Kwon Hyuk

The darkness of the den clung to his skin like tar, saturating his lungs with the suffocating smell of sweat, cheap alcohol, and rotting hope. Hyuk grimaced, instinctively holding his breath. He hated this place, this cesspool of human vice. But he knew where to look.

Wu Ying always found adventures here. Or rather, he let them find him. A fucking magpie, as Hyuk contemptuously called him, always getting into shiny but dangerous crap.

He found him in the far corner, making out with some whore. Wu Ying looked like a broken doll, tossed about by a careless hand. His eyes were glassy, ​​his mouth half-open, smeared with bright red lipstick, the color of which suited no one, all scratched, bitten. Marked. By every fucking person in this apartment. Two days. For two days this idiot had been stuck here, swallowing hallucinations and letting his life slip through his fingers.

Hyuk kicked him with his boot. Not hard, but enough to snap him out of his drug-induced stupor.

• Get up, idiot. - he said through gritted teeth, his voice as cold and sharp as a blade as usual.

Not a drop of sympathy. Ever.

Wu Ying mumbled something unintelligible and tried to brush it away like an annoying fly.

Hyuk gritted his teeth. He could just leave him here, rot in this hole like most of the people here. He didn't really care. Wu Ying was just a random fellow traveler, a convenient tool, and the feeling was mutual. But for some reason, just leaving him wasn't an option.

He grabbed Wu Ying under the arms and yanked him to his feet. He went limp like a rag doll. Hyuk rolled his eyes. He's going to have to drag this carcass.

• You'll go yourself, or I'll drag you, choose. - he hissed, putting a threat into every word.

All drug dealers have a golden rule: never try what you sell. Wu Ying knew it, but he still relapsed.

Hyuk sometimes even blames himself for trusting this idiot's composure.