As per usual, my alarm wakes me up at 6:30, and Subin and I do our normal daily workout. This particular morning, though, we decide to spend only twenty minutes sparring and fifteen minutes running, as I received a notice this morning stating that 402 has come in. I'm to meet him at 8:00, so my normal morning routine is a little bit sped up today. Just to add to the off-kilterness of my first waking hours today, Subin wants to go to the shooting range to see how much better I've gotten with a gun. If I'm going to be a field agent, I'll need quite a bit of skill with weapons, so I decide to just go with it.
Arriving at the shooting range, we check in and get some guns from Woojin, an older man who's been in this position for as long as I can remember.
"Thank you, Woojin," I say, taking a small pistol from him.
"Of course, Cora. Good luck, don't shoot yourself." He chuckles at his own words before plopping back down in his chair behind the desk. Subin and I enter one of the ranges and promptly don those ridiculous noise-cancelling headphones that people wear in shooting ranges. Though it's rather absurd, it's protocol, and protocol can never be defied. Even I know that much.
Subin and I spend twenty minutes emptying cartridge after cartridge of ammunition and riddling paper targets with bullet holes. In the end, though, Subin does just a little better than I do. She used to be able to win by a landslide, but in this case it was essentially a photo-finish.
"Nice job," Subin congratulates, patting me on the back. "Want to go again?"
"I can't," I say. "I've got my first meeting with 402 at eight, and if I'm late, I'm screwed."
"Then let me take care of these," she says, taking the pistol and headphones from me. "Go get ready, you've only got twenty-five minutes!"
I thank her and bolt from the shooting range, practically sprinting back to my quarters. When I arrive, it's 7:40. I take what is probably the world's fastest shower— not even bothering to take my hair out of its ponytail to wash it— and when I'm done I throw on some torn black jeans and a white t-shirt with a red and black flannel over it. I brush my teeth and throw on my black converse before I leave my quarters, walking to cell Block B. 402 has been moved into the cell right next to 400's old one, but as I pass Cell #606, I notice that it's empty.
Maybe they finally killed him, I think to myself. Probably for the best. There was no use holding him hostage, really.
Looking away from Cell #606, I turn my attention to Cell #607, right next to it. Standing in front of this cell is Taewoo.
"Good morning, Cora," he greets me. "Did you sleep well?"
I salute and then respond. "Yes, sir. Good morning to you too, sir."
"At ease." I relax, falling back into my normal stance and taking a deep breath. "I bet you're wondering why I'm here," he says. I am, but it would be practically sinful to ask.
"Yes, sir," I state.
"Well, I thought I ought to tell you a little bit about prisoner 402. He's rather special, after all."
"How so?"
"From all of the music I bring you, I'm sure you're aware of the fact that idols exist?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what are they?"
"Idol is the name that is given to celebrities. In most cases, in reference to music artists."
"Correct. Well, number 402 here is one of those idols."
"That's very..." I struggle to find the correct word, the only one that comes to mind is "crazy", and it would be crazy to say that. At last, I settle on something that isn't totally disrespectful. "That's very ambitious, sir."
"Do you know why we chose to take him?"
"Has he wronged The Company, sir?" I ask.
"No, he doesn't even know we exist. He didn't, at least. I'm sure he knows now. Guess again."
"I don't know, sir."
"What is something an idol has?"
"Fans?"
"No, something else. Something useful."
"Money?"
"Yes."
"So we're ransoming him, sir?"
"Yes, in a way. We're going to offer up ransom for this kid, and once we get the money, they get his dead body."
"Why not just give him back alive? I don't understand our motive, sir."
"This idol is going to help us make a statement. His death says that we mean business, that we aren't afraid to go after the big fish, you know? It's telling the public not to mess with us, telling them that not even idols are off-limits. That no one is safe. Does that make sense?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you for explaining it to me."
"Of course. Cora, I want you to take your time with this one. We may not need to kill him physically if you can kill him mentally. I believe that may be an even harder blow to the public, seeing him living but not really alive. I want you to do your best work with this man, alright? Can you do that for me?"
"Yes, sir."
"Great. Go to the cafeteria, get some food in you. I'll have someone else bring him breakfast this morning. I want him to be more alert when he sees you for the first time. Be back at noon, okay?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
"Dismissed." Taewoo salutes to me and I return it before walking towards the cafeteria. I go to get in line and encounter Subin entering shortly after me.
"Hey!" She calls. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"
"Yeah," I reply. "Well, sort of. When I showed up, Taewoo— er, Rike was there, and he told me he didn't want me to show up until noon today."
"Cool," she says. "So, what's for breakfast?"
"Don't know."
We advance in line and I'm handed a tray with a bowl of rice and a bowl of soup, which is normal here. As I reach the end of the line, I'm handed a cup of coffee and what appears to be a croissant. Taking them both and thanking the woman behind the counter, I wait for Subin to get her food. She puts milk in her coffee, something I don't do, and then sits down across from me at the first available table.
"So," I ask between sips of coffee. "What's new with you?"
"I got an iPod," she says.
"Really?" I exclaim. "When? Can I borrow it sometime?"
"Three days ago, and sure. Just don't buy anything, okay?"
"Of course. Thank you so much!"
"No problem."
"Anything else?"
"What?"
"Is anything else going on with you? How's guarding?"
"How's guarding? Lee Cora, I'll have you know that guarding is honestly the worst thing in the whole world. I am bored out of my mind every single day. You are so lucky you get to be a Breaker, because every time I start my shift I want to cry. You have no idea how awful it is."
"Wow, dramatic much?" I joke.
"You spend a day on guard duty and tell me if I'm being dramatic or not."
"No thanks."
We make idle chat through the rest of breakfast and then go our separate ways. I return to my quarters and take a short nap before practicing a few more pieces on my keyboard. I practice Ring Ding Dong by SHINee and Overdose by EXO, and all the while I can't help but wonder what group 402 is in. Could it be EXO or SHINee? Maybe TVXQ? Another group I don't know about? This idol prisoner is so intriguing.
At 11:40 I leave my quarters and get to Block B at 11:55. I look inside Cell #607 and examine my idol client. He seems to be about my age, and he's wearing a white sweater with black pants and black Vans. His hair is brown and his head is down so I can't really see his face. I just sort of watch him for a minute or so, until, much to my surprise, he looks up. Though he can't see through the glass, he looks me right in the eyes. And in an ever more confusing gesture, he smiles.
Why is he smiling? I ask myself. Can he see me? What's wrong with this guy?
I'm genuinely taken aback by this boy's actions. He shouldn't even know I'm here, let alone smile at me. Something about him has me all shook up. I feel my composure crumbling. What's wrong with me?
I turn away from the window and take a few deep breaths, calming myself down. Once I'm feeling normal again, I open up the door.
His head lifts and his eyes lock on me as I step into the room. I finally take in the boy's face. He's cute, that's for sure. He has a smooth complexion and strangely pretty eyes. I can't help but wonder if all idols look like this.
"What's your name, kid?" I ask sharply, forgetting 402's appearance and focusing on my goal.
"Whatever you plan on changing it to," he says. Once again, he catches me off-guard. It's sort of a resigned sass, an "I-don't-care-what-happens-to-me" kind of sass. In a way, his words make it seem like he's already broken.
"Well, then," I begin, not showing the shock that he caused. "Your name is now 402. Got that?"
"Yes."
"What's your name?"
"402."
"Good," I say. But why do I feel like that's bad?
"Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
"Did you like it?"
"Yes." His short responses, his quick surrenders, that's the way of a broken man, and yet something about him is fighting me. He looks me directly in the eyes as he speaks, and broken men do not do that. A broken man would know not to have sassed me at the door as he had, and yet it seems like he's broken. So, if he's already broken, how am I supposed to break him?
"What did you eat?" I ask, hoping to try and understand him a bit more.
"Soup and rice," he says quickly. "It was very good."
I glance at my watch. It's only 12:10, as I came in a bit late. I have to spend twenty more minutes with this guy who's knocking me off my feet at every opportunity. Am I actually going to be able to do this?
"Do you want to know why you're here?" I ask him, moving close, just out of range of the chain that holds him to the wall and sitting on the ground across from him.
"Yes, but I assume you won't tell me."
"Why is that?"
"Because you don't know. You just work here, you don't actually know your boss' motives, right? No one actually tells you why you do what you do so you won't question your allegiance to them. I'm sure you think you're doing good by kidnapping me."
I have never been more stunned by anything a prisoner has said to me. I have broken over fifty prisoners since I was twelve, and never have I been spoken to this way. Every single captive either begs for their life or says they're going to kill me. They're either acting powerful or pitiful, but this one is so very different. He seems to be acting wise, like he's playing some kind of mind game. I've never dealt with someone quite like this. What am I supposed to do?
"Are you okay?" He suddenly asks me. I guess I was looking rather dazed, and his concern only shocks me more.
"Y— Yes. I'm alright."
"Just making sure. You were sitting there for a few minutes, I was worried."
I check my watch again, noticing that eight minutes have passed. It only felt like a second or two.
"Why?" I ask.
"Why what?"
"Why were you worried?"
"I don't know. I shouldn't be, but I am. Maybe I just want the last person I see before I'm killed happy. I honestly have no clue."
"You have every right to hate me," I manage.
"I know."
"Why don't you?"
"I don't know."
"Are you afraid of me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You could kill me, torture me, do anything you want. I'm a scaredy cat in my group— I'm timid. You terrify me. You have every reason to."
"I don't want you to be afraid of me," I speak without even thinking about it. My own words are confusing me. What is going on in my head? Why can't I get it together?
"Then help me get used to you. I'd rather not be scared of you, either."
"We'll get to know each other, then. What's your name?"
Something seems to click in his eyes and a smirk works its way onto his face as he speaks. "402."
"No, don't say that. Your real name, please." Why did hearing him say that hurt me? Why do I feel so conflicted?
He sighs, seemingly unsure. "Park Jimin. And yours?"
"Lee Cora. You're an idol, correct? What group are you in?"
"Bangtan, or BTS. We're a hip-hop group."
"Do you rap?"
"No, I sing."
"I've never heard of Bangtan," I say to myself. "I don't get out much, though."
He smiles again. How can he be smiling in a place like this? I don't understand Park Jimin at all. My watch beeps, jolting me from my thoughts. It's 12:30— my time is up.
"I have to leave," I say, standing. I'm aware of the fact that anyone could be behind that mirror right now. Anyone. I'll be beaten half to death if anyone sees me leaving after acting like this. What do I do?
"Park Jimin," I say, getting his attention. I like the way his name sounds. It sounds far better than 402.
"Yes, Lee Cora?" He asks.
"There aren't mics in these cells, but anyone could be watching me. If I get caught being kind to you, I'll get removed from this position and you'll be stuck with someone far meaner. Neither of us want that, so I've got an idea."
"I'll let you make it happen, then," he says. He puts his head down, seeming small. I don't like it when he does that. I want him to look at me again, but I don't know why.
I lean down and speak, developing a character once again. "Look at me," I order. He does.
"Lee Cora is a very pretty name," he says very quietly. For whatever reason, his compliment makes me sad, maybe because of what I know I have to do to get out of this alive.
"Thank you," I say in response to his compliment, my voice a whisper. I raise my hand, not looking Jimin in the eyes. I feel terrible when I slap him. I never want to have to do it again. I turn around and leave his cell, not daring to look back.
When I see that the hallway is empty, I want to slap myself for hurting him. It was for nothing. I walk back to my quarters and lay on my bed, taking in every single tiny detail of my ceiling. Many, many thoughts race through my head, but they're all variations of the same one.
Why is Park Jimin different?
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hello!
no one's reading this, but I'm updating it anyway. (fun fact: i wrote this part out when this book was really small lmao, i know a ton of you are reading it now! thanks!)
please leave feedback, i'd love to hear what you have to say! also, it's almost three in the morning right now, and my motor control is kinda lacking, so please alert me to any typos i may have made. much love.
stay swaggy,
sam
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