"I'm right here."
…
"...HYUNG!"
Darin snapped awake.
Her arm shot upward, fingers curling hard, reaching for something that wasn't there. Her breath tore unevenly, each inhale burning as if she'd been running without rest.
Light spilled through the gaps between her fingers.
She stared at it for a moment, then slowly lowered her hand. A bare lightbulb hung above her, casting a dull yellow glow that washed over the room.
Her breathing stuttered.
This wasn't where she'd been.
She turned her head. The walls were plain, yet unfamiliar. A low ceiling. A narrow bed beneath her. A blanket pulled up around her like someone had tucked her in.
Her fingers clenched the fabric.
A deep ache pulsed at the front of her head. She raised her hand and pressed her palm to her forehead.
Someone had bandaged her head.
Images pressed at the edges of her thoughts, voices overlapping, the rumble of engines, Kangwoo moving toward her even when he shouldn't be able to.
"Hyung…" she whispered.
Darin tried to push herself up from the bed.
Her arm shook as she shifted her weight, muscles protesting, the room tilting just enough to make her stop.
A door creaked open.
The sound dragged slowly across the room, and behind it came a soft chuckle, like someone enjoying a private joke.
Darin's head snapped toward the noise.
A woman stepped inside.
She wore a smug smile. In her hands was a small tray: a neatly cut sandwich and a cup with steam curling lazily into the air.
The door closed behind her with a quiet click.
She turned to Darin. "Ah," she said eagerly, "You're awake, perfect timing!"
Darin's body moved before she could think. She backed away, shoulders pressing into the headboard as the woman came closer.
The woman didn't react. She only stepped to the side and set the tray down on the edge of the bed.
The woman lunged.
Her hand snapped out and grabbed Darin's wrist.
"Uh–" The sound tore out of Darin as she flinched hard, her free hand jerking up instinctively, heart slamming against her ribs.
The woman held firm as their eyes locked.
Up close, the woman's gaze was wide, her grin stretched just a little too far as she leaned in.
"So. I've heard about your father," she said, voice filled with interest, "And what you can do."
Her grip tightened just enough to make the point clear.
She studied Darin's face like a puzzle she'd already started solving.
"What's it like," she asked loudly, "living the way you do?"
The woman's grip and her smile pressed in on Darin at once in a way that's too close, too much. Her thoughts tangled, slipping over each other, heart hammering so hard that it hurt.
Then she saw the woman's hands.
She wore white gloves, stained red along the fingers and seams.
Darin's breath hitched. "W-where is my brother," she stammered, words tripping over each other. "Where am I!?"
The woman froze.
Her grin faltered, as if the question had struck somewhere it wasn't meant to. Slowly, she loosened her grip and let go. Darin pulled her hand back, clutching it to her chest.
The woman took a step away.
With careful movements, she peeled off the gloves, one finger at a time. The fabric came free with a faint rasp. She set them down on the tray beside the untouched food.
Only then did she look back at Darin.
"You don't have to worry about anything else," she said evenly, the smugness smoothed into something calmer, practiced. She tilted her head, a gesture meant to reassure. "You're in good hands now."