❞ super rich kids
with nothing
but loose ends ❞

"If you came here to make friends, then you will be thoroughly disappointed. Friends are a liability and only serve as an obstacle on the path to self-improvement, and your parents didn't waste all this money on you to go back home even more useless than when you arrived here. We strive for perfection and if you can't make the cut, then we won't feel bad weeding out the weaklings when you don't. But we'll make sure you do - it's guaranteed, after all."

That was what the founder of the Gyeongju Correctional Summer Camp herself told you and, well, everyone else when she stepped out from a balcony on the highest level of the facility when everyone was rounded up into their nice neat lines. She was dressed in all-white from head to toe and wore her hair in a regal updo that showed off her pale skin and sharp features. The aura that surrounded her suggested that she was indeed a powerful and influential figure in the facility, and the fact that she didn't even bother to speak to the masses at eye level made her seem all the more stuck-up and antagonistic.

It wasn't until her little PSA was over that the real fun began. The uniformed guards that stood in front of each line began to hand out schedules and dorm room numbers, all contained in a thick, laminated booklet (a lot like a passport). Yours had every single kind of identification that was related to you on it - including things that even you didn't know like your blood type, social security number, and a multitude of insurances you didn't know were plausible. There was also a barcode, which was to be used on the scanners for entering your room and any other recreational or educational area open to the students.

And speaking of dorm rooms, you are very uncomfortable in your own right now. Awkwardness stagnates the air in the room and tension hangs heavy as you and your roomate unpack your belongings. Your roommate is a pretty girl with short brown hair styled into a cute bob with choppy bangs that hang over her dark eyes. You learn that her name is Han Soha and she's a year younger than you at fourteen. And to no surprise, she's just as awkward as you - if not more - and her aloofness makes you feel insecure, as if she's silently judging you from afar.

You drop your phone onto the white comforter of your bed and sigh, relieved that it isn't sticking to your skin anymore. You will be forever thankful to Jimin because now you were able to use your phone, even though you technically weren't supposed to have it. Turns out they were confiscating phones and electronic devices at the entrance, and the outraged reaction from some ended up with them getting dragged away, probably never to be seen again. You were practically dripping with sweat when a guard had asked you if you had any electronics devices to hand over, and you almost collapsed when he told you step into a body scanner. Thank goodness you had decided wear a padded bra.

Shuddering, you imagined yourself getting dragged away like those boys, and your curiosity wanders to where they may have brought them to - though, you aren't quite sure you want to find out. However, you do want to see Jimin again, so maybe you might have to play detective to find any answers. You hope he isn't hurt or anything; you mean, how will you get your answers if he's become a cripple? From the way that guard had violently pulled at Jimin's arm, you wouldn't be surprised if he was in a cast the next time you see him.

Shaking those thoughts away, you fold your last t-shirt and neatly tuck it into its designated drawer before plopping down on your bed and occupying yourself with your phone. Soha finishes unpacking just a little while after you do, though most of her belongings just litter the floor haphazardly. She lays down on her bed with a loud huff and pulls her phone out from her pants pocket, instantly tapping away. The electronic clicks of her keyboard is the only sound that fills the silence, along with the occasional hum of the air conditioner kicking in. You glance at her once in a while, but her eyes seem to never leave her phone screen - not even when the huge metal wheel on the door begins to spin and the loud buzz of the scanner that pierces through it.

You quickly hide your phone beneath the sheets when the heavy door creaks inwards, the hinges squeaking with effort. A woman in uniform appears in the threshold, a hardened look on her face as she observes you and Soha, who has magically made her phone disappear in record time.

"Lunch time. Report to the canteen." The woman's clipped reply catches you off guard and you look to Soha, who seems unbothered and leisurely gets up to slip some shoes on. You follow her lead with a bit of hesitance, your muscles tense with discomfort as the guard's eyes scrutinize you with an unrelenting intensity. You shakily slide on some appropriate footwear and follow Soha out the door, the guard's gaze zeroed in on your form without a moment's wavering.

She leads the two of you out of your room, and you jump in fright when the woman's hand grasps your shoulder in an iron grip. Soha's eyelids droop with boredom as she completely disregards the grip the woman handles her with, while you almost have to suppress the urge to pull away and make a break for it.

You don't want to, but you can't help but notice how impeccably uniform everything is as you walk down the hallway. From the squeaky clean white marble of the floor, to the barren white walls lined with titanium, prison-like cell doors on each side, the feeling of confinement really beings to set in. 

Everything passes by in a blur due to the pace the woman is dragging you at, and you don't have much time to let things soak in. The corridor stretches quite a length before you reach the end, which leads the three of you to an exit and then outside to a covered bridge with rails and window panes on each side, giving you a view of the large campus. Your room was located on the third floor of the girls' dormitory, which were apparently nicer since the rooms were recently remodeled and had less wear than the rooms on the first and second floor.

At the end of the walkway, you can make out a sign above two double doors that says 'cafeteria' in large, blocky text. You already hear the loud chatter of the other kids even through the closed doors and you suddenly begin to feel sick. Your anxiety takes over and the lonely elementary student in you begins to surface from the dark depths of your memories; where will you sit? Who will you sit by? You weren't used to not being constantly swarmed by people who found you interesting or wanted something from you because you had money. Since everyone else here is probably richer than you, you can't help but feel...normal, in a strange way. Like you belonged, somehow.

It's a feeling you didn't seem to mind, though.

The guard pushes open one of the double doors to reveal a sight to behold. A huge lounge-like lunch room filled to the brim with teens of all ages, all talking loudly and enjoying their meticulously arranged lunches. For a moment, it looked like a regular school cafeteria, and you almost thought that you were back at your own high school and ready to chow down with your less than real friends. That is, until you spot a section of the lunchroom that had been isolated with glass panels and house those same boys who had been dragged away from earlier. It reminds you that this is no ordinary lunchroom and thinking so might get you in trouble; you are new here and this is unknown territory.

The boys seem to be having lunch, but no one is talking as far as you can tell - you can only imagine the weight of the tension in that room, each 'gang' member all harboring some kind of ill intention towards one another. In fact, each one of them seem to be brooding and glaring at each other, ready to go for each other's necks if not for the guards watching their every move.

Before you are able to see if Jimin is in there, your own hovering demon whisks you away and towards the daunting lunch line. Relief floods every inch of your body when the woman releases her hold on you and Soha - it almost feels like you can finally breathe normally. She gives you one last glare before leaving you and Soha to go stand by one of the exits, the shadow of her hat hiding her face from view.

You turn to Soha, ready to offer her your word of complaint about how rude the woman was, but she shuts you down before you are even able open your mouth. What she says next almost shocks you into another century - admittedly, not something that you wouldn't have minded at the moment.

"Listen, I know you're new here and all, but I'm not looking to be your friend. Especially after what happened in the parking lot," she pauses and leans in closer, furrowing her eyebrows as her brown eyes darken. "So do me a favor and act like we don't know each other, okay?"

You flinch back in shock, a hurt look flashing across your face. Soha returns to looking normal, the same deadpan expression on her face from before settling seamlessly over her features. To say the least, you are quite offended at her drastic change in attitude compared to the way she had acted in your shared dorm room. While she wasn't exactly friendly and talkative, she didn't act as cold and hateful as she had just now. You stand frozen for a second, mouth agape and ready to retaliate before you shake your head and turn around to close the gap with the person in front of you.

Despite what the younger girl had spat at you, you couldn't be surprised. It's not like you could blame her - what had happened in the parking lot was freaky, and you were the main attraction. It was fine for people to avoid you as if you had hands for ears—it's not like you were interested in talking to anyone anyways! You would be fine on your own and things will get better when you find Jimin. Right..?

You awkwardly shift your weight from side to side as you wait in line for your meal, Soha's words still ringing through your mind. The smell of the food wafts throughout the lunch room, filling the air with the pleasant aroma of cheap meats and sauces, which would have sounded appetizing any other day and in any other place. Right now though, you weren't really feeling up to eating anything.

Luckily, you didn't have to wait long until you reached the serving counter as the line had shuffled along rather quickly. You weren't particularity used to eating school lunch, so you grabbed a tray, some silverware, and a couple of empty bowls before setting it down on the metal surface of the counter and hoping it was good enough. The people serving the food were dressed in extremely pristine, white clothing with plastic gloves and hairnets for, what you presume, food safety regulations. You realize that you don't really get a choice in what you want to eat as you see the person in front of you get a hefty helping of some kind of chunky, brown sewage (which also could have been some sort of beef stew, but you honestly couldn't tell the difference).

Sliding your tray along, the bowls that sat on it were gradually filled with different dishes, all of which didn't look very edible in your opinion. It's almost worse than the food at your own school, and your school's food was pretty bad considering the amount of money getting poured into it. You suddenly crash into the person in front of you, not even noticing that they had come to a stop, and you quickly mutter an apology when you recover from the contact. Furrowing your eyebrows, you hear a loud, obnoxious laugh from somewhere further down the line, and you peek over the person's larger frame to see what the commotion is.

A girl at the front of the line giggles at something one of the food servers says, a flirtatious smile stretched across her face as she nods her head vigorously to something he's saying. Observing the server, you notice that he doesn't have a face mask on like some of the other workers and is particularly handsome from where you stand. He's tall with a strong stature, broad shoulders, and clear skin coupled with warm, brown eyes. He gently smiles at the girl as he sets a plate of tiramisu onto her tray and, if reality weren't plausible, you'd probably be able to see the hearts appear in her eyes.

"Hey, what's the hold up?!" Some kids from the back of the line begin to voice their complaints, their feet tapping impatiently against the ground as they glare at the pretty boy flirting from behind the counter. She whips her head around to shoot them a sharp glare, her eyes glinting dangerously, which instantly shuts them up as if she had some sort of superiority over them.

Eventually, after another few long moments, the girl and the food server wrap up their flirting session, and the line moves along normally once again. The person in front of you is grumbling incoherently beneath their breath, their shoulders trembling with what you felt was some sort of brewing madness. You lag behind a bit, somewhat cautious that even being too close might set them off.
Your plates continue to fill up with various half-edible looking dishes until you reach the end where dessert is being handed out. Sliding your tray along the last inches of metal, you reach for a plate of tiramisu. Except instead of making contact with the cool glass of the plate, your hand is engulfed by one much larger and warmer. You quickly retract your hand as if you had been burned, and look up to apologize to whoever's hand yours had touched.

And, of course, it's that handsome boy with the charming smile.

"Sorry but that one's been sitting out for a while. Take this one, dear," The pet name rolls smoothly, naturally, off his tongue, and you fight to keep the blush from arising. He bends over to slide another freshly made slice of tiramisu on your tray, shooting you a sly wink as he does so. You quietly thank him and quickly turn around to make your escape; away from him and the table of girls who glare at you hatefully from across the lunch room.

You look around for the nearest exit, hoping to find some sort of outside courtyard to eat in. Truthfully, you just wanted to get away from the bustle of people for a while, and it was the perfect time to be antisocial. You didn't want to be bothered at the moment and you were certain no one was planning on doing so based on what had happened in the parking lot and, more recently, with Soha. You firmly believe that you deserve some alone time - you won't be able to get that once you get back to your room, and you know it.

Your eagerly scouring eyes notice two large doors on the other side of the lunch room with a sign labeled 'courtyard' in an unmissable, clunky font. Feeling like you have hit the jackpot, you quickly begin to make your way over, making sure to stick to the walls to avoid any unnecessary staring. You feel as though every person you pass glances at you with an air of recognition before they begin to fiercely glare for a few seconds.

Hoping it's only your overactive imagination, you pick up the pace to a brisk walk before finally reaching your safe haven and pushing the doors open to reveal a large plot of grass dotted with clusters of trees.

On the right side, you are greeted with the sight of tables in the shade while on the left side is a multi-purpose ball court where a group of boys are playing a game of basketball. Slightly intrigued, you choose an empty table closest to the court to get a better view of the game while you uninterestedly pick and prod at your farmyard lunch.

You notice some of the boys have white bandanas tied around their necks. It's strange; you wonder why they aren't caged up with the other boys or being cautiously monitored like serial killers in padded rooms. Most of them seem to be a bit on the younger side, maybe around the ages of twelve or thirteen. You recognize a couple boys who are older, one with stark black hair and opaque blue ey—

CRASH!

As if in slow motion, you watch your whole lunch go flying halfway across the courtyard, chunks of beef stew and pickled radish soaring through the air like birds in the sky. Not long after, you see the carefully crafted plate of tiramisu topple over on its side, watching as its cold, gooey contents seep through the holes in the picnic table and pool conveniently into your lap like some sort of safety net. The basketball lands underneath the table, bounces from the impact for a few seconds before rolling down to bump into your foot, ceasing its motion.

...It's silent.

Everyone in the courtyard is staring at you. The group of girls who sit at another table stare pitifully, while another clique is holding in their mocking laughter. You want to scream. You want to just lie down in a ditch and just cry yourself a river. In fact, you can feel the breakdown welling up as you hang your head, catching sight of your food stained clothing through the unshed tears of shame. You don't even comprehend the shadow that engulfs your shuddering figure or the comforting touch that tenderly rubs your back as you hold in your angst.

"Shh, it's alright, *милая. It's okay, I'm here." The familiar voice draws your attention and you look up, only to come face to face with those same blue eyes that made everyone avoid you like the plague. You furrow your eyebrows and narrow your eyes resentfully, watching as he slowly sinks down on the bench next to you.
The boy observes your ruined clothing for a moment with a thoughtful look before rolling the basketball from under the table the chucking it to his boys who all stand lost in the middle of the court.

"What're you lookin' at?!" He barks aggressively out into the open air, pure dominance radiating off of him in what seems to be waves. Quickly, everyone returns to normalcy, the game back in action as if nothing had happened. You watch the boy grab your wrist and then pull you to your feet, gently wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

You snatch your wrist away and recoil from his touch, still training your narrowed eyes at him in caution. He merely chuckles at your actions.
"Come. Follow me." He gestures, a small smile adorning his lips which reveal a charming set of dimples carved in his amply chiseled cheeks. You feel conflicted, but all you want right now is to just get away. Internally shrugging, you decide that nothing can make this day worse than it already is, and you grab his outstretched hand to allow him to guide you to wherever.

You get a weird feeling about the boy. You get a weird feeling from the other kids, the guards, and practically everyone else in the facility, too. But you brush it all off, ignoring the deep sinking in your stomach that effectively riddles your mind with anxiety. Whatever was wrong with this place couldn't be kept secret forever. You assure yourself you'd find out sooner or later. Hopefully before it's too late.

But for now, you allow yourself to be dragged along, the food on your clothing now drying into a crust, and the tears in your eyes still threatening to spill.

You hope, with all your heart, that the three months go by very, very quickly.

☽

THOUGH, through your turmoil, you fail to spot Jimin's worried gaze, which watches with sorrow from the window in the max security lunch lounge as you are whisked away by the enemy. He knocks his knee with his leader's, grabbing his attention and jerking his head in the direction of the window.

The sight makes Jimin's superior's blood bubble with