Chapter Text
The stench of rotten flesh, the sight of blood, and the feeling of wounds. The deep crimson of muscles and the whites of tendons. Hyojin felt like he was about to collapse. When did this all become normal?
— — —
“Go in,” Hyojin dared.
Seungjun glanced to his right. “What? No. Are you insane?!”
“Aren’t you curious?”
The imposing door had always intrigued Hyojin. It was larger than needed, most likely made that way to be intimidating. Hard-to-turn metal gears held it together and stopped any unauthorised person from entering.
Hyojin had seen it open only once, but the experience had stuck with him ever since. The door had hardly made a sound, which was unexpected given the weight the gate seemed to carry. Mechanisms turned and pulled metal bars out of the way. As Hyojin stood a few metres away and was captured by the unlit void, warm air danced around him on the rhythm of the generated wind, not the kind of warmth the sun would give through the high windows, more one that felt sweaty and damp, hard to inhale.
It was a theatrical display, given that only two people needed to pass through. Two degenerate citizens that must've done something abhorrent to be sent to prison, and Hyojin felt a little jealous at the hefty rewards the capturers must be getting. It was an everyday occurrence, a competition Hyojin and Seungjun themselves were players in. And they had always been competitive, fuelled by the mindset within the system.
“Come on,” Hyojin pushed.
“Idiot,” Seungjun gave back. “I can throw you in there if you’re that curious. I’m not far off from going up a bracket, I could use the bonus.”
Hyojin scoffed at the remark and went back to patrolling the streets, watching the blinds in the houses roll close as the curfew was nearing. It had been slow lately. Too slow. Everyone kept in line and their noses pointed to their sky-high ego. While for the city it was favourable, to Hyojin, it meant his climb would take longer.
He took a left and scanned his badge at the flashing security gate to wander into the prestigious part of their floor. While it was on the lowest level of the middle class, this part had an extra flair to it and was the second to last bracket before one would be transferred to a higher floor; to the next ring of this funnel shaped society. There was no connection between the levels, all contact info would be wiped from one's devices when they went up, and there was no way to travel on a whim. Only stories were shared about what it could look like, how clean the air would be, how direct the sun would feel. As high walls surrounded them and the sole windows were metres up, Hyojin had only ever got glimpses of the clouds and never caught the direct sun—but he’d seen enough to wonder.
A shifty eye got Hyojin’s attention and a corner of his mouth lifted into a smug grin. Finally, he could be one step closer to the next bracket.
“Miss,” he called to a sophisticated lady in a long coat that had just stepped out of a shop painted as white as the buildings surrounding it. She jumped and clutched the shiny black bag that hung on her arm.
“Y-Yes, Patrol,” she stuttered. “What seems to be the matter?”
“I’d like to check the contents of your purse,” Hyojin said and she subtly held her bag closer.
“Why?”
Hyojin tapped the gold badge on his white uniform. “Because I have my suspicions.”
There wasn’t much in it. Napkins, near empty perfume, a pill bottle that seemed to have been her lunch, and a lipstick. He had to find something; gaining this justice-reward was necessary.
On closer inspection, that cosmetic caught his eye. With everything having clear traces of use, the lipstick stood out as clean; sleek and unmuddied by fingerprints.
Hyojin picked the black case out of the purse and turned it. A joy sprung up that a well-practised mask hid.
“This hasn’t been paid for, has it?” he smiled at the security sticker that had yet to be torn off.
Her face instantly turned sour and the bridge of her nose wrinkled with disdain. The drawn-on eyebrows furrowing to show her true nature. “I am one salary away from moving to the next level and I am not risking having just too little money by spending it on lipstick.”
The ecstatic feeling of having lined in another reward made Hyojin hop his heels off the ground briefly. “Then maybe you should’ve just waited a day to buy it.”
“And look poor on the day of my move?” the lady scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, now you can look beautiful on the day you go to the judge.”
“I am going nowhere—”
Hyojin grabbed the woman's wrist and yanked it closer. “The law is final.”
She tried to resist but Hyojin’s grip was stronger, trained to be so since he was five years old. His free hand grabbed the scanner from his pocket and pressed it on the higher end of the woman’s lower arm, waiting for the machine to sing its little tune.
He let her go and put in the notice to trace her.
“Traitor.”
Hyojin ignored the cuss, knowing he wasn't allowed to speak to anyone caught.
“Asshole.”
He turned around and already heard footsteps rumble over the street. There was no reason to be concerned about the fate of criminals. Necessary steps were taken by the system every time. From an arrest, to the court and onto whatever punishment seemed fitting, financial or otherwise.
The chip implanted from birth made everyone traceable, and consequences became unavoidable. Luckily, Hyojin himself wasn’t in charge of sentencing people or transporting them anywhere, he just needed to keep his eyes out, catch anyone making even the tiniest of misstep, and give their location. It was a little petty, but he had gotten used to the subtle judging eyes that tried to scar his back and write curses with their pupils.
Any felon that got sentenced to the judge gave Hyojin a small bonus on his salary for that month, and a prison sentence would make him skip a whole step on the staircase to the dream. If he could reach the top of the staircase, he would get a better house, nicer shops to buy from, cleaner air and water, better transport—everything behind the glass pane to the next bracket was just better.
Everyone's goal was to live more comfortably.
The gamification of it attracted Hyojin in a strange sense. Born like any other—amongst strict guidelines to regulate the amount of births—he started out in the lowest area of the lowest class. As a child, this hadn’t concerned him. But when he learnt how everything worked, his feet started tapping. He wanted to grasp that perfection, that throne of the highest level, that full security and grace of the sky.
If he wanted to see the view, the only way was to the top in one go.
There was no other place to go. No gate led outside. The sole metal door that this floor had led to a prison system for degenerate people, Hyojin was told. A filthy system where people would sit for as long as a judge saw fit, after which they would start back from the bottom, getting a second chance at climbing. Keeping that in mind, Hyojin stuck to the rules. It had already taken him twenty-seven years to get this high, he couldn’t risk getting caught with any crime like that dumb lady.
A soft melody morphed into his mindless whistling as he wandered the streets he desperately wanted to be allowed to walk outside of office hours. The apartment complexes were higher and wider, fitting larger homes for only one or two to occupy. If he would be here, he would finally get his own house, not one shared. Hyojin had no interest in sharing his belongings with anyone. Some enjoyed the company under the name of ‘a special feeling’, some stayed alone but indulged in others on the regular, and some—like Hyojin—just wanted to be left alone. While signing a co-living contract with someone would up his income, it brought too much hassle with it. Such people were possessive.
He disliked others. It wasn’t that he was any different, but everyone had their own goal in mind and it gave them a hidden knife on their back. Everyone worked for themselves while pretending to love the community—an open secret Hyojin wished would be dealt with. If it were up to him, this theatre would end and the masks would be thrown into the garbage incinerator. Everyone was fake, except for the one he had gotten to know shortly after being born.
“Hey!” Seungjun called from across the street and waved with that overly excited energy that never left his limbs.
Seungjun had been in all his classes, training, and had even been his roommate during their teenage years. He was a few months younger than Hyojin and there was a heavy rivalry between them. Every time Hyojin got a better grade for something, Seungjun studied for hours to come out on top next time. When Seungjun would win in sports, Hyojin would increase his training. It had been no surprise when they were picked to follow the same prideful career path and joined the patrol branch together.
“Why are you here?” Hyojin asked, jogging to the nearest pedestrian crossing knowing jaywalking would get him a fine.
“Same reason you’re here,” Seungjun grinned. “I’m on patrol.”
“Go patrol elsewhere, then.”
“Oh so now this is your turf suddenly?”
Hyojin crossed his arms boastfully. “Well, at least I caught someone here, so I’d say that gives me some more status.”
To get on the other’s nerves, Seungjun acted overly surprised. “Really? You caught someone?”
“Yep,” Hyojin answered and tried to ignore the overplayed tone. “Theft, even.”
Seungjun nodded slowly to seem impressed. “That would mean you’ve almost caught up to me.”
“Trust me, I’ll earn way more than you this month and be the first to go up a bracket.”
“You have to catch…”—Seungjun looked up and did a quick estimation—“five more people.”
“Easy.”
“With my calculations you’d have to catch five people that will be put in prison,” Seungjun said. “Not ones that get off on a warning or a slight lowering in income.”
Hyojin shrugged. “Still, easy.”
“Your confidence will be your death one day,” Seungjun chuckled. “Anyway, better keep walking if you want to catch anyone.”
“Curfew starts in three hours, no one is going to be out anyway. And our shift only lasts one more hour...”
“Unfortunately.” Seungjun let a sigh pass his lips before he glanced around. “But if we stand still on the job we’ll be the ones caught by the others. I’ll see you at eight. It’s Monday, so I have to exercise after this shift.”
“Yeah, sure,” Hyojin agreed. “Good luck.”
------------
The mornings started with the same alarm, going off every day at the same time, at the same volume. The only thing that set the alerts apart was the song that played. Each day had its own jingle so one wouldn’t get too used to the sounds and sleep through them. Tuesday’s tune got on Hyojin’s nerves the most, being irritatingly high pitched and repeating every two seconds for a whole minute. The first tone already made Hyojin groan and put his pillow on his face.
Breakfast was over quickly and nothing interesting, just whatever vegetables he could find in the fridge and were safe to eat raw, often ending up with quick bites of kimchi. It was cheap, but anything to keep money in his pocket. He only ever drank water, bought the cheapest vegetables, and wore the simplest clothes he could find. As long as he looked presentable and fit in, he didn’t care how poor his home situation was. Barely anyone visited him anyway, and Seungjun had the same habits.
Outside, the large ceiling fixture showed a few clouds and Hyojin wondered if the true sky was much the same in scale. The morning light coming from the few high windows wasn’t much today, giving this whole part of the level a mellow shading.
Walking the same street, the same corner, and the same crossing at the same pace, Hyojin greeted the same people that walked by every day at the same time. They were all shallow exchanges; a straight-faced nod to any unknown passer-by and a meaningless smile to anyone he had had a conversation with. Such interactions were more tiring than his day’s long work-shift and turned his walk into a tiptoe ballet of manners. He had carefully learnt how to greet the ones he came across, and who preferred what tone of voice. Another reason he wanted to go up and escape the crowd. Every interaction demanded a different personality and he was getting sick of it.
As the routine continued, he ended his walk when standing in front of a lime green door.
“Patrol 42294,” he announced with his hands on his back.
One second of silence passed before the voice recognition finished processing and the intercom welcomed him. A few heads turned to him instantly, shaking disappointedly at his presence. Patrols that lived closer had already arrived, and looked as if they hoped Hyojin never did, but that too, was the usual. Only Seungjun, who was already changing into his uniform, threw him a welcoming smile.
“Good morning,” he said when finding the stoic eyes looking his way.
“Good morning,” Hyojin responded. “Did you sleep well?”
“Of course, I’m not one to forget my pills.”
While pressing his index finger against the scanner on his locker, Hyojin scoffed, “You’ve done so before, though.”
Seungjun zipped up his sheer white jacket and pinned his patrol’s badge to his chest, right underneath 77777 and his name written in red.
“Which is exactly why I’m not doing it anymore. Patrolling a whole day with that little sleep taught me quickly,” he laughed with carelessness, which Hyojin still found to be a rare trait to carry.
Walking around was as uneventful as ever. The streets were perfectly clean, and with working hours having started, they were desolate. Most people here were nearing just over thirty years old, and the age made them far more docile. Hyojin remembered when he patrolled the lower brackets, one with younger people that still needed to climb the ranks. They were sneaky and harder to catch, always trying to find a way to cheat or commit a crime unnoticed. Those felt like the days he was making true progress. The chase, the rewards, the rush. He could arrest multiple people in one day and there hadn’t been a more fruitful time. The crimes were often pettier, but a crime is a crime.
And it was easy to commit a felony when most actions were outlawed.
Hyojin put his eyes on alert with any pedestrian that entered his view. And soon, the adrenaline returned.
A man in a grey suit was anxiously looking to the right, checking over and over and over again. Yet he missed Hyojin. One step off the pavement and Hyojin channelled his patience, only confirming to himself that this was a degenerate when the man was halfway across the street without white blocks underneath his walk.
“Sir,” Hyojin smiled as the man unknowingly approached him. “Jaywalking is illegal.”
Instantly, the man jumped and his eyes dropped. “I-I’m so sorry, Patrol,” he apologised and held his breath. “Something happened back home and I—”
“That is not my concern,” Hyojin interrupted. “My job is to make sure no one missteps and increases the chance of an accident happening. The crossing is four metres away, you could’ve just gone there.”
“I know. You’re right, I won’t do it again.”
“There is no guarantee for that.”
“I’m already late, sir,” the man said. “Can’t you let me off the hook?”
The plea almost pulled a laugh from Hyojin. “Jaywalking and being tardy, there is no way I can let you off.”
He went to grab the man’s wrist, but a quick manoeuvre dodged him and the degenerate set off.
If not a patrol in a chase, running outside of gyms and one’s assigned exercise times was another prohibited thing, so Hyojin knew this fish would reel in the profit. A thrilling feeling crept from his legs to his chest and he began his run.
With the pavement empty and the automated cars being sparse during work hours, Hyojin could easily keep track of the escapee. The park they ran into was kept up and esteemed; no overgrown bushes to hide in, and the alleyways the man tried to disappear in had no dark corners and were too easy to oversee. It was amusing following the futile desperation and Hyojin almost felt like holding in his steps to watch it for a few seconds longer, to get more jealous looks from colleagues they crossed. But slacking wasn’t allowed, so he extended his hand and grabbed the man’s collar.
“No!” he begged as he clawed at Hyojin’s hand. “No, please. Forgive me.”
“The law is final.”
Another shift ended and Hyojin placed his uniform in his locker, getting back into his black shirt and jeans while waiting for Seungjun to return. The changing room was quiet, save for the murmuring of one group of colleagues. Hyojin never liked them, but the feeling was mutual. Of course, they never spoke of their antipathy towards each other, but both picked up on it. Hyojin didn’t trust them.
The tension left when Seungjun stepped into the room, his arms stretched out above him to alleviate the aching of his muscles from his last mandatory work-out day. “The streets were empty today,” he groaned and walked to his locker.
“That didn’t bother me,” Hyojin answered and hopped to Seungjun’s side, trying to escape the uneasy atmosphere his murmuring colleagues had created.
“Don’t tell me you caught someone.”
“Why not?” Hyojin grinned. “Will you be jealous?”
“Jealousy is an ugly trait,” Seungjun said, switching his clothes. “But now I’m curious.”
“It was a jaywalker who was late for work, but he ran away when I confronted him so he will be judged for sure. A big fine at the very least.”
“Oh man, lucky,” Seungjun said. “But you still need way more.”
Hyojin waved the statement away. “Yeah, yeah,” he sighed and continued the topic of his heist, purposefully talking loudly enough for his bitter colleagues to hear and feel the salt rub into their wounds.
Out of boredom, Seungjun followed Hyojin home and simply began to help with cleaning. There weren’t many items to gather dust. There was no use for buying things, it just brought more hassle when moving. He had the necessary furniture. His living room had a couch and a TV that turned on with any announcement, his kitchen was furnished with the usual and even his table had four chairs. He could wash off in the bathroom and his bed was comfortable enough. There was no reason to waste money on art, decorations, or useless side tables.
A quick cloth was wiped over every surface while Seungjun vacuumed. He wasn’t asked to, but Seungjun never felt shame in imposing his help, and Hyojin let him, already being used to it.
When dinnertime rolled around, Seungjun instantly complained about Hyojin’s lack of options.
“Come on, cook something with this at least,” he whined, looking over Hyojin’s shoulder into the fridge.
“What?” Hyojin shrugged. “There is no difference between raw or cooked.”
“There is.”
Seungjun opened a few cupboards, scouring for spices and other ingredients.
“The only difference is taste,” Hyojin remarked as he sat down at the pristine white dinner table. Not a speck tainted the surface and Hyojin pressed his hand on it, the print taking some shine off.
“Yes, so? It’s nice to eat good things.” Seungjun put a pan on the stove. “And it's not like you have anything better to do, so let me.”
“I’m not stopping you…”
His house gaining a scent was unusual. Scents in general were. Everything around him that smelled strongly just made his nose itch. He hated the metallic smell coming from the oxygen generators, and the perfume they sprayed on the lacklustre flowers, unable to bloom properly with the absence of sun, might be worse. But the smell of cooked carrots was gentle, and the rice steaming was barely noticeable yet pleasant. Hyojin leaned forward, crossing his arms and laying his head atop them, listening to Seungjun’s soft humming.
Waiting was something he had gotten good at. Not feeling like spending money on shallow entertainment, all Hyojin did was wait. Wait until night-time, wait until he could work again, wait until he could move house again.
Minutes passed before the stove was turned off and Seungjun placed plates and cutlery on the table. Undeniably, the meal looked appetising, even with how minimal it was.
There was little to talk about, so their dinner was spent daydreaming. It was always about tomorrow, the next week, the next bracket. It was an obsession.
Hyojin hung back, keeping his mouth entertained by giving it individual pieces of the kimchi. “This is definitely the longest we’ve been in a bracket, I feel.”
“Oh, definitely,” Seungjun agreed. “But come, we have to hurry if we want to make it in time for the inspection.”
Hyojin looked at the clock. “Shoot, you’re right.”
“You didn’t forget, did you?” Seungjun chuckled as he got up and took their plates to the dishwasher.
“Of course not,” Hyojin said while cleaning up the rest of the table.
The mandatory locker inspection that took place every month was more bothersome than rewarding. With the office hours it demanded being unpaid, Hyojin always wished it to be over as quickly as possible.
“Stand two steps away from your locker and keep your back straight,” the chief yelled and everyone instantly did as told, putting their hands on their lower spine and keeping their chests raised.
A man in a white and yellow uniform came in holding a scanner in his gloved hands. “Open the lockers for me,” he ordered and their head of security jotted one code into his tablet before all the small metal doors clicked out of their locks.
The inspection took as long as always. Starting on one end, the inspector would alternate left and right, and given that Hyojin was in the middle, he had a wait ahead of him.
His shoulders dropped ever so slightly in uncharted relief when he saw that Seungjun passed. A breath left his lips and he felt surprised by the gesture. He knew there was nothing to worry about, so where did the tension come from?
To not show any emotion, he kept his eyes in front and unfocussed until the inspector was right behind him.
Hyojin had no doubts about passing this inspection with flying colours; he never left anything in his locker. He only kept a small bottle of nutritional pills on his person. There was no other thing to bring on patrol, so apart from his uniform, his locker was empty.
But the inspector took too long.
He heard something sing, metal against metal. But how? It couldn’t be from his locker. There was nothing in there besides clothes, so why was there a sound behind him? It didn’t sound like a belt buckle or zipper. It was sharp.
It became dead silent and Hyojin quickly scanned left to right, hoping to catch any reaction.
“Patrol 42294,” the inspector called suddenly, forcing Hyojin back in position.
“Yes, sir,” he answered.
The inspector rounded Hyojin to look him in the eye, a shining, unfamiliar kitchen knife in his hands. “Why is this within your possessions?” he asked with an unreadable expression. It wasn’t anger or disappointment and Hyojin wondered if it was that mask for joy he himself had grown familiar with.
“I am not sure. That isn’t mine,” Hyojin said but knew arguing was useless. A patrol had no authority to decide the severity of a crime. Once something illegal was found, they had to capture the perpetrator and let the rest be handled by a judge.
“It was in your locker.”
A trap began to enclose. “I-I know, sir—” he stuttered but was swiftly halted by a palm in front of his face.
“Not another word, 42294, knives are not to be taken out of one’s house,” the inspector put promptly. “You’re hereby removed from your position. Empty your pockets and come with us without resistance.”
“Sir—”
“The law is final.”
With vigour, the raised palm lowered and wrapped around Hyojin’s wrist, yanking it forward. In a familiar motion, the inspector grabbed a machine from his pocket.
Even though there was a thin cotton sleeve in between, Hyojin felt his skin grow cold as the machine bit into him and scanned the chip in his arm. The soft jingle that followed sounded like the gates to his fall opening with a creak. The machine left him and the inspector stepped backwards.
Hyojin felt lost. He had done this to so many people, but being on the other end had him speechless. Had everyone else felt this humiliated? He couldn’t show it.
To stay professional, Hyojin tried to control his breathing by telling himself everything would be fine. Even when his heartbeat began impeding his hearing, he convinced himself that this was just a potential reset. If he couldn't persuade a judge that this was a ruse, it would simply get him back to the lowest bracket. Misplacing a knife wasn’t a big crime, he hadn’t used it at least. A few months in the prison system at most.
He had gotten here fast, he could get here again.
Keeping his head high, Hyojin stayed silent and looked around the room. The patrols opposite him all had their jaws clenched. But it wasn’t fear that tightened them. It was satisfaction. The tension was hiding a smile, and Hyojin felt his eyes widen. His own people had betrayed him, simply out of spite—or jealousy. A dagger forced itself into his spine and hit his fury. It was no surprise those few turned their backs on him, most likely teaming up with someone from security to get into his locker and plant such petty evidence. It had to be them.
Hyojin knew he was disliked. He and Seungjun were the most successful and quickest on the team. But while Seungjun was social and managed to gain some grains of sympathy, Hyojin had never seen the need to build such relationships.
He thought he could get by with pure distrust. He never expected to be this wrong. They all wanted to laugh at him, it was clear as day on their faces. Only one patrol showed genuine concern, but Hyojin hesitated meeting the sorrowful eyes of a long-time friend.
One wasn’t allowed to communicate with criminals, so all Hyojin did was throw Seungjun a reassuring nod and smile, getting a lamented gaze in return.
There wasn’t a goodbye to be exchanged, Hyojin didn’t want to risk Seungjun meeting the same fate. But they’d meet again, he was sure of that. Their race to the top couldn’t end like this.
Everything would be fine. Even if it was only fuelled by a desire to show everyone what he was truly capable of, he would make it back and surpass them.
Keeping his increasingly heavy breaths at bay had begun hurting his chest, and his hands trembled with the pressure of an unknown future.
People in white suits ran into the room, instantly hurrying up to Hyojin. Having them on his side had always made Hyojin feel powerful, grinning wildly as they worked for him. But now they faced him, their black masks hiding any intention they could have and their rubber gloves sitting uncomfortably on his upper arms. He felt small. Fear was something foreign. He had felt disgust, envy, mistrust, but he had never feared the people around him. He had never had a reason to. But being detained with handcuffs by two strangers, fully covered in protective gear as if he was something gross, made his entire body shake in terror. It anchored him to the ground. The heavy weight of dread sank into his limbs and standing straight became a fight.
The handling was rough, pulling him forward and barely giving him time to find his footing. The lump in his throat called for him to beg, for him to get on his knees and try to make them rethink, but there wasn't a chance in the world that he would stoop so low in front of any of the people that betrayed him. He wouldn't give them more of what they wanted.
He saw Seungjun open his mouth when they walked by and threw him a glare. They couldn't risk it.
Taken out of the building with no exchange, no farewell, nothing honourable—it made him bite down on his teeth. He was alone. He would be alone from now on. No one would do this to him again. The only one he had ever trusted would rightfully continue his life and Hyojin swore to never let anyone else close.
One of the rubber gloves pushed his head down and forced him into a car with dark windows. It drove by itself while the two white suits silently sat on either side of the backseat.
The streets began flying by. The sheer white became a blur that was only occasionally broken up by a hint of green that made the monotony less boring. The security building wasn't far from the border to the higher bracket and the white quickly became a little off, stained with some splotches of beige and grey.
Almost no one dared to look at their car in fear of showing sympathy. He had shown that exact ego, he wasn't ignorant of the fact, but it just solidified that he was cast out.
The faces were turning more unfamiliar the younger they got, and he then realised the way they were going.
“This isn't the way to the courthouse…”
Hyojin had never visited the grandiose building but he knew where it was. The judges worked in the better parts, wanting the pristine image. So why were they going down?
Hyojin let his eyes go to the white suits beside him, the metal on his cuffs clinking when he moved. “Am I not getting a trial?”
Of course, he got no response.
“I have the right to a trial,” he pleaded, disliking the desperation that tried to grasp his voice. “This was a clear set-up!”
The suits wouldn't even so much as twitch; barely switching the rhythm of their breath to let Hyojin know he was heard.
“You can't do this! This is unfair. I have a right to go to court.” That was the procedure. That is what he was taught. Why were they going away from justice? Would he get no chance to explain himself?
“Pl—...” He knew it was useless and felt pathetic trying. There wasn't even an opportunity to convince a judge to let him go or diminish his sentence. It was just black and white? He was guilty?
In an attempt to cool off and stop his blood from boiling, he closed his eyes. Nothing gave him a reason to enjoy society. There was no reason to witness it, beg it for help or curse it for being unjust. He was alone in this world.
He had to survive and get back on his own; rely on no one.
The car halted and Hyojin blinked his eyes open.
Pushing Seungjun to go through it had been funny, seeing others enter it had been mesmerising, but standing in front of the large door alone, unknowing, was nothing short of terrifying. His heartbeat pounded through his skull, drowning out any decision he wanted to make. He tried to swallow down the terror and knew it was audible.
With a large thud, the mechanisms began churning, a painful squeak piercing the dead-silent air.
“Why aren’t I taken to court? Let me explain myself!” His voice cracked out of his control while the pitch-black gap between the metal doors slowly became larger. No light wanted to show what decorated it. A familiar waft of heat was coughed out by the void and Hyojin feared being swallowed by it.
This couldn’t be it. He wasn’t even told how long he had to be there; how long his sentence would last and where he would go.
With a shove, he was forced towards the door. The heat mixed with a stench as he stepped closer. His nostrils burned and tears pricked in his eyes. A concoction of rotten food and something pungent Hyojin couldn’t place, but the thought of having that air in his lungs made him convulse.
There was no use to it but his feet wanted to carry him anywhere else, just to taste freedom those few seconds more. Confidence made him believe he could get away. He stopped walking, as if standing against a solid wall that wasn’t allowing him to go forward. He set a step back.
Another shove bruised his ribs, but even after the stumble, he couldn’t walk further.
His breath hitched and he felt dizzy. There wasn’t a rational thought going through his head anymore. A hand grabbed him by his collar and violently dragged him forward.
“No,” Hyojin muttered, hating the whine that underlined it.
Unable to run, unable to fight, he simply froze up. He hung against the pushing and put his heels in the stone, but it was no use.
The guards by the gate recognised him, their eyes nearly rolling on the pavement when they saw their old colleague walk past them. Hyojin didn’t want to acknowledge their surprise, their suspicion and maybe even their joy.
The darkness in the tunnel slowly turned into shadows and silhouettes. Only briefly so. The second they stood behind the border, the metal trapped them, closing faster than it had opened. A loud clunk thundered through the entire structure. It was disorienting. Hyojin couldn’t tell how large the space was and only heard his clothes brush together as he shook. Sweat made his skin clammy and the fast rhythm in his lungs got him light-headed.
Someone speaking up caught his throat.
“So,” one of the suits began and let go of Hyojin’s arm. “Welcome.”
He whipped his head to the man. “Y-You—”
“This is outside of the system, different laws apply.” The suit was smiling. “I can speak to you all I like here.”
“So t-then answer my question from before,” Hyojin asked instantly, a tremble taking any authoritative edge off his words. “Why are we here? W-Why am I not getting a trial?”
“Barely anyone gets a trial,” the suit laughed in such a way Hyojin felt the hairs in his neck rise. “Trials are for the important.”
“Bu—” A flash cut Hyojin off. Lights sprung to life and forced him to squint. All he could see through the blur of his eyelashes was white. The same monotonous white but with a weird pattern.
Pattern? Hyojin rubbed the haze from his vision and looked at the splotch. Dirt. The corners of this square room were dirty. An unkempt structure was unheard of. Even in private houses, grime was rare to find. Looking further, the room seemed crude. Rust had set in on every edge of the metal plates that posed as a wall, held together by big bolts. What they stood on was perforated metal, another material Hyojin wasn’t too familiar with. He had seen it vaguely at a construction place, but never this up close. He could peek through the holes, but only saw cables.
“Hold tight,” one of the suits said and pressed a button with an arrow pointing down.
Nothing about this felt right. This was too different from the society he knew. Patrols talking to captives, a revolting smell lingering in the air, appearances being imperfect… Where were they going?
The room they were in shook briefly before Hyojin had processed the warning, and the descent starting made him stumble. With the cuffs around his wrists, he couldn’t keep his balance well but managed to stay standing.
He tried to not let his increasing worry show. “The prison system is underground?”
“Prison system,” one of the suits nodded and a laugh bubbled from their chest. “They always ask that.”
“True,” the other joined in. “I mean, we were the same the first time.”
“Sorry, kid.”
The elevator scraped past the wall with a nauseating squeak, but the suits weren’t fazed.
“Prison makes it sound like you can get out.”
Words had never felt heavier. It wasn't said in jest. There was no hidden tone to it.
The shock set a crooked smile on Hyojin's face. “But people restart…right?”
Loud laughter synchronised with the rumbling of the metal. “There is no cycle.” They grinned. “This is the final destination.”
That couldn't be true. It was promised that crime would set someone back, that it would undo all your progress. But if not severe, one could start back at square one.
“Don't believe me?” a suit scoffed. “Have you ever seen older people in lower brackets? Ever seen a forty-year-old that wasn't a caretaker when you were a child?”
“I ha—...” Hyojin fell into his thoughts. He desperately wanted to find a memory of someone making it through society after a reset. Maybe he simply hadn't paid attention or maybe he was just in a time when no one had committed anything.
Delusion. He knew it was all delusional. He couldn’t say anything back but he didn’t want to believe it. There had to be a way to get back.
It was as if lightning ran over his skin and it made him shiver. Gravity played with his stomach and the elevator came to a halt. The door opened with difficulty, getting stuck and needing to be kicked open.
This was the source of the heat, of the odour. It felt thick and slimy, dragging over Hyojin’s airways every time he breathed in, making him cough painfully every time he breathed out. He couldn’t see a thing and didn’t know if to be relieved or terrified. Whatever created such a stench couldn’t be good.
The suits grabbed Hyojin's upper arms again and he was pushed forward into a grimy tunnel. His fall on the cement flooring echoed through the hazy grey and a shadow loomed over him. His wrists were set free. Two new personnel awaited him, clad in muddy blue with scraped up uniforms.
“Good luck here.” One of the suited men waved as they stepped back into the elevator. “I wonder how long you'll last.” A demeaning grin framed the words. “They don't tend to like your kind around here.”