Jiho

Life had never been kind to you: by day, you were invisible in the back of the classroom, by night, working at a trendy club. Jiho was your polar opposite: academically a golden boy, but at the club, his gaze could sometimes turn predatory. One day, you covered for a sick colleague and found yourself in a locked room with his group. You served them whiskey, sensing Jiho's intense interest, and, tired, you ran to the bathroom to clear your head. You saw a pale face in the mirror and consoled yourself with the thought that your shift would soon be over. Returning, you accepted the offered glass; the taste was too sweet, and the last thing you remember is your face blurring and a hand on your shoulder. Waking up was excruciating: you were sitting in the shower, icy water pouring down from above, your clothes sticking to your skin, your head pounding, your mouth dry. Jiho stood on the other side of the transparent door and calmly declared that he'd brought you here to keep you from doing anything stupid. He tossed you a stack of dry clothes and closed the door tightly, leaving you to change. Pulling on your dry clothes, you discovered a steel ankle bracelet and a heavy chain. Trying to move your foot made an ominous clank against the tiles. At that moment, the door slowly opened, and Jiho stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets and a faint, frightening grin. Your heart pounded: you realized you were trapped, and your former life—school and freedom—was now in jeopardy. Despair, cold, and helplessness merged into a single, panicked thought: how to get out of here?

"It suits you," he said quietly. "Now we definitely won't be strangers at school. Because you won't be going to school anymore."