or bobby pins or cables. Whoever cleaned out this space had been meticulous. It was hard to determine how much time had passed since he woke up since there were no windows. He had deduced he was probably on a boat by the occasional bobbing of the floor, but that was the extent of his knowledge.
Besides Baekjeong, none of the goons had visited him, not even Inbeom. He hadn’t been given food or water, and they hadn’t even checked if he needed to piss. Did they expect him to do his business on the bed? What a bunch of fucked up bastards.
His right hand ached with pain. He was pretty sure the stitches had reopened. Fresh bruises littered his body from head to toe, and, even if he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror, he knew red marks decorated his neck. His left ankle was swollen. Maybe he had twisted it during the fight with Inbeom. He hated how useless he had become. Even though his legs were unbound, he couldn’t do anything but thrash in the air.
He was at the mercy of these bastards.
“Fuck!” Baekjeong’s voice rang from outside. Something had made the man angry again. Even given his daily outbursts, this shout in particular sounded pretty bad.
Woojin ignored the ruckus thinking it had nothing to do with him, but, then, the door slammed open. Before he could react, the man stomped into his room and grabbed him by the hair. When their eyes met, his heart sank. Was he even staring at a human? How could someone look so…evil?
“Looks like you’re an expensive whore,” Baekjeong uttered, low and guttural.
“Excuse me?” His voice had returned but not fully. It hurt to speak in full sentences.
“They think you’re worth 100 billion won? Don’t fucking make me laugh!”
Who is ‘they’?
The man released him, letting his head hit the pillows like a ragdoll. “Gunwoo and his friends want you back, but only if each side bets 100 billion won.”
What?
“I told them I’d kill you. A slut like you isn’t even worth the air in this room.”
Woojin gritted his teeth. “Okay, kill me then.”
He half-expected the man to pull out a knife and stab him to death there and then, but nothing happened. Baekjeong took a look at him, then something outside, and then back at him. It was strange and unsettling. He almost preferred the knife than whatever-the-fuck this was.
“Y’know,” Baekjeong mumbled, smirking this time, “damaged goods aren’t worth as much.”
What the hell are you talking about? he wanted to ask.
“That bitch will regret crossing me.” The man smiled to himself before leaving.
From outside, Woojin heard muffled voices. They were plotting something again. A part of him wished Baekjeong had killed him. Then, he wouldn’t be a burden to Gunwoo or the others. If he were taken out of the equation, the boy wouldn’t have to fight this lunatic. Fuck. He was a terrible hyung. He never wanted to be Gunwoo’s weakness, but here he was…a complete deadweight.
The door creaked open once more, but this time, Inbeom accompanied the other man. Were they here to kill him? Both of them? No, there was no way. He was already wounded and chained to a bed. Killing him was a one-man job.
“What do you want?” Woojin grumbled.
Inbeom looked at the other man, who gave him a subtle nod. Then, he climbed onto the bed.
Woojin tried to kick the monstrous bastard away, but his leg was instantly caught and slammed back down. He groaned. Something had torn. Fuck, I’m gonna die, he thought. Just seconds ago, he wanted this. What changed? Should he just lay still and let the bastard kill him?
Inbeom crawled between his legs.
He’s going to choke me to death.
A strange calm settled over him. Fine, just do it. Killing me will free Gunwoo. His muscles untensed as he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pressure around his neck.
Next to him, Baekjeong scoffed. “You’re more of a slut than I thought.”
What?
Suddenly, he felt a tug at his pants. He opened his eyes in shock before staring up at the man between his legs. “Wh-what are you doing?” he asked, voice trembling.
Inbeom simply smiled, eyes crazed. “I’m gonna fuck you.”
“What?” Woojin froze. His heart thundered in his chest as nausea crept up his throat. “Y-You’re kidding.”
The man ignored him before pulling his briefs to his ankles.
No, no, no! Do something, Woojin! He began to thrash around, kicking wildly as he tried to retreat up the bed. However, the larger man didn’t even flinch at his efforts. In a split second, his legs were grabbed and hoisted over the bastard’s shoulders.
He quickly looked to Baekjeong in panic. He thought about begging. Sorry, I was wrong. Please, I’ll shut up. Just kill me instead. But Hong Woojin didn’t beg. Wouldn’t that be admitting he was weak, just like his father had always claimed?
Baekjeong stared at him in mild amusement before bringing out a phone to record. “Say hi to your boyfriend.”
No. No. This couldn’t be happening. Woojin turned his face away. He couldn’t let Gunwoo see him like this. “Please,” he murmured, “don’t do this.” However, his words fell on deaf ears.
Inbeom removed his own pants, freeing his monstrous erection.
Woojin found himself hyperventilating. There was no way that thing would fit inside him. Wouldn’t it just kill him? But why did he have to die like this? Gunwoo would hate him forever if he saw this clip. How could he let himself be violated on camera for his boyfriend to see?
Gunwoo-ah, save me.
Gunwoo-ah, don’t watch.
Gunwoo-ah, don’t hate me.
A blinding pain shot up his spine. Inbeom had thrusted inside with no preparation or lubricant—just plain force. An ear-splitting scream ripped from his throat. It hurt. It hurt so bad.
Weak, his father’s voice whispered in his head. Pathetic. And, for the first time in years, he found himself agreeing. He cried like a child as the larger man used him. He couldn’t fight anymore.
Baekjeong was right. He was a whore. His body had permitted another man’s cock. He was being fucked into the sheets by someone other than Gunwoo.
Gunwoo-ah, hyung is sorry.
The boy was going to hate him. Even if he survived, he’d be discarded like the whore he was.
Inbeom finished inside of him, grinning wickedly from ear to ear. This must have been payback for putting him in prison.
Woojin stared blankly at the ceiling as blood and semen pooled beneath him.
“Anything you wanna say?” Baekjeong asked, panning the phone to his face.
He stayed still.
“What? Nothing to say to your boyfriend?”
He blinked. Then, he used his remaining strength to face the phone. “I’m sorry, Gunwoo-ah.” His voice trembled as tears streamed down his face. At that, he looked away.
Baekjeong laughed. “Maybe you’re worth more than I thought.”
Woojin closed his eyes. No matter how hard he trained, he would always be weak.
His father had always been right about him after all.