The Wrong room

The taste of the pill was bitter, even under the cheap sweetness of the juice.

Su Rin had known the moment his mother handed it to him with that soft, fake smile. He had seen the gleam in his father’s eyes when they whispered to each other in the kitchen, thinking he couldn’t hear. It wasn’t the first time they had treated him like disposable trash, but tonight was different.

Tonight… they were selling him.

The black car waiting outside smelled of leather and cologne, but the air inside was suffocating. Two men in dark suits sat in the front, silent as shadows. One of them handed his father a thick envelope before they drove away. He didn’t even try to hide it.

Su Rin’s body grew heavy, the world tilting as the drug began to spread. His head lolled to the side, and the streetlights blurred into streaks of white and gold.

He wanted to vomit.

He wanted to scream.

But most of all—he wanted to stop existing.

They led him through the back entrance of a luxury hotel, his arm hooked in a stranger’s iron grip. The carpet was too soft under his feet. The walls shimmered with gold leaf, mocking him.

He knew where they were taking him. Everyone knew about that man. Rich, cruel, and known for breaking pretty toys just to watch them cry.

His chest tightened. The hallway stretched on forever.

And then—an open door. Light spilling from within. A muffled voice from down the hall distracted the men for a moment.

Su Rin didn’t think. He pulled away—stumbling, his legs almost folding under him—and darted into the open room. He slammed the door shut, locked it, and collapsed against it, gasping.

The air in the room was cold. Dim. Quiet.

He didn’t notice the man sitting on the couch until it was too late.

Emmet Aurelius Kane lounged like a king, even with the haze of drugs in his veins. His suit jacket was discarded, shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up. Dark hair framed a face both sharp and beautiful—an elegance that didn’t belong to mortals. His eyes… deep, watchful, predatory.

Su Rin didn’t see him. Or maybe he didn’t care.

He staggered toward the far corner, his breaths shallow and trembling. His knees hit the carpet, and he buried his face in his arms.

His thoughts spilled like blood.

I can’t do this anymore.

Why was I even born?

If I could just… stop… it would be easier.

I’m so tired.

Emmet’s gaze sharpened. He could hear them. Not the soft, broken sounds from Su Rin’s lips, but the voice inside his mind—clear, raw, unfiltered.

It wasn’t a conscious choice. His soul simply reached out and caught those threads of thought, like pulling silk from the air.

He sat still, listening.

They wanted me gone long ago. Maybe this way… they’ll finally be happy.

And then—silence. The boy’s body went slack, his head lolling to the side. His breathing slowed. Stopped.

Emmet didn’t move. Didn’t even blink.

It wasn’t his problem. Broken things died all the time.

…Until it happened.

It was subtle. A shift—like the air itself had drawn a sharp breath. The body on the floor shuddered once, and something else opened its eyes from within.

Cold. Empty. Dangerous.

The new presence scanned the room in an instant. This was not his world. The situation was clearly unfavorable—his body was weak, cornered, and under threat. Without hesitation, he dragged himself to the nightstand, found a decorative shard of glass, and pressed it to his wrist.

Crimson spilled across the pale carpet.

Emmet watched as the boy—no, the thing inside him—calmly assessed the damage, his expression unreadable even in agony.

This body is pathetic. But it’ll do.

Then, as though his task was done for now, the stranger inside Su Rin closed his eyes and let darkness take him.

Emmet’s lips curved slightly.

“Interesting,” he murmured, leaning back into the couch. He stayed there all night, never taking his eyes off the boy.

---

The knock on the door came just after dawn. It wasn’t a knock, really—more like a pounding.

Reporters spilled in first, cameras flashing wildly. Questions were shouted—about scandal, shame, and disgrace. Behind them came Su Rin’s parents, faces twisted into the perfect masks of grief and outrage.

And then—another voice cut through the chaos.

“Move.”

The crowd parted without thinking.

A man and woman stepped inside—impossibly composed despite the scene. They radiated wealth and authority. These were not people who ever had to introduce themselves.

Emmet’s parents.

“Emmet,” his father said coolly, ignoring everyone else. “We’ve been looking for you.”

Emmet finally stood, unhurried, his gaze flicking toward the unconscious boy on the floor.

The voices in the room blurred into meaningless noise. Because beneath it all, he heard something else—faint, like a whisper under glass.

Touch me and I’ll rip your fingers off.

And Emmet Aurelius Kane smiled.

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