3: (SHACKLED TO THE PAST)

Darkness.

A dull ringing in his ears.

Seungbae's consciousness wavered—a heavy, sinking feeling dragging him into nothingness.

Then—pain.

A sharp, throbbing ache pulsed through his skull. He sucked in a breath, but even that felt sluggish, wrong. His body was slow to respond, limbs weighed down by something thick and unshakable.

He was on the ground.

Concrete. Cold. His wrists—tied.

His head lolled to the side, his vision swimming. His eyes struggled to focus, but through the haze, he could make out something—

No. Someone.

Bum.

He was kneeling in front of the man.

Head bowed. Hands shaking.

Seungbae's stomach turned.

"Bum—" His voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Bum flinched at the sound, his head snapping up. His eyes—wide, glassy, terrified.

"You're awake," the man said.

Seungbae forced his head up, his focus sharpening on the figure before him.

Sangwoo.

Or whatever the hell he was.

The man still had that same smug, knowing smirk. He was crouched in front of Bum, one hand resting casually on his chin, tilting his face up—like he was inspecting something he owned.

Bum trembled under his touch, lips slightly parted, breath hitched.

Seungbae gritted his teeth. I need to move.

He flexed his fingers, testing the bindings around his wrists. Rope. Tight, but not impossible. If he could just—

"You shouldn't struggle, detective."

Seungbae froze.

The man's gaze flickered to him—sharp, amused.

"You're already at a disadvantage," he continued, tilting his head. "And I'd hate to break something before we've even had our little talk."

Seungbae's blood boiled. "Cut the bullshit. Who the hell are you?"

The man laughed.

It was so much like Sangwoo's—low, mocking, infuriating.

"Still don't believe your eyes?" He leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his hand. "That's fair. After all, you were so sure I was dead."

His smile widened.

"But, Seungbae," he said, almost teasing,

"You and I both know—you were wrong about a lot of things."

Seungbae's fingers twitched.

He needed to think. Fast.

But before he could speak—

The man turned back to Bum.

And Bum…

Seungbae felt his chest tighten.

Bum was still trembling, but there was something else in his expression now. His lips parted, breath uneven, his gaze flickering between the man's face and the floor—

Like he was fighting something inside himself.

Like he didn't know whether to run or fall to his knees.

Seungbae's stomach twisted.

He still has a hold on him.

Even now. Even after everything.

"Why are you here, Bum?" the man murmured, tilting his head. His fingers traced along Bum's jaw, light, possessive. "You ran from me once. But you still came back."

Bum swallowed hard. "I—I thought you—" His voice cracked. "I thought you were—"

"Dead?" The man chuckled. "Yeah, you and everyone else."

His fingers slid to Bum's throat. Not squeezing—just resting.

Bum shuddered.

Seungbae yanked at the ropes, fury burning in his veins.

"Don't. Fucking. Touch him."

The man barely spared him a glance.

"Or what, detective?" he said lazily. "You'll arrest me?" He grinned. "Oh, wait—you already tried that, didn't you?"

Seungbae's jaw clenched.

"You're not Sangwoo," he ground out. "You can't be. That's impossible."

The man hummed, tapping a finger against his chin. "And yet—here I am."

A pause.

Then—he leaned down. Lowering himself to Bum's ear.

"But, you know," he murmured, voice dropping to a whisper,

"If I'm not Sangwoo… then why does he still want me to touch him?"

Bum flinched violently.

Seungbae's vision blurred with rage. "You—!"

The man turned his head slightly, watching him.

Enjoying this.

Seungbae breathed hard through his nose.

He needed a plan. He needed a way out of this.

Because if he didn't—

Bum might not make it out at all.

Bum's breath hitched.

His body trembled—not just in fear, but something else. Something deep, instinctual. His heart pounded against his ribs, his pulse erratic.

Sangwoo—no, this man—his fingers traced lightly over Bum's jaw, his throat.

The way he used to.

Bum knew he should pull away. Knew he should scream, should fight.

But his body wouldn't listen.

He was frozen in place, trapped between the past and the present, between horror and a twisted, suffocating longing.

The man hummed, his grip tightening ever so slightly, tilting Bum's chin up.

"You're shaking," he murmured, voice soft, mocking. "Are you scared, Bum?"

Bum's lips parted. He tried to form words, to answer, but nothing came out.

The man's smirk deepened. His fingers slid lower—over the delicate skin of Bum's throat, down his collarbone, stopping just at the center of his chest.

His palm rested there.

Right above Bum's racing heart.

Bum gasped, body betraying him. His breath came out in short, shallow pants, his fingers twitching in his lap.

Sangwoo's hand was warm. Too warm.

Just like before.

"You feel it too, don't you?" the man whispered. His lips barely ghosted over Bum's ear, so close. His breath was hot against Bum's skin. Familiar. "Your body remembers me."

Bum let out a shuddering exhale, his shoulders tense, his fingers curling into fists.

"No…" he whispered, shaking his head. "No, you're not—"

"Shh." The man pressed a finger to Bum's lips.

Bum stilled.

His skin burned.

His entire body felt hypersensitive—every touch, every breath against his ear sent a shiver down his spine.

Seungbae growled, struggling against the ropes.

"Get your fucking hands off him!" he spat, voice sharp with fury.

The man sighed, rolling his eyes. "Tsk, tsk. Always interrupting."

His fingers traced the corner of Bum's mouth, thumb dragging against his lower lip.

Bum's breath hitched again.

And then—

The man leaned in.

Closer.

Their lips barely an inch apart.

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"Tell me to stop, Bum."

Bum's vision blurred. His body burned. His pulse thundered.

He couldn't speak.

Because the truth was—

He didn't know if he wanted to.

Bum's breath stuttered. His body felt weak, trembling under the weight of the man's presence—so close, too close.

His lips parted, his chest rising and falling in uneven gasps. He should move. He should push him away.

But his body stayed still.

He felt like he was floating, trapped in that same hazy, suffocating warmth that he had once called love.

The man—Sangwoo, but not Sangwoo—watched him closely, his dark eyes brimming with something dangerous.

Something that made Bum's stomach tighten.

His thumb pressed gently against Bum's lower lip, tracing it slowly.

Testing.

Bum shivered.

"Still so easy," the man murmured, his voice low, amused. "You haven't changed at all."

Bum flinched—shame twisting deep in his gut.

His heart ached. His body remembered.

Seungbae's voice snapped through the air, sharp, furious.

"Bum—don't."

Bum's breath hitched. His eyes flickered toward the detective—bound, furious, desperate.

Seungbae's face was etched with something raw.

Something like pleading.

"Don't fall for this," he gritted out. "He's not Sangwoo. He's just playing with you—like he always did."

Bum knew that.

He knew that.

But the fingers on his chin tilted his head back up—forcing him to look.

And when he did—

The man smirked.

"Look at you," he whispered, his breath warm against Bum's lips. "Still craving my touch."

Bum felt something inside him break.

Shame. Heat. Something sick and needy twisted inside him.

His throat was dry. His body betrayed him.

Because he didn't pull away.

Because he couldn't.

The man chuckled, and then—

His lips brushed against Bum's.

Just for a second.

A ghost of a kiss.

Bum's entire body shook.

His pulse roared in his ears. His breath came out in a sharp, ragged gasp.

Seungbae snapped.

"Get the fuck away from him!"

He lunged, wrenching his arms against the ropes—and something gave.

The bindings snapped.

The man's eyes flickered toward him, but it was too late.

Seungbae moved.

Fast.

Bum barely had time to react before the detective's fist connected with the man's jaw—

The sound of bone against bone cracked through the air.

The man stumbled back, head snapping to the side from the force of Seungbae's punch.

Bum let out a startled gasp, his body going rigid as the warmth—that intoxicating, suffocating warmth—was suddenly ripped away.

For a second, everything was still.

Then—

Laughter.

A low, throaty chuckle bubbled from the man's lips.

He licked the blood from his split lip, his head tilting, his eyes gleaming with something sick.

Something hungry.

"Well," he sighed, rolling his jaw, "that wasn't very nice, Detective."

Seungbae was breathing hard, his hands clenched into fists, his entire body taut with rage.

"You're fucking disgusting," he spat. His voice was sharp, dripping with venom. His chest heaved with every breath. "You're sick. You're a fucking monster."

The man smirked.

"And yet…"

His gaze flickered back to Bum—who was still frozen, his breath unsteady, his face flushed with heat.

"…he still wants me."

Seungbae's stomach turned.

Bum's hands were shaking in his lap, his nails digging into his own thighs. His eyes were wide, glassy—his lips still parted.

Like he was struggling.

Like he was fighting something inside himself.

Seungbae gritted his teeth. His rage burned through his veins.

No.

Not this time.

With a sharp movement, he reached forward and grabbed Bum's wrist.

Bum flinched, his breath catching.

"Get up," Seungbae ordered, his voice firm, unyielding.

Bum blinked up at him, his expression dazed, lost.

His lips trembled—like he wanted to protest.

Seungbae's grip tightened.

"Now."

For a moment, Bum hesitated.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled around Seungbae's hand—weak, unsure.

But he took it.

He let Seungbae pull him up.

The man's smirk faltered just slightly.

"Oh?" He hummed, watching them closely.

Bum swayed slightly on his feet. His body was warm, tense, his breathing still shaky.

Seungbae kept his grip on him firm.

Protective. Grounding.

"You're coming with me," Seungbae said. "We're leaving."

Bum swallowed hard. His fingers tightened slightly around Seungbae's hand.

The man tilted his head, his smirk returning—slow, knowing.

"Hm." He exhaled through his nose. "Fine."

Seungbae's muscles tensed, his every instinct screaming that this was too easy.

Then the man took a step back, sliding his hands into his pockets.

"But you'll be back, Bum," he murmured, his voice soft, singing with amusement.

Bum stiffened.

"You always come back."

Seungbae didn't wait.

He turned, pulling Bum with him.

Dragging him away from that voice.

Away from the heat, the temptation, the poison.

Even as they left, even as the air turned cold again—

Bum's fingers still trembled in Seungbae's grip.

And deep inside his chest, where his heart should have felt relief—

It felt like something had been ripped away.

ー

The night air was cold.

A bitter wind sliced through the narrow alleyways, whistling between the buildings, rattling old signs and flickering streetlights.

Seungbae moved fast, dragging Bum along with him, his grip tight but steady.

Bum followed without resistance, his steps unsteady, sluggish.

Seungbae could feel his weakness—his exhaustion, the weight of his fragile frame.

Too thin, too light.

Damn it.

This kid had been through too much.

And yet—he still ran after a ghost.

Seungbae's jaw clenched.

He didn't say anything until they reached his car, parked just outside the alley. He yanked the door open and shoved Bum inside, not giving him a choice.

Bum didn't argue.

He just curled into himself, hands gripping his knees, his eyes distant—haunted.

Seungbae exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before sliding into the driver's seat.

He started the engine. The low hum filled the silence between them.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The streetlights cast long shadows across Bum's face, highlighting the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the deep hollows under his eyes.

Seungbae glanced at him, frowning.

"Why the hell were you there?" he finally asked, voice firm but calm.

Bum flinched slightly but didn't look at him.

"… I saw him," he whispered.

Seungbae's fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

He knew exactly who Bum meant.

He inhaled slowly, carefully choosing his words.

"Sangwoo is dead."

Bum's body tensed. His hands curled into his sleeves.

Seungbae continued, voice steady.

"You saw someone else. It wasn't him."

Bum finally turned his head, his eyes wide, pleading.

"But—" His voice cracked. "I—I know what I saw."

Seungbae held his gaze.

"You saw what you wanted to see."

Bum stiffened.

For a second, it looked like he was going to argue.

But then his shoulders slumped, his lips pressing into a thin line.

He turned away again, staring out the window.

Seungbae let out a slow breath, forcing himself to stay patient.

He wasn't good at this.

But he couldn't let Bum spiral any further.

"You need help," he said, not unkindly.

Bum let out a short, bitter laugh.

"You think I don't know that?"

Seungbae glanced at him again.

"…Then let me help you."

Bum flinched.

His fingers dug into his sleeves, nails pressing against his skin.

Seungbae could see it—the war inside him.

He wasn't used to people giving a damn.

He wasn't used to people trying to save him.

For years, he'd been nothing but a victim, a shadow, a prisoner of his own mind.

Seungbae wasn't going to let that continue.

He started driving, pulling out of the alley and onto the main road.

"Where are we going?" Bum asked quietly.

"My place," Seungbae answered. "You need somewhere safe to stay."

Bum's breath hitched.

Safe.

That word felt foreign.

Unfamiliar.

But he didn't fight it.

Because, for the first time in a long time—

He wanted to believe it was real.

ー

The Apartment Was Quiet.

The sound of running water echoed faintly from the bathroom as Bum showered, steam slipping through the cracks of the door.

Seungbae sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, rubbing his temples.

He needed a plan.

Bum wasn't safe—not from himself, and definitely not from whatever was happening out there.

That man.

That thing that looked like Sangwoo.

It didn't make sense. Sangwoo was dead.

Seungbae had seen the body—had seen the fire consume what was left of that monster.

So why?

Why did that man look straight into the blackbox camera, as if he knew?

Seungbae gritted his teeth, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone.

He needed to check something.

His fingers moved quickly, searching through old case files, reports, anything that might link to Oh Junwoo—the name from the interrogation.

A father.

A father that Sangwoo never spoke about.

Seungbae had always assumed the bastard was dead, given what little they knew about Sangwoo's childhood.

But if Junwoo was still alive…

Seungbae's stomach twisted.

Was this revenge? A loose end? Or something worse?

The water shut off in the bathroom.

Seungbae closed his phone, shoving it back into his pocket as the door creaked open.

Bum stepped out hesitantly, damp hair sticking to his forehead, Seungbae's old T-shirt hanging loosely off his frame.

He looked small.

Still worn out.

But at least he was clean.

Seungbae stood.

"Eat," he said simply, nodding to the takeout bag on the counter.

Bum blinked, like he'd forgotten about it.

He moved stiffly, pulling out the container, poking at the food with his chopsticks.

Seungbae watched him for a second before sighing.

"I'll be back."

Bum's head snapped up.

"Where are you going?" His voice was quiet, but there was something nervous in it.

Seungbae pulled on his jacket.

"Work."

Bum's fingers tightened around the chopsticks.

Seungbae exhaled.

"You're safe here."

Bum didn't look convinced.

Seungbae hesitated for a second before speaking again, voice firm.

"I'll be back."

Bum swallowed, then gave a slow, small nod.

It wasn't much.

But it was enough.

For now.