Lin woke to silence.
It wasn't the silence is of peace. It was the heavy, suffocating silence that came after an explosion—when the world itself seemed stunned, as if sound had been stolen from the air. His eyes fluttered open, blurred vision adjusting to shifting shadows and the dull ache that wracked his body.
The ceiling above him in was cracked stone, fissures running like veins through it, dust drifting lazily from above. A faint red glow pulsed in the distance, weak and irregular, like a dying ember.
Lin tried to move. Pain is seared through his in chest and arms, making him groan. His chains twitched weakly around him, their once vicious movements sluggish, trembling as if they too were exhausted.
"—Lin? Lin, can you hear me?"
The voice pierced through the fog. Familiar. Desperate.
He turned his head and saw Min-joon is kneeling beside him, face pale, hair matted with blood and dust. His eyes brimmed with relief and fear all at once. "Hyung… you're alive."
