Chapter Text
-3 Years Ago-
Gihun inspected the door at the top of the stairs.
"Saebyeok," He began, "I have an idea."
"What is it?" She glanced up from her place on the floor.
"The assholes keeping us here need to come down to give us food, right? Why don't we just hide by the door?" Gihun made a violent gesture. "When they come, we jump them..."
She looked away. "I've tried that before. It won't work."
Gihun frowned. "Why not?"
She pointed upwards. "He'll see us."
Gihun's eyes followed the direction she was pointing at. Sure enough, a small camera sat ominously in the corner of the ceiling.
Shit.
Gihun fell to his knees with a frustrated groan.
"Just what the hell do these freaks want from us?" He pulled at his hair. "Locking us up, watching us--is this fun for them?"
Saebyeok fiddled with her knife wordlessly.
"How long have you been here for, Saebyeok?" Gihun asked, defeated.
"...I was taken not long before you."
Gihun sighed. "Any guesses who our captors might be?"
"I've pissed a lot of people off, but none of them would do something like this." She paused, "And I think there's only one person keeping us here. I caught a glimpse of him the other day. He was wearing a black mask."
"Just one guy?" Gihun hung his head. "Great, it's some lone nut job." The revelation that this was the work of one lunatic somehow made the situation even more daunting.
"There's something else that's been bothering me," Saebyeok furrowed her brows. "I was out cold when he took me. He could have confiscated my switchblade. Why didn't he?"
"Maybe he didn't find it,:" Gihun suggested innocently.
Saebyeok's frown deepened, and a wary look entered her eyes.
Suddenly, a machine-like voice boomed through the room. It sounded flat and inhuman, an artificial distortion.
"Hello, Kang Saebyeok. Seong Gihun."
"What the hell?" Gihun tried to scramble away from the voice, but it surrounded them from all angles. "Where is that coming from??"
Saebyeok jumped to her feet, scanning the room with a wild look in her eyes.
"Who are you?" Gihun yelled into the void. "Why are you keeping us here?"
"My identity is of no importance. But if you must know, the media calls me The Frontman."
Gihun's voice died in his throat. No fucking way.
"I am impressed. The two of you have been very cooperative with each other. Sharing scarce resources so both would survive, even if it meant neither would be fully satiated. Sacrificing individual need for the common good. But can you keep this up, even in the face of death?"
That spine-chilling voice continued. "I wish to play a game. The rules are simple: in three hours, only one of you shall be left standing. You must decide amongst yourselves who lives, and who dies. If you can reach such an agreement, the survivor, or 'winner', will be free to go. I give a warning at the two-hour mark. If you are both alive by the end of the time limit, the room will be flooded with poisonous gas and you both shall perish."
"...This is bullshit." Gihun shook with simmering rage. "You say you're The Frontman? Even he doesn't toy with people like this--"
"I am conducting an experiment. Humans are capable of such cruelty when pushed to the brink. What will those on the fringe of society do in such dire circumstances? Will you continue to help your fellow man? Or will you abandon your humanity to survive? The rules have been established. May the best player win."
"You psychopathic fucking piece of shit! Come out and face me, you coward!" Gihun kicked at the air, as if he could somehow materialize the man for him to trample. But the voice was already gone, shrouding the room in an eerie silence.
He's crazy," Gihun laughed in shock and disbelief. "Death games? Poisonous gas? What does he think this is, a movie?"
"When he took me, he flooded the van with gas." Saebyeok was staring at the floor."He could gas this room, too."
Gihun clenched his fist. "So what? That doesn't mean we have to follow his sick rules. Come on, Saebyeok. We have to find a way out of here before-"
But she was already staring at him, a fire in her eyes.
"...Saebyeok," Gihun muttered, his eyes trailing to the knife in her tight grip, "Whatever you're thinking of doing, don't."
"I'm sorry," She advanced on him like a stalking predator, "I can't die in this place."
"Saebyeok, don't!" She swung at him, and Gihun dodged just in time, missing her blade by a hair's width. The knife came again--she was too fast, and he was stumbling. The blade ripped through his shirt, beads of blood blooming on his chest from the shallow cut. Saebyeok attacked him as though she was possessed. Gihun's back hit a wall, and the knife plunged down. With no where left to run, Gihun grabbed the sharp end of the blade with his hand. Pain shredded his palm as blood seeped through his fingers. He grabbed Saebyeok's wrist with his other hand, halting her advance.
"Saebyeok, stop!" Gihun's pleas fell on deaf ears. She kneed him hard in the stomach, knocking the breath out of him. Gihun bent over in pain, his bloody grip slipping from her blade. Before she could stab him in the back, he rammed his head into Saebyeok's midsection, knocking them both to the floor. He quickly pinned her arms down, staining her sleeve red with blood.
"Get your head straight!" He hollered desperately. "No one is killing anyone today, you hear me?"
"Get off me!" She thrashed under him. "I need to get out! My little brother's waiting for me!"
"Think, Saebyeok, think!" Gihun screamed, his face red. "Even if you kill me, what's the chance he'll let you live? You heard him--he said he's The Frontman!" The hopelessness of their situation finally sank into him. "Have you ever heard of that psychopath letting someone go?"
The boogieman who terrorized South Korea for two decades. No one knew what he looked like, or sounded like, because no one ever lived to tell the tale.
Saebyeok went limp, showing unrestrained emotion for the first time as fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She looked so lost, wailing like the scared child she was. Gihun wanted to cry, too. "I'm not letting anyone die today!" He yelled instead, and collapsed onto the floor beside her.
Saebyeok's quiet sobs filled the room. Eventually, all Gihun could hear were the wet rasps of her breathing. Then, total silence. Gihun glanced over; Saebyeok's chest rose and fell in slow succession. A subtle, but precious sign that she was alive.
"Saebyeok," Gihun repeated, "I won't let you die."
She stared at the ceiling, unmoving.
"Your brother," Gihun tried, "Tell me about him."
Finally, the light returned to her eyes. "...He's eight years old. He just started the third grade this year."
"He sounds like a good kid," Gihun said. "You must be proud."
"I am," Saebyeok's voice wavered. "He's the strongest person I know."
"What about your parents? They're probably worried sick about you."
"My dad is dead." Saebyeok sniffed. "I don't know where my mom is..."
"I'm sorry," Gihun murmured, "You've been through so much."
Saebyeok swallowed thickly. "This is why I have to go home. To my brother. I'm all he has left."
Gihun thought of his daughter. Unlike Saebyeok's brother, Ga Yeong will be fine without him. She had a loving mother, and a caring step-father. It was the painful truth Gihun didn't want to face until now. Ga Yeong was probably better off without her deadbeat gambler of a father.
In the stillness of silence, Gihun began to think.
"...Saebyeok," Gihun spoke, "I have a plan."
She turned to him with a questioning look. Gihun sat up, and beckoned her close.
"This knife of yours," Gihun started, "This is our chance. He wants us to turn on eachother, so we play into his game."
"How?" Saebyeok crouched closer, their voices quiet.
"It won't be easy. We only have one shot, so we have to get it right." Gihun glanced up at the camera watching them. "First, you stab me with this knife. We'll do it faced away from the camera, make it look like a fatal blow. He has to come down to check the body, right? When he does, I'll grab him. That'll give you enough time to run out the door. Now's the important part--When you get out, shut the door behind you and lock it, so he can't chase you. It looks like we're in a basement of some sort, so you'll probably find yourself in a house. If the main doors are locked, break the windows-You're a resourceful girl, I trust you'll find a way out. When you do, flag someone down and call the authorities. I'll try to hold him until you return with the police."
Saebyeok's face paled progressively as Gihun spoke.
"No," She whispered, eyes wide. "I won't do it."
"I know it's a long shot, but this is the only way." Gihun grit out. "Please, Saebyeok."
"You're asking me to injure you, then lock you in here with a murderer." Saebyeok shook her head. "What if I don't make it back in time? What if he kills you?"
"Then at least you'll have made it out." Gihun took a shuddering breath. "It's either this, or we both die."
"We can take him together," She tried, "It's two against one-"
"No, we can't take any risks. If he is who he claims to be, then-we'll be no match for him."
Suddenly, that sinister voice boomed around them.
"One hour left." The announcement sent Gihun's heart into over-drive.
"Saebyeok," Gihun urged, "We have to do it now."
Gihun pulled Saebyeok to her feet, and positioned themselves so Saebyeok covered him from the camera.
"I'll do it in your arm," Saebyeok bargained. "It'll look just as convincing from this angle."
Gihun considered it for a moment, then shook his head. "No, he won't buy it. He'll catch on when he sees me up close." He steeled himself, "Do it here," He gestured to the lower left section of his abdomen. "It'll look bad, but you won't nick any of my vital organs or arteries." Hopefully.
Saebyeok stared at his abdomen, the knife frozen in her hand.
"Think of your brother, Saebyeok," Gihun grit out.
Her expression hardened.
Gihun's heart was hammering a mile a minute. "One more thing," He wrapped his hands around Saebyeok's throat, and squeezed. "I'm sorry, Saebyeok," he mouthed. Gihun had to make their confrontation look convincing to the man watching them. Saebyeok choked, understanding heavy in her eyes.
Suddenly, a crippling pain exploded in Gihun's abdomen. He looked down; the knife had been plunged deep inside him, almost buried to the hilt.
'Damn,' He thought. 'She's good at this...'
Saebyeok withdrew her blade, and Gihun fell.
"Hey!" Saebyeok yelled at the camera, bloody knife in hand. "I did what you wanted, now let me go!"
A few minutes ticked by with no response. The pool of blood around Gihun grew larger and larger. Saebyeok's voice rose again, this time tinged with panick, "Hey!"
Finally, the door creaked open.
A man stood atop the stairs, his figure obscured in shadow.
"The knife in your hand," That ominous voice came, "Toss it to me."
Gihun heard the sound of something skittering across the floor.
"Walk to the far corner and turn to face the wall."
The room was silent for beat. Then, Saebyeok stepped away from Gihun, her shoes leaving bloody imprints on the floor.
"Turn around to face the wall, please." That emotionless voice repeated.
Saebyeok must have complied, because heavy footsteps soon filled Gihun's ears, growing louder and louder before stopping behind him. Cold, gloved fingers pressed to his neck, right over his pulse. Gihun snapped, a burst of adrenaline pushing his body beyond it's limits as he lunged at the man, wrapping his arms around him in an unbreakable lock.
"Run, Saebyeok!" Gihun's voice boomed through the room. "RUN!!"
Pain shot up his nerves as The Frontman twisted his arm, but he clung on for dear life. A harsh elbow was jabbed at his bleeding wound, and Gihun nearly blacked out from the pain. But through sheer force of will, he held on. His arms would need to be sawed off for him to let go.
After days of living in the dark, the light beyond the door posed a cruel temptation. Saebyeok bolted up the stairs, and disappeared into the light. Suddenly, Gihun felt himself being lifted into the air--The Frontman flipped him over, and he landed hard on his back.
Gihun's vision swam. Every inch of his body was on fire, and his ears rang loudly. The basement door slammed closed, casting the room in familiar darkness.
The Frontman gazed up the stairs, before returning his attention to Gihun.
'Saebyeok,' Gihun thought, relief flooding him, 'I'm so happy you managed to get away...'
His world faded to black.
When he woke up, he was slumped in a chair. Coarse rope wrapped around his midsection, binding him to his seat. He felt numb. Numb, and cold.
Gihun blinked, the blurred outline of a man appearing before him. He sat in the chair opposite of him, the overhead light painting his mask in shadows.
"Seong Gihun," The Frontman began, "Are you awake?"
Gihun grunted. His head felt heavy, like it wanted to roll off his shoulders.
"Why did you help Kang Saebyeok escape?"
"Screw you..." Gihun slurred. Any second now, Saebyeok would be back with police. Or maybe The Frontman will kill him before then. Either way, Saebyeok survived. His sacrifice would not be in vain.
"Do you wish to die?"
"Who the fuck would wanna die like this?" Gihun bit out, but there was no vitriol in his voice. He'd lost the energy for it.
"Then why did you help her?"
"Because..." Gihun's head was spinning. Blood dripped down his leg, pooling at his feet. Was that all his?
"Because... she needed to go home... to her brother..."
"She is but a stranger to you." The Frontman scrutinized Gihun as though he was a puzzle he could not solve. "Why do you care?"
"It doesn't matter," Where was he again? Gihun couldn't remember. At least he didn't feel cold, anymore. "I wanted to-I wanted to help her."
"Even if it cost your own life? Your chance to see your family?"
“I..." The faces of Gihun's loved ones emerged before him, haunting him. "I don't know..."
Ga Yeong, I'm sorry... An indescribable pain filled his heart as he realized this was the end. I'm sorry, I couldn't be a good father to you.
Something wet rolled down his cheeks. Gihun didn't realize when he had started, but he was crying.
"Do you regret what you've done?"
Gihun thought of Saebyeok; the strength in her eyes, her kindness as they broke bread together, her love for her family, the fear and vulnerability she'd tried so hard to hide.
"...No," Gihun sobbed. "No, I don't regret it." Any of it.
The Frontman studied him in silence.
“Seong Gihun.” He resumed, “Do you want to live?”
Such a simple question, yet it was loaded with meaning. Gihun thought of Ga Yeong, and nodded.
"Yes," He answered resoundingly, with all that was left of his fading strength. "Yes, I want to live."
“Okay, then. As you wish.”
The Frontman reached behind Gihun and untied his binds. Gihun slumped forward, but instead of meeting the floor, he fell against a solid chest. The world spun on its axis as Gihun was lifted off his feet, held by strong arms. The light beyond the door came closer and closer until it flooded his eyes, blinding him. Old floorboards creaked loudly under The Frontman's heavy footsteps. Eventually, Gihun was laid atop a soft surface. After days of sleeping on hard ground, Gihun could sink into what felt like bedsheets under his body. The man in black gazed down at him, his figure hazy before Gihun's unfocused eyes. Gihun felt stuck in a dream, unsure of what was real and what was not.
"Why..." Gihun mumbled, "Why are you doing this?"
"Sleep, now." His gloved palm felt nice and cool against Gihun's burning skin. "You must rest."
Gihun closed his eyes, and rest.
Consciousness graced him in fragments. Water wetting his dry lips, a cool compress on his forehead. An IV drip in his arm, blood-soaked bandages by his bed. Feeling cold, and then too hot; blankets constricting around him, glued to his sweaty skin. A spoon pressed to his lips, warm soup sliding down his throat. A damp cloth on his body, washing him clean. Rinse, and repeat.
In this broken chain of memories, that masked face hovered above him, always watching.
"Rest, Gihun," The glove was gone, replaced by a warm hand. Gihun leaned into it subconsciously, the first human touch he'd felt in so, so long. "For you must live."
Most of the time, Gihun slept.
When Gihun recovered enough strength to stay awake for more than a few minutes, he was back in that dark basement, tied to his chair. The man in black stood with his back to him, a tray of surgical tools by his side. He turned to face Gihun with a scalpel in hand.
'This is it,' Gihun thought dimly. 'He's finally going to kill me.'
"...I don't usually do this on the living." The Frontman announced, almost apologetically. "But you're the exception."
He held Gihun still, and began to carve.
The pain was excruciating. Rivets of blood oozed down Gihun's skin, staining The Frontman's glove red. Gihun could only scream against the unrelenting assault.
"Hush, now." The Frontman proceeded with surgical precision. "Be mindful of your stab wound. You'll tear your stitches."
The last thing Gihun remembered before passing out was the searing pain in his neck.
Gihun's eyes fluttered open.
Artificial light bounced off the colourless walls, casting the room in aseptic white. A young woman stood by his bed, checking the IV bag which was dripping into his arm. He towards her painstakingly, his neck cracking angrily at the small movement. She gasped when their eyes met, quickly running out of the room and returning with a flock of people in white coats.
"What is your name and birthday?" The oldest of the group, a man with grey hair, asked.
"...Seong Gihun," Gihun croaked, voice hoarse from disuse. "October 31, 1974".
"Good, good. Do you know where you are right now?"
Gihun glanced around. "The hospital..?"
"Yes, excellent. What year are we in?"
Gihun mumbled the year, his thoughts slow and sluggish.
"That's right." The doctor replied. "Now, what is the last thing you remember..?"
A dark room. A cold mask. Merciless hands holding him down. Gihun flinched, head throbbing in pain from the distressing memories.
"It's alright, take your time." The doctor glanced warily at the heart rate monitor which beeped incessantly. "You've lived through a traumatic experience. Just rest for now."
They asked him some more questions about his general health before departing. Gihun lay in his room in a daze, wondering whether the past few days had been real, or if it was all just a long, fucked-up nightmare.
One look in the mirror confirmed what he'd already known. A thick gauze was taped to the side of his neck, tacky with fresh blood.
Strangely, the worst injury on his body--the gnarly wound where Saebyeok had stabbed him--was mostly healed, lined with neat stitches.
The police came the next day.
"Count yourself lucky, ahjussi." One officer said. "You're the first survivor of The Frontman we have on record."
"What about Saebyeok?" Gihun asked eagerly. Maybe she didn't go to the authorities-Maybe she ran away with her brother. That was okay, too.
The two officers shared a strange look.
"How do you know her?" They asked.
"We were kidnapped together." Gihun answered. "I was taken a few days ago. She was already there before me."
"It's been longer than that," Another wary look directed his way, "You were missing for thirty three days."
Gihun fell quiet. No wonder the wound on his abdomen had healed so much...
The older officer took in his condition and sighed. "We'll be back, Mr. Seong. We'll need to ask you some follow up questions, when you feel better."
"Wait," Gihun called out, "You still haven't answered my question. Where's Saebyeok?"
The younger man answered. "She washed up in the Han river, about three weeks ago. Well, what was left of her, anyway." His partner shot him a look, and he promptly shut his mouth. Whatever expression was on Gihun's face must have unsettled them, because they quickly took their leave.
Gihun learned from the news that Saebyeok's severed head was found floating down the river, wrapped in a trash bag. Her eyes had been gouged out from her skull. Gihun processed this information with a strange detachment, like an outsider looking in.
That night, Saebyeok visited him for the first time.
Gihun woke up screaming, sweat and tears streaming down his face. The numbness he'd felt since he woke up in the hospital was replaced by crushing guilt and anguish. A fevered thought possessed him; if he couldn't save her, then at least her brother...
"You may not know this, ajhussi," The officer at the precinct revealed later, when Gihun visited them. "But she was an illegal immigrant. We don't know where she came from, where she worked or resided. Do you at least know her brother's name?"
No. He didn't.
The officer sighed. "Maybe it's better if we don't find him. If he doesn't have citizenship, he'll be deported."
Junho, at least, had vowed to continue the search.
"Don't despair, Gihun." Junho promised, even if it were an empty one. "We'll find him."
-Present Day-
Young il was a great lover.
He was an excellent cook (not surprisingly), somehow managing to cure Gihun's crippling take-out addiction. He was mindful, making Gihun walk on the inside of the road so he wouldn't be splashed by rainwater from passing cars. They held hands on the streets like a cheesy old married couple, at the expense of occasional teasing from Young il's peers. They spent most nights together now, with Young il holding him as they slept. Gihun's night terrors came less and less these days.
The Frontman's activities had ceased as well. With no deaths since Subong's passing, a tentative peace settled over the town. A part of Gihun appreciated the quietude. The other part of him-the louder, more paranoid part-couldn't bring himself to relax, knowing The Frontman was still out there, just waiting for the other shoe to drop.
For now, the townsfolk took what little peace they could get.
Gihun peered out the open window of his apartment. The air felt humid on his skin, dark clouds rolling overhead warning of the incoming storm. Gihun glanced at the clock. It was late, and Young il was doing overtime in his office again.
"I wonder if he brought an umbrella..." Gihun chewed his lip. There were no reports of rain earlier that day, but Gihun could feel it: this was the calm before the storm.
After some thought, he threw on a jacket, grabbed two umbrellas, and stepped out the door.
It was a short trek to the school. When Gihun reached the teachers' office, Young il was the only one there, asleep at his desk. Gihun shook the water from his umbrella and approached the man. Young il's head was buried in his arms, a pile of half-marked papers underneath him. Gihun admired Young il's sleeping face; he looked so at peace that Gihun almost felt bad waking him.
Gihun placed a hand on Young il's shoulder and shook gently.
"Gihun?" Young il stirred, his voice thick with sleep. "What time is it?"
"It's quarter past nine." Gihun replied softly. "You've been working hard."
"Shit... really?" Young il rubbed his eyes and groaned. "Finals season...Too many papers to grade."
"You didn't bring an umbrella, did you?" Gihun asked. "It started pouring on my way here."
Young il blinked. "You came all this way just to pick me up?"
"Yep," Gihun grinned. "Aren't you happy you won't be soaked on your way home?"
Young il wrapped his arms around Gihun's waist gently, pulling him close.
"How did you know?" He laced his fingers behind Gihun's waist, locking him in.
"Know what?" They were so close that Gihun could see Young il's eyelashes. He swept the bangs from Young il's eyes; they were growing long-he would need a haircut soon.
"That I wanted to see you," Young il smiled indulgently.
Gihun scowled, feeling embarrassed at the other man's shameless gaze. "The way you're staring at me... You'd think I grew a third eye or something," He mumbled.
Young il's smile grew wider. "Can't I look at what's mine?"
Before Gihun could reply, Young il shifted his legs and pulled Gihun onto his lap.
"Wait," Gihun uttered, feeling the mood change. "We're in school."
"It's afterhours," Young il leaned in for a kiss. Gihun halted him with a hand to his mouth. "The kids have all gone home," his muffled voice came.
"What if one of your coworkers sees us?" Gihun asked.
Young il peeled Gihun's hand away, and pressed a kiss to his palm.
"Then let them see."
"What's gotten into you lately?" Gihun gasped as Young il went in for his neck. Shit, this was bad. He could feel himself hardening in his pants. Young il palmed at his bulge, making Gihun squirm.
"Makes it all the more exciting, doesn't it?" Young il kissed his jaw. "I should take you everywhere, so you'll think of me even when I'm not with you."
Oh, fuck. "Okay," Gihun moaned, "Just-make it quick."
Young il obliged, shoving the papers off hazardously and lifted Gihun onto his desk. Gihun wrapped his arms around Young il as their lips joined. Young il ground into him, hard, and Gihun moaned into his mouth. For a moment, he thought this might be it--they would find their release like this, quick and clean. Then, Young il pulled back.
"Turn around," He licked his lips, eyes dark with lust.
Gihun obeyed, and rolled onto his stomach. Young il undid his belt, and goosebumps erupted across his skin as cool air hit his flesh. Young il knocked his legs apart, as wide as they could go with his pants around his thighs.
Young il kissed at Gihun's shoulder blade, and shoved two spit-slicked fingers knuckle-deep into Gihun's ass.
“You're looser than before,” he muttered against back.
"Who's fault is that?" Gihun groaned at the intrusion. Young il massaged his prostate, and Gihun's breath hitched.
"Guilty." Young il sounded smug. Gihun wiggled his hips, chasing that toe-curling pleasure. Then, the fingers were gone, replaced by a blunt head pressing at his entrance. Gihun thudded his forehead against the desk as Young il sank in. He was so big; Gihun still couldn't get used to it.
Young il bottomed out, and pressed his palm against Gihun's abdomen. Gihun gasped as he started moving; it was unbearable, the mounting pressure from Young il's hand and his cock thrusting into him.
"When I do this," Young il panted in his ear, "I can feel myself moving inside you."
“Young il-" Gihun hissed, grabbing at his lover's arm, "Slow down, it's too much-"
"Shh. Hold it in, baby. I know you can."
The desk scrapped loudly against the floor from the force of their fucking. Young il kissed Gihun's sweaty neck, and Gihun flinched. He was so, so sensitive there.
"Come for me," His voice was laced with sweet poison.
And Gihun did.