Detecting Falsehood

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Where are you?

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I wake up, jolting in surprise at the sound of a loud clank, a violent smack against the door. My eyes widen almost instantly, and I begin to back away from it, terrified by the noise. I simply don't know what's going on, I've only just stopped sleeping.

Why does this have to happen now?

"Please don't hurt me!" I say involuntarily, and I hear a gasp, a panicked shout, one that makes me wonder if I've heard that voice before somewhere. I don't know where, but I just know that this person is familiar. It's not 21, it's not the boss.

Who could it possibly be? Who would bother coming down here to have what sounds like a temper tantrum?

I feel like an idiot, but I genuinely don't understand what's going on. What am I even doing here now, anyway?

A few moments of tense silence later, a piece of folded paper slides under the door, and I frown in confusion, making my way over to it, only to pause when a shaky voice calls out. "Don't pick it up. Don't trust a word on that, it's all lies. It'll just give you false hope. When in reality there is none."

I pick it up anyway, despite the fact that my instincts are telling me that this stranger is being honest, scanning the contents of the paper, which claim that I should be able to leave here soon. It details the amount of time I've been here, the welfare of my family, everything. It's matter of fact, but the stranger on the other side of the door is telling the truth. This is a load of bullshit.

"What's going to happen to me?" I ask nervously. "If this is lies, then what do I expect?"

There's a sigh, and a sort of self deprecating chuckle. "I suppose I ought to explain. My father didn't want you to lose hope, he wanted to improve your life quality. But he's not going to set you free. We can't. You know who he is now, so we can't let you go. You'll go straight to the police and give him away. And he will go to prison in moments."

The more he speaks, the more familiar he seems, and my eyes widen as I realise that I do know this person. I do know the son of the gang leader.

"Who are you?"
"I'm his son."
"No, I mean, who are you really? Why did you tell your father that I was suitable? How do I know you?" I demand. "Don't think I won't see through your lies, because I will. What made you think it was a good idea to bring me here?"

"I didn't," he says flatly, and I roll my eyes, hiding the confusion I feel at the fact that he's telling the truth. Surely my instincts are wrong. They have to be.
"Bullshit. Who are you? Honestly?"

There's a sigh of irritation. "The members of this gang aren't allowed to know my real identity. What makes you special enough to know who I am, huh? What logic is that?"
"Well, I know you from somewhere. For whatever reason, you're the cause of my presence here, whether you wanted me to be here or not. If you're at fault, you should be honest with me. Even if you don't want to be. It's only fair."

I hear another sigh. "Fine. But I need to do a few things first. I'm going to walk in, keep your eyes to the wall. I'm wearing a mask anyway, but even so. There are certain things you must do. This is how this gang works. If you really want to know who I am, then you need to have a little patience," he says reluctantly, giving in surprisingly quickly.

"I accept those terms," I tell him calmly, firmly, and he moves, a sound that makes it seem like he's standing up. "I am facing the wall," I add on, spinning around so that I'm technically telling the truth.
"You better fucking be," he mumbles under his breath, and I hear the key turn in the lock.

For a moment, he passes right next to me, then he jumps onto the chair, and for a moment I hear the sound of a machine beeping. "What are you doing?"
"Hacking into the systems. This way, the same loop of you sitting here doing nothing will be recorded instead, and all the microphone will show to have recorded is you sitting here being quiet and I guess maybe breathing? It protects my identity and stops my father from finding out that you know who I am."

"How do you know how to do that?" I question. He chuckles a little, making a sound of triumph and jumping down again.
"Sorted," he mumbles to himself, before turning his attention to the question I've asked. "I have been trained for everything. Hacking, fighting close quarters, using a gun, leadership, you name it, someone's taught me how to do it. I could fix your car if you wanted, or tie any sort of knot."

"And a master liar too," I mumble under my breath, "nobody has a clue that most of the things you say are a lie."

He spins around, and I can physically feel the air move as he does so. "How can you-"
"It's obvious," I reply almost lazily, though my body is shaking ever so slightly at the sheer anger and shock in his voice, "nobody seems to be able to tell, which is a shame, but you have the persona of someone who expects to be believed at all times, even though you lie nearly every time you open your mouth."

I bite my lip, lowering my head slightly. "Can I turn around now?"
"I don't know," he says darkly, "you seem to understand a lot more than I expected. Are you sure you have no idea who I am?"
"I'm sure," I say confidently. "Now, tell me who you are."

He sighs, placing a hand on my shoulder and spinning me round, using the other hand to pull down his mask, and my eyes go wide with shock at the familiar face. "There's a reason I didn't want to visit you, Taehyung," he says gruffly, watching the amazement and horror in my eyes with caution. "Because I knew you'd recognise me. And you'd hate me for it."

"You fucking bastard!" I screech, slapping him violently across the face, and he gasps at the sudden contact, his hand flying up to hold his cheek, his face contorting in shocked pain. "You sold me out! And for what, huh? Did you ever even care about any of us? Huh? Do they know you've done this?"

He winces, shaking his head. "No, but there's a good reason-"
"Why, because they'd arrest you? Is that it?" I ask almost tauntingly, my voice deep and furious. He swallows, shaking his head again, and a glint of pure anger begins to show through in his dark eyes, something that makes me back up in shock.
"Don't fucking question things you couldn't possibly understand, Kim Taehyung. My reasons are my own. If you didn't overreact, maybe I would explain them to you."

The corner of his lip lifts in a snarl. "For now, you'll stay in the dark," he says, pulling the mask back up and taking a rope out of his jeans pocket, using it to bind my hands together and then taking a tiny handgun out of a small pocket in the belt at his waist. "And you will say nothing, or I will come over here and kill you myself. Understand?"

His voice is deep, dark, dangerous, and I'm terrified, because he's telling the complete truth. This is not a bluff. He's honestly going to shoot my brains out if I say anything to anyone about his real identity. "I-I understand," I stutter, hating the fear in my own voice. "I won't say anything, I swear."

He smirks slightly, but I can see the hint of relief in his eyes. "Good. Now, I'm gonna sort out the camera and microphone, then I'm going to leave. If I come back, that is up to me. If you don't get any more visitors today, that has nothing to do with me. That's just a coincidence. Got it?"
"Got it," I say shakily, stepping back and letting him sort it all out again. "I won't say a thing."

"Good," he says shortly, glancing at me once more and then leaving the room, door slamming shut, key turning painfully loudly in the lock.

And I'm left once more, alone, to ponder the individual that I know as Jeon Junghoon.

Because he is the one who sold me out. And he is the one with a story I couldn't hope to understand or guess at. He's the one that lied about his identity, the one that I can't possibly hope to understand. And now I find myself ensnared in a trap far too complex to untie, far too confusing to work out the solution for.

But there are some things I just have to learn, in order to survive.