━━━━༻ ♥ ༺━━━━ You choose to find Jasper ━━━━༻ ♥ ༺━━━━

Her mind flickered to a certain navy blue-haired male that she was sure was still lurking around the Tempus Dormitory premises. Jasper has always been a strong-willed person unless it came to his family situation. Couple that with murderous rage at the white-haired male and he becomes someone akin to a juggernaut. There was no way he would've left. He had already proven that his judgment was clouded by his anger when he tried to kill her. He wouldn't have chosen the logical path of seeking out the authorities.

He'd want to make Kieran pay with his own hands.

I have no time. Her eyes flicked to the approached pairs, one coming from the stairs and the other from the other end of the hallway. She cast one last look at the open passage, knowing full well even if she went down there, she wouldn't be able to get out with the elevator broken, and she'd be trapped all over again.

So she made up her mind. (Y/n) quickly slinked away as quietly as she could, pressing herself against the wall behind a particularly tall sculpture of a lion when she saw Tristan and Leon's tall shadows approach.

"The combined cost of all my glasses you've broken is more than the cost of your coffee addiction," the blue-haired male was saying in a heated fashion as he inspected a pair of shattered frames in his hand. From her hiding spot, she could see that the lenses were thoroughly smashed and the frame had snapped in half. He breathed an annoyed sigh and slipped the remains into his breast pocket. "You and Fujikawa both."

Leon said nothing. He only grunted in response and continued walking a brisk pace. Tristan rolled his eyes and patted his hair down. It had gotten messed up from his earlier fight.

"My back hurts from carrying this conversation, Matthews."

Only when she could no longer hear their voices did she dart for the stairs. She ran all the way up to the fourth floor where her room was. In there, she quietly locked the door behind her and turned on her laptop.

Where did he go? She impatiently waited for the application to start running and a little light to appear on the digital map of the dormitory. Just as she'd suspected: Jasper was still nearby. In fact, he was in the dormitory.

She furrowed her brow, a little confused as she inspected the dot. It wasn't moving. Either that meant he was currently snooping around or he'd dropped his phone. Both were a likely scenario, and she was hoping for the former. If he didn't have his phone on him she wouldn't be able to track him.

(Y/n) deleted all evidence of her crime and hid the laptop back in the closet. Then she ran back to the door and unlocked it, looking both ways down the corridor before running towards where Jasper supposed was. And the best part was, it was in a room on the fourth floor, right where she was. That saved her the trouble of having to sneak down the stairs without the P4 noticing her.

Applying the 2D map to the actual building and tracking Jasper down in it was harder than she'd thought, especially since she was directionally challenged. She stopped in front of a terrace overlooking the Manchester skyline and referred back to her mental map. Is this supposed to be here? She had no idea if she was still going in the right direction. At least, she hoped she was.

Her relief was almost palpable when the white-haired male's dance studio came into view. The room where Jasper was supposedly in was located near that room. So I was going in the right direction!

She ran through immaculate hallways of little color and decoration, a cold palace devoid of warmth for whoever stepped foot in there. Only the dance studio really looked used, with the towels hanging by the wall, the bottles of water littering the floor, and the speakers arranged hazardously. The mirror had been smudged and wiped down lovingly. But as for everything else, she could see that Kieran could hardly care less.

Her search led her to an honest-looking room flanked by more of its siblings. She tested the door handle; it was unlocked. (Y/n) knocked softly against the wood. Once, twice.

"Jas?" Her voice echoed through the empty hallways, bouncing against the walls only to find no other soul to receive the call. "You in there?"

She felt tense all over. After their last meeting, which had ended disastrously, she wasn't sure how to face him. What would they say? What would she say? What would he do? She had every right to be wary of him and to be on her guard, but at the same time, she didn't want to. Who would ever want to feel all these negative things towards one of their closest friends?

Whatever. She let out a controlled breath to calm her nerves. I'm just wasting time now. I'll go in and out. Simple as that.

Her hand wrapped around the handle and with one strong push, she swung the door open.

She was greeted by a room of black, whites, and grays coated in a thick layer of darkness and white-gray dust. What this room was used for, she didn't know. But obviously, it hadn't been touched in quite a while, judging from the fine layer of dust over almost every surface.

The room was bare save for the bed on one end of the space and the rack of black clothes on the other. There was a small wooden stool next to the bed with a lamp hovering over it. A single painting rested on the wall, the flat's sole decoration. The colors were long faded which made her think—how long would Kieran have had to have been here for his possessions to become that old? The reds were now pink, the greens almost yellow, and the blues nearly white. It was a country scene, once vibrant with autumn interwoven with a natural landscape, now a thing of subdued colors, unloved and forgotten.

Something on the stool caught her eye. It was a phone. Her brows knitted together as she picked the slender sliver of silver metal up. It was a phone. And judging from the crescent moon logo on the back, it was a Gemini phone. Jasper's family's company brand.

She did the most logical thing anyone with a phone that wasn't theirs would do: she opened it. The screen flickered to life and a wallpaper of two very familiar people appeared on the lock screen. It was a picture of Jasper and Keller, taken when the Game was still going on and when the brown-haired male was still alive. They were happy and shy, evident by the nervous lopsided smile on Keller's face and Jasper's attempts to keep himself composed.

Another thought crossed her mind. If Jas' phone is here, then where is Jas? And more importantly...

Why is his phone lying on the stool like someone deliberately left it there?

Her answer came in the form of a sharp prick to her neck and then suddenly, she was falling into a world of darkness.

UNKNOWN:DIRECTORY ━━━━━༻ ❀ ༺━━━━━ ℓαtєя

(Y/n) awoke in a chair. A bright light blinded her momentarily, her head still swimming as she struggled to claw her way out of her drowsy state and take in her surroundings. She felt sluggish and numb all over at first and wasn't too concerned until she felt the pressure on her arms, legs, and mouth.

She was tied down to a chair.

Her mind flew into alarm mode as she tried to pull herself free and open her mouth to demand answers, only to realize that it was duct-taped shut. No matter her endeavors, she could not break out of the leather bands that strapped her to the chair, which was rooted in the ground.

The (h/c)-haired girl forced herself to calm down as she blinked rapidly to clear up the sleepy mist from her eyes. When her vision was clear and the blinding light had ebbed, she could see that she was in a containment room of a sort. The walls, ceiling, and floor were all pristine white. The room was empty save for herself and a second identical chair in front of her. It was empty but she couldn't help but wonder who it was meant for.

So many questions were brimming in her throat and hung on the tip of her tongue but there was no one she could see to ask them. And she couldn't voice her concerns even if she wanted to with her mouth taped shut. She scanned the room one more time hoping it would jog her memory. Maybe she's been here before. How many shady-looking white rooms has she been in throughout her life?

"Are you awake, princess?"

A clear voice with a familiar flirty undertone penetrated the silence, shattering it into hundreds of little pieces. It came from behind her. (Y/n) instinctively tried to turn her head but the tether around her neck wouldn't let her. Footsteps, two pairs of them, came in from an unseen door behind her. One of them stopped before they could come any closer while the other continued on his path.

He placed a hand on the back of her chair and leaned against it casually, rounding around it to peer into her confused eyes. Kieran.

His golden orbs raked down his body and a look of displeasure crossed his face. He reached towards the bindings and tugged on them. "Are these uncomfortable for you?"

(Y/n) gave him an are-you-for-real look. What do you think, Einstein?

"I can't take these off. You might run away." His eyes rose to the tape on her mouth and the displeasure was replaced by guilt. "Sorry about that. He insisted on employing every precaution in case you try anything. But if you ask me"—he shot a sharp glare at whoever was still lurking in the background where she couldn't see—"That's totally overkill."

She blinked in confusion. Who is he talking to? And do I really want to know?

The answer came far sooner than she'd like. She heard the man move, a rustling of cloth and the slow echoing of polished shoes on tiles as he came towards her.

And when the mystery man spoke, (Y/n) felt everything inside her crumble into ashes.

"I am the expert here," she heard him say in a voice she dreaded, hated, and most of all, feared. "I know exactly what's needed and what's not, Kieran." It was a cold sound that was more emotionless that even Tristan's when she'd first met him. And it was a sound she'd never, ever be able to forget.

She barely heard the white-haired male grumble and pull away from her, scratching the back of his neck. "Fine. Whatever."

"You will address me as Professor Kim."

Terror felt like a knife that sat precariously on her skin. The cold and raw metal would at fist teasingly press into her bare skin and open little red cuts, ones akin to paper cuts. Then, once the object of her fears became a harsh reality, the knife would dig mercilessly into her flesh and her numb body could do nothing but feel the excruciating pain. She couldn't move, couldn't scream. She was helpless.

Fright turned into betrayal as she looked at the white-haired male. His eyes, once a pale gold, now a molten pool of dark, gleaming honey. He detected the panic in her eyes and tucked a lock of her hair behind her ears affectionately and in a soothing tone, he said, "There's nothing to be afraid of, princess. This isn't what you think it is."

She could barely hear his words. She was focused on the approaching shadow on the floor, her heart and throat held in a blue-black vise. The man in white. His features were lost in the muddle of her memories and time but with each step he took, the clearer his face became. Stoic, stone-cold, and gaunt. He looked nothing like his son, his hair being a slash of honey-brown across his forehead while Jaehyun's was marigold blond.

But the eyes—they had the same eyes. Jaehyun had the same terrifying coldness in them like his father, only for him it appeared less often. How hadn't she seen it sooner? How had Tristan known before her?

The man barely glanced at her. He was dressed in the same white lab coat she distinctively remembered, its only color being his dark tie and the blue pen tucked in his breast pocket. He whipped it out and wrote something on his clipboard.

"I have no time for your games, Kieran," he droned in that same monotonous tone like he was more machine than man. "I did agree with your condition to keep your plaything, but I will not tolerate you wasting your time with it."

"How cruel, humans aren't things," Kieran purred, but his voice was filled with amusement. Professor Kim ignored him with so much of a sigh and crossed to the other end of the room. He turned something on, and the lights flickered to life, exposing some strange contraption that began beeping and humming.

(Y/n) felt like she was nothing more than a soul trapped in a corpse as she stared helplessly at the familiar scene. The man in white, surrounded by machines, and her strapped down to a chair or table. Only this time, there were no other researchers or children to be tested on. Only her.

"Don't worry." Kieran knelt in front of her and held her head in his hands, forcing her to meet his eyes. "He's not going to do anything to you. Nothing bad, at least. I'd never allow it."

How does he—

He saw the question in her gaze without her having to voice it and gave her a small shrug. "You probably hadn't been expecting this turn of events, have you? Truth is, I'm just like you. Well, except for the fact my situation was more of a voluntary one."

(Y/n)'s eyes widened. What?

His hands dropped to his knees and his gaze turned far away, as if he was looking at something only he could see. "The Bellua Project is just one of many," he finally admitted. "It's part of a bigger project Mr. Buzzkill over there is in charge of. You had been unfortunately caught up in a project that was designed to create a drug that could allow humans to live without rest."

Her gaze dropped at that. It had partially worked; she could technically go to sleep but sometimes her body wouldn't let her, and she'd stay awake for weeks on end. The insomnia would strike at random intervals.

"I was signed up to help in the research for people to become immune to pain," the male continued. "There are other ones that are aiming to create people who can survive without nourishment. I don't know the full details, but that's the gist of it. His only goal is to create the perfect human."

He paused to study her expression. He watched her closely, saw the pain that was written all over her face and the way her eyes squeezed shut, her lashes framed by droplets of tears. His chest constricted at the sight and he couldn't help but feel pity for her. He knew this would have a great psychological impact on her, but this was the only way he could save her.

"I don't want to see you hurt ever again, princess," he said almost pleadingly. He pushed himself to a crouch and rested a hand on her cheek, his touch gentle. "So bear with me."

She wasn't sure exactly what he was planning to do, but she did know it was bad. Her eyes widened and she tried to get him to rethink his decision, to choose another path, or to free her—she didn't know—but her pleas came out muffled. He wouldn't be able to hear a word.

Kieran ignored her. He leaned closer to her, close enough she could almost feel his warm breath through the tape. He braced himself with a hand cupping around hers on the arm of the chair, while his other tangled through her hair. She could hear his breathing become deeper as his eyes locked with her, molten gold into bottomless (e/c), and his hand curled tighter around her fingers. He paused, his face merely millimeters away from hers, waiting for her reaction.

He pressed his mouth to hers, only separated by a thin layer of tape. He caressed her cheek gently and breathed, "With this, all your pain will become mine."

No...don't do it!

But if he saw the silent plea in her eyes, he didn't show it. He merely smiled, one that was a cross between pure joy and sadness, and rose to a standing position. By this time Professor Kim was done powering on the machine and getting the necessary applications ready, and he was waiting impatiently for the white-haired male.

Kieran sat in the other chair in front of her. He strapped himself in, starting from his ankles, then his neck, and lastly, his wrists. As he did all this, the other man pressed a button on the wall and said something into it (Y/n) couldn't hear. But she didn't have to—within seconds a team of similarly dressed people came into the room in a crisp fashion. They hooked their chairs up to the machine and one approached her with a blindfold in hand.

No, no, NO! The (h/c)-haired girl thrashed at the sight of the black cloth coming over her eyes. The bindings cut into her skin but she didn't care. If it meant she'd lose a limb or two trying to get out of here, that was fine. After all, she'd already promised herself and her late mother she'd never let the past come back to haunt her again.

This was different. She was reliving the past.

Kieran didn't seem to care. His eyes remained on hers even as a stoic man came up to him with a needle he politely declined. "No anesthesia needed, thanks~"

"I didn't plan on using any on you either," Professor Kim said sternly. "I need to know if it works, after all."

"Yes, yes, the results are all you care about," the male chuckled, bemused.

"That is simply the kind of doctor I am."

And then he pulled the switch.

At first, (Y/n) didn't feel anything. There was nothing at first, only the darkness that robbed her eyes from her. Then, a sharp prick. Then another, and another. It felt like thousands of little blunt barbs were pricking her skin. It wasn't painful but it was truly irritating.

The silence that ensued was broken by a sharp scream. It had started like a surprised grunt before it morphed into a pained howl. Through the blindfold, she could barely make out the silhouette of Kieran bucking in his seat, his entire body taut and straining against his blindings. A sheen of sweat beaded on his skin and his teeth grinded against each other in an effort to swallow another scream, but it was ripped out of him effortlessly.

"F*cking HELL!" A pained hiss escaped his lips as pain spasmed through his body like a live thing, a monster that tore through his insides mercilessly. Yet, he welcomed the feeling. After seventeen years of living in an icy cold world of numbness feeling nothing at all save for boredom, this was all his asked for. Pain to make him feel normal again.

And best of all, this wasn't just his pain. It was hers too.

"It f*cking HURTS," he groaned, throwing his head back against the chair as another wave of pain shot through him. Through his hooded eyes, he could see the (h/c)-haired girl startle at the sound and try to free herself. Perhaps to help him? That idea made him smile weakly. She was always too naive for her own good.

The researchers had left the room, but he knew they were probably watching them from their cameras. But that was fine—all he wanted was to be with her. If he could finally be able to feel pain while taking hers away at the same time, he didn't care even if that meant he'd have to sell his soul to the devil to do so.

A crooked grin spread on his face as his chest seemed to split apart as whatever dwelled within tried to claw its way out like a Chestburster. "You know," he rasped, his throat feeling like someone had torn it apart and filled it with tiny glass shards, only to have stitched it back together. "This wasn't exactly what I've, oh God"—he doubled over as another wave of agony washed over him—"Expected...but sh*t, I'm fine with that."

A hoarse gasp was torn out of him as hundreds of burning pokers shoved themselves into his limbs. "But if I can have the pain and you...I don't care what happens to me."

"So you better comfort me lots from now on...okay?"

And so began the final chapter of her life, right back where she started.