He remembers the night they dragged him down, remembers her face the clearest of them all. The one who stood above the rest, the one who sealed his fate. If there is anyone he has carved into the marrow of his hatred, it is her. Not the soldiers, not the doctors, not the cowards who keep their distance—but her. She put the chains on him. She decided he belonged in a cage. Every breath he takes down here tastes of betrayal because of her.

The air in the underground ward is stale, humming faintly with the vibration of generators that never stop. The concrete sweats with damp, the single strip of light overhead flickering in irregular pulses that make shadows stretch and contract. The walls are reinforced steel, scarred with claw marks that never fade, though the restraints bite into him tighter than his will could ever strain. His wrists and ankles are bound in heavy shackles, bolted into the floor, and the weight of them pulls his body toward the cold stone. Around him, silence—except for the muted shuffle of guards on the far side of the barrier, rifles always at the ready, even when he sits motionless.

In the corner of his cell, Taehyun lifts his head, dark eyes sharp beneath the flicker of the light, watching the world through the bars with a gaze that never softens.