CHAPTER 7 – THE HELL MORGATHOR PRISON II.

2026. PRESENT. SEOUL.

HELL MORGATHOR PRISON.

☠️ SORA ☠️

“Wow… she’s here,” the angry man beside me from earlier says. “Such evil beauty. Have a one-night stand with me, and I’d consider taking your side.”

Could you men not sexualize everything?

“How about I pair my butler back home for a one-night stand with your father?” I retort. "Oh, I prefer shipping men together... I just think they deserve eachother."

“Bitch,” he barks.

I take my instinct seriously and sprint away from the crowd. They all pour after me, thousands of people chasing and screaming, “Get her!”

I'm officially traumatized.

Even the prisoners who were beating up other prisoners earlier left their victim to chase after me, the new fish. I sprint, jump, and gasp all at the same time. This has to be the longest run I’ve ever ran.

I reach a hall, and I’m surrounded. I look beside me, and there’s a fire extinguisher. I immediately plucked it out of its basket and pump. “Die, you turkeys! I’m not the cause of your misfortune, you criminals. Why take it out on me?” I yell.

Everyone in front of me turns white, barely able to see. I take that as an opportunity and rush past them, but I’m cornered again. I turn around to run backwards, but I’m centered. They grin at me, “You have nowhere to run.”

"Go on, cry to mama to save you," the Chinese woman from earlier says in satisfaction. "You dare to deceive me."

Without thinking twice, I curl my fist around the railings and throw myself downwards. It is when I am airborne that I figure out how stupid my decision is and how far and dangerous the distance is.

I fall, knees first to the ground, screaming as pain slaps me into next week. I can’t move, screaming even louder as I try to stand.

As fast as anyone could say, ‘good for you’, I am surrounded.

The man I spoke of his father, walks closer to me and drags me up by the hair. He's so petty, holding a grudge.

I cry in pain, “What did you say about my father?” he asks, twisting my hair even tighter.

“I’ll buy him for my butler, I can afford it.” I retort.

His face twists in extreme anger, “My Papa is not a vegetable you can just buy off the market.”

I nod, “I agree! He’s worth less than a vegetable. But probably worth a tissue, to wipe dirt with.”

“You slot!”

“Slot?” I interrupt. “That’s a name your father inherited from your grandpa, and now they are passing it down to you, then you’ll pass it down to your son.”

“Fucking bitch I will kill…”

I push my head back and headbutt him hard in the head before he gets to finish his sentence. Blood pours from his nose, tinting his mouth, but he doesn’t let me go. Tilting my head to the left, I bite his ear hard, dragging until I feel a bit of his flesh in my mouth. I spit it out.

“You’ll die first, you half-paralyzed imbecile, I hope you get fucked right through your butthole… with a stick.”

I limp away. Before the crowd catches up on what’s happening, I have already limped far enough to find a place to hide.

“Get her!” I hear the man who now has half left ear and a broken nose shout angrily. I see a storage room, and I quickly rush in to hide. Just as I’m about to lock the door, I get noticed by the crowd, and they sprint towards me.

Will I ever survive this place?

I secure the door with a mop, moving backwards before the crowd starts to bang on the door.

Breathing heavily, I turn around in fear, and I am so relieved when I realize I am surrounded by darkness.

"I just have to survive this prison," I say to myself.

Just then, someone put on a lighter. He has a smoke between his lips, and I trace every movement as he moves the lighter to his face to light the smoke. That is when I see who it is.

My biggest fear and worst encounter… A-jun.

A-Jun???

I'm close to tears as I revamp my early words. From 'I just have to survive this prison' to "I'm never surviving this prison."

He wasn’t in the penthouse because he was waiting for me in prison.

The only sound in the silent storage room is my rasping breath as I stare at the face I spent years trying to forget. He’s not in my dreams, not a hallucination, A-jun in flesh and blood.

That marks a thousand and one people against me, and I just went from doomed to finished.

Now, every expectation of surviving this prison has been reduced to zero.

I stand frozen as he inhale and blows the smoke into my face. Five years of healing vanish in a second, my brain unable to process the nightmare standing right in front of me.