Chapter Text
The white walls of the Hybe Mental Institution didn’t just reflect the light, they seemed to swallow it, leaving Sunoo in a sterile, bleached purgatory.
He hated the pills bitter little promises of stability that felt more like lead in his veins.
He hated the way the air smelled like industrial bleach and dying hope. Most of all, Sunoo hated being an omega, a biological death sentence in a world that expected him to be a soft, hollow vessel for someone else’s legacy.
He knew he wasn't right in the head.
That was something Sunoo knew pretty well his thoughts were like jagged glass, cutting him whenever he tried to move too quickly.
Sunoo could still feel the phantom ghost of ropes biting into his wrists, a memory that flickered behind his eyelids every time he closed them.
He remembered his father’s face, reddened with shame, and his mother’s weeping as they tied him down. He had thrashed, his voice cracking as he shrieked his refusal to marry . A good omega would have bowed their head. A sane omega would have accepted the General’s mark as a blessing. But Sunoo had fought until his throat bled, and so, the doctors were called.
The ward was a fancy prison, a gilded cage where the broken were tucked away so the world could keep spinning without their jagged edges. His cellmate, Jake, was a living ghost of what happened when an omega’s purpose was stripped away. Jake spent his hours cradling a plastic doll with a tenderness that made Sunoo’s chest ache. The doll didn't cry, it didn't breathe, but to Jake, it was the only thing that mattered.
"He’s sleeping now," Jake whispered one afternoon, his voice a brittle reed. He smoothed the doll's synthetic hair, his chocolate brown eyes vacant and staring at a point miles beyond the reinforced glass of their window. "You have to be quiet, Sunoo. If he wakes up and his father isn't here... he gets so restless."
Sunoo never mentioned Jake’s husband. He knew the man had stopped coming months ago, leaving Jake to rot in his grief, but the silence was the only mercy they had left. Jake’s once glimmering brunette hair was now dull, a stark contrast to the newest arrival in their ward, Jungwon.
Jungwon was a soft, bruising thing, eyes wide and filled with a hope that felt offensive in a place like this. Every day, Jungwon’s alpha, Jay, would visit. Sunoo watched from the shadows of the hallway as Jay held Jungwon’s hands, whispering promises over the meals Jungwon refused to eat.
"I’ll be back for you, Wonnie. Just a little longer," Jay would murmur, his voice thick with a devotion that felt like a fairytale Sunoo didn't believe in.
Jake would sit on the edge of his cot, watching them through the bars of his own mind, his knuckles white as he gripped his doll. The jealousy in the room was thick enough to choke on. Sunoo looked away, his gaze catching on the polished surface of the metal sink.
He quickly averted his eyes. He refused to look at his own reflection.
The rhythmic clatter of heavy boots against the linoleum acted as a countdown thankfully snapped Sunoo out of his grim trance. He didn't need to look up to know it was Nurse Yunjin. She moved with the rigid, impatient energy of an alpha who felt her talents were being wasted on a ward of broken things. She wasn't sweet, and she certainly wasn't kind, but Sunoo didn't harbor a deep grudge for her sharp tongue.
In a way, he understood. Being an alpha tasked with minding the failures of their society would make anyone bitter.
That still didn't mean he liked her.
"Sunoo. Get up. Now," Yunjin barked, her voice echoing off the sterile walls like a whip crack.
From the corner of the room, Jake let out a soft, melodic giggle that didn't quite reach his hollow eyes. He adjusted the doll in his arms, rocking it rhythmically. "What did you do this time, Sunoo? Did you bite someone again?"
Sunoo rolled his eyes, a dry, raspy laugh escaping his throat. "Maybe I just didn't say my prayers to the Great Alpha today, Jake."
Across the room, Jungwon whimpered, pulling his thin blanket up to his nose until only his wide, frightened eyes were visible. He looked like a cornered rabbit, trembling at the mere vibration of Yunjin's loud voice. Yunjin flicked a look of pure annoyance toward the huddled mass on Jungwon’s bed before turning her scowl back to Sunoo.
"I don't have all day for your dramatics. Move it," she snapped, her hand hovering near her belt.
Sunoo knew the whole staff committee hated him.
He made it his personal mission to ensure they did. If he was going to be a prisoner, he was going to be the most inconvenient one they had ever encountered. He had spat out pills, shredded bedsheets, and looked every doctor in the eye with a defiance that tasted like copper and pride.
Okay maybe not all the staff.
The heavy atmosphere shifted, however, when a different set of footsteps approached slower, more rhythmic, and lacking the aggressive edge of Yunjin's stride. It was Ni-ki.
Ni-ki was a young alpha who was assigned as Jake's nurse, barely more than a boy himself, but he carried a warmth that the institution tried its best to freeze out. He was the only one who looked at Sunoo and saw a person instead of a diagnosis. He stepped into the room with a lopsided grin, ignoring Yunjin’s stiff posture.
"Still causing trouble, Sunoo? You’re going to give the poor Yunjin a heart attack," Ni-ki teased, though his eyes were kind. He turned his attention to Jake, leaning down to be at eye level with the older omega. "And how is the most beautiful omega in the ward today? Is the little one behaving?"
Jake’s pale cheeks flushed a dusty rose, a rare spark of genuine life flickering in his dark eyes. He tucked a lock of dull hair behind his ear, preening under Ni-ki’s easy charm. Ni-ki treated Jake like he was still a person of worth, still young and desirable, rather than a tragedy to be managed.
Sunoo liked Ni-ki, mostly because the young alpha had a sharp intuition. Ni-ki didn't seem to care for Jungwon’s fragile. That silent dismissal made Sunoo trust Ni-ki more than anyone else in this hellhole.
"Go on, Sunoo," Ni-ki said softly, giving him a small, encouraging nod as Yunjin gestured towards the door. "I’ll look after Jake. Just try not to get put in solitary this time."
Sunoo stood, feeling the weight of the institution settle back onto his shoulders as he followed Yunjin out into the hallway, leaving the small comfort of his cell behind.
The hallway felt longer than usual, the fluorescent lights humming a low, buzzing note that vibrated in Sunoo’s skull. Every few paces, Yunjin’s keys would jingle against her hip a sharp, metallic reminder of who held the power. Sunoo trailed a step behind, his eyes fixed on the back of her head, his mind sharpening his tongue like a blade.
"You know, Yunjin, that scowl is really going to settle into permanent wrinkles," Sunoo remarked, his voice dripping with mock concern. "Though, I suppose being an alpha in a place like this is enough to age anyone. Does the smell of despair get in your hair, or is that just your perfume?"
Yunjin’s shoulders hiked toward her ears, her stride hitching for a fraction of a second. "Shut up, Sunoo. Just walk."
"Oh, did I hit a nerve? Or maybe you’re just hungry? I noticed you didn't finish your lunch. I’d offer you some of mine, but the pills they put in it make me a little… loopy. Wouldn't want you losing your edge," he continued, a sharp, jagged grin spreading across his face. He loved the way her fists clenched at her sides, the leather of her gloves creaking under the strain.
"One more word," she hissed through grit teeth, her pace quickening, "and I’ll make sure the orderly puts you in the padded room before your session even starts."
"Is that a promise? Because at least the walls there are soft. Unlike your charming personality," Sunoo fired back. He felt a sick sense of satisfaction when he saw the vein in her neck throb. Pushing people was the only way he knew how to feel alive anymore.
They reached the heavy, mahogany-faced door of the private consultation suite. Sunoo expected the familiar, dusty scent of Doctor Gyuvin’s office a man who smelled like old paper and peppermint, a man Sunoo had wrapped around his finger. Gyuvin was weak, easily flustered by Sunoo’s outbursts, and far too sympathetic to be effective. Sunoo had enjoyed the control he held in those sessions.
But as Yunjin stepped inside to arrange the files on the desk, the room felt different. It was colder, the air stripped of Gyuvin’s stagnant comfort.
"Sit," Yunjin commanded, pointing to the velvet chair that felt like a trap.
"Where's the old man?" Sunoo asked, leaning back and propping his feet up on the edge of the desk, waiting for the familiar stutter of Gyuvin’s greeting. "I have a whole list of new traumas I’ve invented just for him."
Yunjin didn't look up, her movements precise and clinical. "Doctor Gyuvin was deemed… too lenient. His progress reports were stagnant. He’s been reassigned to handle Jungwon’s case. Apparently, they think a softer touch is wasted on someone like you."
Sunoo’s feet dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. A surge of white hot irritation flared in his chest. "Reassigned? You can't just switch them out like lightbulbs. I liked breaking him. Who the hell am I supposed to talk to now?"
"Someone who won't let you run the show," Yunjin said, a small, cruel smile finally touching her lips. She backed toward the door, her eyes lingering on Sunoo’s seething expression. "Try to behave, Sunoo. Or don't. It won't make a difference to him."
Before Sunoo could lung forward, before he could grab the heavy glass paperweight on the desk to shatter the window or her head, Yunjin stepped out. The heavy door slammed shut with a definitive, mechanical thud, and the sound of the deadbolt sliding home echoed through the small room.
He was trapped.
"Open the door!" Sunoo roared, throwing his entire weight against the wood. "I'm not talking to anyone else"
He hammered his fists against the reinforced surface until his knuckles bruised and the skin split. He screamed, a raw, jagged sound that tore through his throat, calling her every name he knew, demanding to be let out. He thrashed against the door for minutes, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps, until his strength finally failed him.
Slumping down, Sunoo curled into a ball on the cold, polished floor. The silence of the room was heavy, pressing down on him like the weight of the entire institution. He was alone, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs, waiting for a stranger to walk through the door and try to fix a soul that Sunoo had worked so hard to keep broken.