Disclaimer: Before we embark on this journey, I need to state that I do not own any of the MLSHR characters nor their 'memories'. This story is purely my own take on how things would go if they met again in the 21st century. I threw in some of my own characters too (feel free to imagine your own favorite actor/actress in their roles).

I also don't speak Korean, so I have to rely on existing translations and romanization for any occasional Korean words I used. Therefore, if something is incorrect, please don't hesitate to point it out. But please don't be too hard on me...this is my first time writing a fan fiction. Hope it's not too amateurish and you enjoy it anyway.

PROLOGUE

The first thing his mind registered was the smell! A sickly-sweet, somewhat metallic smell. The smell was so intense that he could almost taste it. But then his mind registered the fact that he was indeed tasting it—Blood! So much of it that it caused him to gag. He choked, and the attempt to draw a breath resulted in a violent coughing spell that sent sudden, searing torrents of pain through his chest. He couldn't manage to suppress an agonized groan as he fought for another breath.

"Yah! You awake now?"

The cruel voice asking the question was familiar, but he couldn't place it at the moment since it took too much effort just to keep breathing.

"Yah! Wake the fuck up!"

A harsh command this time, and a strong hand dug into his hair, brutally yanking his head up.

"Don't think you'll get off that easy! Wake the fuck up!"

A vicious punch impacted just below his left cheek bone, followed immediately by a second one to his jaw.

"I thought you're trying to wake him up...not put him back to sleep?"

The question was answered by harsh laughter from several voices, and a split-second later a gush of liquid burned like acid across his battered face.

The smell of cheap whiskey momentarily overpowered the smell of his blood, before more of it accumulated in his throat, resulting in more coughing and renewed pain.

When another gush of the whiskey hit his face, he squinted his eyes tightly shut, trying to prevent the liquid that was dripping off his forehead from seeping between his eyelids. He couldn't wipe his face because his hands were tied behind his back, the strong zip-ties cutting into his wrists. He was laying on his right side and his right arm was numb, except for the pain in the shoulder which he suspected was dislocated since even the slightest movement hurt like hell.

The hand released his hair and the side of his head slammed against the concrete floor beneath him—not hard enough to knock him out again, but painful enough to result in another groan, much to the amusement of his captors.

His captors... A conscious effort to collect his thoughts made him realize almost instantly that he had run head-on into their trap. He didn't even need to open his eyes to know now whom the familiar voice had belonged to.

"Where is she, Wook?" It hurt to talk and his question came from between tightly clenched teeth.

"Oh, so you are awake, after all?" The derisive reply was followed by more laughter. "I don't think you're in any position to make demands," Hwangbo Wook continued scathingly, squatting beside his captive. "But you know I'm always willing to negotiate."

He forced a humorless laugh. "I learned your idea of negotiating when you had my brother and his family killed, but if anything happens to Soo-yah, I..."

"You what?" Wook viciously cut him off. "What do you think you can do, huh? You're nothing! You're nobody! You couldn't protect her back then and you damn sure can't protect her now! You..."

"Shut up!" The two words were no more than a low hiss, but together with the deadly glare, when he opened his eyes at last, they were enough to actually stun Wook for a moment.

The effect didn't last long, however. Wook sneered contemptuously and taunted him with a pat on the cheek. He reveled in having his adversary defenseless and helplessly at his mercy.

"Ah, my friend, that fierce 'Wolf-dog' stare of yours stopped working on me a long time ago," Wook mocked, drawing more laughter from his five cronies who had been watching the scene with obvious delight.

He turned his head away and closed his eyes again. His mind was racing, trying to come up with some way out of this situation. Hwangbo Wook wasn't a fighter—at least not in the physical sense. He would fight with money and devious schemes instead. His five allies looked more like a bunch of paid-off street thugs than actual combatants so, despite being injured, the six-to-one odds was still something he knew he could handle. That is...IF he weren't tied up! As much as he hated having to admit it, even just to himself, Wook was right! There wasn't a damn thing he could do— at least not at the moment.