Felix stands in front of the bathroom mirror. He runs the comb through his dry strands of hair, trying to untangle the knots, trying to ignore how the strands break off between his fingers. Malnutrition, poor hygiene, or the medications that were administered to him almost indiscriminately throughout his time in the cell—he couldn’t say which of those things, exactly, was responsible for this shapeless, suffering mess. Yet Felix can’t help himself, he can’t stop combing his hair. It’s not a sudden surge of vanity—he wouldn’t find what he sees in the mirror attractive even if he tried—it’s more like wonder. He can’t remember the last time he had a comb in his hair, the last time he could do something as simple and taken for granted as taking care of himself. It’s such a raw sensation that it brings him back to reality, even now, when his mind seems to have drifted to a distant place, far beyond his own understanding of things. Felix is on a rock in the middle of a stormy sea, yet he observes himself from afar: he sees that gaunt, hunched-over figure almost in shadow, trying to find balance despite the wind and rain. Felix is that figure, yes, but he is also something else. Something that observes with detachment, with coldness, from a distance. The spectator of a fate that no longer belongs to him.

Who knows how much time passes before Hyunjin appears in the doorway. His face is rosy, healthy, his eyes full of life, a fire that shines without ever fading. His jet-black hair looks soft and silky, tied back neatly. His pale hands have tidy nails, the veins standing out in blue on his wrists. “Felix,” he says, and his tone is cautious, as if he’s speaking to a wounded animal, to someone so traumatized that anything could make them collapse to the ground, trembling. Felix hates being treated like that. “I have to go. In ten minutes, someone will come to get you, and then we’ll meet again,” he explains.

Felix stops the comb in his hand. What is he supposed to say? Does Hyunjin really expect him to say something, anything? He simply nods and goes back to staring at his reflection. Hyunjin sighs. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

“You’re quiet.”

“Anything I might have to say, you already know,” Felix replies. The words come out of his mouth cold as shards of ice. “I’m fine. I should get ready before they come.”

Felix doesn’t know who’s supposed to arrive, nor does he ask. Hyunjin doesn’t bother to give him more details. He pushes off the doorframe and crosses the room. He steps outside, and Felix is once again immersed in the silence that, in any case, already muffles his thoughts. By now, he’s so empty inside that it’s hard to allow himself to feel any emotion—and when it does happen, like earlier, when they gave themselves to each other, the emotion is nothing more than fire burning on straw: fleeting, ephemeral.

Felix sets the comb down on the edge of the sink and closes his eyes. He surpassed his limit months ago. Whatever has happened since is just a slow dragging forward. Every meter gained comes at the cost of losing something of himself. He wonders if, in the end, anything will remain at all.

He raises his hand and brushes his chest. He observes himself as if he were a stranger. He wonders if he’ll ever be able to feel anything again: even fear, terror, horror. After killing Ivan, his feelings vanished. Sometimes instinct took over, but more often, it was anger. But these weren’t true emotions—they were mere reactions to stimulus, animalistic and driven by instinct.

He puts on the uniform, adjusting it on his body as if it were a splendid suit, something worth taking extra care with. Compared to the tattered clothes he wore in the cell, the improvement is glaring. At least now his body is covered. It might seem like a small thing, but not feeling perpetually vulnerable to potential beatings makes him feel calmer—not a mental calm, but a visceral, nervous one, perhaps.

He sits on the edge of the bed and lifts his head. He stares at the ceiling and wonders what happened to the prisoners he met in those common cells. He hopes they’ve found freedom, maybe by taking out some of the guards who patrolled the building. He smiles at the amusing thought that the place almost feels like a dungeon in a video game. Would it be enough to avoid the beam of light from the guard on duty to become invisible to their eyes?

The door opens; no one bothers to knock. It’s a guard, one Felix has never seen before. They look at each other for a moment, neither saying a word, but there’s no need, really. Felix stands up from the bed and approaches the guard, who steps aside to let him out. The guard holds up a pair of handcuffs, and Felix extends his arms forward so they can be fastened around his wrists. When the guard starts walking, Felix follows without protest.

They don’t walk for long. They take an elevator and then turn down a couple of hallways. Felix’s stomach twists when he notices the hall where, several nights earlier, he had found himself, completely covered in blood, his heart swollen with the hope of escaping that nightmare. The guard at the counter is the same one who had tasered him and later drugged him. Instinct almost urges him to spring forward like a ferret, leap at his throat, and strike him on the forehead with the heavy iron handcuffs clamped around his wrists, but he knows such an action would lead to nothing good. And that guy probably doesn’t even deserve it. For him, guarding the entrance is just a job—he must have a family at home, friends, people who care about him. It wasn’t that guard who threw him into the depths of that building to rot. If someone has to die, it’s certainly not him. In any case, the list is long enough. It’s not out of the question that his name might deserve to appear on it someday.

Right near the glass doors stands Hyunjin. Beside Hyunjin is a man. It’s obvious that he’s his father because they’re like two drops of water—though compared to Hyunjin, the man is bulkier, a bit shorter, and with a gaze laden with a fury that immediately makes Felix uncomfortable. The man looks Felix up and down, then shoots a disdainful glance at Hyunjin. Felix’s eyebrows furrow for a moment, a crease forming between them. What did he just see? Was it a silent reprimand? A kind of “and this is your headache?”

Hyunjin, for his part, hasn’t moved a single facial muscle. “Let’s go,” he says clearly, then starts walking. His father quickens his pace to stay a couple of steps ahead of Hyunjin. Felix walks in silence, the guard behind him gripping a large metal baton tightly in his right hand.

The glass doors open, and the fresh air hits Felix. That single gust of wind on his face is enough to make him feel like he’s on the verge of collapsing. He has to dig deep into the depths of his spirit to force himself to walk, step by step. He’s outside. Outside the building. It doesn’t feel real.

The door opens, and no one bothers to knock. It’s a guard, one Felix has never seen before. They exchange a brief glance, but neither says a word—there’s no need, after all. Felix rises from the bed and approaches the guard, who steps aside to let him pass. The guard raises a pair of handcuffs, and Felix extends his arms forward, allowing the cold metal to clamp around his wrists. When the guard begins to walk, Felix follows without protest.

They don’t walk for long. They take an elevator and then navigate a couple of corridors. Felix’s stomach churns as he recognizes the hall where, several nights earlier, he had found himself drenched in blood, his heart pounding with the desperate hope of escaping that nightmare. The guard at the counter is the same one who had tasered him and later drugged him. Instinct screams at Felix to lunge like a wild animal, to throw himself at the guard’s throat and strike him with the heavy iron cuffs around his wrists. But he knows such an act would lead nowhere good. And perhaps the guard doesn’t even deserve it. For him, guarding the entrance is just a job—he likely has a family at home, friends, people who care about him. It wasn’t this guard who threw Felix into the depths of that building to rot. If someone deserves to die, it’s not him. Still, the list is long enough. Felix wonders if, sooner or later, his own name might appear on it.

Near the glass doors stands Hyunjin. Beside him is a man who is unmistakably his father—they are nearly identical, though the older man is stockier, slightly shorter, and carries a look of simmering fury that immediately unsettles Felix. The man’s eyes sweep over Felix with disdain before he shoots a sharp glance at Hyunjin. Felix’s brow furrows for a moment, a crease forming between his eyebrows. What was that look? A silent reprimand? A dismissive “This is your problem?”

Hyunjin, however, remains expressionless. “Let’s go,” he says firmly, then starts walking. His father quickens his pace to stay a couple of steps ahead. Felix follows in silence, the guard behind him gripping a heavy metal baton tightly in his right hand.

The glass doors slide open, and a rush of fresh air hits Felix. The breeze on his face is almost enough to make him collapse. He digs deep, summoning every ounce of strength to keep moving, step by step. He’s outside. Outside the building. It doesn’t feel real.

His bare feet press against the rough tiles. Hyunjin and his father descend the steps, their polished shoes clicking sharply against the stone. Felix savors the warmth of the sun-heated ground beneath his feet and the faint scent of grass from the lawn surrounding the building. The sunlight blinds him momentarily, but as his vision adjusts, he takes in the scene. He quickly realizes it’s an illusion. Outside the building, there is no freedom. About fifty meters ahead looms a massive stone wall topped with a crown of barbed wire. Felix follows the wall with his gaze and spots guard towers at each corner, each manned by armed sentries. He turns his head. The guard prods him in the back with the baton, urging him to move faster, but Felix takes a moment to glance behind him. The glass skyscraper he just exited towers above, surrounded by similar but shorter structures. Black vans with tinted windows line the paved driveways, and a few small trees struggle to bud with green.

If he had managed to escape the building that night he killed Ivan, he would have discovered the true scale of his prison. Recapture would have been inevitable, just as it was moments before he reached the glass doors. Perhaps it’s better this way—at least he had the fleeting illusion of being one step from freedom. Now, more than ever, he wonders what happened to his companions.

“No,” Hyunjin says suddenly, turning to his father.

“Let him see,” the man replies sternly.

“It’s not necessary,” Hyunjin insists.

“It wasn’t a request, Hyunjin,” his father says, his tone leaving no room for argument. Hyunjin falls silent.

Felix continues to walk, his feet now crunching against the gravel. The sandy soil beneath the pebbles slips annoyingly between his toes. Hyunjin seems tense, his fingers brushing his forehead as he walks with a stiff, uneasy gait. His father, on the other hand, strides with a swaggering confidence. Felix doesn’t understand the dynamic between them, but as they approach the wall, the dark, blurred shapes he had mistaken for rainwater drains come into focus.

....oops, chapter too long! part two is already online (: