Detecting Falsehood

(K)18(M)(T)(A)22(W)(A)

The authorities have found out that you're gone. They won't search for you. And now we're being forced to move.

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My body rolls off the bed, landing painfully on the floor with an unpleasant thud. I open my eyes instantly, confused, only to find myself staring directly into the apologetic eyes of a minion, who's holding the mattress up diagonally.

That must be how I got into this position.

I blink a few times, my eyes blurry with sleep and throbbing ever so slightly. "W-What?" I croak out, the remnants of the tears I've let out over the night having collected in my throat and made it sore.

I lift a hand to my face, rubbing at it a few times. "Get him up and awake, now," a voice orders sharply. "He needs to talk to us as soon as possible. There are things he needs to explain, things he needs to know."

I frown in confusion, as the minion takes my wrist and tugs me to my feet. The strength behind it causes me to stumble over my own feet, unbalanced, and the minion is forced to catch me before I fall back to the floor again. "W-What?" I repeat, baffled.

My eyes widen at the sight of the gang leader, who's watching me with suspicious eyes. He's wearing a suit, his hair is relatively neat, and even the wheelchair he's sitting in seems fancy. But I'm not fooled. There's a rim of red around his eyes, dark bags under those, and his hands are jittery, constantly moving.

I don't know what's going on right now, but it's certainly confusing.

He clears his throat, the noise gravelly, like stones dragging over each other and smacking into each other at the bottom of a river bed. The action is clearly painful, as he winces to himself, shaking his head to clear it.

"Can I help you, sir?" I ask cautiously. He simply shrugs.

Now that I know the cause of his physical disability, it seems different to me somehow. There's a shadow around him, one potentially created by the loss of one of his sons. Sure, it's not very obvious, but I still see it. Maybe I'm imagining it, but he seems to have some sort of regret or grief in his posture.

It could also be the loss of the woman who mothered his children. It could just be that. Jungkook made it very clear that his twin was the one who was appreciated. But maybe there's more to this family tragedy than I realised.

How did Jungkook's mother die?

Is she even dead?

"I don't yet know if you can help me, Taehyung," he starts, folding his hands over each other and making them still, with visible effort. "I might be projecting my past onto one of my hostages. Or I could have found the solution to all of the issues I've had over the years. Anything could happen today. It all depends on what you can tell me."

I frown, not getting his point. He knows that I'm friends with his son. He thinks that 'Junghoon' suggested me to him as a potential hostage. He ordered me to beaten one time. But that doesn't link to who I am as a person. Or any of my secrets.

But then again, he's telling the truth. He really does think that I'm related to his problems. Somehow, he's got some sort of belief that I'm involved. Even though that would be impossible. Everything I've been through has nothing to do with him.

He's a gang leader. Not someone who would want genetic modification to happen.

Or is he?

"It has come to my attention that you know more than you should," he says simply, making eye contact with me. "You seem to be more aware of your surroundings than I expected. I don't know what my gang members have told you, but you must realise that nobody here can be trusted."