They didn't ask him a single question.
Not one.
The moment Kim Jae-Hyun stepped into the station, the shift in the
air was immediate—subtle, but wrong.
The door of the holding cell slammed.
Jae-Hyun stumbled forward as a rough hand shoved him into the cramped space.
He spun around, his fingers gripping the bars before the officer could even turn the key.
"Questioning," Jae-Hyun hissed, "You said I was here for questioning. Why am I being locked up?"
The officer didn't even look at him. He just spat on the floor and turned away.
"I haven't been charged! I demand a lawyer!" Jae-Hyun shouted. His heart was hammering against his ribs—not for his own sake, but because every second he was behind these bars was a second Kendella was sitting in that mansion alone.
When the silence of the hallway was all that answered him, Jae-Hyun muttered under his breath, "씨발…"
(Fuck)
Hours passed.
Or maybe it was minutes.
Time didn't move properly in cages.
