Eun-woo didn't know if it was a good sign not having nightmares. He also didn't know if it was normal to be surrounded by an endless array of scents. Normally, his cell didn't emit any odors, so the sudden change was strange.
He let out a soft moan as he tried to open his eyes. His eyelids felt heavy and sticky, his throat burned, and his lips were dry.
He remained still for a few seconds before clutching the surface he was resting on and opening his eyes. White light blinded his vision. He blinked with difficulty, trying to adjust to the specter, and when he did, the first thing he saw was a lamp hanging from the ceiling.
The object reminded him of the lamp he had in his bedroom as a child, a shiny white tube, without much grace or uniqueness.
He swallowed as he remembered his life before arriving at the compound, which wasn't so different from his current life. The only thing that changed was the layout of the cell and the objects inside. Everything else was similar.
He glimpsed movement to his right, so his gaze flew to that spot, giving him a better view of the place. The walls were white, as were the immaculate tiles, and there was a shelf full of glass vials. To his left was a machine he'd never seen before: a black screen, a metal tube with a bag filled with white liquid, and a blue curtain.
He assumed the scenery on the other side didn't change, so he dropped his head back to the surface and focused on the ceiling.
What am I doing here?
"I hope you slept well."
A calm voice appeared, alarming him. It wasn't someone familiar, nor did it sound like a threat.
He glimpsed a woman sitting in the chair opposite him.
The woman had an imposing aura, similar to that of a Guide, but Eun-woo knew instantly that she wasn't one. Her long hair was styled in a ponytail that slid over her shoulder. She was wearing figure-hugging black pants, a navy blue shirt, and a white coat.
The coat had a snake embroidered on the left arm and the legend "Blackwood Research Center. Dr. Lee Rong Ye" on the right.
Apparently he had been mistaken, it was a man and he was part of the Men in White.
"Good morning, Eun-woo," Rong Ye greeted in a delicate tone of voice.
The gesture only made Eun-woo shudder; it was the first time a Man in White had addressed him by name.
"Hello..." he muttered, still puzzled. "Where...?"
Rong Ye gave him a sly smile and nodded, trying to gain his trust.
"You're still inside the complex," he replied.
Eun-woo denied.
"Where's Rhys? My cellmate, we were together…"
The Man in White's face lost all trace of kindness for a second. When he regained his altruistic mask, it was too late—Eun-woo already distrusted him.
"I need to know how he is," Eun-woo insisted.
"You'll see," Rong Ye replied without much enthusiasm.
Eun-woo pressed his lips together; it was abundantly clear that Rong Ye didn't want to tell him.
"When?"
Rong Ye sighed heavily, but still maintained a calm expression on his face.
"First I need to inject this into you." He showed him a syringe. "Sit down and uncover your arm. I'll be done soon."
In order to see Rhys, Eun-woo quickly obeyed the instruction, but as he was about to offer his arm, he noticed purple particles accumulating around Rong Ye.
Without taking his gaze off his, he backed away as far as he could and retracted his arm. He didn't know why, but at that moment, he perceived it as a threat.
"What's wrong?" Rong Ye extended his hand. "It'll just be a pinprick like the other times, although you might feel a little discomfort now."
Eun-woo pressed his lips together tightly and examined the syringe in his hand. The object looked like the ones he was already familiar with, but it emanated a fragrance that irritated his nose. This, combined with the purple color, made him even more suspicious of its intentions.
Rong Ye withdrew his hand and although he looked disappointed, he did not scold him for his lack of courage; instead, he sat down next to him.
"I'll wait until you feel ready. But the sooner you let me give you the injection, the sooner you'll see your partner."
Eun-woo frowned at him. There was something about Rong Ye's voice that set off all his alarm bells. He gritted his teeth, his body still tense, like an animal trapped between two equally dangerous exits.
But the image of Rhys, alone and wounded, was stronger.
Without saying anything, he offered his arm; for a moment he felt like prey willingly baring its neck for its predator to devour.
Rong Ye gave him a friendly smile, carefully took his arm, and with his fingertips felt the skin, intending to find the right spot to bury the syringe.
The door opened abruptly.
They both turned at the same time.
Rhys was there.
He didn't look injured, nor was he wearing the tattered clothes I'd last seen him in. Instead, he was wearing a black military uniform with gold insignia on the chest and sleeves. His hair, once disheveled, fell neatly over his forehead, and his face was clean and impassive.
Eun-woo felt as if the air was being ripped from his lungs.
No.
It couldn't be.
Rhys couldn't be with them.
And yet, there it was.
With that uniform, the same one worn by the men who took him away from his parents.
Eun-woo's life was based on seconds, from the time he woke up to when he went to sleep.
On a small nightstand was a bird-shaped radio. The radio would play in the morning, waking him up, and begin a countdown from zero.
It was the background music of his life, that childlike voice saying "Good morning," humming the numbers, telling him what to do. Bath time, meal time, hair brushing time, reading time...
When they took that away from him, and took him to the Research Center, all he could think about was telling. If he didn't, he'd lose the little he had left: his mental stability. If he lost that tiny ray of hope that kept him sane, he'd give in to nighttime deliriums, agonizing loneliness, and the thought of dying.
While he was counting, he could keep his mind elsewhere. In the pages of the books he'd once read, in the drawings in them, in the warmth of a furnished room, in the noise made by that silly little metal bird.
Then Rhys arrived and seconds were no longer necessary.
For the first time, he didn't care about the passage of time, Rhys's presence was enough to ground him. He just had to cling to his existence and try to survive until the Men in White decided to put an end to his story.
He stopped counting numbers and started learning new things, like words. That was the most beautiful gift Rhys could give him: knowledge of the outside world, like the time he told him that object was a "coin."
Just knowing a word made Eun-woo happy, filling the void he had been carrying for as long as he could remember.
So when the fog settled over his mind and he wanted to scream, kick, and hate, he couldn't.
Yes, Rhys was part of the Research Center.
And?
If he had to trust someone, and the choice was his, then he chose Rhys.
And not because he believed in him blindly, not at all.
He could leave his life in those hands because he knew him, he had seen him.
He knew the icy jade eyes that softened when he looked at him, the sharp gaze that took on color when he spoke in a very low tone, the rise and fall of his chest when he slept, the shine in his eyelashes, the softness of his skin and his scent.
Rhys wasn't the threat he'd initially believed. He was, in essence, his cellmate.
A friend.
Eun-woo held his breath, pulled his arm away from Rong Ye's grasp, and without thinking much, stood up, ran towards him, and wrapped both arms around him.
He wanted to make sure Rhys was safe.
"You're okay," he murmured against his chest.
Rhys stood still before hugging him back, seemingly surprised by his reaction.
Rong Ye, on the other hand, clenched his fists, and his placid expression quickly turned into a grimace of annoyance.
"I told you to wait," he muttered.
"There was a change of plans," Rhys replied without leaving Eun-woo's side.
Rong Ye looked even more displeased with that response, but instead of directing the emotion towards Rhys, he focused it on Eun-woo.
"Come back, I'll be done soon."
Eun-woo pressed himself closer to Rhys's body and shook his head. The purple continued to pool around Rong Ye.
That thick color betrayed his true intentions. It wasn't fear, nor frustration. It was something more.
Eun-woo knew it then, with a certainty that sank into his bones.
The calm, the measured words, and the promise to take him to Rhys had been a lie.
"You want to kill me," Eun-woo said quietly. "That's what I wanted to do from the beginning, before Rhys came."
Rong Ye did not deny it.
He just looked at him, with that calmness that now seemed like a disguise slowly slipping away.
And he smiled.