Ryan tossed and turned in his bed, frustration growing as sleep continued to evade him. No matter how much he adjusted his position—lying on his back, curling onto his side, even pressing the cold pillow against his face—nothing worked. His body refused to rest, his mind plagued by an unshakable sense of unease.
Something was wrong.
He didn't know what, but the feeling gnawed at him like a persistent shadow lurking in the depths of his consciousness.
With a quiet sigh, Ryan sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. His gaze flickered toward the chair beside his bed, where his hoodie was draped carelessly. Without thinking, he grabbed it, pulling it over his head before slipping out of his room.
The corridors of the palace were eerily silent, the torches casting flickering shadows along the grand walls. He moved swiftly, careful not to alert any of the guards, and with practiced ease, he slipped past the main gates undetected.
The crisp night air greeted him as he pulled his hood lower, shielding his face from prying eyes. Wandering aimlessly, his feet carried him through the dimly lit streets, the weight of his unease growing heavier with each step.
Then, it hit him.
A searing pain shot through his skull, so sudden and unbearable that his knees buckled beneath him.
"Ugh—!" Ryan gasped, clutching his head as his vision blurred. His breath came in ragged, uneven pants, his chest tightening as if an invisible force was squeezing the air from his lungs.
What the hell…?
His crimson eyes flickered wildly, unfocused. People passing by gave him strange, wary glances, but no one stopped. They all walked faster, avoiding him like a plague. Not that he cared—he was too consumed by the overwhelming agony surging through his veins.
His sight was failing, turning hazy, his head pounding like war drums.
And then—
A vision.
Faint and fragmented at first. Dark. Suffocating. A blur of movement. Then—Jihoon.
His face pale, his body trembling, surrounded by looming shadows.
Ryan's breath hitched. His heart slammed against his ribs, and a voice—low, distorted, and utterly primal—echoed inside his head.
He's in danger.
Ryan's blood ran cold. His pupils dilated. His lips parted as the air was sucked from his lungs.
The next second, his body moved on instinct.
Before he could fully comprehend it, his feet were already running.
His breath came in shallow gasps, sweat beading along his forehead as his surroundings blurred past him. He didn't know where he was going—had no idea where Jihoon even was—but something deep within him knew.
Something was guiding him.
Save him.
My sanity—save it.
The voice inside him grew more insistent, darker, unhinged.
Ryan's legs burned, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. Every second wasted was another second too late.
Finally, his desperate sprint led him to a large, unfamiliar building. He skidded to a halt, panting heavily as he took in his surroundings.
"This is it…" he muttered under his breath, crimson eyes darting across the entrance. It was a penthouse—loud music, flashing lights, the muffled sound of drunken laughter spilling from within.
But the voice inside his head snarled—not here.
Ryan clenched his jaw, looking around frantically.
Then, he saw it.
A narrow, dark alley curling around the side of the building, shrouded in shadow.
His breath hitched.
There.
Without hesitation, he sprinted towards it, his heart pounding, his blood roaring.
He didn't know what he would find.
But he knew one thing for sure.
If anyone had hurt Jihoon… they would not live to see another day.
To be continued....