7.

Chapter 7

Sunoo didn’t go straight to his office. He needed air, space—something to shake off the feeling that Riki had reached inside his head and rearranged everything without lifting a finger.

He walked down the dimly lit hallway, the overhead fluorescents humming softly. Blackthorn was never truly dark, not even at night. There were always lights—low, sterile, unwavering. A reminder that there was no real escape, only the illusion of one.

Sunoo exhaled sharply and pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temple. Riki had done what he always did: picked at the seams of his composure, looking for something underneath. And the worst part? He had found it.

A former patient.

Sunoo had buried that part of himself so deep he sometimes convinced himself it hadn’t happened. That he had never been fifteen years old, sitting in a cold metal chair while faceless doctors scribbled notes about him. That he had never woken up in the middle of the night to whispers he couldn’t place, wondering if they were in his head or seeping through the walls.

But Riki had known.

Not just suspected—known.

Sunoo stopped walking, pressing his back against the cool surface of the hallway wall. He couldn’t let this get to him. He was a doctor now, not some lost, frightened kid trapped in Blackthorn’s grip. He had earned his place here.

Hadn’t he?

A door creaked open down the hall, snapping him out of his thoughts. Sunoo straightened, schooling his expression as Dr. Choi stepped into view.

She was older, mid-fifties, with sharp eyes that missed nothing. She had been here for years, long before Sunoo had returned. Long enough to know things no one else did.

She looked at him for a long moment. “Late night?”

Sunoo forced a polite smile. “Riki keeps things interesting.”

Dr. Choi hummed, stepping closer. “I read your notes on him. You think he’s too calm.”

Sunoo nodded. “He doesn’t show the usual signs of instability. It’s like he wants to be here.”

Dr. Choi’s expression didn’t change. “That’s because he does.”

Sunoo frowned. “You know something.”

Dr. Choi sighed, glancing down the hallway as if making sure they were alone. “There was an attempt to move him out of Blackthorn. Not the first.”

Sunoo’s stomach tightened. “But he stayed.”

“Because he wanted to,” she said. “Every time someone tries to transfer him, something happens. Paperwork goes missing. Requests get lost. And somehow, the final decision always lands in Blackthorn’s favor.”

Sunoo’s pulse quickened. “You think he’s pulling strings from the inside?”

Dr. Choi’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I think someone is. And I think you should be careful.”

Sunoo had expected as much, but hearing it confirmed sent a shiver down his spine. He nodded once. “Understood.”

Dr. Choi studied him for a moment before speaking again. “And Sunoo—whatever he said to you tonight, don’t let him get in your head.”

Sunoo forced a small smile. “Too late for that.”

Dr. Choi didn’t return the smile. She just nodded once before walking away, her heels clicking against the linoleum.

Sunoo stayed where he was, staring at the spot where she had stood.

Riki wanted to be here. Someone wanted him to be here.

Why?

And more importantly—how much of this was Riki’s plan?

The next session felt different.

Riki was waiting for him, as always, sitting in the same chair, cuffs resting lightly against the metal table. But there was something sharper in his gaze today, something expectant.

Sunoo set his notebook down, keeping his movements controlled. “I assume you know why we’re here.”

Riki smirked. “I like to think of it as quality time.”

Sunoo didn’t react. “Let’s talk about your transfers.”

Riki’s expression didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. “Transfers?”

Sunoo leaned forward slightly. “Every time someone tries to move you, the request is denied. And not just denied—erased. Almost like it never existed.”

Riki hummed, tilting his head. “That does sound strange.”

“Strange,” Sunoo echoed. “But not surprising. Not to you.”

Riki smiled, slow and knowing. “You’ve been doing your homework.”

Sunoo ignored the way that smile made his skin prickle. “Who’s keeping you here?”

Riki’s fingers tapped absently against the table. “Maybe I just like it here.”

“You don’t belong here,” Sunoo said, voice firmer now. “Not in this part of the facility.”

Riki’s smirk widened. “And yet, here I am.”

Sunoo exhaled sharply. “Why?”

Riki leaned forward, his chains clinking softly. “You already know the answer, pretty doctor.”

Sunoo’s jaw tightened. “Stop playing games.”

Riki’s gaze was steady, almost amused. “You ever think that maybe we’re both in the same cage, Sunoo? That maybe I’m just the one who knows it?”

Sunoo stilled.

There it was again—that feeling. Like Riki was leading a conversation neither of them had agreed to have.

Sunoo exhaled slowly. “What do you want from me?”

Riki smiled. “Oh, Sunoo.” He tilted his head, watching him carefully. “You’re asking the wrong question.”

Sunoo clenched his fists under the table. “Then what’s the right one?”

Riki’s eyes gleamed.

“What do you want from me?”

The words settled heavy between them, pressing against something Sunoo wasn’t ready to name.

He didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because the truth was, he wasn’t sure he knew anymore.

______________

I love sunki brah