Seung-joon felt like he was drifting between consciousness and oblivion, his mind sluggish, his body heavy. But slowly, his senses began to sharpen, one by one.
The first thing he noticed was the smell—stale air thick with dust and sweat. Then came the sensation of movement, a rhythmic jolt beneath him. I'm in a vehicle. The thought formed sluggishly in his mind, but something was off. He had no memory of getting into one.
Panic flickered through him like static. His thoughts, slow and fragmented, began piecing themselves together. He forced himself to remember—what happened?
Then, like a flood, the memories surged back.
He had gone to the university hospital with Tae-min and Tae-jon. Then—running. Running through corridors, searching frantically for someone.
And then—hands. Strong hands gripping him. The sharp sting of a needle piercing his skin.
Seung-joon's breath hitched.
Han-ah…
