Legend speaks of a man with crows in his hair and stitches in his lips who will teach you his greatest trades. Some call him a monster. Most call him the Needle-Mouthed Man. But only the shadows know his true name, and they call him Master.
As one...
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Every parent tells their children to run from their monsters.
But the only monsters Minseo knows are men, so he drops to one knee, right hand crossed over his chest. Pebbles of broken glass dig into his skin, red wine pooling over the ground in glassy facets, but Minseo does not flinch. He has been hurt too much already---hips shattered, wrists broken, face smashed until his nose snaps sideways in a permanent lean. Pain is nothing more than a distraction now, an escape from the people who inflict it.
"Master," he rasps.
The broken glass littering the ground evaporates instantly, all the blood rushing back into Minseo's veins in a crimson cyclone. Above his head, the rows of lamps flicker back on, the light piercing into Minseo's mind blindingly white now. He glances up. Their bulbs gleam whole, as if they were never touched in the first place.
Stefan cautiously peeks out from the counter, sighing once his gaze meets the ceiling. "Man, do you really have to change the lighting colour every single time you do that? It really messes up my decor. And I designed the whole place myself, so---"
His mouth instantly disappears off his face, leaving behind nothing but a swath of smooth, tanned skin. Deep in his throat, Stefan makes a strangled noise that could have been a scream---if he actually had a mouth left to scream with. Nikolas shoots his brother a concerned look, but doesn't make a move to help him.
"You designed the place yourself? No wonder it looks like a junkyard." The Needle-Mouthed Man's voice, deeper than Minseo imagines the ocean would be, echoes around them in a ebony hurricane, buoyed by nothing but the shadows. His lips twitch as he studies Minseo carefully, straining against their threaded prison. He reaches out, slender fingers gently running themselves over Minseo's matted head, and Minseo forces himself to resist the urge to dart away. "So you're the new boy."
Minseo tilts his head up, meeting the Needle-Mouthed Man's piercing gaze with his own dark eyes, even as it carves him up and leaves him to bleed. "Yes. I need your tutelage."
A loud, grating laugh reverberates through the heavy silence settling over the bar. "A boy who knows what he wants. I like that." A twinkle of mischief gleams in the Needle-Mouthed Man's appraising stare. He gestures to the untouched glass on the counter, lightless obsidian still brimming over its transparent lip. "It's a good thing you didn't drink that. You would have died."
Minseo shoots a heated glare in Stefan's direction, fingers itching to wrap themselves around his stocky throat. Choked noises still bubbling from his mouthless face, Stefan throws his hands up in surrender, shaking his head desperately.
"Don't blame him. He's just acting on my orders," the Needle-Mouthed Man says, palm flat on Minseo's head. Master and servant, the line between them set in stone. "You don't trust anyone. I like that." He lifts his hand off Minseo's scalp, a thin wisp of darkness curling itself around his fingers. "Don't trust the shadows. They'll kill you."
