Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jun stood in front of the school gates — or what everyone else called the "portal." That’s what the students nicknamed it. A gateway to a world bursting with noise, chaos, and the sharp scent of teen spirit. Students ran around like molecules in a heated lab, voices overlapping like a messy symphony. There was laughter, shouts, calls of names, slams of lockers, screeches of sneakers.
Jun hated it. Not because he couldn’t handle the energy — he could, barely. It was because of him.
Sugang.
Jun never said his name out loud anymore. He barely said it in his head. As if it was cursed. As if summoning it would make him appear.
But Jun had to walk through that gate, into that building, through that crowd. He had to. That was the only way to breathe — at least pretend to. Just a few more steps and—
A hand landed on his shoulder.
His whole body locked. The breath caught in his throat like a stone. He didn’t need to turn around. He didn’t need confirmation. The weight of that hand was enough. Familiar. Cold. Possessive.
Then came the voice, warm and honey-coated — deceptive.

"Did you miss me, babe?"

Jun's spine stiffened. A chill traced its way up his back like the slow crawl of ice water. But he smiled. Or something close to a smile. Something that stretched his lips but never touched his eyes. He turned, slow, careful — like prey trying not to startle a predator.
Sugang tilted his head, his eyes wide and sparkling. A grin spread across his face — all teeth and fake affection. His hand slid around Jun's shoulder, pulling him closer like they were just another couple, like everything was fine.
"Let’s go. You’re not gonna stand here all day, are you?" Sugang chuckled, flashing that gummy smile that was as beautiful as scary .
He looked into Sugang’s eyes and saw it
— manic.
Not just wild.
Unhinged.
Like something behind those eyes was screaming but smiling at the same time.
Jun must’ve looked too long. His smile must’ve faded, because Sugang’s grin twitched, faltered just slightly — and that was enough. Jun forced another smile, wider this time, pushing Sugang’s hand off his shoulder as gently as he could without looking like he was trying.
"Good morning to you," he said lightly, like nothing was wrong, like his pulse wasn’t thudding in his ears.
Before Sugang could respond, the bell rang.
Salvation.
Jun took it as a sign from god, without waiting, he bolted forward, walking fast into the building — maybe too fast — as if people might question why he was in such a hurry. But he didn’t care. All he could think about was getting away from him.
From Sugang.
From that thing
His shoes tapping quickly against the ground.
He didn’t look back.
He didn’t want to see Sugang’s expression — the confusion, or worse, the amusement. The thrill he got from watching Jun squirm behind his polite mask.
He also didn't want to be seen with that murder , not that he killed someone but he definitely pushed some to their end

☆☆☆

Jun never doubted the effect he had on people.
Pretty, poised, and painfully aware — he was the kind of boy teachers adored and students admired. Ever since he was a child, he’d watched girls blush around him, boys fight over who got to sit beside him, adults beam as they praised his intelligence, his discipline, his smile. He was always first in class, always the model student, always in control.
And now, walking through the corridor in his crisp uniform, posture straight and expression soft, nothing had changed. Eyes followed him. Students greeted him one by one like he was royalty. He nodded in return, gentle and composed, the smile never quite reaching his eyes.
Then — a stumble.
A girl had turned the corner too quickly and collided with him.
“Oppa! I’m so sorry — I didn’t see you!” she gasped, bowing quickly.
Jun offered her a kind smile and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. Really.”
He barely got the words out before her gaze shifted over his shoulder. Her expression changed in an instant — wide-eyed, pale as paper.
And then she ran.
Jun blinked, confused. Around him, faces shifted like dominos falling — students turning ghost-white, whispering, retreating. Even the teachers froze mid-step. Their fear hit the air like static.
Jun already knew what he’d see before he turned.
But he turned anyway.
Sugang walked down the corridor like a blade through silk — unbothered, quiet, terrifying in his ease. Behind him trailed the ones who wore his scent like armor.
Seo Jinhwan, hands tucked into his pockets, eyes sharp as scalpels.
Kang Minseok, chewing gum, cracking his knuckles like it was a warning.
Yoon Haerin, beautiful and smug, phone in hand and smile glued on like a weapon.
Lee Hyunwoo, silent, heavy, a walking wall of muscle and menace.
Park Soyeon, trailing behind like a ghost, expression unreadable.
Jun knew all of their names.
Sugang made sure of that.
He had dragged Jun into enough “private meetings” for the faces to burn into memory. And really, everyone knew who they were — the school’s elite. Sons and daughters of actors, politicians, CEOs. Money, power, and immunity wrapped in uniforms and arrogance.
And at the center of it all: Sugang.
Their king.
They followed him like dogs. Obedient. Hungry. Loyal.
The students obeyed him.
The teachers obeyed him.
The entire school bowed without needing to be told.
Jun stood frozen, watching the ripple of fear split the hallway in two, clearing Sugang’s path like a red carpet rolled out in silence.
And then a sound broke the stillness — a scream.
A sharp, aching yell from somewhere around the corner.
Jun didn’t flinch. He knew who it was. He knew who caused it.
And still — he kept walking.
He wished he could stop them. Say something. Do something.
But like everyone else, he was just a victim.
And a witness.
The classroom felt like a sanctuary in comparison — not safety, but a moment of quiet. The absence of Sugang’s presence made Jun feel like he could finally exhale, just a little.
He slipped into his seat, eyes low, breath shallow. A few students nodded his way, but no one spoke.
The door opened.
A man in his late forties stepped in — Professor Han, the Literature teacher. Old-fashioned, stiff, rarely smiled. Jun didn’t dislike him, but he didn’t trust him either.
Jun stood, his voice calm, practiced.
“Stand,” he said clearly, cutting through the low hum of chatter.
Chairs shifted and scraped behind him as the class rose without a second thought. Even the ones slouched in the back followed the order like it was instinct.
“Bow.”
Heads dipped in near-perfect sync, a wave of forced respect passing through the room.
Professor Han gave a silent nod and set his materials down on the desk with a dull thud. His eyes flicked briefly to Jun — unreadable — before he turned to the board.
Jun sat down.
His chair made no sound. His hand reached for the pen already placed beside his notebook, uncapped and perfectly aligned.
From the front of the class, Professor Han began taking attendance in a flat voice.
And still, Jun couldn’t shake the weight sitting on his chest. His bones buzzed with a feeling he couldn’t name — something crawling under his skin.
Today wasn’t just another day.
Something was going to happen.
And he had a bad feeling about it.

☆☆☆

Lunchtime wasn’t something Jun looked forward to.
Leaving class meant navigating the building like a minefield. It meant possibly running into Sugang.
Sugang, who used to barge into classrooms just to pull someone out by the collar. It never mattered if they were a girl or a boy. The rumors said he beat people up. Others whispered worse—things Jun didn’t want to think about.
But Jun was safe. Or at least, safer than most. The day they started dating, Sugang laid down a single rule: “Your class. Your friends. Off limits.” And, disturbingly, he’d kept his word. Jun’s presence was a kind of shield—one that came with its own heavy price.
Still, Sugang had other rules too. Unspoken ones. Like: Don’t get hit on. Don’t smile too much. Don’t make anyone think you’re available.
A hard ask for someone like Jun.
“Twin!” Yeongi’s voice snapped him out of it. His best friend since childhood stood by his desk, practically bouncing. “Come on, cafeteria’s calling. I’m starving.”
“I’m not really hungry.”
Her grin widened. “Don’t lie to me when they’ve got spicy tofu stew and stir-fried spinach today.”
Jun’s head lifted. “Spicy tofu stew?”
“Exactly,” she said, grabbing his wrist. “Let’s go before the gluttons clear it out.”
They slipped out into the hallway, and soon enough they were swept into the quiet stampede of students heading for the cafeteria. Jun hadn’t noticed it, but from somewhere behind them, Sugang was watching.
By the time they got their trays and joined the line, the cafeteria was full. Voices echoed off tile walls, chairs scraped the floors, and the scent of food clung to everything. Familiar, loud, and strangely comforting.
Then a voice called out, “Jun! Yeongi!”
Three boys approached—Baku, Gotak, and Juntae. Baku led with his usual reckless grin, Juntae offered a quiet nod, and Gotak just raised his brows like he was too cool to care.
Baku leaned an elbow on the counter beside Yeongi. “Miss me?”
She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams.”
Jun smiled faintly, staying quiet, trying not to draw attention. But Baku turned toward him. “Hey there, cutie.”
Yeongi snorted. “Stop flirting. You’re gonna give him the wrong idea.”
Jun kept his smile. Baku’s brand of teasing was harmless, in theory—loud and clueless, nothing serious. But even harmless words had weight.
“Besides,” Yeongi continued, her voice sharp with amusement, “he’s probably dating someone.”
Jun looked up too quickly. “I’m not—”
“Oh come on,” said Baku. “You’ve got that look, man.”
Gotak chimed in, “Look at him—way too composed. That’s relationship behavior.”
“And suddenly it’s an interrogation,” Jun muttered.
“Hey,” Juntae added, tone softer, “we’d support you either way. If it’s a guy, it’s a guy.”
Jun went still. His heart was pounding now—not because of the teasing, but because his mind had already gone somewhere else.
Sugang. What if—
“I’m not dating anyone,” Jun said, firmer than intended.
But Yeongi gave him a look. “Jun.”
“I’m not,” he repeated. “Can we not do this here?”
The cafeteria had gone a little too quiet.
Jun felt it before he heard the shift in the atmosphere. Whispers stilled. Heads turned.
He turned, and there he was.
Sugang.
He stood just a few feet behind Jun, expression unreadable, gaze cutting through the noise like a blade. The same boy who swore he’d never eat this “prison food” was now standing in the middle of the cafeteria, watching.
Watching him.
He brushed past Jun, roughly shouldering him aside, and walked to the front of the line like he owned the place. He snatched a tray out of a student’s hand, tossed it toward the lunch lady, and motioned impatiently, as if she should already know what he wanted.
Everyone watched in silence.
Yeongi gripped Jun’s sleeve, her voice low and urgent. “We should go.”
They left, the rest of the group trailing behind. No one said anything. Even Gotak, usually too proud to show fear, glanced back once, visibly uneasy.
Jun didn’t speak for the rest of lunch. His food was untouched.
The look on Sugang’s face—he couldn’t shake it. Something dangerous brewed behind those eyes. Something Jun had seen before, and hoped never to see again.
When the bell rang, Jun moved fast, packed faster, and barely waited for his friends before heading out.
Then his phone buzzed in his pocket. Just one message.

Chapter Text

Jun stood before the towering mansion once again—an imposing monument of cold grandeur that seemed to consume the very air around it. It was no longer just a building to him. It was a prison carved from marble and shadow, a silent beast waiting to swallow him whole. The memory of that first rainy afternoon clung to him still: the brittle chill biting at his skin, the relentless drumming of water on stone, and Sugang’s commanding presence dragging him inside as if Jun was nothing more than a stray to be claimed. That day had shattered something fragile within him. The mansion’s vast silence was a sharp contrast to the cacophony of his mind, yet here, the walls held secrets darker than any whispered rumor. The house breathed slowly—inhale, exhale—a living tomb for truths too dangerous to speak.
His fingers curled tightly around the iron gate’s damp bars. The chill seeped into his bones, as if the mansion itself were reaching inside him, reminding him of his place. As the gate groaned open, the marble path ahead gleamed like a phantom river, its pale stones floating atop still, black water—a mockery of purity. Raindrops clung to the edges, glittering faintly in the waning light, each footstep echoing like a heartbeat counting down to inevitable doom.
Jun barely noticed his breath—a short, clipped rhythm racing beneath his ribs. The wind whispered around him, carrying the faint but unmistakable scent of lavender and ash, Sugang’s signature scent. It was a fragrance Jun both loathed and longed for—a poison he inhaled unwillingly. Halfway across the path, the scent froze him in place, cold and suffocating.
A sharp beep shattered the silence—a hidden intercom crackling to life somewhere in the hedge.
"Go in."
The single word was a command, an order given with absolute authority. Jun flinched, but moved. Step by measured step, he crossed the threshold where innocence died.
The massive front doors loomed, a black monolith against the fading light. His hand trembled as he lifted it to knock, only for the door to swing open before contact—a silent invitation or a trap, he could no longer tell. Minseok appeared in the doorway, tall and relaxed as ever, a predator’s smile twisting his lips.
“Look who crawled back,” he said with false cheer, voice dripping with something more sinister than amusement.
From deeper within the house, a voice floated out—soft, musical, but laced with menace. Haerin emerged, her eyes sparkling with cruel delight, her smile sharp enough to cut glass. She moved with the grace of a serpent, weaving around Jun and ensnaring him in an embrace too tight to be affectionate.
“How are you, Junjun?” she cooed, voice honeyed but heavy with mockery.
Before Jun could retreat, her breath tickled his ear, warm and threatening.
“You’re fucked.”
Her fingers gripped his shoulders, holding him like a fragile puppet. She stepped back, locking eyes with him—a silent promise of torment to come.
“Your boyfriend’s waiting.”
Jun’s throat constricted. The word echoed ominously in his mind. Sugang. Waiting. Angry. And the entire legion was assembled.
Minseok pushed the door wider, an unspoken command to proceed. “Go on. He’s expecting you.”
Reluctantly, Jun crossed the threshold. The house enveloped him—a thick, heavy warmth that did nothing to thaw the frost creeping through his veins. His eyes adjusted to dim lighting that cast long, shifting shadows. The space was vast, impossibly large: on one side, Sohyun and Hyunwoo, faces impassive as they clashed on the game console, a childish facade masking something far darker. Jinhwan lounged nearby, eyes flickering briefly toward Jun with a quiet warning.
None of them appeared surprised. They were waiting. They had always been waiting.
The mansion itself seemed alive—its walls attentive, holding their breath, watching.
Jun’s gaze drifted to the grand staircase: black marble steps curving upwards, silver rails glinting faintly in the muted light filtering through a skylight. No need to look twice. Sugang’s presence was a weight, an invisible force that pressed down with crushing inevitability.
Behind him, the murmurs ceased. The room stilled. Minseok and Haerin closed the door with a dull, final thud, sealing Jun in. The boys in the game room froze, their attention snapping away from screens to the apex of the stairs.
And there he was.
Sugang, poised like a dark king above them all—arms crossed, expression unreadable, wrapped in black as if mourning or preparing for war. There was a timelessness to his stillness, an ancient calm that hinted at storms to come.
His smirk was slow, deliberate.
“Since everyone’s here,” his voice cut through the silence like ice sliding over stone, “let’s start the games.”
Jun’s heart plummeted, a stone sinking in a well of despair. Around him, the others barely blinked, their acceptance chilling.
“What games?” Jun’s voice was fragile, barely a whisper.
Sugang descended one step at a time, eyes never leaving Jun’s. His smirk stretched wider, cruel and merciless.
“You’ll see.”
Fear clawed at Jun’s throat, wild and raw, threatening to tear free. His legs trembled, refusing to carry him forward.
Sugang reached him, close enough to touch, and something primal flashed in his eyes—rage, possession, delight, all intertwined. Then, a sharp flick of his wrist.
Jun turned just in time to hear a sickening thud.
Pain exploded at the back of his head—hot, burning, relentless. His knees buckled, vision swirling into chaos.
Noise became muffled, distant.
Faces blurred into shadow.
And then—darkness swallowed him whole.
When consciousness returned, agony was his first greeting. Limbs heavy and unresponsive, his body a cage of torment. His wrists and ankles bound with rough rope, tight enough to draw blood. Tape sealed his mouth—silencing any scream.
Before him, Sugang’s gang transformed the room into a twisted playground. They arranged a crude game of “Tolf” — tennis ball golf — with Jun as the unwilling target. Green balls piled like ammunition beside them, their laughter unnervingly light, childish even, as if cruelty were a game.
Haerin’s clapping broke the silence.
“He’s awake! Finally.” Her giggle was a knife’s edge. “Game’s on!”
Minseok grinned, smirking with dark pride. “Trademark pending.”
Haerin yelled, “Staring JUNNNIE!”
Jun’s eyes widened in horror. He was the hole. The target. Helpless and exposed.
He struggled, futile and desperate. The tape muffled his screams as the balls began their assault—sharp impacts against his thighs, ribs, sides. Breath seized, lungs gasping for air. His face contorted in pain as laughter erupted around him, merciless and cruel.
“Bullseye!” Hyunwoo crowed after a ball struck Jun’s cheek. “You should’ve seen his face. Damn, I wish I’d recorded that.”
The torture continued—some hits soft, others brutal. It was not a game. It was punishment, ritualistic and relentless.
Sugang remained still—an immovable king surveying his domain. His face was an unreadable mask, and that was worse than rage. It meant the worst was yet to come.
Only when Jun’s bruised body slumped, exhausted and broken, did Sugang rise. The room’s chatter died instantly, replaced by suffocating silence.
His approach was slow, measured. The echo of his footsteps marked a death knell.
He crouched beside Jun, eyes searching the wreckage before him.
“You had lunch in the cafeteria today,” Sugang said softly, voice low and deceptively tender. “What did you say again?”
Jun tried to answer, but the tape muffled his words. Sugang tugged it off in one swift motion.
“I—I was—I wasn’t—” Jun stammered, lips quivering. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Excuses,” Sugang whispered, his smile a venomous curve that never reached his eyes. “I hate those.”
Without warning, the golf club cracked into Jun’s ribs—sharp, sickening.
Jun screamed.
“Try again.”
“I swear, I didn’t see—”
Another blow landed on his thigh.
“Wrong answer.”
The pattern repeated—question, hesitation, punishment.
Jun’s screams faded to sobs, then to silent whimpers.
Eventually, his body gave out. Unconsciousness claimed him.
The room fell silent.
Sugang stood over him, chest rising and falling, jaw clenched tight.
“Get the first-aid kit. Fix him,” he ordered, voice cold as winter.
When Jun awoke, pain was a constant companion. His head throbbed mercilessly, every bruise a burning testament to his torment. Yet warmth surrounded him—soft sheets, a bed too large and too foreign. The scent of expensive soap lingered in the air.
Then, the distant murmur of running water.
His heart plummeted.
The bathroom door creaked open. Sugang emerged, towel low on his hips, wet hair clinging to sharp angles of his face. He looked sculpted from cold stone—beautiful, untouchable, a god of ice.
Jun’s defenses broke. Tears spilled unbidden.
“I’m sorry,” he choked, voice ragged. “I’m so, so sorry…”
Sugang moved without haste, settling beside him on the bed. His presence was calm but oppressive.
No rage. No punishment. Only chilling control.
He took Jun’s bruised hand and kissed the battered knuckles.
“You hurt me, Jun,” he murmured. “Do you know what it feels like to be denied by the only person who should’ve known better?”
Jun shook his head, terror etched in his eyes.
“I’m not jealous,” Sugang said softly. “I don’t care who looks at you. They can stare all they want. But when you—” his fingers traced Jun’s chest lightly — “—pretend I’m nothing? When you tell people I’m not your boyfriend?”
Jun’s mouth opened, but no words came. Only a shaky breath.
Sugang’s smile softened, sweet but empty.
“That breaks something in me, Junie.”
He squeezed Jun’s hand.
“But I forgive you. Because I love you. And I know you’ll do better next time.”
Jun sobbed harder, lost in a tide of relief and dread.
Sugang leaned in, brushing a cold kiss against Jun’s temple.
“Good boy.”
As Sugang dressed, his movements were fluid, calculated—a predatory grace cloaked in elegance. Every gesture sharpened his cruel beauty: the slight part of his shirt revealing a sculpted collarbone, the way fitted pants clung to powerful limbs. The faint mole beneath his eye was the only imperfection on a face carved for dominion.
He glanced at Jun, seated on the bed’s edge, battered and broken, eyes vacant and distant.
Without a word, Sugang crossed the room and lowered himself beside him. The mattress groaned beneath the weight of menace and power.
“I love you, Jun,” he whispered, voice deceptively gentle. “I love you crazy. Let’s never do this again. No more lies. When you heal, you’ll go back to school and tell everyone you have a boyfriend. You don’t have to say my name—just say you have one.”
Jun’s heart fluttered with an impossible mixture of relief and fear. The strange love they shared was a noose tightening around him—pain and devotion intertwined. He didn’t want Sugang’s love to fade, even as it cost him everything.
Slowly, Jun turned toward the mirror across the room. His reflection was a shattered portrait: swollen, bloodied, pale—the imprint of violence etched into his skin.

His mind drifted back to the night everything began.

☆☆☆
The night was bitter and cold, the city streets deserted under flickering streetlamps. Jun had just left cram school, each breath a visible puff of frost in the biting air. The crunch of his footsteps was the only sound until a dull thud shattered the silence.
Ahead, sprawled on cracked concrete, lay a woman—blood pooling beneath her broken limbs, bones cruelly dislocated.
Jun’s breath caught in his throat.
It was his math teacher—the one who had anchored him in darkness, believed in him when no one else would.
His knees buckled as he sank beside her, tears carving silent rivers down his face.
His eyes darted upward, catching six dark silhouettes on the rooftop above—the bullies who haunted every corridor, every nightmare.
They had seen him.
Panic surged through the night air.
“Shit! He saw us!”
Jun turned and fled, lungs burning, feet pounding against frozen pavement.
But heavy footsteps closed behind him.
Minseok, fierce and unstoppable, tackled Jun by the hair and dragged him back.
The group huddled in grim silence.
“The teacher threw herself,” one hissed. “We can’t have murder on our hands.”
Suddenly, a sleek black car arrived—Sugang’s driver.
Jun was forced inside.
Threats poured like venom.
“Say a word, you’re finished.”
“We’ll bury you.”
Sugang sat silently, eyes cold and unreadable.
The car rumbled through dark streets.
At the mansion, Sugang opened the door, guiding Jun inside with unsettling calm.
Inside, the air reeked of power and danger—expensive liquor mingled with something darker.
Sugang’s voice slid like silk and ice.
“Do you understand what we have here? What I have?”
Jun nodded, throat dry.
“We have money. Connections. Influence. We can make anyone believe anything.”
His breath tickled Jun’s cheek as fingers curled lightly around his wrist.
“If I say you’re responsible…” Sugang whispered. “They’ll believe me. They’ll say you pushed her. And you’ll pay the price.”
Jun shook his head, voice broken.
“I won’t say anything. Please, just let me go.”
Sugang’s smile widened—too sharp, too unnatural—claws stretching across flesh.
A grin that promised pain, cruelty, and madness.
“The bond we share,” Sugang whispered, “is forged in this silence.”

“The greatest threat to justice is not outright violence but the silent domination of wealth, where the rich wield their power to bend truth and law alike, leaving the poor trapped in a system designed to break them without ever revealing its cruelty.”
— Cornel West