Beast's Playground (4)
1. The unfinished ten-story building had been abandoned for a long time. With the walls unfinished and the wiring incomplete, lime dust crunched underfoot across the floor. Dangling wires hung like spiderwebs, casting an eerie pallor over everything. His heart felt like it might burst through his throat, nausea churning in his gut as Hyunwoo gasped for breath.
"Come oooout!! You fucking bastaaaard!!!"
His voice echoed through the empty building. The first floor's windows were all blocked by protective plating, blocking even the moonlight from penetrating inside. In the pitch-black space without any lights, Hyunwoo fumbled for his phone and shone its flashlight around. Spotting a rusty rebar rod on the floor, he snatched it up quick. He'd slapped her cheek and chased her slippery escape right into this trap—it was time for proper payback. In his current state of mind, he felt like he could kill a man.
"Get out here!!! I'll fucking kill you!! If you don't come out now, I'll kill that bitch Nayae first!"
"You ever killed anyone?"
A voice pierced from the side without warning, and Hyunwoo swung the rebar reflexively. It was deformed rebar, ribbed for better adhesion to concrete pillars—hit right, it'd tear flesh even through clothing. But Yuchan wasn't one to take a blind swing like that lying down.
"Gaaah!!"
The sharp low kick shattered his femur with a gruesome crack, drowned out by Hyunwoo's agonized scream. Yuchan had targeted the side of the thigh precisely with the steel-plated toe of his boot. Taking an unguarded steel kick like that was like getting hammered with a sledge. Hyunwoo's body crumpled like a marionette with cut strings. The rebar clattered harshly against the cement floor from his grip. His phone's light flickered wildly across the surroundings.
"Fuuuck! Fuuuck! My leg... you fucking prick!!"
Not a single tear even as his femur snapped—Nayae must have suffered watching this thug rage. Most would've been bawling snot and tears, begging by now. But Yuchan knew better. The ways to inflict pain on a human far outstripped human endurance. If you ignored limits, squeezing out blood tears was just a matter of time.
"Don't move too much or it'll be permanent. Stay still unless you wanna live on crutches forever."
"Who the fuck are you?!"
Too noisy, so Yuchan stomped his forehead like stamping clay. Hyunwoo tried lifting his head to fight back but slammed his skull into the floor, groaning in a weird voice from what seemed like a mild concussion.
"Grrrugh... you dog bastard..."
"Much better."
He'd planned more stomps if one didn't work, but luckily the drop shook his brain good. Yuchan flipped the writhing Hyunwoo over and bound his thumbs with prepared cable ties—two did the trick for makeshift cuffs no normal guy could slip. Grabbing his collar, he hauled him up and planted him in an abandoned metal chair nearby. In the process, he rifled his inner pocket for possessions and snatched the dropped phone.
"What's this?"
"..."
Among his stuff stood out something wildly out of place: about twenty small packets of white powder in a white envelope. Even Hyunwoo's snarling mouth clamped shut. Yuchan tore one open, tasted a bit—bitter as hell, head spinning. Cocaine. Looked like street punks dabbled in this shit now too. Not the main point yet, so questions later. He unzipped his sports bag right in front of the pathetic, wheezing Hyunwoo. Inside: towels, shaker bottle, spare clothes—gym gear. But also something that sure as hell didn't belong. Yuchan pulled out plastic wrap and approached. Hyunwoo's eyes darted wildly; he hadn't fully recovered. Good that Yuchan had drained his strength plenty.
"Never studied a day in your life, huh?"
"Wha... bullshit..."
"Learning has stages. All learning starts from ignorance."
Spreading his fingers to open the wrap's end, Yuchan began a simple lesson for the dimwit, step by step.
"Learning the unknown's always tough. Gotta grapple with new concepts you've never known, constantly review so you don't forget—it's a slog."
His soft voice rang false, like a notoriously bad actor's over-the-top performance, detached from reality. No telling what he was thinking.
"Once initial learning's done, you need repetition, review, training. Not just accepting it—making it yours, internalizing it. Like chewing and digesting food. Get 'internalize'?"
"Wha... what're you gonna do..."
Hyunwoo had seen plenty of rough types in his harder-than-average life—guys specialized in crushing others, beating without guilt. But locking eyes with Yuchan, who leaned in whispering... primal dread only prey felt chilled him to the bone.
"I'm gonna teach you something very precious from now on."
Those who wield violence always ride emotional waves. Pupils dilate with excitement, voices rise, breaths ragged. Not this man. Emotionless as a predator insect before its meal. No raw thrill from abusing the weak, no narcissistic high. Eyes gleaming in the dark reflected others calmly, like obsidian mirrors.
"Fear."
As tense, rigid Hyunwoo opened his mouth to speak—plastic wrap smothered his face.
2. "Mmph!! Mmph!! Mmph!!"
The metal chair, long exposed outside, was rickety as hell. Yuchan had cable-tied not just arms but ankles too, but thrashing might topple and shatter it. No appetite for double the hassle, so he stood behind, bracing it firm.
"Mmph mph..."
Head cocooned tight in wrap like a spider's silk, Hyunwoo convulsed wildly, desperate for air. Almost comical, like an adult insect hatching from a pupa. When movements slowed and danger loomed, Yuchan carefully sliced it off with a cutter knife.
"Phaaa... huuaagh... haaah... haaah...!!"
Saliva and snot soaked the wrap where it'd pressed his face. Disgusting. Yuchan peeled it off without touching the mess, tossing it aside. Ten such clumps littered the floor already. No wounds needed, pure torment—and quiet, since it sealed nose and mouth. Bonus. Botch it and brain damage for life, but experience kept risks low.
"Just... let me live... sorry..."
Hyunwoo had raged like a maniac at first, but as his rage-reddened face paled like a bruised melon, the begging started. Yuchan stepped forward, mask still on. Oxygen deprivation and terror turned his face blue, lips cyanotic purple. Saliva smeared everywhere under the wrap. Jaw chattering. Good sign—learning well. Must be terrifying, dancing on death's edge. Yuchan had no felt fear himself, just guesswork, but for thirty minutes he'd repeated: rip off just before blackout, let him recover a bit, then wrap again and watch the flailing. Wraps ran out as Hyunwoo's eyes slowly clouded black. Resistance crumbled to despair, fragile ego to helplessness, rage to fear.
"Phone passcode."
"4885, that enough? Untie me... I'll delete it, video's only on the phone!"
Unlocking leisurely, Yuchan moved to rewrap—Hyunwoo rattled the chair, pleading desperately.
"I told you! Wait! Ah... mmph... mmphub!!"
With types like this, break 'em till eye contact makes 'em quake. They bully normals on fake tough-guy bluster, live for the day—so hammer fear bone-deep. Otherwise, someday they'd bite your heel seeking revenge for today's humiliation. Scrolling images, found multiple sex tapes. Habitual offender. Tedious, but he Bluetooth-sent the Nayae ones to himself then deleted, checking cloud and backups too. No traces. Delay cost time. Hyunwoo's twitching stilled. No choice—peel wrap, kick gut a few times. Gasping revived. Passed out briefly. Sprawled with chair, his face twisted in fresh despair. Crouching to eye level, weird hiccup-sobs escaped.
"All the videos really just on the phone?"
"No more... that's all..."
Keeping blackmail vids just on phone? Brainless as expected. Yuchan wiped his soaked face with wet wipes. Each cold touch made him shudder like a leprosy patient—solid studying. Good enough; cutter sliced the ties. Freed, Hyunwoo just curled fetal, trembling—no fight left.
"Now sit back proper. Gotta film your pretty little video too."
Grabbing collar with both hands, Yuchan lifted and reseated him. 80kg Hyunwoo rose like a doll. Thoroughness never hurt.
3. Home by 4 a.m. No sleep now—grabbed two Monster Energies. Drink while smoking tasted off, but unbeatable for all-nighters. Bonus from Hyunwoo: his own shameful vid, never-to-show nude wank-fest in the ruins, pathetic moans and all. No interest in guy jerk-off, repulsive even, but he'd forwarded every contact— no funny business possible. Type who saw half-baked pride as manly honor. Holding that ace could force suicide, like he'd planned for Nayae. Tit for tat, no cop reports.
Dumped ice from freezer into tub. Quick shower outside it. Gulped energy drink, lit cig—bliss. Lounged on sofa to review the haul. Starring Nayae and Hyunwoo: 30-min motel fuckfest. Cameras these days were crystal—raw as hell. Quiet studious girl writhing nude, panting lewd? Erotically shameful. No wonder she'd cringed at exposure. Tamed to Hyunwoo's tastes, her moans were sultry beyond her image, body quaking unimaginable.
Pulled confiscated powder packets. Later grilling revealed he moonlighted as dealer. Coke in this backwater suburb, not Hongdae or Gangnam—like a drama episode, oddly nostalgic. Sprinkled white dust on paper, snorted. Pleasure powder pierced nasal membranes to brain. Long time. Head buzzing excitement, fresh rush. Creative scenarios bloomed, heart racing. Fatigue's best buddy. Humming a tune, grabbed a book from the shelf.