My body still curls close to Tae as he sinks down onto the bed, eyes roving worriedly over the tight expression on his face, on the way he slumps as he sinks against the pillows with a rough groan.

See Jin hover close, aiding the movements with an arm curled around him, steadying him and drawing more pillows to steady him properly.

See the unbridled hurt and anger scoured deep in Minnie's face as he's held by Joon, held from surging forward, body cagey and antsy and eyes scanning me feverishly, frantically... as if the distance will undo the comfort and reassurance he'd been giving and receiving by holding me close to him.

See Joon's eyes scan protectively, eyes raking over Tae's body with a clinical assessing intensity, eyes softening when they drift to me. Soften with pain and empathy and understanding.

"If... I don't want to go back but... but there's no way Lim will let me live. Will let me breathe if it's not under her control... she's not going to let me go." I mumble, voice quiet, cracking in the weighted silence, under the gazes settling on me.

The arm encircled around my waist tightens, turns bruising in its fierce unrelenting pressure.

"There's no way in hell you're going back to her." he growls out, body taut beside mine but still half-curling, ignoring the hiss of pain that slips past clenched lips, the sharp warning in two voices to not tear the stitches. And dark anguished eyes hold mine, burning with a vow that whatever it takes, whatever the cost... I won't go back.

I don't know whether to feel relief or fear what price we need to pay.

The lump in my throat grows; the pressure swells; lungs constricting and throat tightening, the sensation makes it hard to breathe, partly terrified that every breath of a freedom unpaid for was going to cost me in greater consequence and a mixture of nausea and disbelief and plea that no... I didn't want to go back, I wanted an out. I wanted to leave... whatever it took.

I couldn't try earn all of the money to pay off my debts another time over. Because it wouldn't cost me a decade, it'd cost me whatever life I had left. Whatever healthy and happy life I imagined beyond the brothel would all whittle down, the lifestyle would kill me, would break my body beyond survival, beyond salvation.

I knew it wouldn't cost me a decade because at some point, a few years down the line, I'd slowly lose the value I'd been marketed with, I'd begin to lose the youth that still sold fantasies, still sold pleasure forcefully taken and unwillingly given. I'd eventually be commissioned at prices that'd barely bring anything back to my pockets, it'd make it even more difficult to pay back the debt and eventually I'd be selling myself for the lowest price, for a handful of pennies to be at the whim whoever tossed the meagre change at me. I'd die in that brothel. That was a fact I was certain of.

And I had too much to live for, people to live for, my happy ending that I was still holding onto despite the way it was slipping out of my grasp.

"But how?"

And it's not Tae who speaks, it's Jin.

Eyes steely and sharp and unforgiving; ruthless and hardened. Sharp with a bitterness, with a hatred that he's always done well to hide, gone to great lengths to suppress in the careful composure of his face within the brothel.

"I don't know if you've ever seen the things Tae's been stealing, been pilfering from larger houses and estates..." he begins.

My eyes flicker to him.

Remember the brush of jewels grazing skin, payments that went far beyond the prices because it meant a large portion went to me, remember late nights where he carried the scent of the night air crisp on his shirt or days where he came slightly ruffled and rugged, skin skimmed and curls tousled but grinning so, so wildly.

It hadn't just been trinkets, hadn't just been meaningless thefts for the sake of indulgence... at some point he'd started infiltrating houses, he'd started raising the stakes.

His gaze is unrepentant as he meets mine, bruised face; the sight of mottled red and purple, the visible reminder of all that we'd escaped, all that I'd hurried to get him away from... and it was because he'd been gambling with riskier odds and higher stakes.

"Tae... why?"

"I don't know what you were planning to do with the papers and documents Tae, or with the wealth slowly being redirected but I'm assuming... it all stems down to Lim."

My body starts, fingers reflexively curling around my waist, eyes drifting to examine Tae, feel the weight of Minnie's eyes trained on my every reaction, feel the air thicken and cloy with intensity at the mention of her.

Lim.

Why Lim? What was Tae planning? What had he been doing for the past—how long?

Joon's eyes have sharpened, flickering embers of rage and protectiveness flaring into a burning heat as he slowly draws close, arms still tightly curled around Jiminie because the moment he lets him go—something will snap. Something will snap the tight tautness of the air and everything already hovers precariously above us all. A teetering point of falling headfirst into uncertainty.

"Do you know the one thing that's priceless? One thing that makes or breaks the town?" he asks, voice slightly laboured, wavery where the medication must be wearing off, my eyes imploringly turning to Joon; see his hesitation as he lets his arms unravel from around Minnie.

Feel my body crumble with relief as he immediately brackets mine from behind, arms snaking around me protectively, lips shaky and skimming across my temple, jaw and cheek, breaths ragged as if holding himself back, being held back had been physically exerting and mentally taxing.

Feel the intensity of the confrontation, the rage directed towards Tae even if he stays silent for now, even if that anger simmers under his veins and expresses itself in the firm press of his body caging mine, encasing it protectively.

"What?" voice quiet, almost afraid to ask. Bolstered and soothed by the cold, hard glint of confidence in his eyes. Because that means the game isn't over, it means he still has cards to play, it means he never showed his full hand.

And so the odds can still turn in his favour.

He can still win... we can still win.

"Secrets. Gossip might fuel the town but secrets is what it's founded on. And the disgraced bastard of a strong family line might not be able to do anything... but... but..."

"The legitimate son working at the brothel can." Jin surmises.

Voice tight, jaw clenched and eyes blazing; seared with a knowledge, a power in the legitimacy, in the purity of birth that's always kept two brothers apart but now... now, two sides of the same coin, two Kims... the distance is broached by a shared need, a vengeance.

The voice reverberates against my chest, heavy and thick with emotion and determination; an insistence in the firm resoluteness.

"I want in. Whatever plan it is, I want in."

There's a hardness to his tone that brooks no contradiction, eyes flashing with anger; daring anyone to try stop him, hands cradling me tighter, body pressed tightly to mine as if wishing to meld the two of us together or to take me away.

Whatever needs be.

"Mimi... I... I don't want you going back there." my voice trembles, heart clenching painfully tight at the thought, nausea making my stomach lurch viciously because he'd been there just as long—he wasn't going to be taking a step back in the same hell that scoured and burned us for years on end.

"If there's anyone who deserves revenge, deserves to make Lim and every person involved pay... it's me."

Because he the only one who knows, the only one who can truly feel and bears the weighted burden of my imprisonment with an aching familiarity.

Because above all... Mimi is that one person whose weaved from the same fabric as me, cleaved and carved and hurt by the same sharp blade and has endured and suffered just as much if not more.

Tae's eyes are soft and surrendering to the carnal anger radiating off Minnie, giving way to it because the pain etched deep into every feature shows how much he believes he deserves the entire brunt of the rage and resentment. Lips trembling when my hand reaches for his silently, body tilting close as much as the fierce embrace allows for.

"...I accept that. I respect that Jimin... you more than anyone deserve vengeance."

Voice quieter and softer.

Not surrendering without reason but acquiescing. Accepting.

It was hard to admit when you were wrong, harder so to admit when you made a mistake and hardest when you accepted you needed help.

But Tae was doing it all. Without complaint. Without care.

Because he knew the last time he'd let his thoughts distract him, blind him and got him caught. And he knew, he trusted the others.

Joon's voice is sharp and low.

"So. Tell us what we need to do."

--------------

"You're not going anywhere Tae." I murmur as I watch him tug on a shirt, see the wince tugging at his lips as his arm has to lift up, discomfort pinching his features.

He continues to draw it on resolutely, jaw clenched and tightened, eyes flashing with anger and resentment directed inwards; painful shards driving into himself by his own mind, voice a low, rough rasp that trembles with the weight of what's to come.

"I have to. I have to clean up the mess I made, you can't go back." he grits, eyes shining as he ducks his head away from my sight, turning away as he draws the buttons of the open shirt shut, threading every button with a haste, with an urgency.

Willing to catch up with the small cluster that'd left; the three of them setting out, faces resolute and stony, each of them with a role to fulfil, with a job they needed to do, eyes steely with the promise of vengeance despite the gentleness that had radiated out of every word and hug as they'd drawn me close. Promises whispered into my hair, pressed against skin; such fragile words that hung delicately in the air after they'd been uttered.

"And trust Jin with what you've been trusting him with until now. Trust them. And rest." I murmur, fingers catching at his sleeve, drawing him to turn my way, to face me.

Meet the guilt and shame of his gaze with the agony of my own, see his face falter, his lips droop downwards even as his hand skims to cup my cheek, even as my fingers clutch at his wrist and try to slowly draw him back towards the bed. Eye the sheen of sweat on his skin, the pinched expression and the shallow breaths.

He's so clearly hurting. And he needs to rest.

"How can I lie down when my stupidity made freeing you harder?"

My hand tightens on his sleeve, body slotted close as I draw him more insistently against me, slowly coaxing him towards the edge of the bed.

Watch as he grips the corner of the side-table as he sinks down, posture agitated as I kneel in front of him, slowly undoing the few buttons he'd hurriedly closed. Draw the fabric off his body, fingers carefully skimming skin.

Ache at the tight grimace of pain on his face, his body stiff and going still under my touch, hand reaching out to draw me up, tugging me forward, head leaning against my stomach, arms winding around my hips to draw me close.

"Tae... baby rest. Trust them the way I trust them... it'll all work out." I whisper.

I've entrusted everything to them, to the fierce resolve and the protective determination and overwhelming love. I've surrendered to it willingly because it's fragile hope but it's a chance nonetheless, it's hope that even now things can be fixed, time can't be undone but its consequences can still be solved, can be overcome.

Trust them the way I trust them.

"I should've just stolen you away when I had the chance. I should've taken you and ran." he whispers, voice quiet and hushed.

My lips curve up, fingers brushing across curls before I cup his cheeks, thumb brushing over the corner of his split lip, wincing at the healing cut.

"Is that so? Where would he have run to? We'd be fugitives of the law?" I murmur, head tilting as I smile at him.

See his own curve slightly, tugged up at the corners.

"Anywhere. I'd go anywhere with you."

My heart squeezes tightly in the confines of my chest, thuds rapidly.

"You'd leave behind your beautiful cottage? Shame... I've taken quite the liking to it."

His eyes soften, face tilting to the touch, lips brushing against the pad of my thumb.

"It's yours. I want it... I want it to be your home with me. I want it to be ours." He murmurs quietly.

Voice tinged with a vulnerability, a rawness that's rarely ever seen as his hand encircles my wrist, body curving with an exhaustion, a want as his body curls to mine.

"Would you~ let me decorate it too? Add my touch?" I murmur, thumb brushing fleetingly across his bottom lip.

He nods, lips curving in a gentle smile.

"Any way you want."

"Even if I want paintings made up like yours? Even if I'd have to be bare for the painter's eyes?"

Surprisingly, his eyes brighten, gleam; and the flash of something raw and hungering pushes away the silently simmering worry. It makes a part of me relax seeing he's distracted.

Drawn in by the dark enthral of his eyes holding my own captive.

"What's to say when the pleasurable opportunity arises for you to lay bare to be painted, it won't be me committing every inch of you to the canvas. Who said anything about someone else seeing you like that?" soft drawled possessiveness that blooms and entangles with love and lust and want, his eyes fluttering shut at the gentle peck I press to his lips.

Even now... even now, the dream was something we were both grasping onto tightly... even now it was something tangible, something just in reach.

We just had to wait, we had to try, we had to do everything we could. And hope... hope that we made it out on the other side with each other.

"An artist too my lord Kim? Full of surprises aren't you?"

His lips curve up, eyes gleaming as he leans forward, lips chasing to slot against mine, groaning with frustration when I dodge the touch, tapping his injured lip.

"None of that until you're healed."

"Not even a kiss? After I had to end up staying?"

But there's vulnerability entangled with want and plea and I'm futile to resist the sweet imploring gaze; tilting to brush my lips against his, lingering for a few beats, tongue flicking against the seam of his lips.

"I know Mimi's angry but I'm not."

Because above all you're my choice. You're the choice I've made for my happy ending.

His lips tremble, voice quiet.

"But you can. You should be." He whispers, the admission ashamed.

The confession following it is relieved and overwhelmed.

"But I wouldn't be able to live with myself if you couldn't find it in you to love me, to be here."

The words fragile, skimming across my lips with a featherlight tentativeness.

And I can't help but tug him forward, lips crushing against his, forcefully melding together to erase every hurt and insecurity, every scrap of vulnerability and doubt because there's no-one I'd rather be with, no doubt if time reversed I'd have done the same thing all over again.

For him... I'd do everything the same way again.

For him, I'd do anything. And if it had ever required the tables to turn, to take his place, I'd have done that one too.

My lips meld to his, fuse with an unwavering love and desperation that I can't live without him, that I can't ever stop loving him and that every single day I'll keep loving and cherishing him. Kissing away every hurt and when tears trickle down his cheeks, I feel a similar agony scour deeply and sting my eyes.

He has no reason to worry, no reason to fear, but still he clutches at me with a fervent need, desperate to hold on and terrified that letting go will make me vanish from sight.

So I let myself be drawn up, let myself to press close to him, mindful of his injuries even as he uncaringly tugs at me until we're flush. Until his arms band around me and encase me in a tight embrace, head burrowed against the crook of my neck, breathing ragged as he curls close.

Lets himself be soothed and grounded by the physical weight of my body straddling his, of my own arms and legs wound around him and the whispered reassurance that we're forever, and everything will be okay.

It's no longer a tentative hope, it's a burning, intense determination.

Because none of us will have it any other way.

And even though the day stretches out and hours pass by, we find comfort in each other and slowly his panic calms, body curled around mine, limbs entangled and cradling me close.

Whispered promises and soft kisses and lingering touches as he draws me close; fingers slowly carding through my hair, brushing across my nape and skimming across the curve of my spine.

Forever.

There's the promise of forever hovering over us and though waiting is a painful, slow process—we find that time to feel that safety in each other. My hand rests over his chest; soothed by the slow calmed beat of his heart. Safety in the cocoon we are for each other.

Safety because Tae's here, with me.

And whatever it takes... our happy ending will come.

Because I have a family who refuse to settle for anything else.

JIN POV:

The brothel has never been home. Never been comfort or reassurance in it's familiarity. It's never been safety, it's never been a shelter, it's always been a prison. A cage. A glorified zoo that marketed to cater to the exotic, perverse and untamed human desires. It's always been suffocation for the two people out of the masses that I called mine, the brothel wasn't home... but it was where I found two of the puzzle pieces to fit the dysfunctional image of family. Of what it meant to belong.

And it was never meant to have happened, my path did wind up to the brothel with a guided nudge but it was never meant to keep me. It was never meant to be where a lord's son was meant to find work in a place of scandalous ill-repute. It was never where he was meant to vanish, to willingly be absorbed into the lifestyle of a web weaved too intricately for people to be inevitably snared in.

And staring at the same imposing height of the brothel, knowing every staircase, every floor, the map of the large sprawling estate like the veins on the back of my hands... it was an intimate familiarity that I couldn't bring myself to dissociate from. Not when it bought a stumbling, injured boy in my path, barely younger than I'd been that night, and had tugged me into its entangled web of secrets, scandals and sex.

Debauchery at its finest, classiest level. Sex sold at every price, flavour of fantasy, by the hour or by daily charges. Sold to anyone who could afford the price of lust easily satisfied and came with no strings attached. Except there were strings attached and they came in the form of ropes, nooses that slowly but surely suffocated the spirit and life out of the people dragged down the paths of their fates carved by a wicked, gnarled hand. And over the years I saw hope flicker and die out and I saw people surrender to the mindless pleasure and sell their bodies until they were skin and bone.

There's a sickening nausea as I look at the brothel, large, sweeping waves of anger and rage and hatred; thick and viscous and sealing up the passage of air to leave and enter my lungs, as if that fragile breath will be crushed within the confines of my chest. I had the same lurching despair every day I entered, a miserableness that was never soothed or numbed with time because without fail every single day would bring horrors and nightmares that the people who physically bore the sign of them wouldn't escape from for a very long time.

I'd dragged my feet that night years ago as I first found myself being hauled and shoved up the winding drive, the sloping path to its ornate doors. Had thrashed and cursed and glared as I tried to shove my way back out from the pleasure den that elitist friends of name and show had steered me towards. I'd felt my skin crawl and my chest tighten the first time I'd smelt the cloying mix of incense and perfume, a futile attempt to disguise the unmistakable tang of sex clinging to the air.

It's weird how the same incense and perfumed mix hasn't changed. It's weird I can't remember the exact moment the smog seeped into skin and found its place there, clinging to every fibre of cloth and every crevice of my body. It's weird how a place can suffocate someone by the sight of it.

And yet... It's not weird at all.

This place has been a prison from the first moment I stepped foot into it and a cage for the two people I loved and cherished and hurt for every single time I walked in and saw them.

Saw how lust was an ugly merciless monster that clawed and scoured and bruised their skin. Broke already aching, crumbling hearts and resolve and gauged deep wounds into them that took time to heal... time they didn't have the indulgence of waiting for.

Saw their bodies barely recovered be commissioned again, saw roving eyes drowning with unadulterated lust hunger for them. And saw their masks for the world chip and crumble in front of my eyes... helpless to do anything.

But this is it. This is how I help, this is how I do something for them beyond the temporary relief of soothing them. I can't erase years but I can and will secure (Y/N)'s future out and beyond the cage. And if I have to tear it apart brick by brick, if I have to hurt every single one of them who hurt her... so be it. It was a price I long since decided was one worth paying. One I hungered to pay.

The carriage rolls away from behind, wheels turning and moving Joon and Jimin away.

There was no way in hell, Jimin was stepping a foot back in. Not when he'd worked just as desperately to escape, not when phantoms haunted his eyes and his happiness threatened to turn brittle and come crashing down in front of my eyes.

My hands might've been tied before but they weren't anymore. I might've had to hold back because at the time their lives would have always been at stake, that the wrong move would've left me unable to help them in any way, I would've been fired and I wouldn't be able to help, in the smallest amount that I could, to make them cope just the tiniest fraction more.

And as I move down the winding path, a faint echo of the past hovers in front of my sight. And where nausea and horror had been, cold, hard resolve is now.

This place has been a cage too long. And yet... now, now it was time to tear Lim off her high pedestal and leave her flightless. It was time she was caged and left unable to escape, and for the noose to tighten around her wrinkled neck.

Stepping in is disorienting. Because the two people for who I held onto this hell for so long are no longer here, no longer trapped. And it feels like the world's axis has been tilted, the balance of it shaken, everything taken and known as truth, as fact has been scrambled.

And yet it all operates the same way. The thick smog sinks in once more and the bustling hive of bodies still fill my vision and the day, though being young, burns with its desire.

And the web teems with countless prey, snared into painted sharp pincers that sunk in with the ferocious hunger of never letting her hold go.

—-----------

"I don't want to go!" I seethe, tugging my arm free of the grip tightly encasing it, glaring at the smug grin, feel my blood boil at it.

"Loosen up Seokjin– what father spends so lavishly on his son's birthday? If my parents were so callous– you can bet I'd have whores decorating my private property."

My teeth grind tightly, a fierce pressure as the anger wells up in large waves, twisting out of the grip, breath sharp.

"I said no. I'm not going to go in there and force myself on them because I have the title and wealth to pressurise them."

His eyes are dark and steeped with lust and hunger.

"Kim, your family name entitles you. Any one of the two-bit prostitutes wouldn't service you for free... for the prize of sharing your sheets and letting you use them any way you want." he sneers.

The family name is poisonous. And hearing it spreads venom through my veins, turns the burning heat of shame, rage and embarrassment into something painful; ignites the roaring flames to a merciless inferno

The family name is damned. It's a name that separates brothers and isolates the little I know and see of my mother into the pretty, maintained doll who only moved and spoke and acted how she was expected to, how she was taught to.

A man who revelled in control and order and power, valuing respect and fear and not love. A man who used the family name as reins to leash us all with, to control with.

He's already estranged my brother, trapped and punished him for being the product of his doing– there was no hiding it, not with the way my mother smirked and ignored him, resenting and pitying him, in the same instant, for being cast aside until even the meagre shreds of the most tiniest scraps of human feeling hardened. Because his features didn't resemble our father and it was clear he was his mother's son, whoever that was.

And now... now he spills money in the name of the same lust, the same urges that led to our broken family in the first place.

And my body revolts viscerally at the thought, skin crawling as I'm shoved through the door by several pairs of hands.

Nose assaulted by the thick fog of perfume and incense, the intensity of it enough to make my head pound, eyes immediately filled with the sight of rich splendour, the hallway stretching out towards what must be the centre of the estate. And with each struggled step down the short walk, there's the growing loudness of voices.

And the first person to greet me, eyes running over my clothes, over the entourage of spoilt rich boys and hurrying forward with a sweeping brush of over-starched skirts. Posture distinctly stiff and unnerving and smile garish.

"Welcome~ is there a specific taste that's brought you to our pleasure den tonight?"

The voices behind me clamour, eager to spill forth their rotten desires and fantasies, to have their pleasures met and satiated because this all came from the Kim inheritance tonight.

After the bodies have stopped clustering me, drawn away by men and women, older and younger, her eyes come to fixate onto me.

Examining me with a predatory hunger that makes the crawling sensation turn teeming with disgust and revulsion, bile stinging the back of my throat

She might not know me by face or by name, but clothes and money speak for itself

And she grins with a wicked curve to thin lips.

"We can get you a package deal if you like? Or depending on how long you're here for, two of our finest jewels will be free a day and a half from now. They're young and still learning... but I guess that's a different pleasure in itself." voice coy as if she wasn't selling people to me. As if she wasn't marketing them to anyone.

I don't know who the woman is, but I loathe her.

I backtrack.

"It was a mistake coming here, I'm not looking for anything or anyone.

Stepping away to leave, to go home and scour the cloying scent off my skin.

And every step away lightens the tight constricting pain in my chest, hurrying away with an impatience and blindness that I don't see the person curled up on the front steps until I collide with them. Stumbling as I try to catch my balance, hand flying out to steady myself.

Not expecting the pained groan that rips out into the quiet when my hand curls against a shoulder, steadies myself there.

I draw away hurriedly, apology streaming past my lips and when the hunched, shadowed form turns I flinch. Jerking back from the exhaustion and pain etched deep in listless eyes, hand cradling his shoulder and curling away

His shirt, far too thin for the weather, does nothing to hide the mottled angry bruises drifting from his throat downwards. There's no hiding the bruises are handprints.

"...I'm so, so sorry. Are you okay?"

The question seems to startle him, a wavery weak strained bubble of laughter slipping past a split lip, the small stretch to his mouth makes it tear anew, blood gleaming at the corner of his mouth.

And tired eyes, on a face far too young, peer up at me. Body curved around himself, seeming even smaller than he appears to be.

"Never better." voice rough and strained and when I move past, the flinched shrinking is damning and telling enough; mindful of the barest skimming touches that could aggravate whatever injuries lie under his ruined clothes.

Nausea had me flee but anger and pain makes me stay, crouching down in front of him, simmering tendrils of rage pulsing through my veins as I look at him.

"Is... will it get worse if you go back tonight?"

He hesitates. Looking at me and trying to ascertain whether it's in his best interest to even answer me. Realises that it can't be worse, the notion makes my stomach clench unpleasantly, tight knots making it churn, as he gives a small shaky nod.

"I'll get put into service immediately. Some people have a taste for broken goods." the words soured and disgusted.

My blood burns at the thought.

"Do... I know you have no right to trust me and you shouldn't, but... you need to get away. You need to rest and be seen a physician." I say.

His smile falls, the weak, fake curve turning brittle and falling away entirely.

"I can't go. You can't vanish and not pay for that mistake." He grits out.

"...I'll pay. I'll pay for you to get away and get checked up. You can stay wherever you feel comfortable... but go back after you've healed." The words stream past my lips.

Spilling out before I can second-guess them, before I can dither over decorum and propriety and etiquette.

Silently I berate myself for it. Ears heating at the embarrassment of propositioning him to come with me, to leave with someone he doesn't know.

His eyes hold mine, whether they're searching or assessing or simply staring incredulously... I don't know.

"...okay."

I stare as he stands, watching the struggling, wincing movements, hurrying forward with a late start to help him, hands carefully steadying him, eyes searching him for him to shrink away.

Instead he just gives a weary sigh, lips curving at the corners.

"You're not a murderer are you?"

I balk, head shaking furiously.

It draws a soft bubble of laughter out.

Wincing as he steadies his balance.

"You know what... even if you were, I just want to get out of here. Whatever it takes."

And in that moment I hear desperation and it fuels his need to get out.

We don't know each other, but we both want out, he needs to leave and rather than squander wealth into fuelling their pains, I can use it to get him away.

There's no hesitation as I hold out the pouch of coins and feel his grip falter then tighten; shocked and incredulous and dismayed on my behalf that I should give it away so easily.

Tugs out a handful of coins and shoves them to me.

"That's enough for days, why on earth would you pay that spider more money than you need to?" he hisses with disapproval and venom.

And he's there as I head back in, my body unconsciously moving to bracket his, to shield it from the view of the woman who grins garishly, eyes knowing as if to say I knew you couldn't resist.

And force down displeasure as I steer him out, feeling stares prickle at skin, feel venom and lust directed towards the boy I nudge forward carefully, hands steadying him as I walk him to the carriage.

There's wistfulness and want carved deep into his features as he slowly lets me help him up.

Watch as his head sinks against the cushioning.

Voice quiet.

"You're a right Prince Charming aren't you stranger?"

The old fairytale title brings a smile across my face, breathing easier the further away we get from the brothel, relief making my limbs sink against the seats.

"Just Seokjin will do."

His eyes watch me, lazily tossing the pouch back, something genuine sparking in his eyes at the surprise colouring my features.

It's for him.

And the disbelief when I hand it back, shove it into his grip, paired alongside the tremble of his lips give away how much it means and how rare it is that he's treated normally.

"Just Jimin will do, it's truly a pleasure to meet you Seokjin."

Voice softer and quiet.

And even with a name to put to the hauntingly devastating face makes him a smidgen less of a stranger, and someone tangible to me.

Someone I despite only meeting now was someone whose pain I couldn't bear to watch.

Jimin.

I'm glad something good came of tonight. And that something was meeting you.

----------

If there's surprise she doesn't show it, stepping through to her office and eyeing the usual seat she rules from... occupied.

Brows rising slightly with unspoken question and voice blunt and to the point.

"Kim, to what do I owe this... pleasure?" the word distasteful on her tongue, none of its saccharine sticky sweetness she'd first used when we met.

I tilt my head at her, smiling wide because for once her own spacing and furnishing of the room comes at her disadvantage.

She watches my booted foot tilt to the space on the other side of the desk, leaning back as I watch her jaw tighten imperceptibly, where no chair awaits for her to sink down into.

She's always relished in having people wait uncomfortably, having to dither and force themselves into a stillness as they stood over her lording form.

I had to admit, there was a vicious joy in seeing her hands fist into her skirts, in seeing her face lose some of its imperious air and composure.

It'd be fun breaking down her mask and watching as everything she held onto with gnarled, crooked fingers would slip away from her grasp.

Everything was going to be torn away from her and I was going to revel in seeing her world shatter, in tearing apart her web.

"I can't say its pleasurable to have endured your face for years... but~ I can see why you were so taken with mine. Pretty faces are a weakness of yours aren't they?"

Her lips thin. And even from the distance I can see the red bleed into the cracks and thin lines around her mouth.

The saccharine sticky smile is false as she tilts her head.

"Of course~ but... why are you here Kim? And not in your backrooms where father dearest won't know what his son is upto?" she croons.

My lips curve wider, a bubble of derisive laughter slipping out of my mouth. My body leans back into the comfortable curve of the chair, legs crossing as I stare at her.

"You think I hid from my father when I couldn't care less when he lived, much less so when he's been peacefully rotting under the earth for years?"

The first crack in the mask.

Because I always knew, always figured that some part of her knew who I was, was able to easily place the face to the family name, to the riches connected to it. Knew that whatever control she thought she held was because she assumed she held leverage.

That a wrong move, a misstep too far, that protecting Jimin and (Y/N) to the point of defiance or disobedience would have a cost. And she thought that my silence lay with the fear of a man who never earned the title of being a father.

She thought fear would instil obedience but she couldn't have been more wrong if she tried.

"It's a shame... wealth couldn't keep him alive when it's kept you going for years. You've surprised me with your longevity. Almost a... pity you haven't died yet." I drawl.

Almost. But not quite. Because she had to pay lifetimes in blood and tears and I'd yank it out of everything she had left to give, every breath she had to breathe.

She'd pay with interest. And tenfold. She'd pay until her body broke and death took pity.

Second crack.

Her fingers fist tightly into the starched skirts, clenching tightly at fabric and struggling to fight the scowl on her face.

"If you think you can still work here Kim, after the blatant disrespect—"

Mirth and amusement bubbles up my chest, expresses itself in ringing laughter that sounds rich and full to my ears, brittle in how it shatters the tenseness.

"Do you know how many times I've wanted to slip poison into your sickly teas or nightcaps? How many times I wondered it could all go to hell if I did... do you have any idea what short leash I've got around your throat Lim?"

I can't find it in me to patiently see her world fall apart. Not when I have every intention of tearing it apart and leaving it blazing and in ashes around her.

There's no mercy as I look at her, as I tug her drawers open, locks broken and removed hours prior by a blacksmith, and tug out papers; countless sheaths of documents, these particular ones all concerned with the two people who matter to me.

And there's documents for their sold virginities, there's documents for the people they were sold to, the amounts paid to Lim and the pitiful amounts directed to paying off their debts. There's documents for how much she's pocketed and what scraps she tossed at them as payment.

It's no wonder it took them a decade at least to pay it all back. Despite being two of the highest in-demand, the two of them had had to scrounge and scrimp for every penny to pay back. For a debt that discrepancies had revealed had come by way of Lim.

Every single time they'd come close to being free, she'd added more and more debt. She'd made them pay for prices that were hoisted onto them without their knowing.

And they'd be getting every single penny back and more.

Even if I had to drain her dry.

Her eyes flash, composure crumbling futilely in front of my eyes and satisfaction can barely be felt over the roaring anger to make it hurt.

"Every single paper is enough alone to send you to the vilest lock-ups, the most depraved asylums for you to live out the rest of your years, but that's not bad enough. I want you to pay with every breath you have left to give. You're a fool if you think you'll make it out alive. But I'm going to enjoy my time breaking you."

There's a rushed scramble as she surges forward, tugging at the papers, a mad manic gleam in her eyes as she claws at them, tries to tear at them, breaths ragged and weak as she rips them. Tears the evidence in front of my eyes and when she hunkers over the desk, breathing laboured and hands trembling, the satisfaction only grows.

She'll be grovelling and begging for the rest of her life, scrabbling for pennies when I'm through with her.

"There's more where those came from. You've woven a web Lim, but it's falling apart... now tell me, what would your dear daughter and her precious twins think of grandma. Would she ever let you near them, would you sell your own flesh and blood if the price was right?"

Horror claws at her features, distorts them but perhaps... this, this is how she truly looks. Vicious and carnal and unhinged. Animal more than anything. And I recognise her and don't... I see her for what she's always been.

And the agony that flickers across her face at the prospect of them finding out, of them being subject to the same horrors and nightmares she's inflicted and forced onto countless people; young and old... using children for her own means... and yet she thought she was untouchable.

"Seokjin please... leave them out of this. What... what is it you want?" voice a shaky plea.

My eyes brighten, drawing myself up as I lean onto the table, eyes raking over her with the same slow intensity she likes to take her sweet time in scrutinising people. In heightening the discomfort.

My grin widens.

Oh how the tables turn.

And how easily you're brought to your knees, brought to begging.

But you have a lifetime of it awaiting... and I have a lifetime of seeing you be reduced to nothing.

I push myself away from the chair, standing tall; posture and height towering over her hunched figure, her unravelling composure, mask shattered under the right words, the right influence, the right wielding of power.

"You're out. Get out of here because as of this morning, every single asset, every single person, every inch of this estate belongs to me. And right now you're trespassing."

The cold, hard indifference is so alien to hear in my own voice, but a tone I've long since memorised, familiarised myself with—heard during my entire life.

In my sharp brittle tone I can hear remnants of my father and for all that he ruined our family with, right now... the same unfeeling authority rings out and when I round the table, rage lances at my body, hand curling tightly around her wrist and yanking her out of the room.

Down the corridor, see how everyone watches the spectacle as she thrashes under my grip and tries to yank herself free, how pitifully she begs and screams that it can't be, that I've stolen everything but truly she has no idea that this is the mere tip of the iceberg and what she'll live through will break her.

Her nails claw at my shirt and hand, try to free herself as I tug the front door open, uncaring as I shove her forward, tearing her weak grip from me and see her stumble and fall.

See her crash to her knees, a sharp cry as she tries to steady herself to no avail.

Hunched and defeated.

But there's more to come for her.

Hands trembling and body hunkered over.

The harsh reality looks as if it'll make her sick but even so it can't begin to measure countless nights where I've stayed up holding and cradling Jimin and (Y/N) close, crying alongside them because I could never erase what had been done to them, couldn't stop them hurting and because seeing them haunted by what they'd experienced—I'd been sick several nights. Body rejecting and physically revolting against the sight of their battered limbs. Throwing up because the brutality left behind would linger long, long after the marks healed.

Nothing would ever be quite enough for what she did.

For not just their lives but countless others trapped in the ornate cage.

And slowly... slowly I wanted to unravel the web she'd weaved.

And free every one of them.

Starting with (Y/N).

MIMI POV:

I don't want to leave her, don't want to leave her with Taehyung of all people, but of all people I can't entrust the task to him. He has to stay.

Even if it tears at me to leave (Y/N) alone with him, to entrust her to him when he's the reason it's all gone so wrong, so quick.

When he's the reason her happiness teeters on a cliff point, dangling over a precipice that could very well consume her, could drag her back to the depths of Lim's web, into the darkest, most entangled snares that she wouldn't be able to free herself from.

But I refuse to accept that as an option.

Refuse to accept that if things don't work, Lim would be coming for her.

Because if worse came to worse, I'd take her and run.

If it came to that point, I would vanish with her.

And the weight of what awaits at home, what's waiting ready should the plan fall through despite the meticulous detailing then I would run, I would hide in any corner of the earth with everything unfamiliar if it would keep her safe.

"It'll be okay Minnie... trust me, it'll all work out." Joon murmurs, arms wrapping around me, drawing me back against him, eyes soft and reassuring and holding my gaze in the mirror.

My hand clasps where his arms wrap around my torso; clinging tightly to his forearm, hand slipping down to clutch at his hand, feel his fingers entangle with mine, squeezing tightly.

My eyes sting, throat clenching tightly, swallowing around nothing and struggling to get breath in.

"How can you be so sure Joonie?"

His head rests on my shoulder, turns to brush a kiss across my cheek.

Voice firm and resolute.

"Because you're you. You've been rooting (Y/N) on since the beginning, you're the reason she's happy and healthy and alive. You're the reason she kept going."

His body brackets mine, solid lines of heat that carve and meld to my own. Mould me to his embrace.

"And because she saved you, she brought me to you... because she's given me life and love... I'll do anything and everything to help. And if you leave... if you run with her, I'll be right there too."

My eyes flicker to his, see the understanding and knowledge in them.

Feel the tremble in his smile as he presses his lips to my bare shoulder.

"You didn't really think I wouldn't leave right alongside you? We waited years to be together like this, you really think moving home would be an issue?"

The sight of him blurs slightly, lost behind the stinging sheen of tears, turning in the circle of his arms to cup his face, lips shaky as they press to his, tears trickling down my cheeks as he tugs me close, nose brushing against mine, the press of his mouth against my own slow and unrushed. Quiet comfort in how he holds me to him, grounding as he roots me to him, anchored to him, stops me from being lost in my own mind, being lost in the chaos confined within my head with endless thoughts of spiralling what-ifs­.

"It was one slip-up, but Tae's plan... it's smart. It's ruthlessly airtight." He whispers.

My hands wind tight around him, cling with a desperation and insecurity.

"But what if... it all went wrong before." Words trembling with a fragility I refused to let (Y/N) see, refused to let her fear and worry.

And I wanted her life to be easy, wanted it to be full of every happiness, every luxury, every thing she wanted to fill it to the brim with.

And unwaveringly she'd included Taehyung in that, her happiness revolved around him; their worlds, their lives, their hearts were in orbit of each other.

So her happiness meant his.

Even if I wanted to tear her away from the man who made me see the haunted 15 year old girl I'd known, even if everything had shattered in an instant and she'd been trapped in the horror of the same caged life stretching out for an eternity.

"But it won't. Lim is going to be ruined and now it's time for Chul to pay too."

The man who started it all.

The monster who took a girl and made her pained screams ring out through the night. A part of her had broken and died that night, had been crushed and crumbled under his brutal touch.

He had to pay so much more.

And as Joon's arms slowly unwind from around me, it's to reach for the clothes I'd set out to change into, eyes drifting over the fitted, luxurious clothes.

Feel his hands skim gently across my skin as he helps draw the clothes onto me, silent and tender gaze holding mine everytime I let my eyes drift to the mirror.

Adorn the fitted breeches that cling to my legs, the silk that skims and brushes against skin, the jewellery that makes up my armour. Skin gleaming and polished, the painted gloss onto my lips, the glittery powder dusting my eyelids, across the high of my cheeks.

Every inch of me is adorned with prettied glamour, choosing to become the person that will be Chul's undoing. I know the weight and allure of my own self, of my clothes, of my body.

I know that I'll be his undoing.

I know that when I become lust, Chul will be lost to it.

I know what I'm going to do. And I know he's going to fall apart because of me.

But a deeper revulsion and disgust scours at me, chips away at an already broken shell.

Because I loathe making myself this way when it's not for someone I want, when it's not a choice.

But above all... it needs to be done.

So if I have to wear the mask of an easy whore to get to Chul, so be it.

Because he'll know and see when the mask falls—that there's nothing but venom and murder on my mind.

------------

The eyes that rake over me are slow and drowned with lust and alcohol, body staggering forward a few steps as he moves to balance himself, clutching at the doorway to keep himself upright.

The stench of liquor entangled nauseatingly with him makes my stomach churn, dragging up the corners of my mouth into a curved lilt, a glimpse of a honeyed smile.

"Here for a drink...? Tavern's closed." he drawls, words slurring together though the interest is far from quenched from his eyes, gaze lingering over my face, resting heavily on my lips, watching with a predatory intent that has my skin crawling.

Just need to get inside. Just need to get him inside.

I let my hand trail up, see his gaze flit to the delicate curve of my wrist, the careful movement as I draw my hood off, let him see, let him fall into the trap I've made myself, and let his eyes rake over every inch of my face, over the gleaming glittering sheen to my skin, the prettied up doll I've made myself to be.

All the more for him to see that the pretty ones... they're the ones you keep your eyes out for.

Let my lips jut out into a dragged out pout, tongue flicking against the glossy fullness.

"I just want a drink... a place to rest." I murmur, voice soft and sweet, dripping with honeyed charm.

I know my charms, I know my wiles, I know what effect I have.

And as I look at the drink-addled figure curled against the doorway, clothes dishevelled and already askew, the stench of grime and sweat clinging just as heavily to his skin.

He dithers slightly; flickering confusion.

I let my own body lean forward; fingers trailing across his arm, skimming lightly and letting it curl into the sleeve. Give a small absent tug. Lips jutting out in a curved pout, eyes fluttering as I draw myself inwards, making myself smaller, delicate... just how he likes them. Shudder at the gust of wind, fingers brushing over silk as I curl towards the body heat radiating off his body; alongside the thick waves of hot breath.

It's hard to bite back a grimaced scowl.

"I suppose... one drink won't harm anyone. Why don't you come in, the weather's cold." a greasy smile that has me fighting to forcefully tamper down any shivers, any revulsion, see his arm move to draw me close, draw me into the warmth of the tavern; bar of any life save for where he must've been drinking, empty bottles littering the wood.

So you've spent your life pouring money down into intoxication, whether that was sexual or through drink.

And I'm the missing piece for him.

The other half to push his mind into a total stupor.

And yet– despite how time has aged him, has made his lust more apparent and the grey in his hair more prominent, there's no denying I know him, I remember him as the same person who bid on (Y/N) and won, who paid for her body, for a child and spent a night breaking her.

Her screams, her cries, the pain that still lingered in her eyes for months to come, that had turned to a hardened grief and acceptance was because of him.

The same man who staggers back to his seat, moves to grab a half-empty bottle

Hunkering over to scrabble for glasses that aren't there, fumbling to the back of the bar, unaware when I slip out a vial from my pocket; uncorking it to pour in the sedative into the bottle.

Let him stagger back, fingers coy and fiddling uncertainly with the cloak's ties, watch his eyes darken at the sight, pouring out a glass for me and grabbing the bottle by the neck, downing a large gulp before he even speaks.

"Warm yourself up... although I have other ways too."

Voice dripping with lust, with undisguised insinuation.

I force my lips to curve wider, watch him draw deep gulps, head tilted to me to drink, lips clamped tight as I let the glass tilt with false ploy, let him believe what he wants to believe, though his eyes are far more fixated onto the fingers toying with the cloak strings.

"You can take it off, feel comfortable."

The hunger gleaming more violently when I comply, slowly drawing off the thick fabric, setting it aside over the back of a chair.

His eyes are drawn to every movement, watches me carefully, drawing in deep mouthfuls of liquor that spill messily over his clothes and skin, completely unaware of the drug slowly working through his veins.

"I'm surprised I haven't caught your eye before... I'm aware I'm distinguishable."

I'm surprised that you didn't come back, surprised but relieved because I don't know what I'd have done if you tried.

I don't know what lengths I would go to to have protected (Y/N) if your path had crossed ours again, I don't know what I would've done to you– but it doesn't terrify me, it consoles me.

That for her I'll do anything to you without fear, without doubt and hesitation.

He grins, the curve sluggish and uncoordinated.

It makes the roaring inferno blaze hotter, it makes the pain and rage claw at me from the inside out.

And when he eyes my glass with a flickering confusion, I close the distance, draw his bottle away and tilt my glass to him, see the carnal lust pool in his eyes as he lets his eyes drop down to my waist, hand moving to curl around it as he drinks.

Movements sluggish that when my hand grips his and tears it away, a painful lurch that has him groaning as I yank it off, the bottle falling from my grip and shattering onto the floor; splashing its bloody red poison onto my boots, trickling into a pool.

"What are you–"

The hand long since curled into a fist by my side rears back to slam against his jaw, relishing the pained groan and biting down the soft grunt as knuckles slam into flesh and bone.

Hand gripping his face and turning it back to me, fingers curled tightly and rings pressing harshly to flesh.

"What I should've done over a decade ago."

A disoriented face greets me, eyes flickering with rage and confusion and venom.

But the sight doesn't scare me as much as it fuels the bubbling disgust scouring away at me, slamming back in consuming waves, years of hurt spiralling together. Forming a colossal mass of anger and hatred and resentment; years I've seen trauma internalise and chip away at her self-worth.

It makes the next punch strike harder, gritting my teeth as I stare at the slowly mangled mess of his face, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth.

And the restraint held me back years, she's not here to see me turn ugly, to turn vicious, she's safe from the monster he's grown deeper and further into being.

There's vicious hot tears stinging the corner of my eyes, blurring the bruised sight of his face as I shove him back, see him topple to the ground, landing between the spilled liquor and broken glass, see the slow haze of the sedative numbing his movements and stilling him.

I step over the sprawl of his body, hovering over his slumped form, bile inching its way up my throat when I crouch down, hovering over him.

"Do you even remember? Do you even know what you did... you made her room a cage... she couldn't even go in for months without being sick. And you... you've been spending your life drowning in pleasure, in ruining countless other lives." I hiss, eyes burning furiously, tears splashing against my cheeks as I stare at him, turning his head to face me, forcing his eyes to meet mine. Voice slipping out low and guttural, a sharp hiss that entangles with the rough groans tumbling past his split lips.

"Who... who are you talking about... which whore–"

His confusion only makes the anger sear hotter, body trembling with hate because he can't even remember... because he's so used to hiring... buying people for pleasure, excessively so when they're young and inexperienced— who knows how many people he's hurt and discarded? Who knows how many were like (Y/N)?

My leg rears back before I've even registered it, boot slamming into his side mercilessly, aching to end him.

But the last thing he gets is the mercy of an easy end.

The last thing he gets is for it to end quickly.

And the thud of his body against my boot doesn't even begin to quell the rage, does nothing to stop the stream of angry tears trickling down my cheeks, scrubbed away with a shaking hand, seething at seeing him.

I never knew time would wind our paths crossing like this, but now that it has, I won't let the moment go to waste.

"You'll pay for every single tear she wept and every single moment she hurt... I will drain you dry of the same wealth you tossed at her body to break it as you willed."

Hand fisting into his hair to wrench his head back, eyeing the bob of his throat, wishing for the first time that I was like Taehyung– that I had a dagger to slit his neck open.

"Please...I don't..." he garbles.

My eyes gleam, throat raw.

He hasn't even begun to plead for his life. And he'll plead and grovel for a merciful quick end.

"Don't worry Chul, I'll make it hurt so much more and when your end comes... when you're given the mercy of dying, I'll make it last at least as long as you hurt her that first night."

"...I don't... I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he begs, fingers scrabbling to cling to me, tugging at me imploring, eyes glassy with drugs, with tears and confusion and heavy disorientation.

But sorry doesn't even begin to skim across the surface of what you did to my (Y/N), what you did to countless girls and boys like her– children prey to your depraved desires.

Sorry will never be enough.

"Do you even know what you did– do you even remember the girl you broke ten years ago?" I seethe.

His hands clutch weakly, strength, in whatever weak measures had remained, fading away. Grip loosening as he looks blankly at me, wracking the fogged haze of his mind for a memory he doesn't even possess anymore. A memory he tormented others with but never bothered to remember just once what he did.

No.

He doesn't remember.

And he won't get the chance to see the woman (Y/N)'s become. He doesn't get to see that she survived, grew and bloomed. He doesn't get to cast the filth of his gaze on her happiness and her joy.

He doesn't get to cast a shadow on her anymore.

Her or anyone else for that matter.

And I've sullied my hands for her... I'll dirty them to the very end.

Because for (Y/N), I'll burn down the world to carve a new one for her.

I'll make her a world where she's happy and safe.

And free.

Whatever it takes.

Whatever the cost.

(AND THERE WE GO!! THIS WAS A CHAPTER I REALLY, REALLY STRUGGLED TO WRITE—SO HENCE!! TWO PARTS TO THE PLAN, WHICH I HOPE I DO JUSTICE FOR, HOPE THE ANGER AND HATE CAN BE FELT AND NO SLOWBURNS HERE! THEY TAKE AND THEY CONQUER!! I LOVE JIN. HE'S NOT TAKING SHIT AND NEITHER IS MIMI! EVERYTHING HAS TO BE SOLVED—WHATEVER IT TAKES! AND I CAN'T WAIT TO WIND UP THE PLAN PART TO MOVE ONTO HAPPINESS AND FREEDOM!! LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS~ @MIDIIPLIER, I HOPE I DID THE RAGE JUSTICE!!)

Borahae! 💜💜💜

PurpleQueenie <3