His Chains, My Crown || Minsung

Minho stood above Jisung, his dark eyes gleaming with malicious amusement as he watched the celestial prince struggle. Each moment of pain, each labored breath that escaped Jisung’s lips, only fueled Minho’s twisted pleasure. The celestial energy that pulsed in Jisung’s veins was intoxicating, and Minho savored every second of his suffering.

But as Jisung writhed on the ground, bloodied and broken, something unexpected began to happen. Minho’s eyes narrowed, a barely noticeable flicker of something different, something softer, though still filled with the same dark intent, crossed his face.

Hidden beneath the overwhelming darkness of his powers, Minho focused, his fingers twitching slightly as he summoned a quiet, controlled force. It was subtle, almost undetectable, and to anyone watching, it would seem as though Jisung’s suffering was simply continuing uninterrupted. But in reality, Minho was using his abilities to slowly and secretly heal the wounds on Jisung’s wings.

Jisung couldn’t feel it. To him, it was all agony, the overwhelming weight of his body’s pain consuming him entirely. His wings still burned, and the blood still poured from the gashes Minho had inflicted on him earlier. Yet, beneath the agony, something was shifting.

As Minho continued to observe Jisung, he could feel the subtle changes. The bleeding slowed. The gashes on Jisung's wings, while still present, were beginning to close up at an impossibly slow rate. Minho didn’t heal him completely, he couldn’t let Jisung know what he was doing, after all, but he eased his pain just enough so that Jisung could continue to struggle, to fight, as he had so stubbornly tried to do.

His intentions were clear, Minho wasn’t doing this out of kindness or mercy. It was a cruel game. He wanted to see how long Jisung could hold on, how much more pain he could endure before he shattered completely. He wanted to watch Jisung rise again, only to see him fall, again and again. And each time, Minho would be there, silently pulling strings, orchestrating the suffering.

Jisung gasped for air, his wings twitching painfully, but there was a flicker of confusion that crossed his face as the pain seemed to ebb just slightly. He could still feel the searing heat of his injuries, but the overwhelming burn, the constant throb, was starting to fade, just a little.

'What...?'

But Jisung didn’t have time to question it. Minho was still watching him with that knowing, dangerous smile. And the pain, though less intense than before, was still there, still breaking him down. Still enough to make him writhe in agony.

Minho tilted his head slightly, eyes never leaving Jisung. “Struggling, are we?” he asked, his voice taunting. “You think you can endure this? You think you can resist me? You’re nothing but a prince who’s forgotten how to fight for yourself.”

Jisung’s chest heaved with each breath, the taste of blood in his mouth, his wings still trembling. He glared up at Minho, refusing to show weakness, even as his body screamed in protest. His hands curled into fists, his golden eyes filled with defiance, even as Minho’s power continued to toy with him.

“Shut up, Minho.” Jisung spat, though his voice was shaky. His mind was foggy, his head swimming, but he could still feel it, the subtle change in the air around him. Something was different.

Minho, sensing Jisung’s growing suspicion, chuckled softly. He allowed the silence to linger for a moment before speaking again, his tone dripping with amusement.

“You think this is over, Jisung?” Minho asked, almost lovingly. “It’s only just begun.”

With a flick of his wrist, Minho summoned another wave of dark energy, pushing Jisung back to the ground, making him crash into the dirt with brutal force. But Minho’s attention was now on the celestial prince’s weakening body, feeling the surge of energy that he had secretly healed flow back into Jisung, forcing him to regain enough strength to keep fighting.

Jisung’s body trembled, but his eyes remained locked on Minho. He was starting to piece it together. Minho wasn’t just torturing him, he was keeping him alive, keeping him on the edge of suffering, for some unknown reason. It didn’t make sense. Why? Why was Minho doing this?

“Why are you helping me?” Jisung managed to croak, his voice hoarse from the pain.

Minho tilted his head slightly, a smile playing at the edges of his lips. “Help? I’m not helping you. I’m letting you fight. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To prove you can overcome me?”

Jisung’s brow furrowed, confusion mixing with the fury in his eyes. “I never asked for this. I never wanted your games.” His voice shook with anger and pain. “I don’t want your help. I want to get out of here.”

Minho’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Oh, but you wanted freedom, Jisung. You wanted to come here. You wanted to play in my domain. You made a deal with me.” He smirked, his voice low and dangerous. “Now, you get to fight for it. You get to prove you’re worthy of it.”

Jisung was still struggling, but something inside of him stirred. His heart, his determination, he couldn’t let Minho win. He couldn’t let this sadistic demon break him. Even if Minho was healing him, even if Minho was manipulating him in ways he couldn’t fully comprehend, Jisung still had the strength to fight back.

He would not let Minho take away everything he believed in. Not his family, not his love, not his freedom.

With a growl of effort, Jisung pushed himself back up, pain still racking his body, but his wings flaring with newfound energy. The subtle healing Minho had secretly done had given him just enough strength to rise again.

And rise he did.

"Is that all you have, Minho?" Jisung challenged, his voice filled with defiance. “You think you can break me so easily?”

Minho’s smirk only grew, watching Jisung’s defiant stance with renewed interest. “We’ll see about that, Jisung. We’ll see just how much you can take. After all, you're here because of your own choices. And now you’ll pay the price for them.”

Jisung stood tall despite the pain, blood still trickling from his wings. But the fire in his eyes had not dimmed. Minho’s cruel game was far from over. But Jisung had a plan. And he would show the devil that his own suffering wouldn’t be the end. Not if Jisung had anything to say about it.

“Bring it on.” Jisung spat, his body aching, but his spirit undeterred.