The front door opened and closed. The apartment grew still, but Junyoung didn’t dare move. He began to count, the numbers tumbling into each other. Sixty seconds. One hundred and twenty. He counted all the way to three hundred and sixty before getting up and opening the door a crack. Sunlight flooded in, making his eyes ache. The bedroom was empty.
He crawled out, landing straight into a large puddle that sat in front of the closet door. A wet trail led to the bathroom.Getting to his feet, Junyoung followed it, peeking carefully inside, confirming it was empty. He turned to go but then stopped and looked up at the mirror. A woman’s face stared back at him.
He jumped and stumbled back, a scream caught in his throat. Frantically he turned, but there was nobody behind him. He looked back at the mirror. Nothing.
Still, the face was seared into his memory: long, dark hair, dripping wet; peeling, blue-tinged skin. Lips pulled back into a snarl. The whites of her eyes had been replaced with an ominous red.
Junyoung shook his head. He was wasting time, and his stupid imagination was running wild. He crept out into the living room and was relieved to find it empty. As he walked to the front door, he took one final look at the refrigerator.
He had just grasped the doorknob when something sharp jabbed him in the neck. From behind him came Dahye’s voice. It was completely flat and without emotion.
“Back away from the door. Turn around slowly with your hands up. If you try anything, I’ll slit your throat and let you bleed out right here on the floor.”
The man turned, his hands shaking violently. “Please don’t hurt me,” he whispered. His forehead was glistening, and there was a wet splotch on the collar of his shirt. Dahye had cut him, but only slightly; a thin line of blood appeared at his throat.
Staring into his face, Dahye felt a jolt of recognition. She knew this face. She had seen it before. Trying to connect the dots, she lowered the knife. The man, seeing an opportunity, lunged toward her. Without hesitation, she slashed downward, leaving a long gash on his arm. Blood spurted from the wound. He howled, and the realization came to her.
“You’re the guy from IT—Cho Junyoung. What the hell are you doing inside my home?”
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered. “Please don’t cut off my cock.”
Eunhye giggled, and Junyoung twisted around, searching for the source of the noise.
“You looked through my stuff?” Dahye asked incredulously.
“I’m sorry. I really am. If you let me go, I won’t say a word to anybody.”
“Shut up.”
“I swear! I’m very trustworthy. I’m an honest person, really. I’ve never stolen anything or hurt anybody or …” Junyoung babbled as he tried to reach into his back pocket without her noticing. “I would never do anything to harm you. I broke in because I was worried about you. You promised me we would get lunch, and then you disappeared! It was so sudden. What was I supposed to do?”
Eunhye circled him, no longer laughing. “He’s a dirty liar,” she said. “His phone is in his back pocket.”
“If you don’t put your hands where I can see them, I’m going to rip your throat out,” Dahye said coolly.
“Alright, alright! You don’t need to be so aggressive. Like I said, I’m not here to hurt you. I did it because I care about you.” He showed her his open palms, then softened his tone. “Because I love you.”
A look of disgust crossed Dahye’s features. “You’re a fucking creep.” She kicked his balls, and Junyoung fell to the floor with a groan. Dahye crouched and began removing everything from his pockets. His wallet, his phone, and … her underwear. “You fucking pig.”
“I’m … not … a … pig,” Junyoung choked out in between gasps. Tears streamed down his face.
“Look at the little piglet cry,” Eunhye taunted, as Dahye reached down, peeling her sock from her foot. She balled it up and rammed it down his throat before grabbing a clump of his hair. She tried to drag him toward the bedroom, but he was too heavy.
“Get up,” she snapped. When he didn’t respond, she kicked him again. “Get up! Walk into the bedroom and lie flat on the floor.”
Reluctantly, Junyoung got to his feet, snot leaking down his chin. The sock in his mouth tasted awful—like sour sweat—and he could hardly breathe through his clogged nose. He dragged himself inside and did as she told him, lying down next to her mattress.
She yanked off his shoes one by one, then undid his shoelaces, using them to bind his wrists and his ankles. With a quick tug, she tested to make sure they were secure.
“I’m going to ask you some questions,” she said. “I’ll remove this, but if you move, or scream, or try anything …” She pointed the cleaver at his groin, and Junyoung nodded furiously.
“He’s going to scream,” Eunhye said, sounding bored.
“He won’t,” Dahye said. “You won’t scream, will you, Junyoung?”
“Mmmh.” He shook his head, confused. She was talking so strangely, as if there was another person in the room. There was no explanation for it except that she had completely lost her mind.
Dahye removed the sock from Junyoung’s mouth, and instantly he let out an ear-splitting howl. Without hesitating, she shoved the sock back in, and at the same time, slashed the front of his jeans with the knife. Junyoung felt the blade nick the top of his groin through the thin fabric of his underwear. He thrashed desperately against his bindings.