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It was by chance that Il-nam caught In-ho staring at a particular surveillance feed that had nothing to do with the games. It was all but out of sight, a tiny insignificant screen near the bottom, as if it was meant to be hidden.
It was of a young man fixing breakfast in his apartment. He was rushing about the kitchen, checking if the coffee machine had finished, stuffing half of a sandwich into his mouth, hurrying to water the few plants scattered about, packing up leftovers for a meal later. Even through the grainy feed, Il-nam could see the man was whistling a tune.
The man would leave eventually but In-ho continued to watch, left the feed running on an empty apartment.
There was a look of quiet longing in In-ho's face, so subtle hardly anyone would have noticed, a look of regret perhaps mingled with some guilt.
All at once, Il-nam understood.
“ You know there is nothing wrong with pursuing a new relationship,” Il-nam said conversationally and thus revealing his presence to In-ho.
In-ho spun around, the camera feed swiftly turned off.
“ Sir?”
“ After my wife's passing, I've met two other women. Lovely, intelligent women. One was a great cook, she made one of the best jeonok-juk. They could never replace my wife but they made the years pass a little less painfully.”
In-ho made a slight choking sound.
“ This isn't – I mean, what – ”
“ Who was that young man?”
Il-nam tilted his head towards the now empty feed.
“ He ... is no one of importance. It won't happen again.”
“ But it will, won't it?” Il-nam fixed a stare on In-ho.
In-ho had no words to say.
“ You should meet up with that young man once this year's games conclude. Invite him properly to a nice dinner instead of staring at him from afar.”
In-ho's head snapped up.
“ What?!”
“ Your hearing appears to be strangely faulty today,” Il-nam playfully tsked. “ Have you made your feelings known to that young man? You aren't getting any younger and if you don't act now, that young man will never know and someone else will come along and snatch him up.”
Unable to take anymore of this, In-ho muttered an excuse and left, cheeks faintly burning with embarrassment.
This wouldn't do, Il-nam sighed. If In-ho was left to his own devices, nothing would come about. That poor boy would never know of In-ho's affections. Il-nam supposed he could help In-ho with his romantic endeavours just this once.
So Il-nam devised a plan.
He would not be there to see it, he was participating in the game this year as a last hurrah, but he made preparations. He asked one of his most trusted managers to record it for him to view later.
In-ho would thank him later for it.
~.~.~
There was a large black box with a red ribbon tied around it delivered to the VIP room.
In-ho was not made aware of such a thing and immediately became suspicious. He turned to the manager who had brought it in. “ What is this?” he demanded.
“ The Host wished to gift this to the Front Man tonight,” the manager stoically replied.
The VIPS became intrigued, some even turning their attention away from the glass hopping game.
“ Open it, Front Man,” one of them ordered.
“ Let's see what the Host gave you.”
“ Maybe it's a pretty girl.”
“ Open it! Open it! Open it!”
Their chants were boorish and more of an annoyance.
But now that one of the VIPS mentioned it, the box was large enough to contain a human. With a sense of dread, In-ho warily lifted the top of the box.
Only to see Jun-ho inside.
In-ho froze.
That damn Il-nam delivered his brother into the very maws of death that In-ho had been desperate to keep Jun-ho from.
Jun-ho flinched at the brightness that overwhelmed his eyes, raising his bound hands to shield his face from the glaring light.
Two guards lifted him from his cramped enclosure. He was wearing plain clothes, as if he was in the middle of patrol or just leaving his shift when he was kidnapped. His jacket and shirt were ruffled, with dried blood near the hem.
It was clear that Jun-ho was quite drugged. He was swaying on his feet even between the grip of the two guards. His head lolled here and there, staring at the colorful furniture and decor around the room one moment before blinking blearily up at the guards and then squinting several times at In-ho as if trying to make sense of who was standing before him. It was clear that Jun-ho was too disoriented to know what was happening.
Or to even realize how much danger he was now in.
“ Damn, the Host gave that to the Front Man?”
“ You're a lucky man because that's one fine looking gift.”
At that moment, Jun-ho's legs became unsteady and he would have pitched forward and landed on the floor on his face if In-ho hadn't stepped in to grab his brother.
Jun-ho's breathing was sluggish and heavy as his head leaned against In-ho's shoulder, too weak to lift his head properly. His hands pushed against his chest as if to wanting to escape but In-ho held him tight.
“ Take him to my office,” he ordered the guards.
Several hoots and heckles followed Jun-ho on the way out.
“ Not wasting any time, I see.”
“ Going to get busy tonight, aren't you Front Man?”
One VIP, the one with the tiger mask, raised his glass towards In-ho.
“ I would pay a handsome amount if you give me that for one night.”
That.
Not “he”.
Jun-ho was reduced to a thing, an object.
That foul cockroach of a human being would never know of a toddler Jun-ho giggling and raising his chubby arms to be picked up by his brother or of a fifteen year old Jun-ho lying in the hospital, pale and weak, but still smiling whenever In-ho visited him after work.
“ I'm afraid I cannot acquiesce that request,” In-ho managed to say through gritted teeth before turning and leaving the VIP room.
~.~.~
There had been gossip tickling down from the managers to the guards and workers that the Host was making special arrangements for the Front Man, some sort of delivery to the island that was kept very secret, especially from the Front Man himself.
Rumors spread that it was a secret lover of the Front Man's, something Kang No-eul scoffed at.
Because how could someone as cold-hearted and mechanical like the Front Man even have capacity to love another living being?
Then again, she did a double take when she was ordered to bring Number 06 to the Front Man's private quarters, a place no guard was allowed to step into under pain of death and saw a semi-conscious young man lying across the Front Man's bed.
Number 06, who was one of the unofficial doctors and the most discreet among them, assessed the young man, even as the Front Man hovered anxiously over him. No-eul remained at her post near the door.
“ What's his status?” the Front Man finally asked after Number 06 checked the young man's ribs and shone a light into his weakly tracking pupils.
“ He was given a sedative, exactly which one, I can't tell you, approximately within twenty four hours. There are some bruises to his arms, legs and sides. Hard to tell if it happened just before he was – ahem, taken to the island. He put up a fight regardless. But these – ” Number 06 pointed at two pinpoint bruises at the man's neck. “ – are old injections sites. My guess is that they used the first one to sedate him and the second one was for insurance, to make sure he wouldn't wake up or cause trouble until he was delivered.”
Anyone could see that the Front Man appeared to be trembling in silent anger.
“ The best course of action is to wait until the drug is completely out of his system,” Number 06 hastily said. “ He must be dehydrated. I'll set up some fluids.”
The young man was mumbling something incoherent. It did not appear he was following any of the conversation. His head turned from side to side, his chest heaving irregularly, eyes half-closed.
The Front Man stood over him, watching him tersely and uneasily, only moving when Number 06 brought over the supplies.
Sensing fingers probing and feeling for a vein and of a needle about to be pressed into his arm, the young man seemed to be jolted into a more wakeful state.
“ Stop,” he slurred. “ Please ... no more ...”
A hand was raised to swat at Number 06, only for the Front Man to grab it before he could either hurt himself or impede the doctor. His fingers clasped around the young man's, out of a practical nature, and strangely, also a desperate need as if the young man would vanish and disappear from his grasp if the Front Man did not hold on.
The extraordinarily intimate touch made No-eul blink. She would not have believed it if she wasn't seeing with her own eyes.
His legs began to shift and buckle and with a pointed glare from the Front Man, No-eul left her post to hold down the young man's legs.
“ Don't do it,” the young man whispered. His glazed eyes seemed to trail over to the Front Man. “ Please ... don't take his kidney ... he needs it more than I do ...”
The words made no sense to No-eul, the young man must be having a nightmare of some sort, but the words had a curious effect on the Front Man who after a long pause began to gently stroke the young man's head with his free hand, combing gloved fingers in well-practised motions through his hair.
No-eul's jaw dropped behind her mask. It was evident that Number 06 had a similar reaction because he missed in hooking up the intravenous line.
The Front Man ignored them, focusing entirely on the young man who at last appeared to calm down, relaxing under the touch of the Front Man. His eyes fluttered shut and he sighed a soft exhale, no longer tense and agitated as he leaned into the Front Man's hand.
Once Number 06 started the fluids and was satisfied with his patient's condition, the Front Man ordered them out.
The last image they saw before shutting the door was of the Front Man casually brushing the hair out from the young man's face, murmuring something too quiet for them to hear.
“ Damn.” Number 06 swore to himself, half impressed, half displeased. “ I owe Number 13 money now.”
So did No-eul.
~.~.~
Jun-ho was dreaming.
His thoughts were slow and scattered and the harder he tried to hold onto them, they slipped away like water between his fingers.
Several shadows advanced upon him.
He was falling, soreness and fatigue spreading from his neck.
Darkness swallowed him, pressing him on all four sides.
Bright lights. Furniture resembling humans blinked and stared back at him.
Drunken voices slurred and hands gripped him tight.
Someone was holding him while the world tilted and spun.
He was back in the hospital as several needles stabbed into him.
A doctor was pulling out his brother's kidney, presenting it to him like a bloody offering.
In-ho was there, stroking his head, telling him everything was going to be all right.
He opened his eyes.
As wakefulness came to him in snippets, Jun-ho slowly began to realize he was not in his bed or wearing the clothes he last remembered wearing.
And that he was restrained to said bed.
With a sluggish jerk, Jun-ho managed to pull himself up on his elbows.
The room he was in was uncomfortably sterile and empty, devoid of any personality or personal items that would make it home. It was bare of most furniture, save for a drawer and a bookcase.
And there was a masked man holding a tray entering the room.
“ You are awake, Jun-ho,” the masked man said with a hint of relief in his modulated voice.
Immediately, he was on guard.
“ Who are you? How do you know my name?” Jun-ho glared at the man, trying to determine if he met him from someplace before. “ Do you know you kidnapped a cop? My team will be looking for me.”
“ Since when have the police acted quickly?” the masked man wryly said, sidestepping his initial questions entirely. “ Besides, you were off duty as of the night before.”
The man was right, Jun-ho realized with a sinking heart. He had just finish a four day shift and said his goodbyes to his colleagues before he left the precinct. He would be gone for five days before anyone would notice something was amiss.
But far more alarming was the fact that this man knew of his work schedule.
“ Have – have you been watching me?” Jun-ho hissed.
The masked man had at least some decency to appear a bit sheepish, judging from the slight drop of his shoulders.
It was painting an all clearer picture that Jun-ho was kidnapped by someone who knew of intimate details of his personal life, watching him for some time without him realizing it, waiting for an opportunity to bring him here where he would be alone and far away from those who could help Jun-ho.
He had dealt with stalkers as a cop. Jun-ho just didn't think he would be the recipient of such obsession and fixation.
Just who was this masked man?
And why him?
“ It was not my intention for you to be here,” the man finally said.
Jun-ho tugged indignantly at his restrained wrists. “ Then what is this?”
“ A safety precaution,” the man said, even as he moved to loosen the one that wasn't hooked up to the IV. “ You nearly pulled out your IV line twice in your sleep. There is only water, sodium chloride and potassium,” he added when noticing Jun-ho suspiciously eyeing the IV bag.
Almost to distract him, the masked man nudged the tray closer and Jun-ho could see there was an assortment of foods on it. “ You must be hungry.”
He took the chopsticks, picked up a slice of an egg roll and held it out to Jun-ho's mouth.
Burning with indignation and petulance, Jun-ho made a point to turn his head to the side, like a moody child who refused to eat their vegetables.
It was the kind of action lovesick couples would do and Jun-ho refused to indulge in the masked man's fantasies.
“ Your body has not completely gotten rid of the sedative enough to hold utensils. Would you rather starve?” the masked man dryly asked.
It was beyond humiliating and Jun-ho would rather die than let some stranger, his own kidnapper no less, feed him like this.
But ultimately, his stiff trembling fingers didn't move like he wanted to and his stomach was beginning to rumble uncomfortably. The last time he ate must have been sometime in the middle of his shift. He also worried if the masked man would take the meal away, leaving Jun-ho without anything to eat for who knew how long.
With a weary sigh, Jun-ho leaned forward and took a small bite of the offered egg roll. The sharp savoury bite of the cheese and seaweed carefully stuffed inside hit hard and before Jun-ho knew it, he almost inhaled the entire roll in his hunger.
“ Don't take such a huge bite,” the masked man absently scolded even as he reached for another piece. It was almost as if he said it unconsciously.
Jun-ho shot back without thinking, “ It wasn't that big of a bite, hyung.”
The masked man froze.
Jun-ho flushed in embarrassment. “ Sorry,” he muttered. “ It's ... just something my brother would say to me when I was younger.”
It was quiet as the masked man continued to give him a roll of bulgogi kimbap, the rest of the egg rolls and a few sips of miso soup without another word.
“ Why?”
Jun-ho broke the silence.
“ Why am I here?”
The masked man did not answer at first. He was collecting the finished food and plates as if trying to buy time to think of a response.
“ You got unlucky,” he finally said. “ That's all.”
~.~.~
The masked manager cast a critical eye over the young man whom he managed to sneak into his own office while the Front Man was distracted with the preparations for the finale of the games.
The young man's body was lithe and well-toned, evident of either a job requiring physical endurance or he was someone who trained often at the gym. His facial features were equally sharp and soft and pleasing to look at. His eyes were clear and honest, the kind that would make someone stop and stare into them for a moment before explicitly trusting him without question.
He could see why the Front Man would fall for someone like him.
Perhaps this young man reminded the Front Man of someone in his past. Or perhaps it was a meeting of chance, an accidental bumping of shoulders when passing by the streets or a stranger offering kindness one rainy day.
Regardless of the reason, the young man would be the key in destroying the Front Man's heart from the inside out.
“ Tell me everything about the Front Man. You are the one to know him best. His innermost thoughts and deepest secrets. Tell me all of them and I'll make sure you will be left unharmed.”
“ I said I don't know who he is,” the young man replied. His mouth pressed in a tight stubborn line. “ I've never met him before.”
What a cliche. The manager chuckled. Movies and shows were written with dialogue and self-sacrifice like how this boy protected his beloved so fiercely and determinedly.
And so foolishly.
He grabbed the young man's hair and slammed his head against the table, grinning under his mask at the way the young man winced in pain. “ I wonder if he will like you as much if your pretty face is all cut up.”
A knife was pressed against his cheek.
The young man glared back in defiance.
“ How much would the Front Man pay for your safe return? Do you think you are worth millions?”
The manager pressed down harder on the young man's head, making him cry out.
“ Do you think you mean something to him? Do you think he actually cares about you? The Front Man will discard you once he finishes having fun with you. You are nothing but a plaything for him to pass the time.”
Whatever the young man wanted to say, it was interrupted by muffled shouting and sounds of gunfire in the distance.
The Front Man was here to reclaim what was his.
Just as the door to his office was kicked open, the manager yanked the young man from his chair and twisted his arm behind, leaving him helpless and unable to move. With his other hand, the knife pressed against his exposed neck, allowing the Front Man to see the blood running down the young man's skin, seeping into his shirt and a deadly promise what would happen further to the young man if the Front Man tried anything.
“ This isn't what it looks like,” the manager said in a mocking tone. “ It looks like I'm trying to kill him but actually what's happening is that your boyfriend is cheating on you.”
The Front Man said nothing. The tightening of his fingers over his still smoking gun was the only indication of any emotion.
“ He told me everything about you. Where you live. Where your family is. How you take your coffee. He knew I would make a better lover than you ever would, so he chose me instead.”
The young man let out an infuriated snarl.
The knife deepened, biting hard, and the young man fell quiet.
Again, the Front Man was silent but even behind his mask, the manager should see sharp eyes watching his every movement, just waiting for the right moment, for the slightest mistake for him to make for the Front Man to strike.
The manager started dragging the young man closer to the door, forcing the Front Man to move. Even though the young man refused to give in and betray the Front Man, he had his use as a hostage so the manager could guarantee his safety and escape.
Just then, the Front Man's gaze flicked towards the young man, who stopped struggling and appeared to be looking at the Front Man in return.
Something – a look, a nod, a blink – must have passed between them because then the young man suddenly slammed his head backwards at the manager's face.
With a howl, his grip on the knife loosened, just brief enough for the young man to tilt his head to the side.
And allowed the Front Man to fire his gun directly at the manager's forehead.
His last thoughts were, ahh, they do make a good couple
~.~.~
Il-nam was disappointed.
Not because In-ho killed one of his managers and then proceeded to coldly execute over a third of the guards and workers who had been aligned or associated with the manager.
But because In-ho evidently had not done anything to progress things with the young man.
Despite delivering the young man all wrapped up pretty and neat for him, In-ho seemed determined to avoid the young man who remained locked away in In-ho's office like a princess trapped in the highest tower, imprisoned for being too beautiful or too pure for this world.
While Il-nam had known about the manager's jealousy towards In-ho and eagerness to prove himself a better Front Man than the current one, he had not anticipated that the manager would be so brazen to involve the young man so directly in his war against In-ho.
Either way, it worked in Il-nam's favor as it forced In-ho to act, arriving as a brave knight would to rescue his love captured by the greedy dragon.
Some of his officers reported to Il-nam afterwards how the Front Man was all but carrying the young man out of the manager's office, one hand clamped over the young man's bleeding neck and snapping for medical attention now.
And yet, In-ho did not take the opportunity to sweep the young man off his feet and simply returned to his old ways of keeping him alone in his office while he dealt with the remnants of the manager's men.
So yet again, Il-nam stepped in to help his protege.
He sent trusted men to retrieve the young man and brought him to one of the VIP lounge rooms while also arranging for In-ho to “inspect” said room for a special VIP, while also making sure his private chefs prepared the best dishes for them to enjoy a nice quiet romantic dinner.
There, Il-nam could watch through a secret camera feed.
In-ho, still in his Front Man guise, had not been expecting to see the young man dressed in a black suit and looking quite dashing if Il-nam would say so himself, even if the young man was looking rather displeased and his neck was still swathed in thick bandages, an ugly reminder of what happened less than a day ago.
The young man spoke first, saying something withering and harsh, judging from the way In-ho placatingly raised his palms.
In-ho had it coming though. First being left alone, then taken captive by a manager and injured in the ensuing scuffle and then locked away again, all without any comfort or reassurance from someone he loved.
Any one would be quite testy after all of that.
Idly, Il-nam wondered why In-ho had yet to remove his mask. It might have helped his situation and allowed the young man to see his face and his overwhelmingly obvious concern for the young man.
Perhaps In-ho was insecure all this time. Based off appearances alone, the young man was at least nearly two decades younger than In-ho. Perhaps In-ho felt he would be too old and boring for such a bright and energetic youth.
Which was ridiculous, because In-ho had a lot to offer the young man.
It made Il-nam satisfied that he had the foresight to make sure the door was locked, making sure In-ho and the young man could enjoy some quality time together without disruption.
~.~.~
In-ho's patience, worn thin in the last few days, was at his breaking point.
Someone – most likely Il-nam – arranged for him and Jun-ho to be in a VIP room alone, with all the intricacies one would want for a romantic evening.
And then kept the door locked, trapping them within.
Jun-ho, still recovering from his wounds and also similarly losing his patience, was glaring at him. His eyes darted from him, to the locked door and around the room as if trying to find something to help him escape.
It also didn't help that Jun-ho thought In-ho was the one who kidnapped him out of an unhealthy obsession.
The dark hateful sneer Jun-ho was directing at him was one that In-ho never wished to ever see from his baby brother.
“ You know that this,” he vaguely indicated the candles, the lighting, the room. “ All of this, isn't going to make me fall in love with you.”
Thankfully, his mask prevented Jun-ho from seeing In-ho roll his eyes. Or almost choke on the rising bile up his throat. It was hard to tell which one In-ho wanted to do more.
“ I'm not in love with you,” he finally said.
Jun-ho snorted incredulously. “ Really? Because I'm getting some mixed signals right now.”
“ It's not what it looks like.”
“ What is this supposed to look like?”
In-ho sighed. It would have saved him from some grey hairs if he mustered enough courage to simply tell Jun-ho who he was, what was happening and what In-ho was trying – and failed – to protect him from.
“ This was not my doing,” In-ho said, which was the honest truth. “ You were brought to this place without my knowledge.”
Jun-ho frowned, perhaps picking up on the subtleties that In-ho was refusing to divulge in. “ Was it that other masked man? He definitely held a grudge against you.”
“ Not him,” he admitted.
He could still vividly see Jun-ho being held hostage at knife point by that madman, bleeding out the longer the manager taunted In-ho. It was only pure luck that Jun-ho looked him in the eye, decided to take a risk and distract the masked manager long enough for In-ho to kill him.
In-ho not realizing the extent the manager would go to become the Front Man, including trying to take advantage of an apparent weakness of In-ho's – even if the manager never fully realized the true nature of their relationship – led to Jun-ho almost paying the price for it.
“ That was an unforeseen incident that should have never happened,” he gritted out. “ It was my lack of judgment that led to that scum hurting you.”
The anger in Jun-ho's eyes dissipated, sensing his sincerity underneath his modulated voice.
Now he just looked tired.
“ Then, let me go,” he pleaded.
In-ho would have loved to have nothing more than for Jun-ho to leave this forsaken island and never return, kept safe and oblivious to the cruelty of the games and everyone involved in them.
But Il-nam knew of Jun-ho and now everyone on the island did too, saw his face and believed what they wanted to believe about their relationship. The masked manager certainly did. Jun-ho was at risk no matter where he went. The only place In-ho could think of to keep his brother safe was in his office and private quarters.
“ I can't,” he softly said.
Jun-ho's expression turned to grim acceptance.
Then, his hand shot out, reaching for the steak knife on the table.
Whether it was to threaten In-ho or to use himself as a hostage since it was evident that In-ho did not want to see him harmed, Jun-ho was ready to risk everything and fight to the bitter end to make his escape.
In-ho all but sprinted at him, grabbing his brother's wrist and knocking the knife off the table.
They wrestled for a moment, Jun-ho trying to run and In-ho holding him down, before they both toppled over and landed on a nearby couch. Jun-ho kicked out and tried to throw him off, but In-ho was heavier and knew how to pin him down.
In the struggle, In-ho could see a growing dark stain began appearing under Jun-ho's bandage.
“ Stop!” In-ho couldn't quite keep the panic out of his voice. “ You've reopened your wound.”
“ Why do you care?” Jun-ho snarled. His fingers clawed at bare skin but In-ho didn't notice. “ I don't even know who you are.”
Because that was it, wasn't it? Jun-ho didn't trust him, saw him as a threat. He saw him no different than the masked manager who hurt him and threatened to kill him.
In-ho never wanted Jun-ho to be afraid of him like this.
With a heavy exhale and with one hand pushing against Jun-ho to make sure he didn't bolt, he raised his other to lift up and remove his mask.
When was the last time his face was exposed and his expressions laid bare? When was the last time he felt so vulnerable?
When was the last time he actually looked upon Jun-ho face to face instead of behind a virtual screen?
All the fight left Jun-ho as he stared up at his older brother in confusion and shock.
“ Hyung?”
The word, that infuriatingly powerful word, washed over In-ho like a soft breeze on a warm summer day. He did not realize how much he had longed for Jun-ho to call him that ever since Jun-ho arrived here. The first time when Jun-ho woke up, even if it was accidental, hit him harder than any bullet would have.
Perhaps the stress of the last few days made him delirious because before In-ho knew it, he was all but embracing his brother.
“ I'm sorry, Jun-ho,” he whispered. He buried his face against Jun-ho's shoulder, too afraid to look up and surely see the disgust and horror written across Jun-ho's face. " For not telling you sooner."
Jun-ho might never forgive him but he could have this last moment of peace with just him and his brother.
To his surprise, he felt Jun-ho wrapping his own arms around him too, hesitantly at first but then tighter with more confidence and squeezed him back.
He was certain that Jun-ho would demand proper answers and he had every right to and that was fine with him.
They had all the time in the world to figure it out.
Until a door swung open and there was an excited gasp.
Two heads swiveled in unison to stare at the new audience standing at the doorway.
Il-nam was looking mightily pleased.
Someone behind him had the nerve to whistle.
In hindsight, falling onto the couch, pinning his brother down in a suggestive manner and then seemingly pressing his face against Jun-ho's neck would make certain people come to certain conclusions.
Jun-ho was frozen in his arms, comically wide eyed and almost clutching In-ho in a mortified, bashful manner, akin to a blushing maiden caught in the act.
In-ho could only sigh.