Pain woke Ha-Joon from his involuntary slumber.
Not the sharp kind—this was dull, like something heavy knocking from the inside of his skull.
Ha-Joon groaned and tried to lift a hand to his head but nothing happened. His wrists burned instead. It felt like a rough rope had his hands bound and on relaxing this, his eyes flew open.
For a moment, everything was blurry. The world tilted, shadows stretching and shrinking as his vision struggled to settle. He shook his head but still couldn't see straight.
The air smelled like salt, rust, and oil. There was cold metal pressed into his back. When his sight finally cleared, Ha-Joon realized he was sitting upright, tied to a metal chair that screeched hard against the floor if he moved.
His heart slammed against his ribs, beating hard as this situation seemed too dangerous to be normal.
Where was he?
