Chapter Text
Gihun's world has shrunken so fast. Like grapes drying in the heat of the sun.
The smell of vomit is now seared into their brain, different faces turning blue, fingers digging into necks, one guest glares at them with maniacal eyes spots of purple on white skin, one guest using his dinner plate as a makeshift bed. They toast them one by one. Their guests of dishonor. Taking small sips of water, cool and soothing down their throat. Ignoring the glass bottle of prized champagne nearby one of the guests. A warning alarm sounds in their skull.
The omega's feeling of disgust reaches meteoric heights.
A feeling of relief settles into them, the war is over. The masquerade will end. They move to find the remote. He never allows them to watch TV.
A TV clicks on, a news channel is selected. Talks about the sunny weather. The stock market is soaring in value. They fidget, sip, and watch.
Then they settled for the wait. The long wait.
A faint smile grew on their face. Childish glee fills their chest, a giggle falls out. It sounds happy. Clear. Simple.
A ping. They picked up a phone. Sees a text from her. The smell is seeping out of cracks, permeating the air with a noxious perfume. Despite all that bleach and ammonia. They sigh, a cold breath escapes their lips. They read it, quietly and text back: Never forget how much I love you. The phone is put down, it will never be picked up again. The wait begins again. Like spring after a long, terrible cold winter. Year after year.
The smile freezes, like dusk falling onto day. He would not like it.
Gihun reminds themself, though. They are far away from that house. He is never coming back. Soon, they will be gone. This farce can finally end. Just two more weeks. More time to bake. Their head grows fuzzy. They hate when that happens. Soon the world will be a blurry, disorienting place.
Gihun starts to pace in the small cell. Back and forth. They watch the shadows roam and bend. Once they used to play with shadows, hide in them, and chat with them. A friend, now a stranger. A lump forms in their throats. They remember, memories in pieces, needing to be assembled. No point A to point B path. Only point A and point B. No connection.
Between multiple points of each memory.
Their fingers move on impulse, they touch a shadow but only collects empty air. The shadows recoil from them like an angry cat. A clear dismissal. Old, worn grief settles on their shoulders.
Gihun massages their palms. Smooth, no calluses. The hands of a housewife.
The hand movements form shadows on the wall, a butterfly soaring in the cell. A reminder of life outside this limited, safe place.
Freedom is not smooth sailing, so far Gihun finds. A sense of creeping movement around them, as the hands of fate and the court system hold and wrung them tightly.
They are free from him. Traded a life in the outside world for a prison cell. A solitary confinement one.
Where contact is like the sun. Rare and nonexistent. Only a brief shine through a food chute.
Silence is golden. Expected. Wanted. Loudness goes unanswered like metal rusting in the bright light of day. Screams taper off. A wait for the pit begins. Swinging like a pendulum, where it could form under at any time. Gihun cannot fly.
They will be a broken, bleeding mess at the bottom. Buried in the dark abyss. Forgotten. An outlier of the system put to death.
As nameless guards, suppressant patches on their pale white necks are rotated frequently. No permanent connections allowed here.
The only time Gihun sees the sun and knows loudness is when they meet with their lawyer.
Once a month. Gihun speaks through a hoarse voice. Unused, raspy. They assure their lawyer, the prison is taking good care of them. Solitary confinement is never used on them. Their cellmates are named Chi Tali and Han Myi. Nice woman, sometimes hurtful. No negative treatment from them.
Gihun does not bring up what they really are.
The lawyer brings news of them. Three separate guardians, two that Gihun begged and pleaded. The third was appointed by the court. Gihun was thankful that neither Junho nor his mom ever gained custody of them.
One saying that her and the youngest would like to visit with them. Please agree to it. Don't be so heartless to deny them a chat with their only remaining parent Jungbae.
The lawyer looks deflated when Gihun shakes their head. Shock travels on his face. Gihun could feel the wheels turning in his alpha hind brain, an omega refusing to see their pups. A desecration of nature and rights. Another crime added to their long rap sheet.
Gihun's eyes are on the dirty, rough green cafeteria table and chair. That they pretend that they eat and sit at. Treating it as familiar and new. Remembered the last meeting when the lawyer told Gihun, he was planning on filing an insanity defense. Shock and horror raged through them. Another alpha making decisions for them. Saying they don't understand their own mind. Agency being stolen again. An explosion results, curses and fury directed at the lawyer. A demand, a trial by the Supreme Court no more, no less.
He brings up the death penalty. Gihun scoffs at it. Shakes their head, waves a hand in the air, muttering how we all die in the end. They are not immortal.
Only one nugget, they keep to themselves.
They are already on a death penalty sentence. It lingers and comes closer everyday. It weakens their body, causing huge amounts of discomfort.
The second guardian demands a logical reason of why and what the hell. Bitterness, torn friendship, a shattered pedestal Gihun did not agree to at all flow from it. Mentions that his charges are in therapy, to sever their connection to Gihun. All from emotional disturbance, bed wetting. All from the act of being destabilized. By someone meant to care for them. Grief. Nightmares.
A sad, pleased, and resigned hum escapes their mouth on that. Sangwoo. . They are in good hands.
The lawyer is getting agitated. He flips through pages. They suspect the old hat of the insanity plea is still there. They peer at him, intently. Suspicion in their gut. Shadows at ready.
The third is a woman. A foster mother who got the call. Was roped into this nonsense. A thin chain of regret forms in Gihun's stomach. They never meant for any of this to happen. But it did. Through their hands. His hands too.
The deal is struck. The Pied Piper will have his payment soon.
And Gihun attempts to feel at peace with that.
She details the separation anxiety. How her charges sleep with Gihun's picture and their whole family's picture every night. Everyday the young pups ask when it will start. The kids are stressed, she writes politely. She omits the because of you.
It's okay though, Gihun hears it loud and clear.
Just like the-
It's been hours and they have not moved from the ornate white dining chair seat, sipping tea all dainty. Finally, it happens. “Breaking News: A Top American CEO found dead, Police suspect foul play. Alarm, panic. The person who found him dead, questioned sharply. Top news break. A government task force. They are coming. Slowly, gathering leads. Tracing their activity down.
Another hour passes. Hysteria and fear on the streets. A woman is interviewed, asking, “What kind of cruel monster would do this?” The reporter nods their head, “A biohazard attack with rising fears. What precautions are you taking?” It has to stop. Gihun smiles thinly. Oh my dear, it has already stopped. You never were in danger. The fat, gluttonous pigs are squealing in their pen. Shaking in their boots. It's for them. Not you. For the ones who believed they could profit off death. The ones who exploited nature. Harmed it, poisoned it, razed it, and set the world on fire. The billionaires. The true parasites.
The wait continues. Their watch ends with a whimper around 10 pm the next day, as they hear the sirens. Sharp, loud. Piercing in the empty, night air. “Finally.” They muttered as they tried to stand up, barefoot feet hit the expensive carpet, sleek and soft. They stumbled, quickly grabbed the back of the white chair. They had been sitting in the same spot for nearly a whole day. Just waiting and analyzing and wondering how many rich alphas does it take for the police to spring into action?
Just one. With each dead body, the fear and intrigue and paranoia rises. Many actors move fast, precisely, as the clock is ticking. The President speaks of the rapid deployment. The culprit will be caught. He assures that everyone is safe.
Gihun growls low in their throats. They can see the sweat beads forming on his forehead. His eyes twitch around as if looking for his turn. Gihun scowls unamusement and fury in equal amounts nursed under their breasts.
His hand was in the honeypot, after all. According to his notes. All that cloud, metadata.
Thousands and thousands of others don't get that benefit. The immediate action. The resources. The media coverage. Gihun's lips curl in disgust, as they barred their teeth.
The meeting ends as Gihun stares at the blank seat across from them where their lawyer once was. A headache brews in their skull, while afterwards, a needle pounds through their brain leaving knotted tangles everywhere.
Much like their brain after that surgery. He always denied a connection between the two. Gihun let him fuck those concerns away. stupid cockslut.horny for that alpha knot. take it bitch, it's your purpose to writhe on my knot. “You are going to give me more beautiful babies.” His nose in their hair, a scotch and whiskey soaked whisper in their ears. Hands that smell of gunpowder on their naked flesh. What?? No-no. Gihun recoiled, “stooop.” get off. Get off. GET OFF! trying to push him away, it's futile. It's like moving a mountain. An angry, lustful mountain with eyes that promised pain and punishment. Mercy if Gihun was willing to be good. “A-alpha pleas-se sto-op, it's hur-rts.” a smack, vicious and sharp on their right ass cheek. The impact causes tears to form at the corner of their eyes.
Gihun blinks. Back in their cell. The last watch before it begins. Their wrists held indents of the handcuffs, too small for their hands. Bastards, Gihun glares scornfully up.
And then Gihun sat down carefully, back against the weathered, crack covered wall. Eyes on their hands. Hands that had seen many chapters, many uses, and many horrors. So smooth, perfect, and clean looking. Gihun wanted to scrap away the makeup. Their heart wanted to. Desired it. To see something true But their brain cautioned not yet.
Not yet.
The last chapter of their life. With plot twists galore for a contemptuous audience.
so much for presumed innocence. A quiet scoff fills the air.
Gihun was innocent once. Now, Gihun only cares that they be deemed guilty, that when people ask why, Gihun will shake their head. Each refusal leads to more suspense. More drama. More fuel for the media circus. The billionaires want Gihun to go quietly. Gihun refuses to.
The damned restraint it took to not bite. Chomp and tear through. The bullshit, the platitudes, and psych talk.
Prolonged teeth clenching led to jaw pains. All those prosecution lawyers. Their eyes and face ached at the end. Had to work eight times as hard to mask the improper, unnatural behaviors. Just to follow basic instructions.
But they did it. Took all their charisma and lulling. They did it.
Just like.
Sirens woke up the upscale neighborhood. That had never seen any serious crimes until that date. A day of love meshed with horror and dead bodies. Valentine's Day had an unholy marriage with Halloween that day.
Especially as police units went to question Mrs. Hwang, the omega housewife, and the originator of this chaos. A little beetle told them that he had not seen his brother in days. Nor his nephew, Han-eul. That his brother has been having severe problems with his hysterical, greedy, entitled omega. Nothing that time and a good heat cannot fix. As omegas cannot stand empty wombs for long. As the poor dears try so hard to fill full. To feel completed.
Cops seasoned with rookies in tow look up at the glamor and beauty of the Hwang Mansion. A massive 50 bedroom house, 18 bathrooms, a pool room, movie theater room, bowling alley where the family lived. A room of pride being the massive aquarium room where fish are shown off and admired from glass tanks.
Where it happened. Guns out, locked and ready to fire. They knocked on the door. Sharp, insistent sounds. “POLICE, OPEN THE DOOR. HANDS UP!”
no response. Dispatch puzzled and frustrated, a frazzled Chief on the line urged them to knock and announce their presence.
They obliged. still no response.
Dispatch again. The Chief with urgency in his voice as Inho is a friend of his. He realizes he has not heard from Inho in three days. A game of golf, the last time.
A third time.
no response. The house stands still among the movement of the neighbors spilling out. Prominent business men. Lawyers. Doctors. All poke their heads wearing pajamas and sleep shifts. Whispers waved through the crowd. All eyes on the envy of the neighborhood. A pristine well managed garden and greenhouse sits enclosed in a stone wall around the backyard.
Dispatch gives the order. The officers exchange nervous glances with each other. One brave officer kicks down the massive door. A feeling of the world will never be the same ever again.
And they stumbled into a house of horrors.
The culprit is dressed in a white suit, as if she is sitting on a throne instead of a white recliner, sipping tea all proper and formal, as they watch, head tilted, the news with cameras all aimed at their house. A live feed. The lead detective, a man in his late 40s, with graying hair, a wedding band on his left hand, announced in the too quiet like a graveyard house.
“Mrs.Hwang, you're under arrest for suspicion of murder and terrorist attacks.” Officers exchanged horrified stares. A few put their noses in their police standard shirts. Desperate to get the stench out of their system. The revolting smell of death and decay that hit them hard and fast.
The omega barely even turns her head at them. As if, they were miscreant children that stumbled back home after being lost.
The culprit blinked innocently. Eyeflashes flutter about like butterflies. A quiet, soft voice answers only a few unspoken questions.
“You will find the rest all around the house, the kitchen to be exact.” A chuckle, low in her nearly middle aged throat. “Some alphas just cannot hold their liquor.”
She continues, coldly and factually as if discussing the weather or casually chitchatting.
“My husband is upstairs in his bed. Take care, not to disturb him. He's a hardworking good man. A strong alpha.”
Poison dripped from the last two sentences. “And my son is in his bedroom. Peaceful.” A pained split second wince on her small frame.
“The culprit muttered quietly, “taken down.” She looks down at her lady's hands. The sleeve of the suit hitches up revealing colorful bruises and pale scars in equal measure. Sadness and the first hint of guilt on their face.
Too little, too late in the eyes of the Police Force and Interpol.
The last thing she said before being read their rights as a free individual is this.
“They all had it coming. I was pest control, eliminating all the varmints that my alpha Inho loves to have over for dinner. They only have themselves to blame.” Eyes bulged with horror. slacked jaws everywhere, Gihun stands up regally. She approaches them. Frigid glass shards form in their chests. Then without a fight, she peacefully surrenders, and is promptly arrested. All to the sound of a rookie losing his lunch, as it splats on the expensive wood flooring. A quick glance of fear from Gihun at the vomit covered floor. Shoulders slouched. Eyes darted down.
They say that Hwang Gihun was found sitting in the combined dining and living room, in a chair the shape of a throne on top of bodies. Each a different color. Different symptoms shown in each. Rigor mortis set in.
Manically, eyes gleaming, crowing, shadows moving around like living vines. “look at all the gold I made. All the wealth I earned. I am sour grapes. Ungrateful and slutty and treacherous.”
Hysterical laughter bursts from their throat.
“Are you gonna tie my noose now?”
Silence greeted them. Enveloped them like an old friend.
Cameras caught her face dressed in green and red stained white suit. Neighbors watched in horror. In shock. Teenagers filmed the escort of shame.
Head held high, like a queen that refuses to bend or be broken into shape. A wild light in her eyes.
Chaos, police tape all over. Soon.
“Prisoner 13654, it's time.” A no nonsense voice of a young male alpha guard. He stands at the only entrance of the pure white cell. They avert their eyes as the light scorches their retinas.
Gihun stands up, grasping at the wall. Pained gasps sound through the air. Their chest moves rapidly. As their bite scar itches. Pain radiates from it, like an anchor reminding Gihun that he was still there.
Gihun looks into the cold brown eyes of the guard. Stoic professionalism, holds a vibrant pink suit. Discomfort rises in them.
They looked at it, and then up. The guard raises a thin eyebrow, “courtesy of your lawyer, Mr. Kim.”
Gihun's eyes narrow. The sooner this trial begins. The truth is revealed. The better. But…
“I will wear my prison uniform.” The guard nodded.
From there, Gihun showers in a small stall. Months of dirt and debris washed off. They watch it drain, in idle fascination. The guard stood there silently. At his place, he gives them as much privacy as he can.
They dress, swollen hands pull on the orange jumpsuit. Once they finish, the guard escorts them out of the solitary confinement part of the prison. Their cell whispers an eerie ‘see you soon.’ They nod in response.
Gihun sees the sun again on the first day of the trial. Light pierces through the morning sky, in gold and red hues.
6 am sharp. The cold wind brushes against their face like a lover's touch. It soothes the angry, boiling bite mark.
I have the wind. Gihun gives a soft smile.
A humph from the guard. Gihun on the way to the police car sees a neverending network of cells, a full cafeteria, with prisoners watching Gihun's death march.
Outside, the prison building dressed in a disgusting brown and grey stone. It loomed large over their head. The sun blinds them, it chases away the darkness.
Heat on their skin. Comfortable, pleasant. Gihun breathes in, eyes close in delight. The air is fresh and pure.
A sharp whistle. Gihun trudges over to where the guard was waiting, foot moving and impatient.
Gihun carefully gets in the SUV marked POLICE TRANSPORT CAR with its “Beware of the dangerous inmates traveling inside the car. Proceed with caution.”
The guard changes with a new guard. Handcuffs tight on their wrist, they wiggled it. Watching the blood rise up from the orange suit like a blood moon in the night sky.
The door slams shut. The car ride of doom and punishment begins. And Gihun settles in for the long trip to the courthouse. 6:30 am.
Soon this chapter of their life is coming to an end. Gihun hopes it's just their life. Not their children's lives.
Take me, spare my children.
Gihun closes their eyes. Met with darkness, their mind is already strained and lethargic. Their focus is scattered. Mind running and racing a mile a minute.
The engine ignites. The car shifts gears. The driver pulls toward the road. With three passengers in tow. Gihun, a medic, and a fellow guard.
Gihun once knew how to drive. That memory is buried under layers of dust and cobwebs. It's incomplete. A screw without a nut in place.
But Gihun still feels the tires underneath. The squeak of the brakes. The engine acceleratoring, how it purrs once the other line is pushed.
They remove their feet from the floor. The effort exhausts them, they are easily winded now. Due to the lack of free space and the same four walls. No space to exercise. Or stretched their legs properly.
Their arms curl around their knees. Handcuffs made it uncomfortable. But not unbearable. They laid the handcuffs in front of them. Gihun traces one with their swollen right middle finger. Over each individual chain link, sleep always comes with sustained movement. As their mind needs to expend so much energy to even settle. The surgery did help with that. He said it would help them feel so much better. Calmer, quieter, happier.
Afterwards, Gihun was so lethargic that he arranged for electroshock therapy. A dash of adrenaline playing at the fun house! Oh they love to play and run and climb and…..
if one ignores all the bloodstains, the human decorations hanging from the ceiling, the gunshots that drive them to tears. Fear that paralyzes them as they look for him, their harbor and lighthouse. “Inho!” They scream childishly, terror filled their veins. As they need him. They need him. They would die without him. Both them and their child.
The baby moves then as if knowing she was forgotten, kicks and jolts around like a dancer. A timer clicks down. Barrage of gunfire. A furious Inho, Gihun looks fearfully down. Desperate to avoid catching those black void eyes. Please not another operation. I will be good.
Their mind stalls. It scratches like an old record on a beaten up player. A misfired connection.
Exhaustion hits them hard. Their eyelids fluttered shut, paying no attention to him sitting near them.
With those pleasant thoughts. They fell asleep. Quiet loomed in the car.
Estimated Time Arrival: 8:45 am.
2 hours and 15 minutes of sleep.