The room was still dark. A small ray of the daylight outdoors came through the translucent curtains, giving a semi illumination to the room. The surroundings were pleasant and warm and Yeosang couldn't think of anything more other than lying on that soft, warm bed with such a nice mattress and a fluffy pillow forever.

Bearing the pain of sleeping on a dilapidated bed with a moth eaten mattress and an extremely rough pillow had scared his poor body, and never in his life since his early years had he slept well. Now that he got the chance of lying on such a heavenly bed, Yeosang didn't want to miss a chance, even though he was sure he was being held captive.

"You're awake?"

A soft voice diverted his attention, and with a slight pain, he turned to his side to look at the owner of the voice. The owner of the voice, the man who had supposedly held him captive came and stood in front of his bed, a large bowl and a towel in his hand. Yeosang didn't know much about kidnappers, but one thing he knew well was that, kidnappers weren't supposed to have kind faces.

Therefore, according to his theory, the man standing in front of him could be anything but a kidnapper.

The man was not very tall, almost of his own height, and had an undoubtedly handsome face. His face was soft and more on the chubby side, a demeanor of kindness spread all over his features. He had kind eyes and a smile across his lips, making him look much younger than his actual age. His body was healthy too, well built and buff, strong arm muscles flexing underneath his half sleeve shirt, a silver chain dangling from his wrist. In an overall appearance, he looked handsome, kind and sweet, yet manly and mature, and Yeosang still couldn't comprehend the fact that he is a kidnapper.

"Don't get up," the man spoke in a soft voice, as he noticed Yeosang trying to sit up on the bed, "Your head hasn't healed yet. You'll feel sick."

Yeosang slumped back on his pillow as the man sat down on a stool near his bed, placing the bowl on a table beside him. He gently dipped the towel inside the contents of the bowl and took it out, squeezing out the extra liquid from the towel and then bringing it closer to Yeosang's face.

"Wh-What are you-"

The man smiled, and gently touched the towel to latter's face. Yeosang fell silent, as the warm watery touch made him feel at ease. Slowly the man wiped his entire face with the towel, gently and carefully. He then dipped it again and squeezed it, continuing to rub it down Yeosang's neck, chest, hands and certain parts of his abdomen.

"Wh-Why are you doing all this?" asked Yeosang, so confused at the kindness he was receiving, "Wh-Who are you? Why d-did you bring me here?"

"I saw you lying on the ground by the roadside, blood oozing from your head," the man explained, as he rubbed down Yeosang's hands, treating them like as if they were made of glass, frail and fragile, "I couldn't leave you there all alone, could I? So I brought you here, got you treated and...here you are! Talking to me."

So he brought me to his house- instead of taking me to a hospital? Incredible!

"Wh-Who are you?" came the question, as the man put away the towel and looked at him, deep into his eyes, making the questioner feel a little different, something weird and very different. He wouldn't deny, that subtle stare made his cheeks and ears heat up instantly.

"You might like to know my name but for now," the man paused, "Call me Nix."

"Nix?" Yeosang tilted his head, not understanding anything, "Your name is Nix? B-But- how can that be a na-"

"As I said, I can't tell you my original name right now," The man replied, getting up from the chair and taking the bowl and cloth on his hands.

Why? Why can't you say me your name now?

"You will have to stay here for a while, kid," the man informed, "Your wound will take time to heal. After that...Well, it's your choice."

Yeosang's gaze fell. Where on Earth will I go, after all? He had no home, no parents, no family, no friends. Only Hwa-

Where's Hwa hyung?

"Oh and yeah," The man turned around once again, "What would you like to eat? I'll prepare your breakfast before I can go to deal with my customers. Heck! Another day of dealing shitty people! Whatever- So, any preferences?"

"Y-You have a shop?" Yeosang asked, completely taken aback.

"Mn. I'm a barista," The man replied confidently, "You know...coffee makers? I can make good coffee," he continued, giving him that same big smile that nevertheless made Yeosang's heart beat way too faster than it should.

"Oh. I see," Yeosang said quietly. I heard baristas are hot. "Uh. I-I'll take anything...f-for breakfast."

"Oh cool! I'll come around soon."

With that, the man left.

Yeosang couldn't help but blush. He was completely mesmerized by the steanger's youthful charm, his handsome presence and his extremely gentle and kind behavior. Such a gentleman. Yeosang, to some extent, was relieved and thought that maybe...maybe he wasn't kidnapped after all.

But...

In the back of his mind, the thought never left nagging him.

Where is Hwa hyung?

* * *

The room was voluminous and glistened in luxury.

Dark curtains hung from the great windows. The gigantic chandeliers above gleamed in golden light, sparkling it's hue in every corner of the vast room. The room held exquisite wooden furnitures, a large table and several other small and big signs of pure luxury.

A large mansion, within the heart of the city.

A man sat on the biggest sofa at the centre of the room. He was a middle aged man, with not so aged features, still handsome in his mid-years self. His face could have been dashing, if it didn't hold the signs of cunning evilness in it. His blond hair was tied in a short ponytail and he was dressed in dark suits. He was currently sprawling on his scarlet couch, relaxing cooly with eyes closed, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Low jazz music emitted from some corner of the room, making the entire ambience a symbol of pleasure.

"Sir, he's here."

A man quickly came and went, giving a brief information about the visitor. The man on the couch put down his whiskey and looked up at the door in anticipation of the visitor. A vicious smile curled up the corner of his lips as the wanted person walked inside.

It was boy. A youth, not more than twenty. He was dressed in a clean shirt, tucked neatly inside his black jeans. He was not too tall and neither too short, a perfect height, slim, dark haired and dark brown eyed, his face sweet and innocent, yet exquisitely handsome, lips slightly pale yet plush. Two small silver earrings hung on both of his ears and he had the overall demeanor of gentleness, innocence and tranquility. The boy came forward and bowed to the man, and quickly took his seat on the couch facing him. Every step of his was gentle and so disciplined.

"Ah...hear comes my favorite son," the man said, taking another sip from his whiskey glass and looking up at him.

"Do you know what brings you here today, son?" He asked, as the clueless boy shook his head.

"Oh I see. It's this that- I'll be giving you a small task and you'll have to accomplish it just like the good boy you are, okay?"

The boy shook his head indicating a yes.

"So you know the CEO of Beyond Group, right?" asked the man, to which the boy again shook his head, "Now, I'm going to make you the manager of one of our companies and you'll start working very soon with them. He won't be knowing that the company you'll be working in is a part of all my companies. You'll be working with the Beyond Group and your task will be to bring that man in front of me no matter what."

"B-But h-how?" The boy finally spoke, his words tumbling over each other due to the rising fear in his voice.

"I don't care," the man growled, making the poor boy shiver and gulp back all the words he had in his mouth, "I don't fucking care. You've been given a task and you will have to do it. Understood?"

"Y-Yes, father."

"Great. Now get lost."

The boy got up and walked out of the room. He couldn't believe what he had heard and still was taking time to try comprehending everything. As he walked down the grand but empty corridors in a quiet, monotonous mood, the only thing he could think of was...

...why him?

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Thoughts, besties?
✧･ﾟ:*( ͡ꈍ ͜ʖ̫ ͡ꈍ )*:･ﾟ✧