Twisted Wonderland

by Anonymous

Summary:

°..ೃ࿔*:⋆

“Everyone wants the pretty little blonde,” he mused, fangs flashing. “It’s just your unlucky day you fell right into our world.”

Jungwon's heart stumbled, his grip tightening around the folds of his dress.

Chapter 1: Trapped in Wonderland

 

The garden was unnaturally perfect.

 

Sunlight drifted through towering trees, their leaves whispering secrets as the wind stirred them softly. The grass beneath Jungwon’s fingers felt cool, dotted with wildflowers that bloomed in impossible colors—lavender that shimmered like glass, roses pale.

 

The air carried the warmth of early afternoon, fragrant with sweet blossoms. Birds sang faintly.

 

Jungwon sat alone in the field, legs tucked beneath the folds of his baby blue dress, lace rippling faintly around his thighs. His golden hair shone under the light, strands falling soft over his forehead, glowing as if kissed by the sun itself.

 

His socks had slipped down slightly, exposing the faintly flushed skin of his knees, but he didn’t bother adjusting them.

 

He tilted his chin up, blue eyes half-lidded as the wind curled against his flushed cheeks, soft dimples carved into them.

 

Everything here was peaceful—fragile, delicate.

 

Until the stillness cracked.

 

Tick… tick…

 

A faint, rhythmic sound—the measured ticking of a clock—threaded through the quiet, foreign, unsettling.

 

Jungwon's head lifted, blue eyes narrowing as his gaze scanned the far end of the garden.

 

That’s when he saw him.

 

A boy—tall, sharp, impossibly composed—walking briskly along the garden’s edge.

 

His black hair, sleek and neat, brushed against his brow, and perched atop his head—

 

Soft, dark bunny ears, velvety in texture, tipped slightly backward, flicking faintly with every step.

 

The ears twitched again, keen and alert, blending with his poised expression.

 

In one hand, a golden pocket watch swung by its chain, catching the sun with every movement, the ticking growing louder, unnaturally steady.

 

Jungwon’s breath slowed, curiosity prickling beneath his skin.

 

The boy's sharp features were unreadable, his gaze fixed forward, posture rigid but refined. His long black coat flared faintly as he moved, cutting through the wildflowers like a phantom.

 

The bunny ears, dark as velvet, shifted again—focused, listening—betraying that beneath the cold control, he was aware… watching.

 

Jungwon’s lips parted faintly, his pulse quickening with tangled curiosity and disbelief.

 

He rose slowly, the hem of his dress brushing his knees, socks loose against flushed skin, shoes silent in the grass.

 

The golden pocket watch clicked in time with the boy’s steps, his coat trailing behind him. Fluffy tail bouncing with every step.

 

Jungwon followed, soft footfalls trailing behind him, each step drawing him deeper into the unknown.

 

The garden's flowers blurred behind him, the wind quieted, and the peaceful illusion unraveled.

 

And in its place—the first thread of Wonderland began to pull him under.

Jungwon’s shoes pressed softly into the grass as he moved, the delicate frills of his baby blue dress swaying around his legs, socks slipping lower, the faint pink of his knees exposed to the cool, restless breeze.

 

Ahead, the stranger cut clean lines through the garden—the soft dark bunny ears twitching faintly, sharp against the neat slope of his black hair.

 

The golden pocket watch swung at his side, its steady tick… tick… matching the rhythm of Jungwon’s pulse, too loud for such quiet surroundings.

 

For a moment, Jungwon only followed, his curiosity outweighing the confusion knotting tight beneath his ribs.

 

He opened his mouth, voice catching before it fully formed.

“Hey! Wait—”

 

To his surprise, the boy slowed.

 

The garden seemed to hush around them, the flowers tilting faintly, the warped trees bending inward, as though listening.

 

The boy turned—just enough for Jungwon to catch the sharp cut of his jaw, the composed set of his brows, those cool, watchful chocolate brown eyes.

 

Close now, Jungwon could see him properly—the quiet confidence, the pressed lines of his coat, the smooth shift of his expression.

 

The bunny ears twitched once.

 

The boy's voice was low, measured, slipping through the breeze like silk.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

 

Jungwon blinked, heart stuttering at the calm certainty in those words.

“I— I was just…” he trailed off, uncertain how to explain his own curiosity, how it bloomed uncontrollably when those impossible ears appeared.

 

The boy with ears tilted his head slightly, one hand lifting the golden pocket watch, inspecting it absently as it ticked on.

 

“You followed me,” the boy observed, not accusing—just stating fact, as though it was obvious. His eyes dragged briefly over Jungwon's frame—golden hair, soft dress, flushed knees—but his expression stayed unreadable.

 

Jungwon’s mouth opened, closed, his curiosity tangling with nerves.

“Are you…?” he hesitated, eyes darting up to the bunny ears, still twitching faintly. “Are those real?”

 

A faint smile tugged at the corner of the boy’s lips—sharp, knowing.

“Maybe.” His gaze lingered for one more second, quiet calculation brewing beneath that composed surface. “Curiosity’s dangerous here, you know.”

 

Jungwon frowned, unsettled but stubborn, the flowers at his feet swaying like they agreed.

 

Before he could speak again, the boy with ears pocketed his watch, coat shifting neatly around him.

“I’d leave if I were you,” he added, already stepping back, voice smooth but laced with finality.

 

“Wait—what’s your name?” Jungwon asked, reaching out instinctively.

 

But the boy was already gone.

 

His bunny ears dipped low, feet pressing into the grass with near-silent steps as he darted into the warped trees, vanishing beyond the curling vines.

 

The ticking faded with him.

 

Jungwon stood frozen for a moment, chest rising quickly, frustration and confusion gnawing at his ribs.

 

He took one cautious step forward, then another.

 

“Where even… ?” he muttered under his breath, the strange sky bending above, garden stretching unnaturally.

 

The breeze shifted, carrying with it a faint, familiar voice.

 

“Lost already, little blonde?”

 

Jungwon spun, startled, eyes locking onto a figure lounging lazily along the low branch of a crooked tree.

 

A boy—dressed in a striped purple and black sweater, black shorts hanging loose, black hair framing his face.

 

Jungwon's gaze flicked down to the slim black collar circling the boy’s throat, the silver lettering gleaming faintly: ‘JAY’, a small bell dangling from it.

 

The boy—Jay—tilted his head, light purple eyes glowing softly, amusement playing at the sharp edges of his smirk.

 

Jungwon's eyes trailed higher—and there they were again.

 

Cat-like ears, set neatly on Jay's black hair, dark as velvet, twitching faintly with each playful word.

 

And just beyond the striped hem of his sweater, swaying with lazy rhythm—a sleek black tail, curling through the air like a living thread of smoke.

 

Jungwon’s brows drew together, confusion knotting in his chest.

“You… you have ears too?” His voice cracked faintly, uncertainty tightening his throat. 

 

Jay’s grin only widened, fangs glinting briefly beneath the glow of the warped sunlight.

“Sharp little eyes you’ve got, blonde,” he teased, voice lilting, playful but curling with something more dangerous beneath. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

 

Jungwon frowned, the disquiet settling deeper in his ribs.

 

“What is this place?” Jungwon asked, shifting his weight, his baby blue dress swaying softly, the lace brushing against his legs. His socks had slipped lower again, but his attention stayed locked on Jay. “Where am I?”

 

Jay's tail curled higher, ears twitching as he leaned in, still perfectly balanced along the low, crooked branch.

 

The boy’s sharp teeth flashed faintly in the dappled light as he spoke again, voice dripping with amusement.

“You're where they want you to be,” Jay's voice syrupy and slow, his eyes glowing faintly brighter.

 

“They?” Jungwon echoed, unease pooling sharp beneath his curiosity.

 

Jay only chuckled, low and amused, head tilting so the tag on his collar caught the warped sunlight.

“Everyone wants the pretty little blonde,” he mused, fangs flashing. “It’s just your unlucky day you fell right into our world.”

 

Jungwon's heart stumbled, his grip tightening around the folds of his dress.

 

Before he could ask anything else, Jay's body shimmered—edges blurring like heat haze, his grin lingering as the rest of him began to dissolve into the air.

 

Jungwon's eyes widened.

“Wait—!”

 

Jay’s smirk curved sharper, his voice twisting like smoke around Jungwon’s ears as his form vanished completely.

“See you soon, little blonde.”

 

And just like that, he was gone—nothing left but the faintest curl of air where his body had been, his words lingering like a ghost's whisper.

 

Jungwon stood frozen, the garden stretching eerily still around him, the hum of distant birds warped, the colors of the flowers bending unnaturally.

 

His knees trembled faintly, exposed beneath his slipping socks, heart racing behind his ribs.

 

Wherever this was—whatever game ‘they’ were playing—

 

It was only just beginning.

 

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒

 

The garden grew stranger the deeper Jungwon wandered.

 

The trees arched unnaturally now, trunks curling like bent glass, their leaves an impossible shade of green—too bright, shimmering as though dusted with glitter. The flowers along the ground bloomed in spirals, some pulsing faintly with each heartbeat, petals folding and unfolding like breathing lungs.

 

Jungwon’s golden hair caught the restless wind as he moved, the lace of his baby blue dress whispering around his legs. His socks had slipped even lower, his steps careful over the uneven ground.

 

His encounter with Jay still twisted behind his eyes—the lingering smirk, the cat-like tail, the eerie way he dissolved into thin air.

 

And yet… curiosity burned brighter than fear.

 

Ahead, the trees parted to reveal a sunlit clearing, the grass glowing faintly silver underfoot.

 

And in the middle of it—a boy.

 

Jungwon slowed, brows furrowing.

 

The boy stood awkwardly beside a small wooden table, stacked precariously with mismatched teacups, his blue hair tousled in soft waves, strands falling to his forehead. His eyes—

 

Jungwon’s breath faltered—the boy’s eyes shimmered, the irises shaped like triangles, faintly rotating, the colors shifting—blue, silver, faint purple—but so subtly it made Jungwon blink to be sure.

 

The boy fumbled with a teacup, nearly dropping it, muttering under his breath with a clumsy tilt of his head.

“Ah—come on, stay still…”

 

Jungwon’s tension loosened slightly—the boy’s aura wasn’t sharp or teasing like Jay’s, nor calculated like the bunny boy’s.

 

Puppy-like. Sweet. A little chaotic.

 

Before Jungwon could retreat, the boy’s gaze snapped up, those rotating, triangular orbs landing directly on him.

 

The boy brightened immediately, stumbling over his own feet to approach, wide smile curving his lips.

“Oh! You—hi! You’re not supposed to be here—are you supposed to be here?” His words tumbled fast, nearly tripping over one another.

 

Jungwon blinked, startled, stepping back as the boy’s blue hair caught the light, his expression earnest despite the confusion painted across his face.

 

“Um… I—” Jungwon hesitated, clutching the edge of his dress. “I don’t know where here even is…”

 

The boy laughed, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, his eyes spinning faintly with color.

“Fair enough… I get lost too sometimes,” he admitted, smile sheepish. “I’m Jake, by the way.”

 

Jungwon’s gaze darted over him—the puppy smile, the soft clumsiness, those strange, mesmerizing eyes.

 

Before he could respond, a calm voice cut through the clearing, cool and measured.

 

“Jake… you’re terrible at first impressions.”

 

Jungwon’s chest tightened as another figure stepped from behind a twisted tree.

 

Tall, poised, unmistakably composed.

 

Bright red hair, glowing under the fractured sunlight, tousled perfectly across his forehead. His eyes—vivid, shifting in color as they landed on Jungwon—swirled between deep green, piercing gold, faint crimson.

 

Jungwon bit his plush lips.

 

The boy—older, sharp-featured, lips curving in a calm, knowing smile—moved with deceptive ease, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat.

 

Jake visibly shrank, huffing.

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad—”

 

“You scared him,” the red-haired boy teased smoothly, eyes flickering from blue to violet as they lingered on Jungwon, sharp but not unkind.

 

Jungwon gripped the folds of his dress tighter, nerves pricking under his skin.

 

The boy approached slowly, expression unreadable, his vivid eyes brightening as though they danced with hidden knowledge.

 

“I’m Heeseung,” he introduced simply, voice silk-soft but curling with something more clever beneath. “And you’ve wandered quite far, haven’t you?”

 

Jungwon’s lips parted, words tangled in his throat.

Jake smiled awkwardly beside Heeseung, bouncing faintly on his heels, the soft rotations of those triangular eyes continuing, faint but mesmerizing.

 

Heeseung’s smile curled sharper, his eyes flickering from blue to gold to crimson as he stepped in with quiet, composed confidence.

 

“You’ve come at the perfect time,” Heeseung said smoothly, voice cool as silk. His gaze raked over Jungwon, soft but dissecting. “There’s plenty of room at the table.”

 

Jungwon’s eyes darted behind them—past the warped trees, a long table stretched impossibly far, cluttered with teacups, steaming pots, mismatched plates, strange foods. The chairs twisted in shape—some too tall, some crooked—yet the entire table buzzed with quiet voices and shadows shifting beyond clear sight.

 

Heeseung tilted his head slightly, bright red hair catching the light, his eyes glowing faint green as they settled back on Jungwon.

“Stay for tea,” he offered lightly, the words simple—but tangled with quiet expectation. “It’s rude to wander here without at least sharing a cup.”

 

Jungwon’s pulse quickened, the breeze curling tighter around his legs, the garden pressing in, impossibly still.

 

His choice, it seemed, was already made.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Jungwon’s throat bobbed, his fingers curling against the lace of his baby blue dress, the faint pink at his exposed knees cooling beneath the strange breeze.

 

Heeseung’s eyes—still shifting in vivid color, never staying still—held him in place, the curve of his smile perfectly polite, perfectly unreadable.

 

Behind them, the long, crooked tea table stretched beyond reason—chairs bent at impossible angles, plates stacked in uneven towers, teacups rattling faintly though no one touched them.

 

Jake was already bouncing toward the table, nearly tripping over his own boots, the soft blue of his hair glowing faintly as he waved Jungwon over.

 

“Come on—tea’s not gonna drink itself,” Jake called brightly, nearly knocking over a pot before scrambling to steady it.

 

Jungwon hesitated, nerves twisting sharp in his chest.

 

But leaving now… would only make him look more lost. More vulnerable.

 

Awkwardly, he stepped toward the table, fingers smoothing the skirt of his dress as he perched at the very edge of one crooked chair.

 

The teacups steamed faintly—strange, sweet scents curling from their rims, though the liquid inside shimmered oddly, shifting color like melted glass.

 

Jake grinned, plopping beside him, eyes rotating faintly, one arm knocking into a stack of plates that wobbled dangerously.

 

Heeseung remained standing for a beat longer, his gaze cool, unreadable, hair glowing bright red under the warped sunlight.

 

With quiet ease, he slipped into a chair opposite Jungwon, fingers tapping lightly against the porcelain teapot.

“See? Not so bad,” he remarked casually, pouring a faintly glowing liquid into Jungwon’s cup. The tea sparkled unnaturally, colors bending at the edges.

 

Jungwon forced a thin smile, lifting the cup with careful fingers, the warm china smooth beneath his palm.

 

But as he brought it close, the tea inside… shifted.

 

Shapes rippled across the surface—faint images of warped clocks, flickering eyes, shadows coiling like smoke.

 

His heart stumbled.

 

Across the table, Heeseung’s eyes changed—deepening to a vivid crimson as his smile curved sharper.

“Drink up,” Heeseung urged, voice syrupy, deceptively calm.

 

Jungwon took the smallest sip—sweet, strange, unsettlingly cold despite the steam curling above it.

 

A faint hum built in his ears, the table stretching wider, the shadows at its edges pressing closer, voices whispering from nowhere.

 

Jake’s chair wobbled, his grin still bright but his rotating eyes unfocused, distant.

 

The trees beyond bent lower, their leaves whispering words Jungwon couldn’t decipher.

 

His pulse raced, unease clawing sharp behind his ribs.

 

Clearing his throat, Jungwon carefully set the teacup down, rising to his feet with a strained smile.

“Thank you… for the tea,” he managed, stepping back, dress swaying softly, socks wrinkling lower. “But I—I should go.”

 

Jake blinked, confused, nearly tipping his chair.

“Oh? But—”

 

Heeseung only smiled, eyes flickering gold, leaning back with deceptive ease.

“Of course,” he allowed, voice too calm, too knowing. “Plenty more places left to wander.”

 

Jungwon didn’t wait for more.

 

His feet pressed swiftly into the warped grass, the edges of the tea table stretching unnaturally behind him as he slipped away—deeper into the twisting woods, toward the unknown palace glinting faintly in the distance.

 

He didn’t look back.

 

Not yet.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The woods curled tighter around Jungwon as he wandered, his footsteps nearly silent against the warped grass, his baby blue dress swaying with each hurried step. His golden hair stuck faintly to his temple, a bow set prettily on top, the soft dips of his dimples on his flushed cheeks, socks slouched low around his calves.

 

The distant tea table and unsettling laughter faded behind him, replaced by a sharp, smoky scent threading through the trees.

 

Jungwon slowed, his pulse quickening, eyes narrowing as the air thickened with faint trails of smoke, curling in soft spirals like lazy ribbons above the crooked ground.

 

Ahead, perched on a low, cracked stone wall, a boy lounged with effortless ease.

 

White hair, sharp and fine as threads of silk, swept softly over his forehead. His skin was pale, freckled faintly across his cheeks, and his eyes—

 

Jungwon’s pulse stuttered.

 

Jet black eyes, deep and endless, with a stark white ring burning around each pupil, sharp enough to slice through the haze between them.

 

The boy held a slim cigarette between his fingers, smoke drifting lazily from his lips as he exhaled, the soft ember glowing faintly in the low light.

 

Jungwon froze, instinct urging him to turn away—but the boy’s gaze locked onto him with immediate, unshaken boldness.

 

A grin curled at his lips—slow, knowing, entirely unbothered.

 

And his eyes—

 

They didn’t drift to Jungwon’s flushed cheeks, or his tangled golden hair.

 

No.

 

They dipped, deliberate and shameless, tracing over the delicate hem of his dress, lingering with sharp, dangerous interest on the soft skin of Jungwon’s knees, faintly pink, exposed above his loose socks—

and when Jungwon frowned or flinched, those eyes flicked upward, briefly caught by the dimples that deepened in his cheeks even in discomfort, as if he couldn’t decide what he liked more.

 

The boy’s smirk widened, teeth glinting faintly as he took another slow drag of his cigarette, smoke curling around him like a crown.

 

“Well, aren't you just something,” His voice was low, velvet-soft but curling with something more wicked beneath. “Wandering around like that…”

 

Jungwon stiffened, heat creeping up his neck, the garden suddenly feeling smaller beneath that bold, focused stare.

 

The boy hopped down from the wall, smoke trailing behind him, his gait slow but confident, impossibly self-assured.

 

“You’re even prettier up close,” he remarked, unabashed, eyes still glued to Jungwon’s flushed legs, cigarette dangling lazily from his fingers.

“Look at those knees, doll… ‘s like you’re made to be followed.” 

 

A pause.

 

“Been hearing all about the little blonde wandering around… didn’t say you were this easy to find.”

 

Jungwon stumbled back instinctively, nerves prickling sharp beneath his skin.

 

“Who are you?” he demanded, voice smaller than he intended.

 

The boy exhaled another soft stream of smoke, lips curling with quiet amusement as he stepped closer, eyes never leaving their target.

“Riki,” he answered simply, tapping ash to the warped ground, his gaze trailing slow over Jungwon’s frame, settling on the dents on his cheeks, piquing his interest.

“And you…doll… are exactly where I want you.”

 

Jungwon’s chest tightened, the smoke curling around him, the world spinning faintly off-balance.

 

For the first time, someone wasn’t just teasing him.They wanted him—and they weren’t shy about it.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Jungwon’s heart raced, his fingers curling tightly around the lace of his baby blue dress, the faint pink of his knees heating beneath the weight of Riki’s bold, unrelenting stare.

 

Smoke curled between them, soft and slow, as Riki’s gaze dragged down again—lingering, impossibly fixated, his jet black eyes sharpened by the stark white rings around his pupils.

 

It was suffocating—the attention, the teasing grin, the smoke pressing in with every slow step Riki took forward.

 

Jungwon cleared his throat, stepping back, forcing his voice to steady.

“I— I should go,” he stammered, nerves twisting sharp beneath his ribs. “I… I need to…”

 

His words trailed off as he caught sight of the twisted palace, rising beyond the crooked trees—dark walls spiraling upward, towers bending at impossible angles, faint gold and red banners shifting in a wind that didn’t seem to touch anything else.

 

Riki’s grin curled wider, eyes gleaming faintly as he watched Jungwon’s gaze fix on the distant tower.

“You really wanna go there, doll?” he asked, voice low, threaded with amusement. “Not the best idea.”

 

Jungwon hesitated, pulse quick, smoke curling against his cheeks, but his curiosity burned stronger than his fluster.

 

His hands smoothed his dress, the soft fabric trembling faintly in his grip.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, more to himself than to Riki.

 

Riki’s eyes burned dark as ink, the white rings catching faint light as he exhaled another lazy trail of smoke.

“Cute,” he mused, unfazed, flicking ash to the grass. “Won’t say I didn’t warn you, doll.”

 

Jungwon’s chest tightened, but he turned away, ignoring the flush creeping up his neck, the twisting nerves as Riki’s bold stare trailed after him.

 

The palace loomed larger now—the warped walls, the impossible curves, the faint hum of danger curling from every corner.

 

But his feet pressed forward anyway, stubborn, curious, unaware that each step only sank him deeper into Wonderland’s snare.

 

And behind him, Riki’s smoke coiled in the air, the soft sound of a laugh lingering long after Jungwon disappeared into the trees.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Jungwon’s steps echoed softly as he pushed through the towering palace gates, his heart hammering beneath his ribs.

 

The walls stretched impossibly high—red and black, twisting into warped arches, every surface stamped with bold, glinting hearts. The banners swayed in colors of crimson and shadow, the floor tiled in glossy checkered patterns that reflected the flickering torchlight.

 

It smelled faintly of roses—cut, dying roses.

 

At the far end of the grand hall, seated casually upon an ornate, spiked throne, was the boy they all whispered about.

 

Sunoo.

 

His maroon hair framed his face in soft waves, gleaming beneath the crown tilted lazily atop his head. His red eyes shimmered like molten glass, pupils shaped like sharp, perfect hearts, glowing faintly with impossible depth.

 

A black heart was stamped boldly on his cheek, a mark of quiet ownership, his outfit striking—a crisp white shirt, sleek belt looping down to tailored shorts, the straps connecting to his tall, gleaming boots.

 

Sunoo’s gaze found Jungwon instantly, sliding down his figure—golden hair, delicate baby blue dress, little bow perched atop his head, flushed knees, socks slipping low, breath uneven from the chase through the woods.

 

The palace was deadly quiet.

 

Sunoo tilted his head faintly, eyes glittering with interest as his lips curled into the faintest, dangerous smile.

 

“Looks like the pretty little thing finally wandered to my palace,” Sunoo purred, voice smooth as silk, laced with underlying command.

 

Jungwon’s stomach twisted, instinct screaming as his feet threatened to retreat—but Sunoo only leaned further into his throne, eyes sharp, gaze never leaving him.

 

“The golden treasure everyone desires…” Sunoo added, his smile widening.

 

Jungwon’s breath caught.

 

The tension snapped as Sunoo’s next words dropped, final, unrelenting.

“I want it.”

 

The room exploded in motion—card guards, tall and faceless, their armor gleaming in red and black, surged forward with mechanical precision.

 

Jungwon’s chest squeezed tight as panic ignited, his feet shoving him backward, turning—

 

The halls warped around him as he sprinted, the heavy doors slamming open as the guards followed, their boots pounding the polished floors, hearts emblazoned across their chests like a brand.

 

Jungwon rushed into the woods beyond the palace, lungs burning, vision blurring.

 

The trees twisted unnaturally, the ground shifting beneath him, his socks dragging low as his knees flushed deeper, scraped faintly by thorns and tangled grass.

 

His pulse roared in his ears, the guards gaining ground—

 

Until his eyes caught it.

 

A small, glass bottle, resting atop a crooked stump, labeled in perfect, curling script:

 

“DRINK ME.”

 

Jungwon barely hesitated, chest heaving, the guards crashing through the trees behind him.

 

He uncorked the bottle, the liquid shimmering unnaturally, swirling with strange, pearlescent light.

 

He drank—no choice left.

 

The taste was cold, metallic, dizzying.

 

His vision swam, knees buckling beneath him, the warped world tipping sideways.

It felt like the ground had vanished, like his body had no weight—his head spun in tight, sickening circles, the trees melting together as if painted in water.

Before everything went black, he heard it—a familiar, low voice curling with satisfaction:

 

“Told you, doll.”

 

Riki.

 

Arms wrapped around him, the cigarette smoke threading faintly through the air as Riki’s grip tightened, lifting him effortlessly off the ground.

 

Then darkness.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The first thing Jungwon noticed was the ceiling — warped, crooked wood beams stretched above him, twisting like vines, parts of them painted in peeling, faded colors. The air was thick with the scent of smoke, lingering heavy, curling faintly around the corners of the room.

 

His head pounded.

 

Blinking against the hazy light, he realized he wasn’t on the forest floor anymore. He was lying across an old, tattered couch, its cushions sunken and fabric threadbare, soft enough to swallow him whole.

 

Jungwon’s limbs felt heavy, his socks slouched even lower, the delicate hem of his baby blue dress wrinkled around his hips, the faint pink of his knees exposed, bruised lightly from the chase.

 

His heart stuttered as his gaze flicked across the room.

 

Shelves leaned dangerously along the walls, stacked with glass bottles, jars filled with strange liquids, tiny, crooked trinkets, and half-melted candles dripping wax onto warped tables. The floor creaked softly with every distant gust of wind outside.

 

And there — beside the window, perched on a ledge like he owned the place — sat Riki.

 

His white hair was disheveled in an effortless way, strands falling across his forehead. His jet black eyes, circled perfectly by those haunting white rings, glowed faintly in the dim light.

 

A cigarette dangled from his lips, smoke curling upward, soft and slow, like it was alive.

 

“You’re up,” Riki remarked, voice low, threaded with quiet amusement. His gaze dipped — deliberate, bold — trailing over Jungwon’s frame, lingering too long on the flushed skin of his knees.

 

Jungwon’s throat tightened, nerves spiking as he pushed himself up, dizzy but steadying.

“Where…?” His voice cracked, weak. “Where am I?”

 

Riki exhaled smoke, leaning back against the window frame with effortless confidence.

“My place,” he answered simply, tapping ash to the crooked floorboards. His grin curved wider, teeth flashing faintly. “Told you to watch yourself, doll.”

 

Jungwon stiffened at the nickname, unease crawling under his skin.

 

He tried to stand — his knees wobbled, muscles weak, body still heavy from the strange drink.

 

Riki’s eyes tracked every shaky movement, head tilting slightly.

“Careful,” he teased, smoke curling between them. “Wouldn’t want those pretty knees getting more bruised.”

 

Jungwon flushed, frustration and nerves battling as he steadied himself.

 

Riki’s bold gaze never faltered, sharp, calm, entirely in control.

 

“Get comfortable,” Riki added, voice lazy but curling with something dangerous beneath. “You’re not leaving.”

 

Jungwon’s heart stumbled, pulse roaring in his ears.

 

This was Wonderland — warped, twisted — and he was deep in it.

 

Jungwon swallowed hard, his voice shaky but sharp.

“You drugged me.”

 

Riki’s lips curled into a lazy grin, tapping ash from the cigarette, smoke spiraling faintly.

“Correction,” he countered smoothly, tone low, teasing. “You drank my bottle, doll. Wasn’t meant for you… but lucky me.”

 

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed, heat creeping up his neck.

“I didn’t have a choice. Your bottle was the only thing there—”

 

“You had a choice.” Riki's grin deepened, leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees. His gaze dropped again, boldly tracing the faint pink flush of Jungwon’s exposed knees, the socks slouched pathetically low.

 

“You could’ve stayed with me,” Riki added, voice curling with quiet amusement. “Told you not to run off, didn’t I?”

 

Jungwon clenched his jaw, the weight of Riki’s attention pressing hot along his skin.

 

“Why…” He hesitated, confusion cutting through his frustration. “Why are you all—”

 

“After you?” Riki finished easily, his grin lazy but sharp, cigarette burning lower. His white hair caught the dim light, eyes gleaming like ink.

“Guess you’re the prize, doll,” he added, voice low, threaded with something wicked beneath. “Pretty little thing, all gold hair and pink knees… Wonderland eats that up.”

 

Jungwon’s heart stumbled, fists tightening at his sides.

“I’m not a prize,” he snapped, the words sharp, defensive.

 

Riki laughed quietly, smoke curling from his lips as he stood, slow and deliberate, each step measured.

“ ‘Course you are,” he teased, stopping barely a foot away, towering with calm boldness. His gaze slid down again—those damn knees—and back up, his smirk unfazed.

“Sunoo wants you. So does the cat. Probably the others too…” His voice lowered, tilting his head faintly, smoke trailing from his lips.

“But I got you first.”

 

Jungwon’s chest squeezed tight, breath short, the strange room spinning faintly.

 

“You can’t keep me here,” he muttered, forcing his voice steady.

 

Riki's grin sharpened, his cigarette flicked aside, ember hissing against the floor.

“Wanna test that, doll?”

 

The room pulsed with quiet, heavy tension.

 

Jungwon’s pulse roared in his ears—trapped, but burning with fight.

 

Riki’s eyes dragged over him slowly—his tousled golden hair, the delicate blue bow nestled in it, the trembling curve of his dress, his flushed dimples, and his knees—pink, soft, exposed just enough to make Riki’s stare linger for a while longer.

 

“Why do you keep staring at me?” Jungwon asked, voice soft, almost accusing—but it wavered at the end, betraying his nerves.

 

Riki didn’t even pretend to deny it.

 

“Because you’re pretty, cute, adorable, pretty much everything” he said easily, the word curling from his mouth like smoke—slow, warm, confident.

 

Jungwon blinked, thrown off. “I—That’s—” He looked down, his fingers twisting in the hem of his dress. “You’re saying weird things.”

 

“Not weird,” Riki replied, eyes never leaving him. “Just honest.”

His voice dipped, almost amused. “You’ve got those little dimples that show up when you’re mad. And those knees…”

 

Jungwon froze. His eyes shot up to meet Riki’s, wide. “W-What about them?”

 

“They’re my favorite part,” Riki said without hesitation, gaze flicking down briefly. “All pink and soft. You sit there like that and expect me not to stare?”

 

Jungwon made a choked sound, tugging the blanket up higher over his legs, cheeks glowing. “You’re awful.” It wasn't true and Jungwon knew it.

 

“And yet,” Riki murmured, “you’re still here.”

 

Jungwon turned away, breath caught somewhere between a scoff and a whimper. “Only because I don’t have a choice.”

 

“Sure, doll,” Riki said, a slow grin spreading. “Keep telling yourself that.”

 

Jungwon didn’t reply—he was too busy trying to cool the heat flooding up to his ears.

 

Riki dragged one last breath from his cigarette before lazily crushing it in a shallow dish. The room dimmed with its absence, shadows curling back into the corners. He stood, stretching slightly, joints shifting with soft cracks as he moved.

 

Jungwon’s eyes flicked up just once—just to track him—but even that earned a faint, knowing glance from Riki.

 

“You should sleep,” Riki said casually, moving toward the rickety shelves, sweeping a few stray books and half-melted candles off a lower bench to clear a space. “You’ll need energy for tomorrow.”

 

“For what?” Jungwon asked warily.

 

Riki didn’t answer. Not directly.

 

He stepped closer to the couch, passing right by where Jungwon sat curled and tense. As he brushed by, the air shifted—warm and close—and Jungwon startled, flinching just slightly, enough for Riki to catch it.

 

He paused mid-step, looking down at him with an amused, low-lidded smile.

 

“Relax,” he said, voice quiet but heavy with implication. “I won’t bite you… unless you ask me nicely.”

 

Jungwon’s breath hitched like a punch to the chest. His entire face flushed, ears going pink as he ducked down immediately, throwing the blanket over his head in retreat.

 

“Shut up,” he mumbled from beneath the fabric, voice muffled, embarrassed, and hopelessly defensive.

 

But Riki heard it. Loud and clear.

 

His low chuckle rumbled in the dark, smoke still faint in his breath.

“Goodnight, doll.”

 

And Jungwon didn’t say another word—not because he had nothing to say, but because his heart was still racing, and Riki was still smiling.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Morning didn’t come in rays here. It crept in crookedly—light filtered through warped glass, dappling the walls in twisted gold, too dim to feel like morning at all.

 

Jungwon stirred on the couch, blanket tangled around his legs, his body sore from sleeping in one position all night. His eyes opened slowly to the smell of toasted bread, faint herbs, and tea—floral, but slightly sharp.

 

He blinked, groggy, and turned his head.

 

Riki was already awake.

 

Sitting cross-legged on the windowsill, back resting against the crooked frame, a plain piece of bread hanging from his mouth, untouched by butter or jam. His white hair was messy, sticking out in uneven tufts, and he hadn’t bothered to change clothes. One hand was wrapped lazily around a steaming mug, while his eyes—black with their cold, eerie white rings—were already fixed on Jungwon.

 

Jungwon sat up slowly, blinking. “You’re staring again.”

 

The bread shifted slightly as Riki bit into it, chewing like he wasn’t the least bit guilty. “You’re awake. Of course I’m staring.”

 

Jungwon rubbed his face, cheeks puffing slightly as he exhaled. “Why are you eating like that?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like you’ve got no manners.”

 

Riki took another bite, letting the end of the bread dangle from his lips again. “I don’t.”

 

He tilted his head as Jungwon shifted, dress slipping off one shoulder until he pulled it back into place. The bow in his hair was slightly lopsided. His knees peeked out again beneath the blanket, still soft, still faintly pink.

 

Riki’s stare darkened with lazy amusement.

 

“There’s tea,” he said after a moment, nodding to the crooked little table where two mismatched cups waited—one half full, the other untouched. “And butter, if you think you deserve it.”

 

Jungwon frowned, stumbling upright anyway. “You’re insufferable.”

Jungwon grabbed the butter.

 

Riki bit into his bread again, smirking around it.

“Cute how you keep acting like you don’t like it here.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Jungwon wiped his mouth with the corner of his sleeve and set the chipped teacup down carefully beside the empty plate. The buttered bread had settled uncomfortably warm in his stomach, but the tea helped. Something floral. Something strange.

 

He stood, collecting his dishes and moving to the crooked sink, water dripping from the old faucet like it, too, wasn’t quite awake. He placed everything inside gently—somehow instinctively trying not to make noise, as if the house might breathe deeper if he stayed quiet.

 

Riki watched him the whole time.

 

Jungwon turned, brushing his hands off on his skirt. He took a small breath, steps careful as he approached the windowsill where Riki still sat, sipping now from his mug.

 

“I was going to ask you—” he began.

 

But he never finished.

 

Because in a single blur of purple and air, something slid behind him—arms wrapped around his waist, strong and sudden—and before he could even gasp, the world around him began to shimmer.

 

“Found you,” came the low, velvet voice at his ear.

 

Jay.

 

Jungwon’s heart lurched. “W–wait—!”

 

And in the same breath—he vanished.

 

The last thing he heard before the world blinked out was the sound of Riki’s growl.

 

Low. Deep. Possessive.

 

A warning laced in smoke and fury.

 

Then—silence. 

 

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

They landed softly.

 

The world blinked into strange green shadows, trees arching overhead like crooked ribs. The air smelled faintly sweet, the ground glowing under soft, strange moss.

 

Jungwon stepped back as soon as Jay’s grip released, breath steady but tight. He smoothed his dress automatically, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings—then turned to face him, brows drawn low.

 

“You didn’t need to pull me like that,” he said flatly.

 

Jay stretched, rolling his shoulders as if nothing unusual had happened. “You didn’t exactly look busy.”

 

Jungwon gave him a look. “I was talking to someone.”

 

“If you call eating toast and blushing talking—sure,” Jay replied lightly.

 

Jungwon’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t blushing.”

 

Jay smirked.

 

Jungwon exhaled, glancing down for a moment. “It was the first time since I got here that… things didn’t feel completely awful.”

 

His voice was quiet. Honest in a way that surprised even him.

 

Jay’s smile flickered—still there, but not as sharp now. “So the cigarette-sucking doll was your idea of comfort?”

 

“I didn’t say that,” Jungwon said quickly. 

 

Jay’s tail twitched. “ I am doing you a favor.”

 

They stood there for a moment, the silence between them soft and frayed. Jay looked at him, eyes glowing faintly violet in the shade. Jungwon didn’t return the look—his arms folded, shoulders slightly tense.

 

“I’m not a toy,” Jungwon muttered, more to himself than to Jay.

 

“No,” Jay said, more gently than before. “You’re the one everyone wants.”

 

Jungwon’s gaze snapped up.

 

Jay smiled again, this time with too many meanings in it.

 

“You should be careful who you get comfortable with, little blonde,” he added. “Even the pretty ones bite.”

 

Jungwon shifted, brushing invisible dust from the hem of his dress. The silence stretched—awkward now, too heavy for the moment. He didn’t want to talk about comfort or warmth. Especially not with Jay standing here, looking at him like he knew every unspoken thought.

 

Jay let out a soft breath, fingers twitching as he flicked a petal off his sleeve.

“So,” he said finally, voice light but sharp at the edges, “you really would’ve stayed with him, huh?”

 

Jungwon blinked. “What?”

 

“That thing,” Jay muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. “Riki. All cigarette smoke and glass eyes.”

 

“You don’t like him,” Jungwon observed, half surprised, half amused.

 

Jay’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I don’t like things that pretend to be harmless.”

 

“He never pretended that.”

 

“Exactly.” Jay stepped closer. “He’s too comfortable in the dark. Like he owns it.”

 

Jungwon tilted his head. “You sound jealous.”

 

Jay let out a quiet laugh—too sharp, too quick. “Jealous? Of him?”

 

Jay’s jaw flexed just once, then he turned slightly, gaze flicking toward the crooked woods. “You’re new. You don’t get it yet.”

 

“Then explain it.”

 

Jay looked back. The smirk had returned—but now it was brittle, almost bitter.

“He’s not normal, if that’s what you’re thinking. None of us are. But him?” His voice dipped. “He’ll drag you under with a smile and a compliment.”

 

Jungwon frowned faintly. “You’re doing that right now.”

 

“Difference is, I don’t lie about it.”

 

That silenced him.

 

Jay stepped close again, just enough for his tail to brush Jungwon’s calf as it flicked. His voice dropped low—softer, quieter, but edged with something serious now.

 

“Wonderland wants you broken, little blonde,” he said. “Some of us want to do it gently. Some want to watch. And some, like him…”

He paused. “They want to break you and keep you.”

 

Jungwon didn’t reply. Not because he agreed—but because he wasn’t sure he didn’t.

 

Jay took a step back then, regaining his lazy posture. “Anyway,” he said, voice light again, “you’re with me now.”

 

He grinned.

 

“Lucky you.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The world was still for a few seconds longer—just enough for Jungwon’s heartbeat to slow. Just enough for Jay’s words to echo again in the corners of his head.He hated how it made his skin prickle.

 

Jay turned, the motion effortless, almost feline, and began to walk—hands in the pockets of his black shorts, tail twitching behind him with casual rhythm.

 

Jungwon hesitated.

 

“Are you coming?” Jay called, not glancing back. “Or going to wait for someone else to snatch you again?”

 

Jungwon’s jaw tensed, but his feet moved. He followed.

 

They passed through the edge of the forest, where trees gave way to something stranger—a field split by spiraling stone paths, each twisting in a different direction. Tall grass brushed their ankles, but the ground beneath sparkled faintly like powdered glass. Everything shimmered, but not brightly. It felt… fractured. A place stitched together from things that didn’t match.

 

“What is this place?” Jungwon asked.

 

Jay didn’t answer right away. He bent low, plucked a glowing flower, sniffed it, and tossed it behind him.

 

“Where Wonderland comes to think,” he said at last. “Or forget. Or break things that don’t fit.”

 

Jungwon swallowed. “And you brought me here… why?”

 

Jay shrugged. “Because you don’t fit.”

 

He turned and looked at Jungwon then—really looked. And for once, there was nothing teasing in it.

 

“You act like you’re just passing through,” Jay said quietly. “But you’re already changing. They’re pulling you in.”

 

“I’m not like the rest of you.”

 

“No,” Jay murmured. “That’s why they want you.”

 

Jungwon’s hands clenched at his sides. He didn’t want to hear that again. Not from him.

 

Jay tilted his head. “You think Riki’s the only one watching you?”

 

Jungwon flinched.

 

“I saw the way you looked at him,” Jay added, smile curling again. “You don’t even realize it yet, do you?”

 

Jungwon stepped forward, close enough that their shoes touched. He looked up, eyes clear.

 

“You’re annoying,” he said softly.

 

Jay grinned, sharp and satisfied. “And you’re adorable when you’re lying.”

 

He turned again and kept walking, whistling low. “Come on, little blonde. Let’s see how deep this goes.”

 

Jungwon bit his petal like lips—then followed.

They walked.

 

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Winding through the fractured meadow, past crooked stone paths and flowers that hummed without sound. The sky above was pale lavender now, clouds dragging like smudged ink across it. Shadows didn’t fall where they were supposed to.

 

Jay led the way—languid, graceful, always just a few steps ahead.

 

Jungwon followed in silence, the hem of his dress brushing against the glimmering grass. His shoes tapped softly, his breath even. He was still trying to process Jay’s words, still pushing away the strange, unwanted warmth that had bloomed in Riki’s dim little house. Everything in this place unsettled him. Everything kept pulling him in.

 

And now… Jay was drifting further.

 

“Hey,” Jungwon called softly. “Wait.”

 

Jay didn’t turn.

 

The path ahead narrowed, curving sharply around a patch of thorned ivy. Jay slipped behind it, vanishing from sight for just a second.

 

Jungwon hurried forward—

 

And then the ground opened.

 

Right in front of him, the glittering path cracked wide, a gaping circle of darkness splitting through the earth like a silent scream. No sound, no warning—just sudden black.

 

And from it—he rose.

 

The boy with ears.

 

Black coat whipping in a breeze that didn’t exist. A golden pocket watch swinging from one hand. Dark hair, soft and neat against his forehead, and chocolate brown eyes that locked immediately on Jungwon’s.

 

The bunny boy.

 

Jungwon gasped, stepping back—but the boy caught his wrist, firm and sudden, expression unreadable.

 

“Wait—” Jungwon started, breath caught. “You—what—?!”

 

But the boy didn’t say anything. His grip tightened.

 

And without a word—he pulled.

 

They both tumbled down, into the dark.

 

A weightless plunge. Soundless. Endless.

 

Jungwon’s cry never even left his lips—only the rush of wind, the cold slap of air, and the strange feeling of being turned inside out as Wonderland swallowed them whole again.

 

Above them—on the surface—Jay stepped back onto the path.

 

He turned, expecting to see a golden head trailing behind.

 

But there was nothing.

 

No sound. No footsteps.

 

Just an empty shimmer in the grass. A jagged tear on the path that sealed itself shut like it had never opened.

 

Jay stared for one breathless second.

 

Then his eyes narrowed.

 

His jaw clenched hard, lips pressing into a thin line.

 

“…Damn bunny.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The fall ended like a breath. No impact. No crash.

 

Just the sudden, quiet settling of weight against earth.

 

Jungwon blinked—his hands curled tight in the soft folds of his dress, his breath trembling in his throat. The air smelled different here: soil and cinnamon. The light was low, golden, almost sleepy.

 

He sat up slowly, fingers curling into soft moss beneath him.

 

Above, the roots of a massive tree spiraled down like ribs from the ceiling—gnarled and thick, knotted into the very walls. The space was dim but warm, lit by small floating orbs of amber light. And just ahead: a door, carved cleanly into the base of the tree itself. Wooden, round, and small. The handle shimmered brass.

 

The boy with ears stood beside it, his long coat trailing behind him, eyes unreadable.

 

“Are you alright?” he asked softly.

 

Jungwon blinked, breath catching as he sat up. His palms pressed against soft moss, his baby blue dress pooling around him, still slightly ruffled from the fall. He looked up at the boy standing nearby—long black coat, soft hair, and… those unmistakable bunny ears.

 

“You—” Jungwon breathed, eyes wide. “You’re the boy I saw earlier. With the ears.”

 

The boy nodded once. “You followed me.”

 

“You ran,” Jungwon muttered, brushing his dress down. “And now…?”

 

“I took you,” the boy said simply. His voice was quiet, almost calming. “The cat is  trouble.”

 

Jungwon blinked. “You stole me?.”

 

“You weren't really a possession."

 

The boy tilted his head slightly, then stepped toward the tree. The door creaked open under his hand—revealing a space soft and small, tucked neatly inside the tree trunk.

 

The house was… cute.

 

Cushioned chairs. Low tables. A stone kettle already steaming. Shelves stacked with old clocks and half-finished tea cups. Books without titles. Blankets folded in corners. Everything earthy. Everything soft.

 

And warm.

 

Jungwon hesitated, stepping through the doorway carefully. His dress brushed the threshold. The moss gave way to smooth wooden floors.

 

“Is this… your home?”

 

The boy nodded, stepping in after him. “It’s quiet here.”

 

Jungwon looked around slowly. “It’s… nice.”

 

A pause.

 

“I’m Jungwon,” he said, unsure why it felt strange to say it out loud.

 

The boy blinked. Then nodded, as if he already knew. “Sunghoon.”

 

Jungwon turned to look at him. “Sunghoon?”

 

“That’s my name.”

 

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy this time. It was almost peaceful.

 

Jungwon glanced at the small mugs laid out by the kettle. “You drink tea here too?”

 

Sunghoon offered the faintest smile. “It helps with the clocks.”

 

Jungwon tilted his head. “What’s with the clocks?”

 

Sunghoon stepped aside, gesturing toward the back of the room. Jungwon followed his gaze—and saw them:

 

Dozens of small clocks ticking on the walls. Not synchronized. Not aligned. Each one beating its own rhythm.

 

“I try to fix them,” Sunghoon murmured, almost more to himself. “But Wonderland doesn’t like being timed.”

 

Jungwon stepped closer, the sound of the mismatched ticking strangely soothing. “Why bring me here?”

 

Sunghoon looked at him then. Really looked.

 

“You looked like you needed stillness.”

 

Jungwon’s lips parted slightly—but he didn’t reply. Not right away.

 

Because for the first time since this nightmare began, something about the silence wasn’t empty.

 

It felt like a pause. A breath.

 

A calm before something else.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Jungwon sat on a round cushion beside the low table, hands folded in his lap, the hem of his dress brushing the floor. He looked around—his eyes skimming across the shelves filled with mismatched books, small trinkets, and clocks that didn’t seem to agree with each other.

 

“So…” Jungwon finally said, voice low, still a little breathless from the fall. “You live inside a tree?”

 

Sunghoon, who had crouched beside the teapot, gave a small nod. “Trees listen. It’s easier to sleep when something older is watching.”

 

Jungwon blinked at that, but didn’t question it. “And you fix clocks?”

 

“I try,” Sunghoon replied. “They like to break themselves.”

 

“…I didn’t think clocks had feelings.”

 

“They don’t,” Sunghoon said, his expression faintly amused. “But Wonderland does. And it gets lonely.”

 

Jungwon leaned his elbow on the table without thinking, cheek resting against his knuckles. “Everyone here talks like that,” he mumbled. “Like the world’s got a secret it’s daring me to figure out.”

 

Sunghoon stood, brushing invisible dust off his sleeves. “Would you like something to eat?”

 

Jungwon perked slightly. “Yes, please.” Only if it means he would get some alone time.

 

With a nod, Sunghoon turned and disappeared through a curved door that led into the tiny adjoining kitchen. The scent of tea leaves and something warm drifted faintly into the air.

 

Jungwon let his shoulders relax.

 

This—this wasn’t so bad. It was weird, sure. But it was soft. Sunghoon didn’t talk too much. He didn’t stare too hard. He was the first person in this world who felt like…

 

Like he didn’t want something from him.

 

Then a click echoed through the room.

 

Jungwon sat up straight.

 

One of the clocks on the far wall—a large wooden one carved with vines and curling branches—had started to shake.

 

Its little door creaked open with a slow, mechanical pop.

 

Jungwon stared.

 

But instead of a bird emerging… it was a small wooden head.

 

It spun gently on a stick, whirring with strange gears. The eyes were carved into triangles. The grin was wide. Familiar.

 

“Jake?” Jungwon whispered.

 

The toy face chirped mechanically—not a sound, but a small squeaky breath. Then it tilted toward him.

 

Curious and cautious, Jungwon stood up and took a few slow steps toward the clock.

 

The wooden Jake-face blinked.

 

Jungwon’s brows drew together. “What… is that?”

 

He reached out—just a few fingers, just a light touch to the smooth, wooden cheek.

 

The moment his skin made contact—

 

The clock yawned open.

 

Not just the door—the entire front, splitting wide with a mechanical hiss, as if welcoming him.

 

And then—

 

He was pulled.

 

The room shattered around him like breaking glass, rushing with wind and the scent of spinning gears and sugar and something off. Time folded. Light bent.

 

Just seconds later, Sunghoon returned from the kitchen, a simple wooden tray in his hands. A pot of honey-sweet tea. A buttered biscuit. A pale green tart that smelled faintly of lavender.

 

He stepped through the doorway and started to speak, voice calm, as always.

 

“Here Jungwon, I—”

 

He stopped.

 

The cushion was empty.

 

The air buzzed with a faint static.

 

And near the far wall, the large wooden clock lay tipped sideways on the floor—its door hanging open, gears still twitching faintly, and a small carved toy face grinning from the splintered wood.

 

Jake’s face.

 

Sunghoon stared at it for a long moment.

 

Then sighed softly through his nose.

 

He stepped forward, set the tray neatly on the table, and knelt to pick up the broken pieces of the clock. His fingers moved delicately, precisely, as if he’d done this a dozen times before.

 

As he tucked the toy face aside, he murmured, more to himself than anything else:

 

“Of course it’d be him.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

When Jungwon opened his eyes… he was somewhere else.

 

The floor was soft like sponge cake. The walls were tilted. A dozen plush animals stared at him from crooked shelves. Balloons floated upside down. Teacups hung from the ceiling. A walking candle bra hummed. And at the far end—

 

A boy with bright blue hair, sitting in a hammock, blinking in surprise mid-bite of a cookie. Triangular orbs rotating, changing colors slightly.

 

“…Oh,” Jake said, smiling wide, cheeks full. “You came!”

 

Jake beamed, hopping off the hammock with the bounce of a kid too big for one. His blue hair fell perfectly messy into his soft eyes—those triangle-shaped orbs spinning faintly with excitement. “I was hoping you’d land here,” he grinned. “Sunghoon’s place is way too quiet.”

 

Jungwon let out a short breath, amused. “I thought it was kind of nice.”

 

Jake tilted his head. “Nice, sure. But it’s like sleeping inside a whisper.”

 

Jungwon smiled without meaning to.

 

He stood, brushing off the sugar-dust floor from his dress, and looked around. Everything in the house was softly strange—floating teacups, upside-down plants, plush animals with little stitched eyes that blinked just a second too late. Still… it was warm. Sweet. Like Jake.

 

“I like it here,” Jungwon said honestly. “It’s weird, but… kinda cute.”

 

Jake positively lit up. “Right?! Everyone says it’s too much, but I think too much is just enough.”

Jake had been holding his own half-eaten cookie in one hand then he let it go mid-sentence

Jungwon expected it to drop to the floor.

 

But it didn’t.

 

Instead, the cookie paused in midair, hovered for a second like it was thinking… then began to float across the room in lazy little spirals.

 

Jungwon’s eyes followed it, stunned, as it drifted toward a tall glass jar sitting on a high shelf. The label read, in curling gold ink: “Eaten Cookies.”

 

The cookie slipped itself neatly inside.

 

The jar’s lid twisted shut with a soft, smug click.

 

Jungwon blinked. Lips parting to say something but Jake cut him to it.

 

“Hey” He turned, digging into his pocket. “I made you something.”

 

“You what?”

 

Jake pulled out a misshapen sugar cookie, kind of star-shaped, sparkling faintly with pale blue dusting sugar. “It’s still warm! I burnt the first three—but I didn’t eat this one. Yet.”

 

He held it out proudly with both hands.

 

Jungwon laughed softly, his dimples showing without resistance as he reached for it. “Thanks,” he said. “That’s actually really sweet.”

 

Jake practically wagged. “You’re welcome, Wonnie.”

 

Jungwon blinked at the nickname but didn’t correct him.

 

He looked around again, still holding the cookie. “This place is really yours?”

 

Jake nodded, padding across the uneven floor to a stack of jellybean-colored pillows. “Yup! Built it myself. With… help. Sort of. Maybe. I don’t know. It kind of built itself once I moved in.”

 

“That makes no sense.”

 

Jake grinned. “Nothing does here. That’s half the fun.”

 

Jungwon bit into the cookie—crispy on one edge, warm and soft in the middle. He chewed, surprised. “This is actually good.”

 

Jake placed a hand to his chest, mock-offended. “Excuse me. I am an excellent baker when emotionally motivated.”

 

Jungwon laughed again, a little brighter this time. “So I’m your emotional motivation now?”

 

Jake’s cheeks turned a soft pink. “Well… maybe.”

 

Jungwon smiled down into the cookie, suddenly very aware of his dimples showing again.

Jake was still grinning when he grabbed Jungwon’s hand , his fingers warm and a little sticky with sugar. “C’mon,” he said. “You’ve gotta see the garden.”

 

Jungwon hesitated. “You have a garden?”

 

Jake winked. “Well… sort of. It exploded. But in a good way.”

 

He tugged him toward the side door, which opened with a creak and a puff of glittery dust. The moment Jungwon stepped outside, his breath caught.

 

The garden was madness.

 

The ground tilted unevenly, sloping sideways like a crumpled page. Enormous flowers bloomed out of teacups. Floating carrots drifted lazily through the air like balloons. Patches of grass changed color depending on where he stepped. And somewhere in the back, a tree wore ribbons like jewelry, glittering under a crooked sun that seemed far too close.

 

“This is…” Jungwon blinked. “Insane.”

 

Jake beamed beside him, letting go of his hand to hop across a stone path that bent in three directions at once. “It’s perfect, right? Things grow here whether they want to or not.”

 

Jungwon wandered after him, cautious but curious, watching a patch of blueberries spin in slow, clumsy circles in the air.

 

“It’s weird,” he said softly, “but I think I like it.”

 

Jake turned to grin at him again—and then it happened.

 

A hand closed around Jungwon’s wrist.

 

Not Jake’s.

 

A colder hand. Larger.

 

Jungwon gasped, stumbling slightly as a tall figure stepped into view from between two swaying stalks of sugar-roses.

 

Heeseung.

 

His red hair gleamed under the tilted sunlight, his coat flaring like wind had been waiting just for him. His eyes shimmered in a deep orange—anger, maybe. Or something heavier.

 

“You’ve been here long enough,” Heeseung said, voice smooth, but edged with steel.

 

Jungwon froze. “What—?”

 

Jake looked up, alarm flashing across his face. “Heeseung?”

 

Heeseung’s eyes didn’t leave Jungwon. His grip tightened—not enough to hurt, but enough to claim.

 

Then, without breaking eye contact with Jake, Heeseung snapped his fingers.

 

The sound rang out like a blade unsheathed.

 

Immediately, a gust of invisible force slammed Jake into his house.

 

Jake stumbled backward with a shout as the house groaned—shutters flapping, furniture rattling. One by one, enormous metal bars began to fold down from the sky, clamping over the walls like armor. Heavy locks snapped into place, dozens of them, sealing the house shut.

 

“Hey—wait—what are you doing?”Jungwon gasped

 

 Jake rushed to the window, palms slapping against the glass.

 

Heeseung didn’t look at him.

 

Jake’s eyes found Jungwon’s—wide, uncertain—through the glass. His playful sparkle was gone.

 

He looked… worried. His peculiar eyes meeting Jungwons.

 

But before Jungwon could move—before he could say anything—a final set of blinds snapped down over the window.

 

Jake disappeared.

 

Silence.

 

Jungwon turned, breath caught in his chest, but Heeseung had already started walking, dragging him gently but firmly along.

 

“You shouldn’t be around him too long,” Heeseung said—but this time his voice was sharp, heated, the words coming through clenched teeth.

 

Jungwon yanked his arm slightly, trying to pull free. “You locked him inside his own house.”

 

Heeseung’s eyes flicked down to him—still glowing, red streaks swimming through gold.

 

“He had no right to take you,” he snapped. “Didn’t even tell me he had you. Like you’re some toy to pass around.”

 

Jungwon stiffened. “He didn’t take me. I went. And I was fine.”

 

Heeseung let out a sharp breath, the muscle in his jaw twitching. “He’s not allowed to touch what’s mine without asking.”

 

Jungwon stopped walking.

 

His chest rose and fell.

 

“…I’m not yours,” he said, the words low, careful.

 

Heeseung turned then, fully, his gaze cutting like fire. “In this place,” he said, voice quiet now—but somehow more dangerous for it, “I’m the boss. Jake knows that. So does everyone else.”

 

Jungwon’s eyes searched his, angry and a little breathless. “Jakes a person too.”

 

“Shouldn't have done something to anger me then.” He said flatly. 

“You like him just because he smiles? Because he gave you a burnt cookie?”

 

Jungwon’s stomach twisted, the memory of Jake’s soft voice and spinning sugar garden still clinging to his clothes. “You didn’t have to trap him.”

 

Heeseung stepped in closer. Not touching. But close enough that the air between them felt too tight.

 

“I did,” he said simply. “Because he forgot who he’s answering to.”

 

Jungwon’s jaw clenched. His fists tightened in the folds of his dress.

 

“I’m not something to be passed around,” he said again, stronger this time.

 

Heeseung’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “No, you’re not.”

 

He turned, walking again—but slower now.

 

“Come on,” he said. “Let me show you how I take care of things.”

Jungwon swallowed hard.

 

The garden faded behind them, wild and shimmering, the soft sugar-mad air replaced by something cooler. The path ahead darkened.

 

He was being taken.

 

Again.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The path twisted sharply underfoot—mosaic tiles forming nonsensical patterns, each step clinking like glass against Jungwon’s shoes. Heeseung walked ahead with slow, deliberate steps, not bothering to glance back.

 

Jungwon followed.

 

Silent.

 

Furious.

 

His fists remained curled at his sides, pale against the soft blue of his dress. His cheeks were hot—not from shyness now, but from something bitter, simmering just beneath the surface. Jake had been smiling. Talking. Kind. And now he was trapped behind locks and steel, because Heeseung had decided it was wrong.

 

They reached a wide wooden door, twisted at the frame like it had been spun before settling in place. Heeseung pushed it open, and the house welcomed them in.

 

Jungwon stepped inside.

 

It was madness disguised as luxury.

 

Chandeliers made of teacups and knives hung from a swirling ceiling. Velvet chairs walked when unoccupied. A piano on the far end played itself, a low, melancholic tune that seemed to grow sharper the longer you listened. The walls were painted in deep blues and acid yellows, gold trim running along the floor like vines. And everywhere—absolutely everywhere—were mirrors and clocks. All clocks ticking at different speeds. Some backward. Some twitching. Mirrors flashing. Jungwon could see his reflection from every direction.

 

Jungwon didn’t say a word.

 

Heeseung didn’t force him to.

 

He gestured casually to a fainting couch in the middle of the room, one leg slightly shorter than the others. “Sit, if you want. Or stand. It makes no difference.”

 

Jungwon remained near the door.

 

Still.

 

A painting on the wall turned its head to glance at him, but he ignored it.

 

Heeseung poured himself tea from a floating pot. The cup landed softly in his hand. “You’re quiet.”

 

Jungwon’s lips pressed into a thin line.

 

Heeseung looked at him, head tilted lazily, like he was studying a very pretty problem. “You didn’t like what I did to him.”

 

Jungwon didn’t answer.

 

Heeseung took a sip.

 

“Too soft, that one,” he said. “Puppies are cute until they think they’re in charge.”

 

Jungwon’s fists clenched again. “You didn’t even let him explain.”

 

Heeseung’s smile curled at the edges. “What’s there to explain? He found something sweet, didn’t want to share.”

 

He stood, crossing the room slowly. He stopped just in front of Jungwon—but didn’t touch.

 

Just looked.

 

At the curve of his frown. The stiff line of his shoulders. The dimples that only showed when he was angry or embarrassed. The blue bow still clinging to his hair from earlier.

 

“You’ll cool off,” Heeseung murmured.

 

Jungwon turned his face away, jaw tight.

 

“Eventually,” Heeseung added, almost like a promise.

 

The teacup behind him clinked softly on its saucer.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

Heeseung sat cross-legged on a throne-like sofa, one leg draped casually over the other, the polished heel of his boot dangling just above the floor. He sipped from a china cup with a mismatched saucer, steam curling past his lips like a sigh.

 

Jungwon sat stiffly in a smaller chair a few feet away, back straight, hands in his lap. He didn’t drink the tea that had been placed in front of him. He hadn’t even touched it.

 

The ticking of mismatched clocks filled the room, each to its own rhythm, a fractured orchestra of time.

 

“So,” Heeseung said lazily, gaze flicking toward him. “Are you going to pout all day, or just until the sun sets counterclockwise?”

 

Jungwon didn’t reply.

 

Heeseung chuckled quietly, tapping the rim of his cup. “You should be grateful. Jake’s fun, sure, but he loses things. Drops them. Leaves them in corners. I don’t.”

 

Still nothing from Jungwon—only a narrowed stare toward the floor, jaw tight.

 

Another sip.

 

“You know,” Heeseung added, “you’re even prettier when you’re angry. All flushed and quiet—like a sugar-spun bomb.”

 

Jungwon shifted, shoulders curling in slightly, but still didn’t speak.

 

The silence stretched.

 

Then—

 

Crash.

 

The door shattered inward with an enormous, echoing crack, wood splintering like bones under pressure.

 

Jungwon flinched up from his seat, heart leaping into his throat.

 

Giant card-shaped guards folded themselves through the ruined frame like paper being crumpled in reverse. They were massive—seven feet tall at least, torsos stiff and marked with red hearts and numbers. Their faces were blank, featureless, eyes glowing red beneath the slits of their helmets.

 

Two of them stalked forward.

 

Jungwon stumbled back a step. “W–What—?”

 

Their hands covered in gloves were on him in seconds—cold, unnaturally smooth, fingers curling tightly around his arms.

 

“Let—Let go of me!” he cried, struggling, eyes wide. He looked over his shoulder, desperate. “Heeseung!”

 

Heeseung didn’t move.

 

Didn’t even glance up.

 

Still seated, legs crossed, cup perfectly balanced in his hand, he lifted it to his lips and sipped.

 

Like nothing was happening at all.

 

Only when the guards began dragging Jungwon toward the door, tearing what was left of it off its hinges to make space, did Heeseung speak.

 

His voice was calm. Casual.

 

“Tell him to fix my door.”

 

The guards didn’t respond.

 

Jungwon was hauled into the swirling light of outside, heels scraping against the shattered floor, dress fluttering around him as he twisted in their grip.

 

He twisted one last time—just enough to catch one final glimpse of Heeseung.

 

Unmoving.

 

Unbothered.

 

Still sipping his tea.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The world outside Heeseung’s house blurred past — twisting corridors, trees bent like question marks, and red-stained clouds drifting across a crooked sky. The guards didn’t speak. They marched in perfect, mechanical silence, dragging Jungwon between them as if he weighed nothing at all.

 

Their hands were cold and stiff where they gripped his arms. No matter how much he twisted, kicked, or demanded answers, they didn’t flinch.

 

He was dragged through towering heart-shaped gates that groaned open at the sight of him — metal curling like paper as if the castle itself recognized who they were bringing home.

 

And then—

 

The palace opened wide: a cathedral of red and black.

 

Crimson velvet spilled from the ceilings like blood, pooling into twisted banners and heavy curtains. Tall windows flickered with strange red light, as if stained glass had been replaced with moving fire. The marble floors were inlaid with heart patterns — thousands of them, pulsing slightly underfoot. And at the far end, up a staircase of glowing scarlet stone…

 

The throne.

 

Polished obsidian, delicate and terrifying. Draped in lace and trimmed with blades.

 

And sitting upon it—

 

Sunoo.

 

The Prince of Hearts.

 

Maroon hair brushed neatly across his forehead, a small black heart stamped just below one eye like a kiss. His white blouse glinted under the light, sleeves flaring, and black straps ran crisply from his chest to the edge of his shorts, disappearing into gleaming thigh-high boots. The crown tilted over one temple glittered like it was stitched with thorns.

 

His red eyes gleamed — pupils shaped like hearts, dilated as they settled on Jungwon.

 

The guards dropped him with a thud, and he landed hard on his knees, breath catching, dress pooling around him in soft folds. He winced but looked up.

 

Sunoo tilted his head.

 

Smirked.

 

“My, my, my,” he purred, voice silk-wrapped and sweet. “Look what the guards brought me.”

 

Jungwon’s hands curled into fists on the cold marble. His heart pounded, unsure if it was fear or fury or something caught between.

 

Sunoo rose from his throne slowly, boots clicking against the glassy steps as he descended.

 

“The pretty little thing who’s had everyone stirred up,” he mused, circling Jungwon now like a predator admiring his prize. “The doll, the bunny, the cat — even Heeseung couldn’t keep his hands off.”

 

He stopped just in front of Jungwon.

 

Bent slightly.

 

Red eyes locked onto blue.

 

“The golden boy,” Sunoo whispered, voice dropping into something molten. “Everyone wants it.”

 

Jungwon swallowed hard.

 

“I want it,” Sunoo added, softly but firmly.

 

And with a snap of his fingers, the guards seized Jungwon again, hauling him upright.

Jungwon didn’t get a chance to speak.

 

With a graceful flick of his wrist, Sunoo gave a silent command, and the guards pulled Jungwon from the throne room without another word. Their steps were smooth, practiced — this had clearly been planned.

 

Jungwon thrashed in their hold. “Let go—! I’m not—!”

 

They didn’t respond.

 

The palace halls blurred past in a stream of crimson and black. Everything here pulsed like it had a heartbeat — the curtains, the floor, even the golden chandeliers above them. Every window was stained in the shape of hearts. Even the air smelled sweet — too sweet, like candied fruit left to rot.

 

Finally, the guards stopped before a tall white door carved in ornate red lace.

 

One of them opened it.

 

The room inside was large enough to be a house. High ceilings dipped in pink and gold. The wallpaper shimmered with tiny embossed hearts, and a canopy bed the size of a garden sat in the center, draped in silky gauze. The entire floor was carpeted in velvet, scattered with heart-shaped cushions and gleaming rose-gold furniture. In one corner, a heart-shaped vanity gleamed beneath a chandelier shaped like a crown.

 

The guards brought Jungwon in, placed him gently — too gently — on the edge of the bed.

 

Sunoo stepped in after, slow, elegant.

 

With a wave of his hand, the guards bowed deeply, then turned in perfect rhythm and exited. The doors clicked shut behind them.

 

Jungwon sat still, breath caught in his throat.

 

Sunoo didn’t speak at first. He simply wandered over to the vanity and plucked a petal from a crystal rose in a glass vase, twirling it between two fingers.

 

“It’s a lovely room, isn’t it?” he said finally, voice light, like they were friends chatting over tea. “I had it prepared days ago. Just in case.”

 

Jungwon’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

 

Sunoo turned to face him. “Because I knew you’d end up here.”

 

Jungwon rose to his feet, barely keeping the tremble out of his voice. “You can’t keep me. Someone will come get me just like always”

 

Sunoo raised a delicate brow. “Oh, love.” He stepped closer. “I am The Prince of Hearts. No one would dare.”

 

Jungwon took a step back, bumping into the soft frame of the bed.

 

Sunoo reached up — not touching — just letting his fingers hover near Jungwon’s cheek, as if he were measuring distance. “Besides, everyone got their time with you. Now it's my turn”

 

Jungwon turned his head away, anger flooding his chest. “You sent guards to drag me here.”

 

“I gave them velvet gloves,” Sunoo replied smoothly. “I could’ve used chains.”

 

The silence between them grew heavier.

 

Then, as if bored, Sunoo turned and strolled back toward the vanity.

 

“You’ll stay here for now,” he said, inspecting his reflection. “There’s a closet filled with clothes. Dinner in an hour.”

 

“I’m not staying,” Jungwon snapped.

 

Sunoo’s eyes met his in the mirror. A slow smile curled on his lips.

 

“You already are.”

Jungwon didn’t leave.

 

Not because he didn’t want to — but because the door, when he tried it, didn’t budge. No knob. No lock. Just a solid slab of gilded heartwood that refused to open.

 

So he stayed.

 

Sunoo didn’t return for a while, though a servant— faceless, and shaped like a card — came in silently with dinner.

 

The table had already been prepared in one corner of the room, draped in white and pink satin. There were no chairs — just heart-shaped cushions scattered beneath the table, as if it were a dainty picnic meant for dolls. The plates gleamed, gold-rimmed and delicate, and everything smelled sweet.

 

Jungwon sat down slowly, still wary, but starving. He ate quietly, only taking what looked safe — fruit, soft bread, a clear soup that shimmered with tiny edible flowers.

 

By the time the meal was done, the servant returned with a small bow and a white box bound in a ribbon. It placed the box on the bed before vanishing without a word.

 

Jungwon unwrapped it carefully.

 

Inside was a dress.

 

Baby blue. Delicate. Frilled at the sleeves, embroidered in tiny white hearts.

 

It had soft lace along the hem, a row of tiny pearl buttons down the chest, and a matching satin bow meant to tie into his hair. Even the socks folded beneath it were carefully chosen — a ruffled trim, the fabric light and sheer, meant to slip down and bunch prettily at the ankle.

 

Jungwon didn’t want to wear it.

 

But he had no other clothes. His own were wrinkled and stained from the day. So he bathed in the gold and rose-colored bathroom, steam curling over marble and glass, then pulled on the dress with quiet fingers, tying the bow with trembling hands.

 

He caught his reflection in the mirror.

He looked—

 

…like something fragile. Something kept.

 

The way the dress framed his knees, how the neckline scooped just beneath his collarbone, the way the sleeves puffed gently at the shoulder—every inch of it had been made to make him look precious.

 

He slipped into the bed without a word.

 

The sheets were cold at first, smooth like silk, but they warmed quickly under his skin. He turned onto his side, clutching the edge of the blanket.

 

The chandelier dimmed above him on its own.

 

Outside the tall windows, the sky swirled with strange stars.

 

And in the corner of the room, a pair of faceless guards stood still and silent.

 

Jungwon closed his eyes and the world blurred.

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚

The first thing Jungwon noticed when he woke was that the guards were gone.

 

The second was the door — wide open, as if it had never been sealed shut.

 

Soft morning light poured in through the windows in stripes, illuminating the pale lace of his dress and catching faintly on the pretty bow still tied in his hair. Jungwon sat up slowly, breath uneven. He didn’t know what time meant here. He didn’t know how long he’d slept.

 

But he knew this felt… planned.

 

“Come,” said a voice at the door.

 

Sunoo stood there — regal, poised, smiling faintly. The same maroon hair, same flawless boots, same sharp eyes that didn’t quite match his soft tone.

 

Jungwon didn’t move.

 

Sunoo tilted his head. “You’ll want to see this.”

 

He didn’t grab him. Didn’t order the guards. He simply turned and walked ahead, and after a moment — just one — Jungwon got out of bed and followed.

The hall they entered this time was grander. Colder. Dark marble floors inlaid with deep red crystal. Tall windows glinting like swords. At the end stood a throne. And beside it, a second, slightly smaller seat — cushioned in white and blue velvet.

 

Sunoo sat in the tall one with ease, legs crossed. He gestured with a flick of his fingers, and Jungwon was gently led to the second.

 

Jungwon sat stiffly, heart drumming. “What is this?”

 

“Ceremony,” Sunoo replied smoothly. “Or maybe war. It depends how they take it.”

 

Before Jungwon could ask what he meant—

 

The doors opened.

 

Heavy. Thunderous.

 

And in they came.

 

All of them.

 

Jay, ears flicking, purple eyes unreadable.

Heeseung, sharp and slow-moving, red hair gleaming like fire.

Jake, blue hair disheveled, lips pulled tight, not smiling for once.

Sunghoon, pristine and composed, eyes flicking briefly to Jungwon and away.

Riki, last—jacket thrown open, white hair messy, cigarette balanced between his lips, but eyes fixed on Jungwon like he was something already paid for.

 

All of them stepped into the throne hall—and bowed.

 

In sync, practiced.

 

Voices low but clear, echoing through the grand chamber:

 

“To the Sun of the Empire, the Crimson Bloom, the Prince of Hearts—our leash and law.”

 

Jungwon blinked, stunned, head whipping toward Sunoo.

 

“What is going on?” he whispered.

 

Sunoo’s smile was gentle. Almost loving. “I wrote them a letter last night.”

 

At that, one of the guards stepped forward and presented a folded, ribbon-bound letter on a silver tray, bowing deeply. Jungwon looked down at the envelope, his name written in a flourish.

 

He opened it.

 

Inside, in rich, elegant black ink, was:

To my dearest rivals, playmates, and obsessive suitors,

 

As you all seem incapable of sharing toys without throwing knives or tantrums, I’ve taken the liberty of organizing a solution.

 

The golden thing you keep chasing — the one with the stormy eyes and dimpled frowns — will be shared. Properly. Fairly. Equally.

 

No stealing. No secrets. No sabotage. You will behave, or you will burn.

 

This is a truce. A treaty. A declaration. He stays under my roof until further notice. And I will know if you touch him without permission.

 

Play nice, or don’t play at all.

 

- Prince.Of.Hearts ♡

Jungwon’s fingers trembled slightly.Each line he read sank deeper than the last. His breath caught somewhere in his chest.

 

His cheeks flushed. His lashes fluttered.

 

Shared?

 

Treaty?

 

No touching without permission?

 

He blinked fast, the words tangling in his head like a knot he couldn’t undo.

 

He could feel them.

All of them.

Staring at him.

 

Riki, leaned slightly forward, cigarette now gone but something sharper smoldering in his stare — that terrifying, hungry sort of interest. The kind that devours, not admires. His jet-black eyes ringed in white didn’t flicker. They were locked on Jungwon’s knees, his dress, his bow. He licked his lower lip once, slowly, and didn’t hide it.

 

Jay, standing beside him, tilted his head — a playful half-smile pulling at his mouth. His eyes were soft lavender, but glinting, sharp with mischief. He gave a little wave when Jungwon’s gaze met his, like this was all just a fun game.

 

Sunghoon stood with his arms folded, posture impeccable. His chocolate-brown eyes scanned Jungwon clinically, precisely. Not with malice — with calculation. As if he were adding something up and waiting for a result. His bunny ears flicked once, subtly.

 

Jake looked the softest — wide triangular eyes already watering a little, his mouth turned down in a pout like someone had scolded him. His hair was tousled, like waves on his head. He mouthed a little “sorry” across the room, like he’d already decided this was his fault.

 

Heeseung… leaned back with one leg resting on behind the other. His red eyes shifted in hue — the telltale sign of mood, unreadable. A faint smirk touched his lips, but there was something darker behind it. Like he was already bored of being diplomatic.

 

And finally, Sunoo beside him, throne glittering beneath his perfect posture. He said nothing.

 

Only smirked.

 

Jungwon’s voice finally escaped him, small and tight. “What… is this?”

 

“A solution,” Sunoo said sweetly. “To your little popularity problem.”

 

Jungwon looked around again — six sets of eyes, six pulses of want, six promises threaded in silence.

 

His face burned.

 

His hands gripped the letter tighter.

 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to run or scream or… disappear.

 

But all he could manage was a whisper:

 

“…This is wrong.”

 

Sunoo chuckled beside him, resting his chin on one delicate hand.

 

“Oh, love,” he purred. 

 

“You don't get to choose.”

⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚