#mi:accepted

TW PARENTAL DEATH, CHILD ABUSE

WHO ARE YOU?

“Park Jisung,” he answered the question straightforward, shifting somewhat uncomfortably in his seat. He never did well in job interviews, they always seemed to ask the questions he never really had any good answers for. “I’ve just turned eighteen and I live at home with my parents and little sister, Jinah,” he smiled through the lie, almost as if it came too easy for him to tell. It was one he had told countless times to countless people. So much so that he almost started believing it was true. No one knew the real truth, his parents were dead, had been for almost three years. They didn’t that he was Jinah’s only carer, how they lived in some shitty room where he struggled to the pay the rent every month. They didn’t know how he had to pull himself and his sister away from an abusive uncle, how he had to get mixed up in the criminal scene just to make ends meat. The lie was just easier to tell, and he did so with ease.

HOW DID YOU GET HERE?

WARNING: KIDNAPPING

[ BACKGROUND... ]

Choi Evie was born during the Autumn season as Kwon Nari to a military father and an Italian dance teacher for a mother. she grew up fortunate and and successful in everything she did, a wealthy kid with an attitude of a middle class girl, sweet and generous. most of her girlhood, Nari grew up with her father always busy, never really seeing him, knowing him though only the stories her mother told, pictures, and the occasional birthday call. she knew her father was doing good where he was so she was content in being the one to keep her mother loved and happy, pushing back all the questions and concerns she felt were being hidden from her.

She grew up beautifully, performing in the theater arts and dance as a ballerina, her talent lifting her high until she achieved Prima status. Life had its secrets but she was happy and living her dreams.

however, all was soon revealed when a stranger broke into her home and kidnapped her mother from her life, stealing her away in the night and leaving a confused and distraught girl behind. grabbing the emergency number to her father, she contacted him in tears, telling him what had happened. her father told her to lock herself up in her closet until he arrived to get her and as soon as the sun came up, Nari was in the arms of her father. he had told her that his job in life was risky and that bad people had been after him, giving the first clue to her mother’s kidnapping. unfortunately thats all he would tell her and soon she was off to live with him until she finished College however, nothing was able to keep her mind from wondering about her mother and hoping that she was still alive even though her gut told her otherwise.

As Nari lived out her life with her father, continuing her dream as a Prima Ballerina in the heart of Italy, Nari had always felt like she was being watched, only thinking it was her mind until one night she was kidnapped by two men in the dead of night. they kept her in a room for days until finally one night she was rescued by men sent by her father. After her rescue, her father had hid her away in Korea and changed her name to Choi Evie, got her a new job as a Secretary at the SPD, a perfect hideaway in plain sight. her life had changed quickly after that, however, even with a new name, hiding away, she still held her head up strong and danced when ever she got the opportunity to. She would obey her father and hide herself, but she would not let her passion be hidden as well.

[ BEHAVIOR... ]

TW KIDNAPPING, RAPE, NSFW, ABUSE, TORTURE, BLOOD, MURDER, DEATH, STOCKHOLM SYNDROME

WHO ARE YOU?

then:

a dropbox baby. unwanted. unloved.

her earliest memory is of an orphanage, small and cramped and bursting at the seams.

she doesn’t know when it started—the silence—but she doesn’t talk. not when the matrons ask her questions ( who are you? where are you from? what’s your name? why won’t you talk? ) and not when the other children poke and prod, tease and taunt.

she’s tuned out the world. floating through life, merely existing on the edge.

instead, she finds sanctuary in dog-eared books with yellowing pages and blacked out text, plants roots in the corner of rooms and behind crowds.

this is how she grows up: like a ghost—quiet and unseen. always lingering at the periphery. always on the outskirts of conversation.

…

she was happy once.

until one day, she disappears.

…

now:

the girl who lived. an enigma. cold. unpredictable.

she has no memories this time ( or so it seems ). no answers for the gossips who come frothing at the mouth with questions ( where have you been? what happened to you? how are you alive? why won’t you talk? ); not even for the MPD who come skulking in, wearing their justice hearts and self-proclaimed righteousness on their sleeves. she has nothing for them, but silence.

it’s familiar. safe. hers.

she does not speak.

she does not hear.

she does not see.

…

to the world, her existence is a miracle.

to her, she is nothing more than a walking death sentence.

HOW DID YOU GET HERE?

SEE NO EVIL.

exhibit a: a backalley, poor timing, a crime in progress.

…

when she wakes, she is in a dirty cell with no windows.

there is no interrogation. no, that comes much, much later. ( when she begged for mercy, when she begged for death. )

instead, they rob her of the little things first: light, food, noise, time. they give her food at the oddest hours of the day, turn the lights on and off when she least expects it, blast white noise and headache-inducing sounds whenever she so much as closes her eyes for longer than ten minutes.

it doesn’t occur to her how much time passes as she wastes away.

not until she wakes in the middle of the night to locks turning and a hand on her face.

when she comes to, she locks eyes with the devil.

…

all she remembers after is darkness and silence.

always.

…

HEAR NO EVIL.

exhibit b: chains clanging, guttural chokes, a whispered secret.

…

the questions come in cycles—no rhyme, no reason, no ramble.

they know by now that no one is coming for her. she’s no one important. just another pretty-face LUMIN8 waitress. a civilian, unassuming and invisible.

it’s only marginally surprising that she’s not dead.

it must be amusing for them to see how much she’s clinging, how desperately she still holds onto the last remaining shred of her sanity, her dignity.

for all their talk, no one has come close enough to get a confession.

not even the devil himself.

and for that, she goes from invisible to intriguing.

…

SPEAK NO EVIL.

exhibit c: drunken laughter, oily taunts, dirty hands and dirtier mouths.

…

she wakes up to blood on her thighs, her hands, her face.

there’s a body lying on top of her, his head turned unnaturally at an angle. she does not cry. not even when her skin crawls when she realizes someone is watching her from a corner of the cell.

it’s him.

not the devil. his right hand. the executioner.

she does not know his name. if she did, she’s forgotten it. just like she has everything else.

he tells her it’s an accident. she does not ask if he means the loss of her innocence or the body he disposes of or the bloody knife he finds shoved beneath the dirty mattress.

he asks her if she remembers what happened.

she tells him nothing. only looks at him. still naked, half lucid.

a door creaks somewhere in the distance and she lets the darkness take her just before someone steps into view.

you did well, park hyerin.

eventually, she forgets that too.

…

exhibit d: sunlight, open space, crowds, too many holes.

…

they find her bloody and half-dead with threadbare clothes hanging off her body and no shoes behind yebae church.

she’s jane doe until her fingerprints and dental records come back positive for one park hyerin: former LUMIN8 waitress, missing and presumed dead.

…

it’s been three years.

she doesn’t even blink.

the detective clears his throat and shifts in his chair. he asks questions she has no answers to. his partner is decidedly frustrated when an hour passes and they still come up empty.

he loses his temper. she doesn’t flinch. just stares. and stares and stares until he curses, hand dipping into his back pocket and stalks out of the room.

she watches him go until a voice pulls her attention back.

hyerin.

no response. it’s as though her name doesn’t register at all. she simply turns her head, meets his eyes, and waits.

what happened to you?

a clock ticks. silence blooms. tick tock. tick tock. tick—

she says nothing.

when he leaves, she stares after him. eyes shadowed and forever haunted.

…

i love—

—die…don’t!

hye…rin!

such a pretty mouth…

rin-ah…i…

bitch! i’ll kill—

rin, please…

shh…hey, it’s me…it’s okay.

promise me…please just…

liar!

always—take care of you.

…

THERE’S NO ESCAPE WHEN THE EVIL IS YOURSELF.

there are gaps in her memories.

it’s nothing new. she’s learned to live with it—the shadows, the distorted whispers, the mismatched way her brain tries to fix itself.

it doesn’t explain the fading callouses on her fingers, the scars on her wrist and slashed across her palm, the spider web of thinly faded tendrils blooming at center mass, the graceful, almost deadly way she moves. there’s a cold, ruthless edge to her lips now, like death clings to her shoulders, bleeding from her eyes.

her files are empty, save for the police reports and medical records detailing the amount of damage her body is still reeling, still healing from.

eventually, she slips from person of interest back to invisible wraith.

she floats through life. just like she used to.

here, yet not.

always lingering, merely existing.

waiting and waiting and waiting.

…

what are you waiting for?

death.

…

hello, park hyerin.

WHO ARE YOU?

“Who am I? The coldest bad bitch you’ll ever meet” he laughs at his own joke with glee, “But seriously I’m just a normal guy who maybe grew up with 5 silver spoons in his mouth or maybe that’s all a lie.” He pauses for a moment, “Some people might remember me from online but that’s all i’ll say about that. Right now I work as a barista and before you ask, yes I do want to run my own cafe.”

HOW DID YOU GET HERE?

TW GUNS

《 WHO ARE YOU? 》

Sungki settles at a table with a cup of coffee. When he’s asked by the person in front of him who he is, the young man smiles discreetly. “My name, Sungki, means beautiful opportunity. Combined with my last name, divine beautiful opportunity.” He says, sipping the coffee calmly. “I do consider myself very much a beautiful opportunity. I’ve got a well-known family, and a well-known younger sister. I’ve received manty accolades and awards at school for my talents and good looks, but does this mean that I’ve become spoiled?”  he keeps sipping the coffee in his hands before looking up at the person asking the question.

“It simply means that I know how to use my skills and talents. Some people would say that I am an ice prince, but they don’t really know me all that well, since it is all crazy rumors.” He then stood up to put his cup in the trash before coming back. “But I do think I am one of the best out there. That’s no lie.”

《 HOW DID YOU GET HERE? 》

“A fascination with guns. Weaponry has always been my weakspot. Growing up, my father, a detective with the SPD, the Seoul Police Department, would take me along on cases, showing me the worst of the worst in criminals. I had a rather regular childhood aside from that and shooting my foot accidentally when he was teaching me how to use a gun.” He said, laughing a bit. “I did say that I had a well-known family and well-known younger sister. My mother runs protection services for all the big shot politicians in Seoul, and my younger sister, as far as I know, does some modelling. You may have seen her as the face of Innisfree recently,” he adds, seemingly very proud. “But I follow my dad all the way,”

TW INJURIES, BLOOD

《 WHO ARE YOU? 》

“Hey, hey, stop struggling,” Hyunwoo yelled as he scrambled towards the prone cyclist, pushing past the gaggle of onlookers with their phones set to record and dropping to his knees next to the injured man.

“I said stop fucking struggling!,” he snapped, finally catching the man’s attention as Hyunwoo placed his hand on the cyclist’s chest and forced him to look at him and not his bloodied tibia exposed for the world to see.

Who are you?

“I’m a doctor, okay? A doctor,” he repeated, searching the man’s panicked gaze for some measure of understanding as he clasped his outstretched hand and gave it a squeeze - noting with some measure of relief that the cyclist could still wiggle his fingers.

“I’m gonna look after you but I need you to breathe for me, okay?,” he urged, giving the man’s hand another squeeze as he took a deep breath himself, encouraging the other to follow suit.

“Deep breaths… that’s it… nice and slow,” he murmured in encouragement, frowning slightly to himself as the younger man winced with each breath - adding a possible fractured rib to the cyclist’s growing list of injuries.

《 HOW DID YOU GET HERE? 》

How did you get here?

“The ambulance is already on it’s way,” he reassured the other, eyes sweeping the length of the cyclist’s body for any more discernible injuries; already far too aware of the cyclist’s cold, clammy hand and his bloodless lips - the shock already settling in.

“But you’re in luck,” he informed him, forcing the man to stay awake as the blare of the sirens grew louder and louder all around them.

“I just recently reopened my clinic and it’s not too far from here,” he continued even as he waved down the paramedics with his free hand, quickly updating the two EMT’s on the man’s status as they lifted him off the ground and onto the ambulance.

TW DRUG USE, PROSTITUTION, CHILD ABUSE, BLOOD, FAMILY ILLNESS, NSFW

《 WHO ARE YOU? 》

kang taewon.

he thinks simply. that should be the only answer there is, but the more he thinks the more there is. he had never thought himself to be a complicated person, but when had he ever given himself time to just sit and think?

son.

he was nine. his father had already been gone for four years at that point. his mother was struggling to keep them afloat and even at his age, he knew. they had moved houses more than four times already, each time the apartment getting smaller and more ragged. they were in their room. he was trying his best to placate his youngest brother, but the cries don’t stop. he can hear the man’s footsteps stomping down the hall and out the door yelling about how he “couldn’t get off with a kid fucking crying”. for a moment the house is eerily silent before his mom is slamming his door open. on instinct, he takes the step forward to shield his brothers, once again ready to take the brunt of his mother’s anger if only to make sure they aren’t on the receiving end. back then the drugs, the loss of her husband, and the lack of nutrition hadn’t overtaken her completely. that night, as she watched the blood gush from the cut her ring had caused has his mother dropping to her knees. for the first time in years, she embraced them all in a hug and apologize.

older brother.

taewon tries his best to allow his brothers to live a normal life. they’re poor, but he does what he can. his mother barely returns home now, only leaving money for them occasionally so that they can buy food. taewon knows what happens if she stays too long. the guilt of that night lingers in the back of her mind. she only sinks deeper into her depression. the more she turns to alcohol and drugs to help cope and the more violent they make her. she can’t risk it again. however, even then there are days when she breaks. sometimes taewon preferred those days. it kept his mother off the streets and even if she littered his body with bruises she always gave him hugs to apologize. those are some of the nights he misses the most. despite his body aching, those nights they usually fell asleep cuddled on the mat on their floor for once feeling like a family again. those are the only nights he wants his brothers to remember. if he has to lie to keep that image alive for them he will.

fighter.

his first fight was at fourteen. he remembers that day clearly. taewon fumbled through that fight. halfway through he had managed to break his hand on the jaw of his opponent, but pure adrenaline and determination helped him win that fight. he’s stepping off the stage that night and sitting in the back as a man in black pats him on the back to congratulate him on a good fight. they take their cut of the money and throw the rest to the floor. he still remembers desperately trying not to get blood on the bills as he picked them up. the fights continue after that. the bills to keep his mother in the hospital, the money to keep his brothers in school and fed, and the debt she owed the local gang wasn’t a small fee. he needed more and more money and in less and less time. he had to take riskier fights and he does. honestly, he’s laughing at the thought of how good he had to get at makeup to hide his wounds from his brothers.

“kang taewon. just taewon is fine though.”

《 HOW DID YOU GET HERE? 》

“i needed money mostly.”

even with his debt paid off by now his reputation in seoul meant that getting riskier fights meant risking death. he had been fighting for more than a decade now with just that experience paired with his win record the crowd wasn’t finding his fights as interesting unless it meant a fight to the death. not only that but most of the fighters that wanted to take him on now were the types that were there for the thrill, not fearing the consequences of death. despite the blood on his hands, he didn’t want more.

“and to have some time to myself.”