I woke up at 6:00am and took a good old cold shower, I mean it was the day I start being a therapist for one of the most insane people in all of South Korea. I put on my so called professional white coat with a polo shirt underneath and black jeans, tacky, I know. I drove to a big building with glass doors and walked in. A man with red hair and glasses was at the front desk. I walked up to him. “Hi, I’m Choi San.” I said. The man didn’t even look at me. “I.D.” He asked. I took out my wallet and showed my I.D to him, he handed me two pieces of paper. “That is all you need to know about your patient, go to the third floor take one left and there will be a guard tell him your name and he’ll give you a key and tell you directions down another hall to where you’ll meet your new patient.” He said, still typing at his computer. “And whatever you do, don’t answer any questions he asks you.” This time he looked me in the eye, a pang of worry in his voice. “Got it...” I said, walking down the hallway. As he said, there was a guard.
“Uh, Choi San.” I told the guard. “Go down the hall, take one right, on left, and use this key, the guard handed me a silver key, to unlock a grey door that says Jung, ignore all the other patients through the glass.” He said, I nodded and walked down the hall. There were dozens of people behind glass, most of them were laughing or staring at the wall, or staring at me. I made it to the end of the hall, as the guard said, door that said ‘Jung’. I took a deep breath and adjusted my coat. I unlocked the door and there he was, the famous Jung Wooyoung, he was in shackles, his arms chained up and his ankles chained to the wall as well. “Jung Wooyoung.” I said. I heard no response. I sat at the small chair in the corner. “What would you like to know?” I tired voice asked. “Don’t answer questions.” “Tell me about yourself.” I said. “There’s nothing I can tell you that you don’t already know.” He said. “I haven’t gone through the papers yet.” “Well then asking me is a waste of fucking time.” He said, scoffing.
San walked up to Wooyoung and bent down facing him. “Say that again.” He said low. “You’ve got some nerve, getting this close to a psychopath and all." Wooyoung said. "I've also got time, so we can do this all day, or you could answer my questions and not the papers." "Sounds surreal..." Wooyoung said. "So that's a yes?" "Only if you want it to be." Wooyoung said. San yanked his chin and made Wooyoung look into his eyes. "If what I wanted was to be, then maybe I'd put you to death, or worse, make you live my life." San said, letting go of Wooyoung's chin and sitting back in his chair. "You're life doesn't seem so bad, you're young, handsome, though I do admit, working at an asylum, not the most charming profession." "Killing people for fun, not exactly appealing to human kind." San retorted, making Wooyoung laugh. "I like you." Wooyoung said. "I like you too." San said. "Same time tomorrow then?" San asked. Wooyoung nodded his head slightly. "Great." San said.
"Hm, he's good lookin' lets see his tolerance and maybe have some fun. You could mess him up real good, Wooyoung, that's right." (Yeah his pov is short, he's insane, doesn't really have much on his mind.)
San drove home, urged to take a shower. He saw a car parked in his usual space. "Are you fucking kidding?!" He screamed in his head, He drove around the parking lot of the apartment building and finally found one close to his apartment. He unlocked his door and practically flew to the shower, stripping himself of his clothes. Once the warm water hit his pale skin he felt relaxed. He walked out of the shower with a towel around his waist. But he froze in his steps as his blood ran cold. A chair was in his living room containing a beaten up man with blood gushing out of his fore arm. "What the fuck!" San screamed, as he rushed to the bloody body. He checked for his pulse that was thankfully still beating. Once he got dressed he snatched the first aid from the cabinet along with some ice packs. "I need you to tell me what happened to you, and how the hell you got into my house." San said in a serious tone to the man sitting on his couch.
"I-I was told to tell a man named Choi San, t-that Jung Wooyoung was far from finished with h-him..." The man said. "That sick bastard." San said through gritted teeth. "Do you know who put you here." "Um, he was buff, and uh, he had brown hair, there isn't really a way I can describe him...oh! He had a name tag that said, 'Jongho'." The man said. San felt his heart drop down to his asshole. "Right, thank you for telling me, now would you like me to report to the police?" San asked, the man shook his head. "Then I believe it's best you get going, use this ointment daily, and don't get the bandages wet, I wish you the best, stay safe." San said, the man thanked San and walked out.
San snatched his phone and called his dearest younger cousin, Choi Jongho. "Heya Jongho, I need you at my house A.S.A,P, please." San said into the phone. "Why?" Jongho asked. "I need help moving some stuff." San said. "Fine, I'll be there in fifteen." Jongho said. "Great." San said, and with that, the phone call ended.