My heart pangs with wistfulness and fierce yearning, hand drifting down to grip tightly at the band of arms encircling me, holding me tight against a firm chest, head resting on my shoulder.

"I don't want you to go." Voice baleful and mourning, deep rasp trembling with an ache that makes my own body sink back, head tilting to brush a kiss across his lips.

"You're just sorry you never got to take me of your study's desk." I murmur, voice soft and teasing, light and humorous, deflecting off the dark sincerity that grips me, vice like and merciless.

Drowning me in the aching want that pools in my own eyes, a betraying stinging tell as his lips kiss back fiercer, hands tightening around my torso.

"Oh that's happening. Definitely..." he murmurs, a huff of laughter, warm and coaxing, grounding.

"But you only just got here..." he shares, voice a hushed confession.

My hand drifts up to cup his cheek, fingers skimming across the high of his cheekbone, watching as his eyes flutter, lashes brushing delicately against skin. Watch him lean into the touch, grousing as he tries to tug me closer, fingers sly as he tries to loosen the stays, to hinder the process of getting ready by undoing all the progress.

I laugh as I swat his hand lightly, trying to tug the clinging bandit off me, knowing that if he murmurs it one more time, quiet confessions exhaled against skin, that I'll crumble.

And I can't.

I can't... Mimi's leaving tomorrow.

I can't... because even the heftiest sums run out and with his the time has ended, for now.

For now.

Because every passing day and the indulgent haven of this cottage for the past long weekend has only proven time and time again, has only consolidated my belief further that this. This is it. This is it for life, this is the happy ending I want, this is what I'll do everything for.

I know it with certainty, I know it as fact, I know it for the strong thudding heartbeat pressed against my back.

"Don't act as if you're not going to try sneak into my bed tonight regardless... though it might be occupied." I laugh, turning in the circle of his arms, hands curling to wind around his bare shoulders, lips ghosting along his before he growls with protest, surging forward to crush his mouth to mine. There's nothing soft or gentle about the scorching brand of his lips chasing the almost fleeting memory of the days past, impatient and thrumming with the need to cherish every moment before the beautiful mirage slips away outside the four walls that silently... silently feels like home. The curl of his tongue flicking against my lips is impatient, thrusting deep and chasing the entangled brush of my own. Feverish as his arms drag me closer, broad palms splayed across my back, searing heat through the thin chemise, the pressure demanding and pleading and coaxing. So easily unravelling the concept of time and urgency with the more fervent curl of his tongue chasing to constantly relearn the dips and hollow of my mouth, thrusting deeper.

"Jimin... Stealing you away right in front of my eyes." He huffs, breath a hot curl against my jaw, fingers pressing against the curve of my spine whilst one hand snakes down, curving against my backside, grip a possessive sprawl, the trail of open-mouthed kisses down my throat slowly unravelling resistance even as he drags me impossibly closer.

His own state of half-dressed only distantly makes my mind flicker, a fleeting thought that minutes ago I'd been trying to get him to tug on a shirt, to do up the laces of his breeches.

Now the same sight and disarray of undone clothes and his bare torso pressing to my front makes flickering want bloom, hands slipping up the delicious contrast of soft flesh drifting to the hard expanse of muscles, his heartbeat thudding under my palm, hidden away under sinew and the hard strength of his chest, warm under my fingers.

"And yet it's you whose stolen bandit mine." I croon softly, lips curving up before his teeth sink into the crook of my neck, pressure and sting hard enough to make my eyes flutter, a shaky exhale as he burrows closer, tongue flicking over where the print of his teeth begin their intent in colouring a possessive, fresh mark to bloom proudly across skin. The grip of his fingers dig in hard enough to stoke an endless reel of memories all rich and imbued with sensations of breathless cries entangled with low groans, of the heated press of bodies intertwined, of the searing hot-white pleasure mercilessly lancing our bodies, eyes dark and holding each other's to see that instant we unravelled in shared heady pleasure.

The wet curl of his tongue and the relentless suck of his mouth closing around skin has my back arching, pushing forward towards his chest, his palm splayed over the curve my body makes and encouraging it. Making it more pronounced, the heated scorch of his broad splay leaving an imprint behind that sears through fabric.

"Tae... ah... you can still visit tomorrow." I breathe out, the petulant groan against my skin reverberating, the mixture of bubbling elation and heated want entangled as his grip tightens, lips closing around to suckle at the sensitive flesh pulsing under his ministrations before he slips his mouth away. Eyes raking over the coloured claim sprawled across the crook of my neck with gleaming proud eyes.

"I will. And the day after tomorrow. And every day till you're free too. And then... then you can't get rid of me." He promises, voice warm and soft and heavy with playful intent, eyes raking over me, the undone state of the corset before he turns me around, letting me face the mirror once more.

Eyes settling on our reflection, on the loose sprawl of his arms around me, head tilted to mine and fingers drifting from the curve of my hips to brushing against the corset.

"Need help my lady love?" he asks, voice low and coy, eyes gleaming with more than just the polite offer to help.

His fingers brush over towards the centre of my torso, towards the beginnings of the laces, still open and gaping.

"Depends. Is this a chivalry my Lord Kim or is this an excuse to touch and make me tardy?" I hum, eyes holding his in the reflection.

The slow grin that stretched across his lips, the deep lilt to the smirk is dangerous and enthralling and enticing all at once.

Fingers looping the first of the laces with deft hands, even though his fingertips linger and scorch through the thin fabric of the chemise, burning prints through the delicate fabric.

"Can't it be both? Or... tell me what excuse is valid to run my hands over your body." He croons, voice dulcet honey, sticky sweet and dripping with insinuated promise.

I tilt my head to tear my eyes away from the mirror, peering at him instead.

Eyes flickering to his damning smirking lips.

"For as long as you desire, for as long as I can make your heart race and your blood sing touch me."

"That makes you mine for evermore then little jewel."

Lips curling against mine in a slower, indulgent taste of one another, shared breaths and the distracting drifting path of his hands continuing to lace me, inching steadily upwards with their slow, dragged purpose.

And when his knuckles brush against my sternum, his lips slip away, eyes dark and captivating.

Hands slipping lower to turn me to him.

Eyes focused on me, holding mine.

Slow and gentle the same gaze drifts across my face, committing every slight, every detail to memory, my hands drift to brush upwards from his abdomen to his chest, loosely curled over his shoulders.

Not expecting the sharp yank of corset ties dragging me forward, body flush with his save for where his hands are curled tightly around the laces. The sharp gasp of air punctured out of my lungs, the swells of my chest more pronounced as I heave for breath. Eyes holding his and see the crooked delight in his smirk as he lets his fingers drift upwards, knuckles brushing against cleavage, eyes raking unashamedly over me.

"Now don't you make a pretty sight when you're physically breathless." Voice a low husky hum that thrums electric pulses of desire across every inch of skin.

"Shame I never got to show you how pretty you look with my fingers around your throat... guess that's also for a next time. With the pretty mirror in your room." He croons.

The brush of his fingers across bare skin as he helps me dress are slow and purposeful, the heat in his eyes quietening to heavy pooled tenderness.

Tae doesn't strike me as a man who's not had a lover before, proven in the familiarity of him helping me dress, tightening laces, fingers dragging against my hips as he kneels.

The sight of him between my parted thighs has my mouth drying, throat bobbing at the curl of his smile, stoking memories of a wicked grin pressed against the apex of my thighs, of his tongue curled and plunging deep.

The breath that shudders out my lungs doesn't go amiss, eyes darkening with a carnal gleam even if his hands only drift down to nudge my thighs apart slightly, lowering to tap at my ankle. Dragging the sheer slippery fabric over my foot, up my calf, fingers handling the thin fabric carefully. His fingers curl tight around the low of my thigh, squeezing briefly.

"Over my shoulder beautiful."

Words warm and heavy, a mixture of entangled wants simmering in dark brown eyes, his hand guiding it upwards, hooking my thigh open wide for him.

Hand fumbling for purchase on the dresser behind me, gripping tightly on the wood, half-splayed for him. There's something far, far more intimate and domestic as he threads and loops the garter around my stocking, straps of the firmer fabric crisscrossing my leg and winding up my thigh to loop through and secure it. Something more exposed at having my skirts rucked high and dishevelled as he leans forward, lips burning and leaving their searing imprint against the inside of my thigh, across the cross pattern of the garter he's tied up to secure my stocking in place.

Something that makes my stomach clench, tight with the weight of his dark gaze hovering so close as he lowers my leg and repeats the motion with my right leg, the brush of his fingers both deft and somehow leaving their touch to linger; phantom pressure of calloused fingertips winding the strips of fabric around my calf and high up my thigh, looped through the hook and both of them secured around the delicate discreet rings at the drawers.

The kiss pressed to a purpled mark on the inside of my thigh comes with the crooked press of his thumb digging in tauntingly afterwards, the crooked lilt of his lips as he watches my leg tremble, gripping the curve of the wood tighter for purchase before he lowers my leg down, hand lingering for an instant before reaching to draw my skirts back down, eyes gleaming even as he rises.

"I'm glad you like the set. Took me a while to figure out how the loops all work." He admits as his arms loosely curve around me, drawing me to him and away from the dressing table.

I tilt my head, eyes narrowing.

"And how pray tell did you learn Lord Kim? You seem experienced." I muse, fingers trailing over his bare chest.

The grin across his lips is disarmingly boyish and radiant, eyes gleaming with laughter as he leans forward, face hovering close to mine.

"Jealous?"

"Depends. Who taught you?" I whisper.

"Well. The store... isn't open to the general public. Very exclusive clientele for their new designs... very helpful staff...." He drawls.

My fingers drift up his chest, settling on his shoulder as I lean back, scanning him.

"Helpful enough to hitch her skirts up as a willing model to practice on?" I ask, the bubbling feeling of jealousy searing through me, quietened by the quiet rumble of laughter, mischief bubbling through my veins when I recognise the tease in his words.

Two could play that game Kim.

"Well... I hope she was a better model than I was with your rich jewels Kim..." watching as his eyes flash, pupils dilating slightly, grip tightening on me.

"Gives me an idea or so for Mimi's farewell gift... one I'm sure he'll appreciate." I croon, hand slipping from the breadth of his shoulder down his arm, curling around the tight swell of muscle, nails pressing in slightly.

"Don't you dare." He growls, possessiveness making his voice drop an octave, husky rich baritone that's molten heady threat in itself.

"Or what... maybe maybe I'll get Joon too... maybe I'll celebrate by..."

The fierce grip of his hand curling around my nape and yanking my lips to his is seared with crackling fire, flames that lick at skin as he sinks his teeth into my bottom lip, bruising scorching kiss that swallows breath whole from my lungs and leaves me clutching at him.

Lips curving victoriously and the smirk bitten from my lips as he groans impatiently, starved and jealous making his body press forward, hand tugging me closer, gripping tightly at the curve of my waist.

"I lied... I lied... I practiced... I practiced alone. But don't... don't you dare..." he groans.

Lips bruising and pleading and desperate with a franticness that curls around my gut.

"Pretty bandit... and that is how you catch a lie." I murmur against his lips, softer pecks soothing the flared jealousy, arousal stirring at the sight of dilated eyes and swollen lips.

It wasn't a bad look at all on him.

Feel his body slump as he leans forward, pressing me to the dresser.

"You... you will be the death of me (Y/N)." he groans.

My hand squeezes the broad curve of his arm, humming at the tight flex of muscle underneath my touch.

"Wrong. I'll be the reason of your undoing."

And you have become mine for so long I know this is it. This is what I want for the rest of my life. You.

---------

The bubble of laughter tinkles behind me, amused and airy and delighted.

"I haven't seen a limp that impressive since that group orgy." A voice muses from behind me, full of mirth and tease.

I turn around from the wardrobe, halting when I'd heard his voice, hand stilling on the handle.

My lips curve up wide when I spot him leaning against the doorway, eyes bright as he examines me, full lips tilted up.

"You organized that orgy for my 25th birthday, I should've known better than letting the group loose with an open tap for drinks and rooms rented out." I retort, watch as he slips in, door shutting behind him as he saunters in, steps light and buoyant.

He looks delighted as he moves towards me, hands drawing mine into his, turning me around in the circle of his arms, the loose fabric of the gown fluttering and gaping at the thighs where it's loosely belted.

Eyes roving over me with a ferocious hunger for gossip and delicious secrets. Settling on the visible marks he can see.

"And? I never heard a single complaint... not that you could make one afterwards~" laughing before he drags me close for an embrace, arms wound tight as he curls against me, the smile felt even if I can't see it when I burrow against his shoulder.

"Did you come find me so you could tease?" I ask, sinking into the embrace, lips curving up as he shakes his head, hugging me tighter, humming as he slowly turns with me still encased in his arms.

A slow swaying spin as he holds me, drawing me backwards towards the bed, sinking onto it and dragging me onto his lap, gown rustling and shifting as I straddle him, curling tighter around him, legs hooking together as his settle on my waist.

"No... I came so I could spend the day with you and tease and hunt for gossip. Did he treat you well?" eyes earnest and sincere.

I nod.

"I... I...." I begin hesitantly.

Watch as his eyes soften, tracking the hesitation, frowning as his thumb tugs my bottom lip free from my teeth, smoothening over the sting with a soft brush of the pad of his thumb.

Quiet and waiting.

Fingers trailing to brush damp strands of hair away from my face, gently rubbing circles at my nape.

"I've never felt this before... but he feels to me what you say Joon feels like to you. He's... this man is my happy ending Mimi, he's my rogue bandit." I admit, cheeks warm at the intensity of his stare boring into mine.

Feel his fingers crook my chin up to peer at me properly, lips curving warmly.

"I'm glad. Though he's a long way to go to earn full rights... but he makes you happy. And a happy (Y/N) makes a happy me."

My lips curve wider, tilting forward to peck his cheek, hands cupping his face and pressing soft pecks across his cheeks, to the tip of his nose, to his forehead, drifting to brush kisses to the corner of his lips.

Feel his lips pout as he tilts up imploringly, the exaggerated jut of full lips even more pronounced before I brush mine against his, laughing when he tries to chase the friendly, familiar touch.

I'll miss it.

I know it won't be too long till I'm free but I'll miss this Mimi.

I'll miss you. A lot.

And his own gestures reciprocate that silent pang of bittersweet realisation, drawing me down with him as he tilts back, bodies entangled in a tucked embrace, his leg slotted between mine, fingers smoothening out the gape of the fabric at my chest, hands slowly carding through my hair, easing out the knots carefully.

I'll miss every intimacy soft and gentle and wild and wanting.

I'll miss the sleepy moments of waking together, the comfortable lull of bathhouses and the shared knowledge of having each other waiting after every appointment to make sure the other is okay. I'll miss him but he's earned his freedom, and soon... soon that'll be mine too.

"I'll miss you. I'll see you everytime you're out. And only two weeks... two weeks and you're mine again." He murmurs, lips brushing against my temple.

"Yours huh? Funny... I heard the same thing from Tae this morning." I whisper, voice quiet but lilting.

His arms tighten in response, scoffing lightly.

"He's got a weird sense of humour that one. Mine first. Sharing... comes hard especially when the person is the one that means everything to me." he admits easily.

Lips nudging against mine in slow unhurried promise, in comfort, in love and trust and years of shared moments and experiences together, of a past rooted with stumbling together and learning to steady each other and of a future forever entangled.

Every inch of my body screams, begging for reprieve, tears trickling down my cheeks as I slowly try to drag myself upright, feeling like dirt under the same expensive leather boots the man tugs back on, uncaring and dismissive as he dresses himself up.

The smell of sex and sweat is tangible, a nauseating mix that makes my head pound, body sore and battered, haunted by the phantom pin and the merciless hungering take, take, take rhythm his body had set from the get-go.

I'm silent, body trembling violently as I curl my hands around myself, flinching at the bruising marks his carnal grip had left behind, feeling infinitely smaller as he moves around the room... my room and saunters with a manly preening satisfaction, a peacock whose feathers ruffle and flutter as he preens; boasting the prize the right price had brought him.

The stench of alcohol and burnt cigars permeate the room, had radiated off him all night, had clung to every fibre of his clothes and swarmed through my room from the moment I'd heard the door click as he locked it, cold horror sinking in alongside a paralysing numbness. I'd tasted the poisonous mixture on lips forced onto mine.

A hand forces my face upwards from its downwards droop, tucked against my body, eyes leering as they drink in the damage his hands and body left behind, glinting approval at the fear flashing in my eyes.

"I paid a handsome sum... because I like seeing the fear. The terror. The inexperience. I love ruining it. Maybe I'll come back to see what you've learnt." He murmurs, the grip of his fingers squeezing my jaw makes my mouth ache, forcing it open with the pressure of his fingertips bruising and gripping me tight.

His eyes flash and for one horrific moment I think he'll shove his breeches down to shove himself into my forcefully lax mouth.

Not again, never again. Not this man. Not him.

"Sir, Madame Lim has sent me to remind you the price had the time limit of the night. Please show yourself out." Voice hard and firm. Radiating an authoritative command that has the man stepping back after a lingering moment, fingers roughly shoving my face back, the ache lingering.

But the person it belongs to is young. Blatantly so. Holding himself with an authority that refuses to cower as the man moves past, clothes loose fitting and face bar from the cosmetics we usually wore for appointments.

But I know him.

I've seen him.

And quietly he slips forward, nudging the door shut, but the damning click never comes, hurrying past to rummage through the bed linens and returning with a clean blanket he wraps around me before kneeling down.

Watching with knowing eyes as I clutch weakly at the ends of the blanket, tugging it tighter around me, but the shame, the humiliation still lingers, sinking deep into my bones, the shame of knowing he's seen everything makes my stomach clench painfully, already cramped and sore, every limb in agony.

He doesn't say anything.

He doesn't need to.

Everyone.... Everyone knows what happened, everyone knows the bruises I wear and the walk of shame I'll do when I leave the room will leave me labelled differently under their eyes.

Used goods.

Ready for business.

Broken into.

His face however... his face is gentle and warm and considerate and his eyes gleam with a painful revengeful hurt that cuts through the numb.

I'd seen those eyes last night amongst the sea of faces, had seen him in shadows, had seen him watch and had seen him turn, turning away as the man was declared winner.

Highest bidder for my virginity.

Sold to the highest price.

For the experience of an unused whore.

A new one.

Nausea wells up thicker and faster, throat clenching and spasming as I hunch over, sobbing as I throw up, fingers refusing to let go of the blanket's corners, staining the clean fabric with the little I'd stomached yesterday, bile and water sour in my throat.

Shaking as my stomach clenches and unclenches, tears trickling down my cheeks, aware of how violently my body trembles, aware of how vulnerable and exposed I am in front of the young boy in front of me.

Still he doesn't speak. But he doesn't move away, hand rubbing up and down my covered back, quiet as the sound of a broken toy fill the air.

Skin feverish and clammy, feeling disoriented as my stomach finally empties itself of everything, vision blurred as I shake my head, trying to withdraw back into the blanket, even soiled, it's the only cover I have, the only protection against the world poisonous and carnal beyond these four walls... no.

No.

Not even this room isn't safe.

This room isn't mine.

It's a cage. A prison. A room to be used and broken in over and over again. Yesterday was the first violent taste of it.

And this was my lifetime.

This was my accursed destiny.

This was my way of being.

This was... forever.

"I know this'll never be enough but I'm so, so sorry. I'm sorry that that man won you. I'm sorry you're stuck here. I'm sorry you're in the same drowning boat as me. As all of us. I'm sorry your life is sold away too." Voice broken hushed murmurs that bring no consolation except one.

One.

The same drowning boat.

If my lungs were filling with poisoned air, filled with lust-stained dark waters, he was floundering too, he was losing breath alongside me.

He was breaking too.

"...how old. How old are you? Listen... how old are you?" voice distraught and urgent.

My eyes are unfocused, struggling to hold his gaze, to focus on his words, seeing his lips move.

"15. 15..." I repeat hollowly.

He freezes. The man before had carnal lust etched deep into his features. This boy... this boy has carnal rage and violence transforming soft, androgynous features into something sharp and hardened.

A year earlier than I was meant to have my auction; my maidenhood sold younger.

It made the illicitness of it all more so thrilling, more wrong.

Young, inexperienced and new to this world. To the world beyond the precariously delicate veil of protection "training" brought.

"Name... what's your name... what's your name..."

"(Y/N)... name... (Y/N)."

"(Y/N) my name... my name's Jimin. I'll look after you... you're not alone okay... you're not going to hurt alone... I'll get you help. I'll make sure.... Okay... can't believe.... Okay. You're okay."

His words flicker in and out of my hearing, and try as I might I can't... won't let the edges of the soiled blanket go, throat dry and hoarse. Ruined.

His hand coaxes me up, flinching violently when my legs buckle, his body sinking down alongside mine, knees colliding painfully with the ground, a spark of pain far quieter... lesser than it should be sinks in, body trying to push myself upright, feeling pathetic... feeling broken as I try stand. Try to get my body to cooperate, the pain between my legs spiking into a sharper agony that paired with the cramping, the stiffness in my back, hips and abdomen has me crying out.

Shaking as tears sting the corner of my eyes out, sobbing at this boy... this stranger... to this... to Jimin... please make it stop. Please make it stop hurting.

His body shakes as he holds me, all soft lines and gentle, quiet as he holds me on the floor, uncaring of the soiled blanket pressing to him as he holds me tighter. A squeezing pressure that forces me to feel, to feel anything beyond that numbness.

Sitting there as I kneel on the floor, sobbing for a life I never wanted, for a life I couldn't even remember if I ever had before this. Sobbing for the drowning boat dragging us to merciless depths.

Voice raw and hoarse and struggling as I get out one question.

"How old are you... how old are you Jimin?"

His hands tighten.

Voice quiet.

"16."

The tears that sting my eyes are hidden by the burrow of my body against his, trembling as I clutch at him tighter, cradling him to me just as much as he does, the bruising pressure, the unwillingness to let go reminding me of a lifetime gone and past. Of a person who'd turned a point of no return that night. Who'd cried in the arms of a boy barely older than herself and barely saved herself from drowning. Who'd only kept floundering above the surface, barely, because of the man holding me now.

"I love you Mimi. I love you. I love you..." I whisper into his shoulder, voice shaking as I cling tightly, tears seeping into the fabric of his shirt, feel the tight curl of his body, the trembling hitch of breath and the thick waver to his voice.

"I love you too (Y/N). I love you and I hate myself for leaving earlier. But I swear the day you're out I'll be there, that this fortnight will be hell but I'll be there on the other side of it waiting for you to be back with me." he whispers, voice raw.

The tight pressure in my chest turns painful, a visceral agony that scours at me, deep weeping gashes that open with the crippling fear that this. What we've had for a decade is coming to an end.

An end whilst he's freed, an end with my approaching freedom.

But I'd never spent a day without him since.

And I couldn't imagine how the next two weeks would be.

And in that moment all I can feel is the bittersweet pain of letting go even as I cling tighter, tears trickling down my cheeks, lips brushing against his shoulder.

Whispering the same thing over and over. His name shakily whispered against a slither of skin but countless words unspoken in them, countless apologies and thanks hidden in them.

I love you Mimi.

I love you.

Thank you for saving me.

For drowning alongside me.

For surviving alongside me.

Thank you for seeing me get my happy ending.

Thank you for letting me be a part of yours.

Thank you for being the only home I'll need.

I love you Mimi. I'll always love you.

His words are shaky as he sniffles, a teary laugh as he tilts my face up, eyes red-rimmed as he looks at me, shaking his head and cupping my cheek.

"Don't break my heart (Y/N), it's not goodbye, it's my honeymoon of sorts. You're never getting rid of me silly."

And in his eyes there's fear and insecurity and tentativeness for the next step, for the next chapter, the next page of his story.

There's worry and pain and longing too.

"Likewise. You're mine for life." I whisper.

And the next kiss is laced with salty tears and promises, the curl of his tongue against mine familiar, the shaky press of lips against my own, shared breaths stolen from one another.

For life.

He's mine for life.

And I'm his.

And I laugh, shaky and sniffling when his lips quirk wider.

"So... did Tae make every fantasy come true? And thoughts on inviting him to our next orgy?"

I shake my head, heart aching, simultaneously breaking and overwhelmingly full as I cup his cheeks, pressing soft pecks to lips wet with tears.

"He doesn't like sharing."

He tilts his lips further to my touch.

"Guess we'll have to steal you away."

TAE POV:

She's quiet.

And her face is lined with proofs of her sorrow, wistfulness, longing and a new uncertainty in the red-rimmed eyes, in tearstained cheeks and in the quiet shaky breaths as she curls inside my arms, burrowing away from the ache of letting go.

"Are you okay sweetheart?" I whisper, lips brushing against her temple.

"No." honest and quiet and an emptiness in her eyes that yanks at my heartstrings.

"I love him. But I hated letting go."

My fingers brush through her hair, carding through the unbound tresses, head tilting to hers, a deep ache echoing inside me.

Was her grief what it felt like to lose your own? Was this how pain looked at saying goodbye even for a while?

The feeling is haunting as much as it is new, stirring memories locked away, battering against the shut lid and trying to worm back into my consciousness.

I hate I can't do anything.

"I may be selfish about sharing... but, the day you're out, I've already told Namjoon to join us for dinner. And... your friends. Your celebration isn't mine alone." I murmur, lips curving slightly against her head, feel her face tilt, the small lilt falling at the hope shining in teary eyes.

"Really? Mimi and the others too?" she echoes.

I nod, fingers catching the first tears as they spill down, wiping them away, holding her tighter against me, feel her hand curl tighter around my waist in turn.

"I know Jimin's the one you want to see the most... but, but I thought you'd like to celebrate with everyone who matters... I haven't, crossed a line have I?" I ask, voice quiet but it doesn't dispel the sudden bout of nervousness.

I wanted to everything right by her, wanted to do everything right for her.

Wanted her out the glorified cage the entire establishment was.

Her lips are soft as she brushes them against my jaw but bruising against my lips when my face turns, expressing every gratitude, every thanks in the touch.

Shaking her head.

"No... not at all. Thank you Tae... thank you." she murmurs, a looser curve to her spine as she relaxes in my arms, tears leaving their tell-tale trail on my shirt but her breaths are shaky, relieved exhales, voice doubtful as she speaks.

"It feels silly. Because I know... know I only have two weeks left. But since... since I've been in this, he's been in it alongside me. I know I wouldn't have survived... wouldn't ever have lived to meet you had it not been for him..." she murmurs quietly, fingers curling looser, tracing the hem of my shirt before delving to rest against skin, chasing the comfort of the heat of my body pressed under the loose sprawl of her hand.

There's a raw vulnerability in the quietness of her voice, so void of the mischief, the playful fire. She's tired.

And though she's close... she's tired of the wait, tired of being stuck, trapped... tired of this lifetime.

She wants out.

And I want nothing more than to steal her away this instant, but time... patience is a word that begins to make my skin itch with frazzled annoyance.

I didn't want to wait.

I couldn't wait for puzzle pieces to fall into place.

Not when she was hurting.

Not when all I wanted was to have her in my arms away from this ornate hell-hole.

"You've never known life without him... you've been in it forever." I quietly murmur.

She hums, a tired, soft sound.

"Since I was 15 and he was 16. Since day 1 of selling myself." She admits.

The quiet contentment turns to ice in my veins, horror sinking in, slammed in alongside roaring waves of rage.

Fifteen.

Fifteen.

We'd had such different lives at fifteen.

At fifteen she'd been sold and I'd spent nights alone wondering why I never fit, why I was alone on the far end of the house. Why I sat alone and shunned from family.

And she'd... she'd known, lived horrors since then.

My arm curls tighter, a fierce protective band that draws her impossibly closer to my side.

"Who..." I can't even force the words out, can't bring myself to, can't be the one to dredge horrors up to her living present.

But the name slips off her lips easily, quickly.

She's never forgotten.

It's a nauseating, horrific realisation how vile the words take a new meaning with the name that slips off her lips.

You never forget your firsts.

"Yoo Chul."

Yoo Chul.

The name's unfamiliar but it's one I turn over my tongue over and over, committing it to memory, burying deep alongside the anger and rage and poison that seeps through my veins, alongside the growing web of everyone who'd had a say in making not only (Y/N)'s life hell, but had extorted her, had made her toil and labour for far longer than she needed to.

Had Kang, had Lim, had every person involved in "administration" done their jobs with compassion that the lives they were leeching off were trapped... then who knew how many alongside (Y/N) would've been freed years earlier. Would've paid crippling debts off years earlier than still scrounging for money by giving themselves up over and over.

And in doing so broke apart more and more.

"I've known Mimi since then. The one good thing from the worst night of my life." she says softly.

A pain quietened by years, soothed by Jimin. But not gone.

Never gone.

Never healed.

"I'm glad... and thankful. I'm glad you have Jimin."

"Don't say that to his face unless you're ready for it's price." She murmurs, voice lighter.

Her body tilting to curl more readily against mine, leg worming between mine and head tucking under mine, fingers stilling on my waist.

"He sounds dangerous." I muse, heart fluttering with a mixture of giddiness and quiet tenderness at the way her words aren't as shaky as they'd been in the few hours we'd been lying together.

"Oh you have no idea bandit mine... not the slightest clue."

------

Disentangling from her is harder than I'd thought. Even with previous experience, I still haven't quite managed to grasp just how insistent she can be all sleepy and drowsy, eyes heavy with fatigue and paired with the slight puffiness sleep brings, the overall impact is.... Devastating.

"Don't leave." She mumbles, tucking herself back more insistently, daylight bringing with it the full extent of the tearstains, dried against her cheeks, eyes slightly swollen.

But her voice now quiet and soft isn't lonely as much as it is trapping me.

"Sweetheart you said yourself everyone on the floor starts getting up... I need to leave if you don't want me to get caught." I whisper quietly, lips curling fondly when she grumbles incoherently, burrowing against me, lips moving distractingly across the open gape of the shirt, mouthing and nuzzling at skin.

"(Y/N)." I hiss when her fingers curl tighter on my waist, leg rocking up to press against me, a dragging pressure I just know she's using to rile me up, to make me stay.

I groan at the sight of her bare thigh trapped between my legs, soft flesh still coloured prettily and rocking up to grind between me, trying to coax me to hardness; gritting my teeth as the quiet voices begin to filter past the mostly soundproof room.

"Don't be mean and stay... you could just go down and pretend you're here early... I hate it when you leave." She complains, fluttering eyes still drowsy with sleep, alert enough to know what she's trying to do, as she peers up at me.

"Sweetheart I love you but I need to go... I want to whisk you away or drag you down to make a mess on your sheets but you know things will go wrong if I'm caught." I murmur quietly.

Resolve to go disintegrating.

The will to let whatever happen... happen, to be damned regardless of the consequences and just stay.

But the meeting with the town's treasurer was today.

I was getting answers today.

I was getting answers to help me help (Y/N) get out.

I dither, warring between it, hand curling around her cheek and pressing a kiss to her lips briefly.

"Baby if you let me go, I'll make it up to you... tomorrow night." I bargain.

She hums, one eye sleepily blinking open to peer curiously.

"Negotiating Kim? Whilst I'm all defenceless and unaware?" she mumbles.

I laugh, head dropping down to rest against hers.

"If... if you ever find yourself defenceless in front of me... I'd spent it ravishing you, not negotiating." I croon, feeling her body shift as she turns, splaying on her back instead, leg slipping away, taking my eyes to the enticing sight of her thigh crooked and angled half-open.

"I'll remember to return the favour if it ever happens..." she mumbles, still groggy with sleep but eyes blinking open to peer at me through lowered lashes.

"How will you make it up tomorrow night?" she asks after a moment.

Startling me out of the haze of just drinking her in, resolve crumbling until she'd asked.

My lips widen in a grin.

"Test out the soundproof quality of this room after all."

Her lips quirk at the corners.

"Fine... you're lucky I love you. And I'm letting you go for now."

I am lucky.

But I can't help but feel slightly affronted when she signals the conversation as over, turning over and dragging the blankets over her to burrow back into, a substitute warmth now that I've gotten up.

Huffing and dragging my feet as I redress, eyes flitting back to the bundled form on the bed that doesn't once turn for a peek or to try call me back.

The quiet grumbles that slip past my lips don't go amiss and when I'm bending down to press a kiss to her cheek, her eyes blink open; wider and slightly more alert, lips curving up to mine. Hand wriggling out to pat my chest.

"Huffy bandit, I'll kiss it better tomorrow night." She promises.

And leaves bubbling elation in place.

I nod.

Pressing another kiss to her cheek and draw the blanket back.

"You better."

--------

"May I ask why you needed these account copies? They're paying taxes, their lockers are still secure, there's been no claims that'd require legal attention." The man opposite me asks, even as he slides the parchment forward, hands lingering across the sprawled details in long since dried ink.

My gloved hand stills before I reach for it.

Head cocked as I peer at him from the depths of the large hood; shadowing half my face from visibility, from the potential risk of recognition.

"Must I ask why a treasurer cares when I'm paying the right price for your discretion, these documents and a hefty sum to fuel that beautiful carriage your wife has been pestering you for?"

Relishing in the slightly blanched pallor to his skin, nervousness hidden and smoothened out behind an impassive face as he shrugs and removes his hand.

Watching me take them, eyes drifting to briefly scan for the details; asserting they're genuine, the wax seal is of the town treasury and that the names I need are listed. Their addresses too.

"What can you say about retired headmistress Lim Sin Ju?" I ask, tapping at her name.

Sickening.

Truly sickening.

"She's a widower. Lives in the small property just off her family's estate even though legally it is under her name. Listed heirs and genealogy chart is attached... but she is yet to make a will."

I hum, sifting through the papers before I push one towards him slightly.

"Why would a widow past her expiry date... impressively good health for an old woman I must say... why are no heirs listed for her assets—her deceased husband must've had quite the inheritance."

"It all comes from her husband's shares... she reinvested into the family business, the Lims and the Yoos go generations back."

Lim and Yoo.

There was the connection, unwittingly provided to me.

Handed to me in the aged parchment and the dried ink incriminating them.

Lim knew Chul personally, she'd been married into the family. She knew the man personally who she'd sold (Y/N) to.

"And... final question before I take these papers off your hands... what is the family business?"

The man dithers, confusion and uncertainty lining his face, words slow as he speaks.

"Pawnbrokers."

I nod, hands slow and careful as I straighten the papers, rerolling the parchment and securing them. But before he leaves, before he can slip out the booth and melt out of sight, I'm already moving to my feet, blocking his exit as he stands.

"One final thing... consider it a warning or a token of advice and goodwill but if I find any leaks, any information winding back to anyone when I paid for discretion, I will burn down every pretty antique you can afford and leave you begging on the streets esteemed Treasurer."

He nods and it's unmistakable now to see that beyond the tavern heat, the glow of the lantern, he's sweating, perspiring with nerves as he looks at me, he's cowardly as well as he is greedy.

He won't spill.

Not when the costs and benefits are far greater by his silence.

"Understood milord."

I grin, lips curving wide across my face, knowing full well it's the only thing he can see of me, can make out clearly from under the shadowed hood.

"Pleasure doing business with you."

And only when he has left the tavern, slipping past the small crowds; the quiet din of people drifting in for an early lunch or for a tankard of ale.

Navigate past small clusters of people, eyes already having scanned and checked for anyone in nearby vicinity before I move towards the front.

Smile at the heart-shaped grin directed to me, eyes briefly flicking to me before continuing to fill up a large tankard of beer, sliding it forward towards a customer who takes it and leaves.

I watch as Hobi moves towards me, wiping his hands dry, dragging a barstool to plop down opposite me, separated by the wood, but he leans forward, shucking off my hood and tugging at the ties.

"Hand it over, the last thing you need is being identifiable as the hooded guy..." he mutters, watching as I slide it off, bundling up the large expanse of fabric and sliding it over.

Watch how instantly it disappears, so deft and quick that the movement almost goes unnoticed even though I'm staring at him, watching him move to tuck it underneath.

"Covering up my tracks... how noble... can I buy you a drink?" I laugh, teasing as I watch him, see the way his eyes flash playfully, leaning in, gaze dark and voice sultry.

"I'm a taken man Kim... what are your intentions?" he drawls.

"What are your intentions...?" another voice echoes, curious and amused and when I turn to it, raised brows greet me, a tall figure slipping into the seat beside me, broad strength encased in well-worn, well-made clothes.

Hand propped up on his arm; something familiar and yet unfamiliar in the brown eyes, the same shade of hair and the easy grin.

Something looser in the broad sprawl of his shoulders.

"Jin... am I interrupting a date of sorts?" I muse, eyes drifting from him to Hobi, lips quirking up at the fleeting grins and lingering eyes the two exchange.

"Not for another half hour until I get Kook's beau to fill in... he's looking for a change in work, he may be a talented bartender. Kook's says he's got good taste and I have a good partner." Hobi shrugs.

"Answer the question Tae... what are your intentions... and I don't mean the dallying with my intended... I mean the nondescript clothes. Where's the finery?"

I tilt my head to examine him, eyes slowly lingering, unhurried and words purposely drawn out.

But I don't miss the silent flicker of his eyes to the bag still slung over my shoulder, crammed with papers he can't see.

Not until it's time.

Not until everything is slotted into place.

"Sometimes... my clothes aren't worth ruining when I'm going to get my hands dirty. And I didn't care about making an impression... not all the time." I admit quietly.

The sound of a glass clinking against the wood and being slid over has my eyes drifting, creasing into a wider smile when I spot Kook, pushing forward a glass of liquor.

Sparing me the need to elaborate immediately, a knowing grin curling across his face; shattering the tall intimidation he usually projects unconsciously to others. Replaced with the boyish charm I've known for years. Grew up the better part of my life with.

"Only ask questions you can afford the answers to Jin."

Didn't father dearest ever teach you that?

But the shadows that cross his face make his face look older, wearier and the moment it slips out, the bitter echo of a lifetime past, I resent myself for it.

For letting poisoned hurt seep to the surface, for letting old wounds threaten to gape.

Seokjin didn't have a role in that.

He never had.

And he was hurting in his own way, for his past and his own pained estrangement. The only Kim heir, the only legitimate child.

The burn of the stronger alcohol makes my throat sting as I down it.

"You're not in trouble are you... or planning something stupid? Cos Tae you can ask for help, you can ask if you need support... you're not alone anymore." Jin murmurs, leaning in, voice quieter, uncharacteristically serious. The tone of a worried older brother.

It hurts I'd never known it until I'd learnt to live without it.

And now I was so tempted to fall back onto it, a crutch I wanted to lean against and allow myself weakness in front of.

The weighted offer hangs suspended between us, in the small slither of a distance and I stare at him contemplatively.

"Hypothetically... can you access clientele files?"

His soft eyes blink.

Nodding.

"I need their files to know how to set up treatments afterwards."

"And do they have addresses on them?"

A nod.

My voice is quieter, a brushed whisper that travels the short distance.

"If if you want to help... I want Yoo Chul's address."

A myriad of expressions flit across his face but the most prominent is knowing anger, sick revulsion transforming the handsome features into something harsh and jagged.

"I wasn't there when it happened but I want you to make it hurt whatever you're going to do to him."

A wicked sense of promise burns through me.

"I will."

"Then he's all yours."

--------

Ten years is an awfully long time.

Ten years shapes a life, changes its course and trajectory, sends it far from its initial path or far away from it. Ten years brought (Y/N) finally within reach of her freedom and ten years brought me towards something resembling family when a decade earlier I'd been kicked out of the isolated wing and told to fend for myself. That shelter only extended to this much and mercy came to an expiration date.

Ten years has made Lim and Chul's pawnbroker shop into a recognised name. A brand with its rich assortment of antiquities and knickknacks clustered in corners and its sprawling riches there in all its fine glory; in books, furniture, jewellery, clocks... chaises and endless turns and corners to the wide space the large shop now proudly boasts of.

Ten years has fed Lim's wealth into this.

Has her wealth, her price, her name rising and all for a retired headmistress and full-time owner of the inconspicuous establishment tucked in the centre of the city.

The town's prized jewel; sin and lust and greed and gluttony all clustered together and housed under a majestic structure.

And yet.

Yet. She holds a share in this.

In a pawn shop.

In fuelling the cover for the filth her soul is tainted and drowned under.

The tinkling of the chimes alerts the frontman to attention, eyes tearing off a ledger to peer at me, smile curving across his lined face, disarming and... mundane at first glance.

"Welcome sir, if you have any preference in mind I'll be happy to assist, otherwise you're welcome to take a look around—" voice soft and eyes twinkling, falling silent and sinking back into his seat he'd half-risen from to continue working the books, ink sprawling across the leather bound accounts.

I let my feet slowly saunter through the shop, eyes drifting across the shelves, crammed with antique books and ornamental decorations, across rich imported carpets, open armoires inviting eyes to its depths, to its quality of craftsmanship.

"Do you buy items still?" I call out as I continue to move, half-assessing, half-distracted, flitting gaze that scans disinterestedly.

"Is there anything in mind? We specialise in jewels, we have a hired specialist..."

Oh I know... I've sold so many of your own stolen jewels back to you, stolen from your clients and their riches have ended up in your clutches once more.

I just never knew just how important this shop was.

Didn't know the secrets it housed.

But I bet you didn't know your son was spending all your income down the drains, down the filthy gutters of taverns and whorehouses and the finer tastes of an esteemed establishment.

Bet you don't know he pays for the young, unbroken maidens still. To be delivered right to his doorstep. Or that your widowed daughter-in-law feeds Chul's insatiable appetite of untouched flesh.

"Ah! The famed Chul, I've only heard of his talent by word of mouth, my friends especially sing his praise." I say with delight, rounding back to the front of the shop, leaning against the desk and watching his father's face beam with pride.

Ruddy cheeks pink with praise for his son as he nods, sliding the accounts shut before reaching for a thick portfolio.

Stitched parchment clustered to make an ornate book of designs.

"He's always had a talent for the rare gems. He's gone out for lunch but he'll be back soon... can't ever drag him away from the inn a few streets down. The... the Wild Boar." He says, opening the delicate pages with careful hands; wrinkled and crooked with arthritis.

"And leaves his father to manage the store, you should be spending the prime peak of your life with the missus." I admonish, silently fishing for information, the weakest flicker of empathy towards the man, for using him as so instantly quietened when all he does is harp praise for the esteemed son.

The man of the house bringing in customers.

And pouring it all away in the price of young girls.

I wonder if Yoo even knows his store has loans awaiting payment, debts stacking up... all to be paid for by the enviable treasures he hoards and clusters with the gleam of a man whose life was well spent, whose happiness should've been earnt and reaped now.

I wonder if he knows that systematically with every monthly check of the inventory small miscellaneous items go missing; turn up to be resold on the other end of town by another pawn shop.

That the money has been poured in buying the Wild Boar; Chul's personal haven.

I wonder if he knows to get out whilst he can.

"It's all worth it, every father wants the best for his child... now, is there a particular design you're looking for? Or looking to sell something?"

"I wanted to see if you have any books on traditional medicine... but the covers look rather fresh and modern for an antique copy. I may have to find another seller I'm afraid." I muse.

There's a flash of incredulity and pride in his eyes, shaking his head as he rounds the desk, ushering me forward.

"We pride ourselves on genuine antiques sir, I can show you myself." He insists.

Hurrying forward towards the shelves, careful as he draws on gloves for handling them, dragging a small ladder to pluck one out, following my direction as I call out the book name.

But dismay and horror and shock colours his features when he opens it, insistent on the authenticity of it when the book opens to a hollowed out box, a false replica switched in place.

My lips twist in pity and disgruntlement.

"If I were you Lord Yoo, I'd check who on earth replaced authentic books with these... two-bit fakes."

Stepping back, faux-sympathy etched deep, leaving the man clutching the book.

The simmering beginnings of rage and comprehension dawning on his jovial face.

The tinkling chimes mock him as I leave.

And the second the door closes I draw off the tight, no-nonsense bland tie, tugging it free from around my neck, undoing the top buttons as I move away from the shop.

And another seed of discord is planted.

They'll be part of their own undoing.

And now...

Maybe now it was time, I visited Lim's estate.

The bounty was bigger, the stakes were higher, the odds riskier but like I'd told (Y/N).

I was all in.

And I had no intention of pulling away.

And every person had to pay their price for trapping her in a life longer than she ever needed to be stuck in.

Starting with Lim and Chul.

But not ending with them.

Fate had trapped her... but I was getting her out.

(AND WHEW! SUPER INSECURE AND EHHHHHH ABOUT THE ENDING BUT LET'S SEE, LET'S SEE!! I HOPE I DID THIS CHAPTER JUSTICE, HOPE IT WAS AN ENJOYABLE SURPRISE @Midiiplier AND WITH THIS I OFFICIALLY MARK THE END OF EXAMS WHOOOOO! I WAS RUNNING ON A LOT OF INSPIRATION AND THIS IS PERHAPS THE QUICKEST WRITTEN CHAPTER OF THIS SERIES!! BUT... I CRIED OVER MY LAPTOP WRITING THE FLASHBACK YESTERDAY, BUT I FEEL IT'S IMPORTANT—TO KNOW JUST HOW DEEP HER AND MIMI'S BOND GOES! HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY AND ACTION TO COME SOON!! ENJOY AND TAKE CARE LOVELIES!)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3