It happened quickly and without warning. Not that someone can really expect much of a warning for something like that. He'd been walking home and then everything just went dark. He didn't see anything after that but he heard it all and he felt it all. Every cut of the knife into his flesh, every bite of the saw into bone. It was excruciating. Like nothing he'd ever felt before. And the sounds to accompany the pain, as well as the constant drip drip dripping of his blood on the floor. The sound of, first, one hand hitting the floor and then the other. Muffled swearing. Not accustomed to dismembering a body, perhaps. If they just gave it some time, they could try again. An infinite number of attempts with this one. Not that he wanted that. It was too much to deal with again and again.

At some point, Dongsoo has to have passed out. The sounds are gone, the pain is duller. He didn't get a look at the place where he'd been, but this place seems... different. A quick glance from side to side tells him that he's in a morgue. Had he been in a morgue previously? No, right? Had whoever taken him tried to kill him in a moment of panic, perhaps?

The dulled pain makes way for a new sensation. Fleshy tendrils extend from his wounds. His wrists reach out for his hands, pulling them back into place, stitching them back onto the ends of his arms, flesh rejoining with flesh. While those wounds heal so, too, do the rest on his body. Every scratch, every stab wound and everything in between. Everything heals perfectly, leaving no trace that there had ever been any wounds in the first place.

It's only once he's fully healed and he sits up that he realizes he's not the only one in this morgue. Not that he could have stopped anything that just happening but... oh.