Chapter Text
The last thing you remember is the sound of breaking glass. When you come to, the sharp smell of the chloroform still stings inside your nose, and your vision swims as though you’re drunk. You feel like you’re going to be sick, but your body is too heavy to move. You can’t lift the weight of your own arms, nevermind maneuver yourself enough to roll over to vomit. You swallow forcefully, bile burning at your throat.
The panic sets in almost immediately. Where are you?
You see the silhouette of a person by your feet. You’re lying on the floor, it seems. The figure towers over you. It takes a moment for you to focus your eyes enough to make out the face.
“V…?” Your voice sounds raspy, it hurts a bit to talk.
“You’re awake,” V greets. He crouches down beside you, blue hair falling over his face.
You manage to croak out, “What happened?”
But V doesn’t answer. Instead, he reaches out, hesitantly trying to find where you are. His hand eventually meets your arm, and from there he’s able to find your head. He’s lifting it, supporting it, and he brings a water bottle to your lips. You don’t see where he got the water from, but you drink gratefully. The cool water soothes the scratching in your throat.
“I’m sorry that it had to be this way,” V says softly.
“What do you mean?” You ask. “What’s going on? Where–?”
“Shh,” V cuts you off. “I know you must have a lot of questions. You will get answers. But right now, I need you to stand up. Can you do that?”
Your vision is still spinning a bit, but V’s hand is strong and firm underneath your head.
“Maybe,” you say.
“Here, let me help you. Easy now.” V slowly helps you to stand, supporting your weight as you get to your feet.
“Are you going to get us out of here?” you ask.
Again, V doesn’t answer. He starts to walk with you, supporting you by your waist as you slowly start to get your bearings. You blink rapidly, pushing the effects of the drugs away.
He leads you into an adjoining room, this one smaller than the first. At first glance, it looks almost like a church or a temple. There are six pews lined up in three rows, creating an aisle down the middle of the room, stretching from where you stand at the entrance to… some sort of altar. Marble steps climb up to a table, on which is a plush-looking cover and ornate pillows. It’s a stark contrast to the rest of the room, which is strangely industrial, with exposed piping along the ceiling and dark concrete walls. The room is lit only by candlelight, with tea lights lining the aisle down to the altar as well as forming a circle on the pedestal around the table.
Beyond the altar is a large chair, it looks like a throne. It has a high back with an eye engraved at the top. On it, sits a fragile-looking woman with long blonde hair. She’s dressed in black robes with a silky-looking mint stole hanging around her shoulders. A priest, perhaps. She looks frail, almost sickly. Her cheeks are sunken and her eyes are wide, her expression made even more haunting by the golden underlighting from the candles, which carve harsh lines into her cheekbones. Her face seems almost… familiar. But, you can’t place where from.
“Jihyun, you’re here,” she says. Her voice is soft and distant. “You’ve brought her. Good.” She stands, and her robes completely engulf her small body. She seems to float as she moves to the table, like a ghost gliding across glassy water.
“Yes, Saviour,” V responds. He takes you by the shoulder and gently guides you forward down the aisle. You slowly ascend the stairs to the table, careful not to catch your clothes on any of the open flames. V kneels, encouraging you with his hand to follow suit, and lowers his head to touch it to the edge of the embellished table. You follow obediently, and you feel your heart hammer rapidly in your chest.
The woman hums thoughtfully, and you feel a hand graze over your hair. You chance a glance up, and as you lift your chin to look up at the priestess, her thin fingers stroke down your face. Her pupils are blown open beyond anything you’ve ever seen, so much so that you can’t even tell what colour her eyes actually are. Her lips curve into a soft smile.
“Oh my,” she says, softly, “you are beautiful. Yes, you will do very nicely.”
Nicely… nicely for what?
“I’ve been waiting so long for someone like you to come along…” she cradles your face so gently, but it isn’t comforting. In fact, it’s almost chilling. Uncanny. There’s something deeply inhuman about her touch. “So pure and kind, yes. Yes. With a sacrifice like yours, there is no uncertainty that paradise will descend to us in return.”
Sacrifice. The word rings in your ears and your head starts to spin. No. This can’t be.
“Shh…” the priestess coos. “Don’t be afraid, sweet girl. I’ll make sure that you’re well taken care of.”
Suddenly, you hear the door behind you open, and the priestess pulls her hand away. She looks up, and her face explodes in an icy smile. “Our guests! Welcome! You are just in time.”
You hear a scuffling of clothes behind you, as well as sounds of protest as people begin to file into the room. You try to turn your head to see them, but the priestess quickly grips your chin tightly, holding you in place.
From behind you, there’s a gasp. “Rika?”
“Silence!” A man’s voice bellows, followed by a sharp smack sound a yelp of pain. “Sit, silently, boy. You are not to speak until you are addressed.”
Rika. You look up at the priestess. This… This woman, could she be Rika? But, isn’t Rika supposed to be dead? She meets your gaze, noticing your surprise.
“Didn’t recognize me? Mm… pity.” Her eyes rake over you hungrily, and you feel your muscles tense under her stare. “Well then, do you want to say hello to our guests?”
You slowly turn your head to look over your shoulder, and you see five people sitting now sitting in the first row of pews. Your heart almost stops when you see their faces. You may not have been able to recognize Rika, but you certainly recognize these people; a woman with short brown hair and wired-framed glasses, and four men, each with their own distinctive look and hair colour. They look a bit different here, in the flesh, their faces lit with confusion and, in some cases, fear, but there is no denying who they are: The RFA.
But they don’t recognize you. Of course they wouldn’t. They’ve never met you, or even seen a picture of you. All of them, that is, except…
“It’s her,” Seven breathes. He looks horrified. His glasses sit crooked on his face. They’re broken. Maybe he resisted being brought here. Maybe he too was taken against his will, just as you were. Maybe they all were. Upon hearing his words, the other members become more alert, diverting their attention to you.
“Mm, yes, pretty… isn’t she?” says Rika, you feel her fingers again finding your hair, stroking your head like some sort of pet. You shiver. “This is the girl you’ve brought in to replace me. Or, should I say, I elected to replace myself.”
You squirm under the pressure of all of their eyes on you. Seven is glancing between you and V, who still kneels beside you. Beside him, Zen’s hands are balled up into fists, his usually perfect hair slightly tousled. Jaehee sits silently, but she looks perhaps the most afraid, chin lowered and peering at you over the rim of her glasses. Jumin, who is usually quite calm and collected, has a bit of sweat beading on his brow as he watches you closely. You can almost see the cogs turning in his brain, trying to make sense of this. Yoosung, on the end of the row, looks like he is on the verge of tears. They are accompanied by a white-haired man wearing a face mask, and he holds a silver gun in his hand. A reminder to everyone there that they have no bargaining power, and no way to escape.
“I trust that Saeran already told you about the ritual?” Rika says. At the mention of it, each of the members avert their eyes. The ritual? What is she talking about?
“V, did you know about this?” Yoosung asks, his voice bleeding with betrayal.
“Oh, didn’t you know?” Rika says. “The ritual was Jihyun’s idea. If it were up to me I would simply kill her. Blood sacrifices have always brought humans closer to paradise.” Your hands turn cold, sweat spreading across your forehead. “But, Jihyun proposed this alternative. He’s always been so gentle, haven’t you, my love?”
V doesn’t respond.
Suddenly, Rika’s lips are by your ear, her breath hot against you. It sends a quiver down your spine. “She will bring about ecstasy, and exchange her purity for our salvation.” Her hand finds your shoulder, and slides down your arm slowly.
Zen lunges forward from where he’s sitting. “Let her go!”
“Don’t .” Rika’s voice is suddenly dripping with venom, and you gasp as you feel a cold, sharp metal press against your throat. “You take her, or I will. And you won’t like it if I do.”
Zen freezes.
“Sit down, Hyun.” It’s Jumin. His voice is incredibly quiet, almost inaudible. His hand is on Zen’s arm. Zen looks back at him, obviously conflicted, but eventually retakes his seat. Then, Jumin turns his attention to Rika. “If we do as you ask, you’ll let her go?”
But, it’s V who speaks up, for the first time since their arrival. “Yes, once the ritual is completed.”
Jumin’s eyes narrow, staring intently at V for a moment, before eventually saying. “Very well. Then we should go ahead.”
“What-? How can you say that?” Zen retorts, head whipping towards Jumin. “After all this… you still trust him?”
“I have to. We all do. It’s the only chance we have to get us all out of here alive.”
“Don’t sound so reluctant, Jumin,” says Rika, pressing the blade harder against your skin. “I know that you all have thought about her. About what you could do to her. Isn’t that right?” Her fingers trace their way back up your arm. She presses a soft kiss against your ear, and you feel weak. “Not to worry. You’ll each get your turn with her. Now, I’m getting impatient. It’s time to begin.”
The man with the white hair moves to stand by the door, blocking the only exit. Beside you, V slowly gets to his feet, before offering you his hand. “Come here, let me help you.”
You hesitate, but with a knife to your neck you don’t have much room to resist. You gingerly take V’s hand, and he helps you get to your feet. You feel Rika pull the knife away, and you feel an exhale of relief from the room. V pulls you closer, until your bodies are almost touching. His pale eyes stare through you, unseeing. “It’s going to be okay. I know you can take it,” he whispers. “Get on the altar.”
You know better than to argue. The altar is soft beneath you, the pillows hug you as you situate yourself in a sitting position.
“That’s it, good…” V breathes, letting go of your hand. Then, he steps away, slowly making his way over to the throne, to which Rika has already returned. As he moves to stand obediently beside her, Rika licks her lips.
“Now, then,” she says, leaning back in her chair with that same chilling smile. “Who’s first?”