The feeling of being watched felt heavy. Pressing down on him as he sat in the center. The room was sterile white, a circle formed stage in the middle of it in which he sat cross-legged on top.

He would turn around, his gaze roaming through the empty room, searching for the source of the oppressive scrutiny. His stare was a challenge, a silent dare to the unseen eyes that bored into his back. Could his gaze itself break the uninviting gaze that seemed to be watching him with no shame?

Were there Cameras? He had noticed in each corner of the room a blinking light, going on, off, on, off. His face stayed inexpressive. Taking in every little detail of the empty white room. His breathing the only sound echoing through the room. It made him feel self aware. A shiver ran down his spine. His breating stayed under control, too calm for someone in this situation.

The sensation of the constant eyes on him only grew darker, more possessive. A sensation of an invisible obsessive grasp clutching onto him desperately.

He had no memory of ever landing in this white sterile room. No memory whatsover. He only knew his name, Kwon Jiyong. Yet, despite all of this, his body slumped in relaxation. His eyes defiantly staring back into the void that seemed to be digging holes into his skin. His gaze only intensifying as time passed by.

Suddenly, his body moved into a standing positiom, only to turn around to stare intensively back at you.

His movements calculative and slow, predatorily. His power overwhelming the room itself.

His movements suddenly stop at the edge of the stage. Frozen in place, tilting his head slowly to analyse you.

You. You, the reader. The watcher. He finally found you, the dark gaze that had been watching him for the entirety of the time he had been stuck in that small, suffocating sterile white room.

It was you.