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Chapter Text

Crime rates have doubled in the past month in Seoul, specifically around the streets of Itaewon. Police attribute the influx to a possible new crime lord on the streets…

– An excerpt from The Korea Herald on November 12, 2016

A heist at the National Museum of Korea shocks the nation. Three guards found dead. The Bangasayusang, a masterpiece of Korean Art priced at 50 billion won has been stolen. The National Police Agency has yet to release a statement.

– An excerpt from The Korea Times on November 29, 2016

National Police Agency’s Officer Gi Ji-Hyuk vows to find the men responsible for the robbery and heist of the National Museum of Korea. The Bangasayusang, considered a national treasure, remains missing. So far, there are no leads.

– An excerpt from The JoongAng Ilbo on November 30, 2016

Photo of a young man with a tattoo on his lower abdomen spotted watching the recent crime scene unfold. His identity has not been traced, yet netizens believe that he may be the man responsible for the recent heists.

– An excerpt from the Korea Herald on December 2, 2016

According to the National Police Agency (NPA), a witness has stepped forward with a possible hint at Tattoo’s identity. For more news and updates on this story…

– An excerpt from The Korea Times on January 4, 2017

National Police Agency: “The witness that has allegedly discovered Tattoo’s identity bore false information.” The NPA request for cooperation with the public regarding the submission of information as false leads may hinder the ongoing investigation.

– An excerpt from JoongAng Ilbo on January 7, 2017

Tattoo’s co-conspirator was allegedly seen fleeing a recent crime scene. No information has been released about the boy’s identity so far…

– An excerpt from The Korea Herald on October 13, 2017

Today marks a special day for the National Police Agency. Crime lord Tattoo has reportedly left a lighter in a recent crime scene. Leading investigator and officer Gi Ji-hyuk states that no prints have been left behind. However, they are sure that the lighter is custom-made and will be able to trace its origin, and hopefully owner, in the following weeks…  

– An excerpt from JoongAng Ilbo on November 9, 2018

 BREAKING NEWS: A 2 billion won bounty has been placed for the capture and arrest of Tattoo. If you have any information about him, please refer to the list below for how you can help...

– An excerpt from JoongAng Ilbo on December 1, 2018

Chapter Text

NEVER ONCE HAS HE GOTTEN CAUGHT IN HIS LIFE.

Age nine. His first crime.

After fleeing from his latest orphanage, which unknowingly became his last, Jeongguk had stumbled onto the streets of Itaewon. The clock had just stricken, signalling midnight, thus prompting the flicker of red lights and flashy bar signs. Young, but not innocent, he placed his hands against a gritty lamppost, watching as a sleek black car slid along the street, coming to a halt beside one of the most prominent of the clubs. Men in uniformly dark suits poured out of the vehicle, moving their hands to tug on their collars in an oddly synchronized manner. Jeongguk wasn’t stupid. Those suits, they’d be off soon.

He scurried the other way, feeling particularly small as he crossed the street to be faced with more towering buildings, each lit brighter than the last. He averted his eyes from the signs. grimacing at how uncomfortable it made him feel. He’d only recently gone fully half-blind, and he knew it from the way that he truly couldn’t see anything with his right eye. His vision was limited for the rest of his life and he wasn’t going to risk losing the other.

Jeongguk stepped into a small alleyway, feeling at home with the cold, empty darkness. He figured that he could make his home there for the night, so he placed his backpack against the moss-covered stone wall adjacent to a rank-smelling set of trash bags. He wrinkled his nose. At that moment, he wished he could lose his sense of smell instead.

He fell asleep easy, to the backing track of distant sirens, men’s jeers and the occasional pitter-patter of water down the rooftops. He had woken up, however, to the sound of brazen footsteps against the ground, pounding and adamant. He blinked his eyes open, suddenly feeling uneasy. A man walked towards him. Jeongguk could smell the scent of gin from meters away. The young boy– he was terrified. The man kept coming closer and closer until it was no longer an option for him. He grabbed Jeongguk by the arm and twisted menacingly.

“W–what ‘re you doing here, all on ‘yer own?” The man slurred and tugged.

Jeongguk felt panic. He couldn’t see the man from the way he was standing, and he fought to get a good look at him. Jeongguk had to twist more before he found the diamond in the pile of shit this alleyway had to offer. The moonlight casted a sickly light onto a half-broken bottle of soju. Jeongguk writhed from the man’s grasp, grabbed the bottle and stabbed him, right in the jugular.

Nine year old Jeon Jeongguk, the half-blind orphanage runaway, had killed a man.

It marked the beginning of something new for him. Jeongguk was a smart kid. He’d wiped the prints away from the surface of the bottle. He’d grabbed his bag and ran as far as he could, until he couldn’t breathe and his vision got foggy. It was dawn by the time he’d settled somewhere else. An alleyway opposite to the previous one, all the way on the other side of Itaewon. That evening, he’d listened, far and wide and he found that he could hear the police sirens. One look at the newspaper stand the following day and he knew he was scot-free. The article warned midnight on goers to stay safe and to drink responsibly. Nowhere on the paper was there any evidence that he was the murderer.

So he turned to stealing after that. He got pretty damn good at what he did. He’d scaled walls as easy as a fucking spider. He’d knocked out men twice his size. By fourteen, he had enough money from doing dirty work, so he applied to a local high school. Nothing too fancy, but enough to hopefully get him into university one day. He sat down the entrance test, passed it with full marks, not because he actually knew the answers but because he had gotten so good at self-preservation and survival instinct that everything was a game of logic to him. He’d easily figured out that the test had an alternating answer pattern. Poor them , Jeongguk thought as he finished, handed it in.

It was the final month of his freshman year when he’d met senior Kim Seokjin, a broad-shouldered boy who wore his black leather shoes with extra polish. Jeongguk would’ve been intimidated by him if it weren’t for the fact that it clicked, all of a sudden, in his head. Kim Seokjin; he’d seen the boy before. He was working on the streets too. Not one of the lower jobs, but he was in high demand, Jeongguk remembered. So on that day, he sat in front of Seokjin in the library.

The boy fixed him with a still gaze, questioning. “Have we met before?”

“No. But I know who you are.” Jeongguk took a sip from his milk box.

Seokjin’s eyes shifted from the box, back to him. “I can’t say the same about you. Who do you think I am?”

“Hm. I don’t know if you’ve got one of those aliases. But I know that you deal with Daniel.”

Daniel had been one of the most prominently-known and adored crime lords back then. He’d hired Seokjin reccuringly for jobs, taking out high-profile scammers and corrupt politicians. Jeongguk knew this because he knew everything. He learned to asorb information from his environments better than a sponge would water.

The senior had looked around before he turned back to Jeongguk, who felt superiority swell in his chest. Seokjin had no clue. He had said, “Do you deal with Daniel?”

“No. I don’t deal with anybody. But I’m willing to let this slide if you help me out a bit.” There were a lot of things on his mind. College, mostly.

“Fine. Name it.” Seokjin leaned back, his interest clearly swept by his persistent attitude.

“A full ride to Seoul National University. A recommendation letter, even, maybe. I want out of this high school as soon as possible. Get me in a position where I can take the entrance exam. I’ll pass it, and we’re all good here.”

So at the age of sixteen, Jeongguk was a freshman at Seoul National University, passing the entrance exam with perfect marks. People labelled him as a genius. Jeongguk was nowhere near genius. He was all tact. He and Seokjin remained friends. Or acquaintances. Or just people who knew each other– Jeongguk didn’t know. He didn’t care about the older boy anyway. He took university seriously on his first year, studying political sciences. On the second year, he was recommended for law school after a professor had been utterly struck by a paper he'd written.

Halfway through the school year, he’d decided to get a tattoo. A large dragon curling down his shoulder, down his back and ending at his hip bone. He mostly got it because he wanted to feel any sort of pain, to see if he was still human. He’d realized at this point, that after all the crimes, all the terrible, terrible things he’d done, he’d felt strangely numb to everything. As the tattoo artist grazed down his back with the pen, Jeongguk’s suspicions were just about right. He felt nothing.

At the age of seventeen, he’d grown in popularity in the bounds of Itaewon. He always had people doing this and that for him. If somebody wanted to deal with him, he’d send a poor boy who he’d pay money to later on for his work. And if his messengers even so much as thought about revealing who he was, or how he looked like, Jeongguk found them before they could even complete that thought. And he wouldn’t hesitate to slit their throats.

He was generous when he wanted to be. If you crossed him, he’d end you.

His first personal contact with anybody, really, was with Park Jimin. He’d been sitting alone in one of the bars, listening into the bar talk. The ongoing feuds between other crime lords. Drug dealers. Smugglers– he sat there like the wallflower they all assumed him to be. Jeongguk watched as Park Jimin, the lithe-figured boy, asked for a job in the backrooms. He’d never heard of anybody willing to work in the backrooms voluntarily, much less a place as low as this. Jeongguk didn’t have to look at Jimin twice to make the assumption that he was too good for this place. So when the club owner was busy, Jeongguk approached him.

“I don’t work here,” Jimin had said immediately, casting him no more than a glance before turning away.

“Yet,” Jeongguk responded.

“Fuck off, dude.”

“I’ll buy you an apartment. I pay well. Just don’t work here.” There it was. Jeongguk could see a ticket sticking out from the back of his bag with a string tied around it. It’s a ticket to one of those dying acrobat acts. His mind flew back to what he’d heard, just in the previous week. Somebody had burned their troupe tent down.

Jimin looked at him incredulously. “I’m not a cheap whore you can buy and pamper,” he hissed. He must have been so offended. He shoved Jeongguk. “Fuck off.”

“I don’t want to have sex with you. I want to give you a job,” Jeongguk responded calmly.

The boy grit his teeth, contemplating. But Jeongguk knew that he had no way out. It was either the backrooms or his offer. “What job?”

“Be my bodyguard.”

Truth is, and was, Jeongguk didn’t need a bodyguard at all. But he wanted one, just for the sake of giving Jimin the money he needed when he needed it. And because if he had somebody as ballsy as Jimin on his side, it wouldn’t hurt.

And it all did pay off.

Never once has he gotten caught in his life.

Up until now.

Jeongguk sifts through the newspapers languidly. All of the police officers that’ve been reeled in by the news companies to vow their lives to finding out the identity of Tattoo , the name they’d given to him after a little shirt lift incident during one of his many heists. He picks up his phone, one of his burners, and dials for Jimin– he has the boy’s number memorized to the dot. He picks up after the third ring like he always does.

“Hello?”

“I need something done,” Jeongguk states, flinging the whole pile of newspapers into the fireplace in front of his sad leather couch.

“Do it yourself,” Jimin hums from across the line.

“It’s not a hassle. I want you to pass a message along. To Seokjin. Thirteenth street, 2nd house from the convenience store, just to the left. I want the man dead.”

There’s shuffling on the other end. Then Jimin’s voice sounds much closer. “First of all, why do you need me to ask Seokjin. Second, who are you targeting?”

“You act as if I don’t know you’re sucking Seokjin off,” Jeongguk scoffs. “It’s the person who customized the lighter found at the heist. The one I left behind. They’re going to trace it, and he’ll spill. I want him gone.”
“Why don’t you send me? I’m bored.”

“I don’t send you, because if something goes wrong, I don’t have a backup Park Jimin.”

“It’s like you actually care about me.”

Jeongguk throws on a coat. “Get it done. Either you or Seokjin, I don’t care. Get it done.”

“Okay, Tattoo. ”

Jeongguk’s walking down the street that same day, when he hears a brief set of footsteps from his right. He can’t see who it is– his cursed blind eye won’t let him, but he knows it’s Jimin. “What did I tell you about sneaking up on that side?” He calls over his shoulder. He’ll never let Jimin know, but he feels so damn uncomfortable whenever Jimin does it. Jimin’s the only one who knows his biggest fatal flaw and it makes his skin crawl at the thought of Jimin one day stabbing him in the back. He’s thought about it so many times that he’s ready, but he isn’t sure if he likes entertaining the idea at all.

“Sorry.” Jimin moves to his other side. The strange, tingling sensation of unease dissipates from the small of his stomach.

“Did you do what I asked?” Jeongguk has no time for apologies, or conversation, or anything.

“Seokjin expects a nice wire transfer tonight.”

“Can’t I just send you to him?”

“Uh. No. I don’t like Seokjin.” Jimin peers over at him. Jeongguk glances. He looks worried.

“Please wipe that look off your face. I didn’t hire you to be my mother,” he mutters.

Jimin huffs out. “You actually hired me to be your bodyguard. I’m worried. Not about you, but about the whole situation. It’s basically a nationwide manhunt for you. Aren’t you worried?”

“Not as much as I should be,” Jeongguk responds. He spots the building of his interest quickly. He stops in the middle of the stone-stepped street, Jimin halting too. He glances the building up and down. There’s a fire escape down the left. A broken door to the fourth floor, which means that if they needed a way out, they’d have to sprint from all the way on the seventh. The way in, Jeongguk thinks, is easy. The front door is guarded by a bearded man, weighing on the heavier side. He’s half-asleep now. He probably has children at home waiting for him to reap in the petty earnings.

This building is important to him. Jeongguk knows that at the second-to-the-highest floor, one of the more underground crime lords is operational. Min Yoongi. He doesn’t bother censoring his name. His business is so deeply embedded into bedrock that cops probably don’t even have a single record of him. Unlike Jeongguk, who likes to leave a bit of a wreckage left and right.

“Ally or enemy?” Jimin questions,

“I don’t know yet. Min Yoongi. You hear anything about him?”

“Oh. Yeah, he’s trying to get his claws on the more cyber side of things now. Less prints, he says,” Jimin remarks, tipping his head to the side. “Why? Do you need him for something?”

“Not yet. But if this whole thing blows me over, I’ll need all the help I can get.”

“Min Yoongi’s hot,” Jimin muses. When Jeongguk looks at him, he sees Jimin’s eyes. They’re on the building, scanning every surface, every ledge, every crack in the concrete. Jimin has a lot of strengths, like aerobics and gymnastics, but neither can compare to how flawlessly he can scale a vertical wall. Jeongguk has some experience himself from when he was younger, but he can’t do it as well as Jimin does.

Briefly, Jeongguk’s eyes dart to the older boy’s lips, which are quirked just enough for him to know that Jimin’s teasing with his comment. It’s always been in his nature to be feisty, flirty. Jeongguk doesn’t like these thoughts. He doesn’t like looking at Jimin and he never does for too long, knowing that something menacing is bound to stir in the depths of his heart. Jimin’s allure is like the ocean. A look too long and you don’t realize how far deep into it you re until you’re drowning.

Jeongguk doesn’t want to drown.

He looks away, “We have a few more places to look at. Let’s go.”

Jeongguk’s fine when Jimin walks or stays to his right side. It’s uncomfortable and he doesn’t like it when Jimin sneaks up on him from that side, but it’s so much better than leaving his blind spot unfilled. Unknowingly, Jimin’s become a part of him. A crutch, of some sort, helping him navigate without losing balance. He takes caution in the fact that he’s beginning to rely on Jimin a bit more than he likes, but at the same time, he has to give the older boy the benefit of the doubt. Jeongguk’s been such an asshole to him for a while now, it’s surprising, actually, how Jimin hasn’t taken advantage of his disability and stabbed him in the back yet.

They walk together down the road in silence. It goes on for half an hour, Jeongguk leading Jimin blindly down the lanes, down the cobblestone paths and stretches. It’s when they make another turn, when Jimin breaks. “I don’t get why you don’t invest in a car.”
Jeongguk has enough money to buy hundreds of cars. “Are you tired?” He asks, already knowing the answer.

“No.”

“Then stop complaining. We’re almost there.” Jeongguk steps ahead. Undoubtedly, Jimin follows.

It takes Jimin a few beats to realize where they are. Right after they come to a stop in front of the house. “Isn’t this… Uh, Taehyung. Kim Taehyung’s house?”

Jeongguk nods. “Yeah.”

“Is this because of the rumors? That Jung’s going for him?”

Jeongguk takes out a box from his back pocket. It’s one of those unbelievably expensive rings you get at those high-end shops. Taehyung, Jeongguk hears, is a man of luxury, so if he’s going to weasel his way into the boy’s mind, he’s going to have to dangle the biggest stone in front of him.

Jimin grabs his hand, or at least, attempts to. Jeongguk moves his arm back. Jimin grabs his hand again, this time, successfully. Jeongguk cringes at the contact– he hates physical contact. He hates it so much that he releases the box and Jimin opens it. “No. You’re not giving him a fucking expensive ring to coerce him.”

“Please don’t tell me you’ve had some moral awakening. You’ve never had qualms about me bribing people.”

“With money, yeah. This is a fucking engagement ring , Jeongguk.”

“Do I look like I know what the fuck an engagement ring looks like?” He’s still reeling in from the physical contact, but Jeongguk manages to wring it from Jimin’s grasp.

“You have an IQ of what? 162–”

“165.”

Jimin shoots him a sharp look. “165. You should know this shit. This is an expensive engagement ring. Logically, you give it to somebody you want to get engaged with. Not somebody you want to use for your agenda.”

Jeongguk holds the box in his hands, sighing. Jimin’s always been a hundred times more emotionally and empathetically wired between them. He knows Jimin has enough fire in him to sabotage this, so he tucks it away into the depths of his coat pocket and relents. “If Taehyung refuses to speak to me, it’s on you.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything.

Kim Taehyung’s house is well lived-in. It reeks of warmth and homeliness. Jeongguk tries not to shrink himself in to avoid touching anything. He stands up straight and tall as he waits in the corridor for the onslaught of helpers to ask Taehyung if they can speak to him. Jimin stands beside him, staring at the walls, etched with painted photos of Taehyung and his family. He’s rich. He’s one of those socialites, and from all the bar talk going around, Jeongguk knows that he isn’t ashamed of his status.

After ten minutes, one of the men motion for them. They follow the man all the way to a pair of brazen wooden doors. Jeongguk steps inside first.

At the peak of the high-stepped ground is Taehyung, who’s standing, back turned to them. It takes a brief second before he turns around. He’s holding a purebred dog in his arms. Jeongguk can tell.

“Sol?” He asks, eyeing the puppy.

Taehyung smiles brightly. “Are you one of his customers?”

“No. I’m just… Present in the community.”

“Uh-huh. So the rumors are true, Jeon Jeongguk. Or, Tattoo . You’re much younger. And much more attractive than I expected.” He walks down the steps, releasing his dog at the bottom of the higher ground. Jeongguk’s good at keeping a poker face but he wonders how Taehyung could’ve came to that conclusion. As if reading his mind, the boy answers, “Jung. He may have spilled. Just a bit.”

Jung. Jung Hoseok. Of course that fucking sap would leak his identity.

Jeongguk purses his lips, glancing far to the right. Jimin’s playing with the dog, knelt on the ground. “Well, you probably know what kind of mess I’m in right now–”

“You want to play nice with me so that you get both Jung and Yoongi on your side because you know everyone is on a manhunt for that bounty.” Taehyung smiles even wider now. “Right?”

He can hear Jimin huff out loud from behind him. Jeongguk presses his lips together, biting back a sharp remark and thinking about it. The bounty, the one that sits on top of his head right now offers a very high price. There are only eight people that know who he is: Park Jimin, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Young Sol, Lee Sungwoon and now, Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung takes his silence as confirmation of his intentions. “Yeah, well, we can do that. Like, buddy around and stuff.” He makes a clicking noise with his tongue, calling back his dog. “I’m down to do anything, but I have to ask: you’ve been doing so well on your own– well, you and Jimin alone– for the past two years or so now. Why are you looking for help now?”

“I don’t need help. I can just leave the country if I wanted to, settle and restart my business somewhere else. I’m young. Filthy rich,” he responds, sliding a hand into his pocket and fixating Taehyung with a sharp look. “But I’m not going to. This is my town. If I have to play friendly to save my ass, I’ll do it.”

The socialite squints his eyes before reaching out to squeeze Jeongguk’s shoulder. He fights the urge to throw up at the contact. “You’re so tense. And intense, actually, Jeongguk. But,” he sighs, “I like you. I respect you.”

“So we have a deal?”

“Not everything has to be a deal. Why can’t we just be friends? All of us, for real? Get some authenticity into this. Jung can smell bullshit really well. Yoongi, too.” Taehyung looks past him, to Jimin.

Jeongguk hasn’t looked back to Jimin in a while. He does now. Their eyes meet, and they have their wordless conversation, exchanged through Jeongguk’s slight narrow of his eyes and Jimin’s chin tipping up slightly.

Do I trust him?
Do what you have to do.

“Fine.” Jeongguk drags his gaze from Jimin’s, back to Taehyung, who grins. “I’ll be back in a few days. We can talk more then.”

“Cool. I’ll make sure to tell Yoongi what a great friend you are later, when I see him.”

Jeongguk doesn’t deign to respond to him, turning his back and leading the way out. Jimin follows, and he knows that the boy has a lot of unspoken questions on his tongue.

Jeongguk wants to talk to Seokjin right away but Jimin’s stomach growls and the boy looks like he’s about to eat anything on sight, so he sighs and they take a cab back to the Seoul National University campus together. Jimin’s not a student, he refuses to go to school, but Jeongguk’s forged a nice fake identification card for him so that they enter the campus without any problems. There’s a cafe at the edge of the main area, where they sit across each other. Jeongguk has no appetite. Jimin gorges on a sandwich.

He stares at Jimin. There’s a lot to think about– the lighter, all of his enemies, all of the people who are working day and night to discover his identity– but when he looks at Jimin, his mind goes blank. The older boy is strange. Jeongguk’s first impression of him lingers. Jimin, two years ago, was desperate yet determined to make money after his circus troupe’s destruction. Jimin, now, was as determined as ever, but he wasn’t desperate. He held himself with respect and pride.

It’s strange to think that they’ve been in this together for a while now. Jeongguk doesn’t like to think about his feelings towards the acrobat. Jimin’s attractive in many ways. Not only because he has a uniquely handsome face, or “delicious proportions”, as Jeongguk’s overheard from bar talk, but because Jimin’s… Powerful.

Jeongguk knows that Jimin does good things in his own time. While Jeongguk’s studying, or at school, Jimin’s out on the streets of Itaewon, scouring for kids who had been in a similar predicament as him– boys and girls who were casted into the streets without a home, forcing them to turn to prostitution or crime. Jimin helped them get back on their feet in every way he could– whether giving them money for education or helping them earn jobs. Jimin is powerful like that.

He realizes that he’s been staring at Jimin too long. He realizes that his heart throbs, betraying, against his chest. He turns away, opting to slip out the engagement ring from his coat pocket. “What am I going to do with this, now?” He mutters out loud, popping the dark blue velvet container open to look at the diamond-studded ring.

“Sell it,” Jimin tells him, inclining his head. He reaches out. Jeongguk hesitates before placing the box atop the palm of his hand. “Damn, this is a nice ring. I can’t believe you’d give it away for a bribe. Some people take this seriously, you know?”

“I don’t take it seriously.”

“Well, not everyone is like you, Jeongguk,” Jimin huffs, passing it back. “You’re really one of a kind.”

Jeongguk slides it back into his pocket. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t.”

“I know.”

Thinking back, Jeongguk wonders how they haven’t exploded yet. Jeongguk’s a smartass, he knows. Jimin’s stubborn. Both of them are constantly clashing like this. And he knows that Jimin’s a good person at heart. He’s probably only stuck to Jeongguk for this long because he probably thinks that Jeongguk’s a bit too trigger-happy about where he spends his money. But what he doesn’t know, and what Jeongguk would never admit, is that Jeongguk would spend any amount to keep Jimin at his side.

“Who’s next on the hit list?” Jimin finishes his sandwich, leaning back in his seat, rubbing a palm over his stomach, satisfactory.

“I need to talk to Seokjin about a few things. Maybe Jung, if Taehyung doesn’t take care of that himself. The other two that know are Sol and Sungwoon. I need you to scout around and see if Sol’s back in town. Sungwoon, he’s going to be a pain to find.” Jeongguk rubs his chin, already feeling a strain in this whole plan.

Sol’s a foreign tycoon, from Singapore. He’s only twenty-one, but his business in animal smuggling has skyrocketed his earnings in the past year or so. He usually dips in and out of Korea, back and forth, travelling around the world, but it’s nearing Christmas. He should be back soon.

Sungwoon’s probably the dirtiest out of the bunch of them. He’s so far underground in the business that he probably has men working inside of the fucking government. His deep-running network of connections is probably the only reason why he knows who Jeongguk is in the first place. They’ve spoken a few times. Dealt a couple others, but they don’t like each other, and that makes him the biggest threat.

“I have a friend that works in one of the clubs downtown. They have Sungwoon as a regular. I could arrange something,” Jimin offers, reaching forward to take Jeongguk’s untouched glass of water.

“You have friends?” Jeongguk has to ask.

“Mhm. I do. You should get some yourself, actually. Maybe you’d loosen up a bit. Get lai–”

Jeongguk doesn’t like the sound of that . “Anyway. Try and get a line to him, I need to talk to him before he even considers the bounty.”

“Alright. Do you have class soon?” Jimin blinks at him.

“Yeah, but only to finish some thesis stuff. I’ve been done for a while now, so I’ll just turn it in and go.” Jeongguk stands up. He looks at the bill that sits beside Jimin’s plate, eyes skimming over the number before he takes out his wallet, plucking out enough money and dropping it onto the table. “I’ll be at Seokjin’s.”

Jimin scoffs as he walks away. “Bye, Jeongguk.”

Seokjin’s in a mood when Jeongguk goes to visit. He sits at his ebony-built wooden desk, working on something and when Jeongguk adamantly manages to threaten the person at the door to let him in, the mercenary gives him a long, annoyed look. “What are you doing here?”

“I wired the money to you,” Jeongguk says, lying down on Seokjin’s couch.

“Yeah. I got it. I did the job, too, so why are you here?” He repeats, this time expecting an answer.

“I need to make sure that you won’t go for the bounty,” Jeongguk responds honestly. Two billion won, sitting on his shoulders. Seokjin could make that money with a few good-paying jobs. He has that money in his daddy’s bank account, so there shouldn’t be any reason for him to pursue it, but Jeongguk has to be sure. There are too many snakes lurking around the streets nowadays. Loyalty is becoming more and more scarce.

“I’m not going for the bounty. Many people are, but they’re all trailing dead leads,” Seokjin informs him then, setting down his pen, casting the stack of papers aside, looking grim. “It’s unlike you to be worrisome. It’s unlike you to worry about anything at all. What’s the problem here?”

He’s right. Jeongguk’s smart enough, powerful enough to get away with anything he wants. He shouldn’t have to worry so much about the whole situation– the lighter lead is cleared now. So why is he fussing so much?

Maybe it’s the fact that the bounty is there, at a price a hundred times greater than before. Or the fact that Kim Taehyung knows who he is, finding out just by seducing Jung. Or maybe he’s just scared that Sungwoon’s going to talk. He wants and needs all of the assurance he can get, even if it means looking a bit afraid for the first time in his life.

“Sungwoon. I’ve taken care of Yoongi. Jung. Kim Taehyung– who apparently knows, now. Sol, I have yet to talk to. Jimin’s not going to spill. And you’re not. So it’s just Sungwoon.”

Seokjin leans forward, hands clasping in front of him. “You do realize that the bounty price is a small fraction of what Sungwoon has in his bank account. He doesn’t give enough fucks to go for it. But he’d still like to see you squirm a bit, so I think you should go and see him soon.” Jeongguk knows this. Sungwoon thrives off of others’ misfortunes, discomfort. He’ll play Jeongguk like a little marionette doll for it. “The people you should be worried about are the street scouts. The ones that are desperate enough to do anything .”

“You’re right. I should just set this whole city to flames. Leave it all behind.” Jeongguk closes his eyes. In the dark, he can see fire. Itaewon’s landscape succumbing to a wave of fire, consuming every building one by one. It’s a pretty sight. He likes to imagine, because at least in his mind, his blind-eye isn’t limiting. He can see with a clear, full vision.

“I worry about you sometimes, Gguk. You’re so violent.”

“Says the mercenary,” Jeongguk mutters.

“Ok. So we’re both violent people. The difference is– I make it quick. No suffering. No pain. A bullet to the head, and it’s over. You, however,” Seokjin states, “May be a bit of a sadist. Setting fire to a city, watching it burn beneath your feet. You may be beyond intelligent, but watch it before you develop a god complex.”

Jeongguk sits up, opening his eyes. With his limited vision, all he can see is half of the room. Every time he wakes– every time he opens his eyes, he’s reminded of the fact that he’ll be stuck like this forever. With his one working eye, he fixes his gaze onto Seokjin. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. There’s always going to be somebody better than me. Smarter than me. More powerful than me.”

Seokjin’s eyes soften at that. He doesn’t know that Jeongguk’s half-blind but he knows where Jeongguk came from. Orphanage-hopping, never having a home, a family to live with. Seokjin has all of it– a loving, rich, powerful family. The free will to do what he wants. He has every luxury Jeongguk wants but would never admit to desire. “I’m glad to hear that you still have a bit of humility left in you. Not a lot of people out here on the streets have that. It’s all about who’s better than the other– all about ladder rankings, competition.”

“I guess that’s why a lot of people are stuck at the bottom. Their heads are so far up their own asses that they don’t fully understand that it’s not enough to play the game. You need to get to a point where you’re the one making and breaking the rules.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin nods his head. He reaches forward, for his papers again. “Look, I have shit to do right now, deadlines to meet.”

“You could’ve just asked me to leave,” Jeongguk responds, rising to his feet, running a hand through his hair, inspecting himself in the mirror. His brownish-grey hair is pale in the dark light of Seokjin’s office.

“If I asked, you wouldn’t have left, you stubborn fuck.”

“You’re right.” He turns to the man at the desk. “By the way, are you and Jimin still fornicating?”

Seokjin’s brows knit at that. “Fornicating?”
“Having sex–”

“No. We’re not. We’ve never had sex. I don’t think he likes me in that way and I respect you enough not to lay a hand on him.”

Jeongguk raises a brow. “What do you mean you respect me enough?”

“Don’t you like him?”

“No. I don’t.” Jeongguk brushes the hair from his eyes again and turns for the door.

He hears Seokjin murmur something along the lines of ‘you’re in denial’ as he walks out, but he pretends not to notice. He wipes the thought from his mind.

Jimin’s inside his second address when he arrives. Jeongguk has three places of residence: The first one is a dorm room at Seoul National University, where he barely spends any time unless it’s right before exam season or he’s writing an important paper. The second, where he stays the most, is a modern apartment in Jongno-gu. Then the third is outside of Seoul, all the way down in Busan, where he stays when he’s off working, or recovering from injury. Jimin, like always, is the only one knows that he has three residential locations. The only one other that Jimin that knows about his home in Busan is Sol.

He looks at Jimin as he peels off his coat, depositing it onto the coathanger that sits conveniently by the doorway. The older boy sits at his desk. “Welcome home, honey ,” Jimin says wryly.

“I regret giving you a key to this apartment,” Jeongguk responds, walking towards the fireplace. He uses the rod to poke at the flames, pushing the small bits of coal back and forth until it sparks back into life. He stares at it. In the dark of his half-vision, he can see nothing. “Did you find anything about Sungwoon’s whereabouts?”

“Kind of. My friend didn’t want to spill too much but Sungwoon’s in town. Sol, not yet, apparently.”

Jeongguk walks over to where he sits. He leans against his desk, allowing Jimin to lounge around on his chair, just for now. He looks at the boy, then out the window. “Who’s your friend? Which club does he work?”

“Uh. You’re not considering visiting him, are you?” Jimin straightens in the seat, pushing his head into Jeongguk’s vision, expression surprised.

“I have to do what I have to do,” Jeongguk responds simply. He looks at the buildings in the distance. The high-rise side of Seoul, to the low-rise side. He thinks about all of the clubs in Itaewon, the different places where Sungwoon could be in right now.

“But you hate being touched. I saw you– when Taehyung touched you, you looked like you wanted to puke.” Jimin stands up, reaches forward, then retracts his hand. Jeongguk has to look now. There’s a tone in Jimin’s voice that’s strained, and it’s so unusual that he takes a moment to observe every inch of him. His eyes flicker with worry. Worry for him .

“I do. But imagine,” Jeongguk says, with a sad tip of his head, “If I get caught. They’ll shove me into jail. Filthy, grimy jail, where I’ll be forced to room with filthy, grimy men. I want my freedom, Jimin. I don’t want to be locked up, restrained– worse, killed . I’m not going down without a fight. No– I’m not going down at all.”

“You’re going to give up autonomy. Comfort. You could just run away , Jeongguk. We could just leave this place behind, I don’t think that’s a bad idea at all.”

“It is. This place is the only thing I’ve ever known and I don’t know what I’ll do without it. It’s fucking sad, I know,” Jeongguk watches as Jimin turns away from him, seemingly frustrated with his attitude, “but I’ve spent all my life learning how to survive that it’s just… First nature to me now. I’ll do anything to survive. Even if it means getting my hands seriously dirty for once.”

Jeongguk mostly acts through proxies. He sends people to do the worst of his work for him– all the things that require physical contact. When he gets down to business, it’s for cleaner jobs. He specializes in heists. He’s smart, good at math, at physics, at everything that’s required to pull off the perfect robberies. But he hates touching others. Not because he’s picky or he feels superior or anything but because the thought of it makes him sick to the stomach.

Maybe it’s because of what happened when he was younger. Maybe it’s just because he’s so used to feeling unloved, uncared for. Either way, he doesn’t like physical contact. Even the thought of it makes him so uncomfortable that he has to bite back the bile that rises in his throat.

“Look. I’ll keep trying with him. You pay me for a reason, Jeongguk. Don’t forget that.” Jimin moves away from his seat, leaving it empty. The former acrobat stands in front of him, so Jeongguk can’t purposefully turn away. “You’re the boss here. I have too much respect for you to let you act all antsy and worried about the situation. Jeongguk… Do you trust me?”

Yes. Jeongguk trusts Jimin with the whole of his being. But it’s still hard to get the word out. “Yes,” Jeongguk replies hoarsely, feeling the strain as the words escape his mouth.

“Then trust that I’ll get it done.” Jimin’s serious now. His feline features sharpen. Park Jimin has a fearful duality, Jeongguk reminds himself. One moment, he’s coy, fiery and stubborn and the next, he radiates death and power.

“Okay.” Jeongguk nods his head.

Jimin pushes a hand through his pink hair, tucking it underneath a dark-coloured cap so well that there are no strands sticking out. Jeongguk had been against Jimin dyeing his hair a year ago, knowing that the vibrant colour could be detrimental towards their rule of subtlety, but Jimin hid it so well that he couldn’t object. “I’m going downtown tonight. Can I get one of your burner’s numbers?”

Jeongguk only moves slightly, to open one of the drawers lodged to the desk. He pulls out one of the phones situated at the very back, turning it on. He shows it to Jimin, who memorizes the number quickly. “If I get into any trouble–”

“Call, and I’ll be there.”

“I was going to say send Seokjin or something. Don’t you have a job scheduled for tonight, too?” Jimin raises a brow at him amusedly.

“I do. But I prioritize some things over others.” He means Jimin. He prioritizes Jimin over some small heist job in the opposite side of town. Jimin knows this, but he doesn’t make a comment. He looks at the clock that sits by the wall. “It’s 11:17 right now. It’ll take me 5 minutes to get ready, and you’ll be halfway to the general area by then so… If you get into trouble anytime in between 11:32 to 11:55, don’t call me. You have Seokjin’s number, right?” Jimin can’t call him in the middle of a job or else he’ll get caught. Simple as that.

“Yeah,” Jimin’s already pushing open the windows. He steadies himself on the ledge. “Good luck, Tattoo.”

“Stay hidden,” Jeongguk responds. Jimin smiles before scaling the wall down. When he’s gone, Jeongguk peers out the side. “He could’ve used the proper exit,” he mutters, closing the windows shut.

Jeongguk uses a mask when doing his heists. He’s used the same one for the past two years. It’s an off-white ivory mask that has gold embedded into it meticulously. He runs a finger over the surface. It’s slightly worn out now; how ironic, he thinks, considering that his current predicament is inviting change. Maybe he’ll pick a new one out soon.

It’s a fleeting thought. Jeongguk likes the design too much to let it go. Probably because of the golden streak that cuts from the right eye-hole down to the cheek. It was a coincidence, that the craftsman had gotten his flaw down to the dot. But it’s perfect. Jeongguk isn’t afraid– he doesn’t want to be held back by his blindness. He wants to flaunt it in all it’s 24k gold glory.

He presses it onto his face, briefly glancing towards the mirror that hangs on the wall adjacent to his desk. He runs a hand through his near-silver hair, pushing it back from his face.

Five minutes.

He presses a hand to a hidden compartment lodged in between the mirror and the clock. Pushing it opens a drawer, revealing a wide array of weapons, tools. The job tonight is too easy to require anything too specific. He’s not stealing anything. Nor does he think he’ll have any problems dipping into and out of Min Yoongi’s building. So he closes the compartment shut and decides that it’s a hands-free night for him. All observation.

Four minutes.

He tugs on a deep blue coat. It’s getting colder every night that passes in the city and he knows that he’ll be in open space for a while if he wants to get anything out of this. He debates not throwing on gloves, but he slips them on anyway, knowing that a single fingerprint could ruin everything. He has one record of his fingerprints. Jeongguk makes the mental note to destroy it as soon as possible; when he manages to weasel his way into the police department.

Three minutes.

He pours himself a glass of water. He stares out into the city again, this time thinking about where Jimin is. What the boy’ll be up to. What he’d do for Jeongguk tonight. Jeongguk has no doubt that Jimin will get the job done but sometimes there’s a strange tug on his gut that asks him what he’ll do if Jimin doesn’t come back in one piece. If Jimin doesn’t come back at all.

Two minutes.

He takes a long sip and turns away from the sight. Jimin will come back to him. Deep down, Jeongguk doesn’t know what he’ll do without him.

One minute.

He places the empty glass on his desk. He takes one look at the mirror, pulling at the collar of his coat. It’s not going to take him too long to get to Yoongi’s building but he decides that he could take all the time he can get. He’s grateful, that his apartment side allows him to scale down the wall without being seen. He looks over the edge with intent this time. He can spot the indents of where Jimin had climbed down.

He jumps.

He doesn’t need to scale down. He just needs to slow himself down before he lands on the ground with a splat , so he waits, allowing gravity to take him, before he uses his hidden blade to lodge onto the side of the wall. Just a few meters away from the pavement below. Jeongguk huffs. he doesn’t usually have to get out of the apartment this way but the front of his building has been tainted with the filthy stench of cops lately. He slowly inches his way downwards, until his feet collide with the asphalt. He retracts his knife and places it into his back pocket before slinking into the shadows.

“... Did you hear about the bounty on Tattoo?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you going to go for it?”

“This concerns you… How?”

“You know this. Tattoo is a friend of mine.”

“He is?”

“... Have I not mentioned this before?”

Jeongguk’s standing outside the window, in one of the fire escapes. Nobody’s seen him. He’s crouched by the window, left slightly ajar, listening into their conversation. Taehyung’s doing well in acting as if they’ve been best friends for years. And Yoongi’s attention, by the looks of it, has been piqued.

“No,” the crime boss responds slowly. “You’ve never mentioned him. Have you… Met with him face-to-face? Without the mask?”

“Mhm. Little Jeon Jeongguk. Seoul National University law student at the age of nineteen . I was shocked the first time I found out, actually. How is somebody so young so… Omnipresent and powerful ?” Taehyung’s not lying when he says this. He’s genuinely amused, entranced by the fact that Jeongguk’s so young yet so successful. “I think it’s clever. Learning about the law to learn how to break it better.”

“Jeon Jeongguk’s a little shit, that’s what he is. Kid’s smart, but doesn’t mean he can go around acting like he owns this town.”

“Yoongi. I don’t think he thinks that way at all. He’s a scrapper. Just trying to survive.” There’s an edge to Taehyung’s tone. “I’m sure you’d know all about that. You started in the slums, too. Why are you so judgemental?”

Jeongguk didn’t know that Yoongi was a scrapper, just like him. Somebody who scoured the streets, trying to find any opportunities, any way out of the hellhole the slums offered. Briefly, he looks over the edge of the fire escape. He doesn’t have any men outside the building. Neither does he have external security cameras. It makes sense, considering that nobody really suspects the building of possessing black market and criminal operations. It’s so plain.

“I’m not judgemental,” Yoongi mutters. “I’m just saying, Jeongguk’s ego’s been inflated lately. The cops are all over him.”

Taehyung places his hand over Yoongi’s. Jeongguk eyes his long, slender fingers, decorated with gemstones. His thumb circles around Yoongi’s palm comfortingly. Human touch is sickening , Jeongguk thinks to himself, watching their shared look. “Forget about the bounty, Yoongi. If Tattoo goes down, you know he’ll drag the rest of you guys down with him. He’ll drag me down, too.”

Min Yoongi’s firm, Jeongguk’ll give him that. He withdraws his hand in an attempt to seem resilient towards Taehyung’s obviously loaded advances, but his eyes say otherwise. They flicker with a strain. As if he’s trying to hold himself back from saying, or doing something. “I’ll think about it.”

“Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Taehyung’s ability to manipulate is lucrative. He stands up, rubbing Yoongi’s shoulder before exiting the room. Jeongguk spares Yoongi one last glance, watching him rub his chin thoughtfully, before he begins to descend down the fire escape. If he’s right, he has approximately thirty-seven seconds before Taehyung’s out of the building, at the front exit.

He takes off his mask, slipping it into the side of his coat. He pulls out a scarf, balled into his pocket, looping it around his neck. He pretends to be walking along the roadside, when he nearly stumbles into Taehyung. Right on the dot.

“Jeongguk?” Taehyung’s brows shoot into the air, surprised.

“Taehyung,” he greets, adding a reluctant tone to his voice. “Don’t you live on the other side of town?” He turns to inspect the building as if he’s never seen it before in his life. As if he doesn’t know exactly what transpired in it just a few moments ago.

“I do,” he responds tentatively. “It’s pretty late out. Are you headed anywhere?”

Clubs. Taehyung means clubs.

“Not anywhere in particular. You?”

“I was planning on meeting up with Park Jimin, actually. In one of those high-end bars downtown. You wanna tag along?”

Jimin? Jimin ?

Jeongguk clenches his jaw, reaching into his pocket for his burner phone. It’s only 11:54. One minute before the window is over and Jimin can call him. He wonders if Jimin’s okay; whether he’s already called Seokjin for help. He also wonders why he’s meeting Taehyung. “No. I’m fine,” he replies. He can wait it out, interrogate Jimin later. He’ll get more answers if he waits for Jimin to do what he intends rather than to intercept it.

“Okay. I’ll see you around, then?” Taehyung raises a perfectly-drawn brow.

“Yeah.”

They part ways. It’s about two minutes into him walking back to his building, when he receives a call. He debates rejecting it out of spite, considering how Jimin was going behind his back to talk to Taehyung, but he thinks about Jimin, bloodied, calling for his help. He picks up.

“Hey,” Jimin sounds breathless.

“Are you dying?” Jeongguk asks.

“Uh. No,” Jimin clears his throat. There’s a hoarseness to it that tells Jeongguk everything. Jimin slept with somebody for information. “Uh. Sungwoon. He’s in his Itaewon address. The one near the crossing.”
“Did you fuck your friend?” He crosses the street. It’s pretty empty on this side. He’s all alone.

“I told you, I’m getting things done. For you . Does it matter how I get them?” Jimin sounds puzzled. slightly annoyed.

Jeongguk releases a tight breath. “No. I’m going to be off for the next week. School stuff, so if we’re going to talk to Sungwoon, it’s going to be in a while. Until then, don’t do anything stupid.”

“Fine. I won’t.”

He takes his burner phone, presses the call shut and throws it against the ground. With the heel of a polished shoe, he breaks it into pieces. He takes out his lighter, flicking it on, letting the small flame dance at the tip of his fingers. Jeongguk sits on his haunches, allowing the tip of the flame to touch the remnants of the phone. It’s incinerated in seconds, the fire growing slowly. He pulls on his mask, securing it around his head tight before heading back.

He’s circling the block when he stops himself in his tracks.

“I heard that Tattoo’s bounty is at two billion now.”

“Mhm. I’ve been trying to get through the scrappers, the lower kids. I hear that he’s using proxies to do his jobs. But nobody’s talking.”

“You think they’re scared of him?”

“Tattoo’s weak. If he were man enough, he’d show his face for once.”

Jeongguk reaches into his pockets. All he can find is a knife. A small one. The one he used for scaling. He unsheathes it, inspects the serrated blade and decides that he’ll have to make do. He has his lighter, too, but it won’t be necessary. Just two clean cuts to their necks and the job’s done.

He peers around. The two men stand, talking to one another. He wishes they’d move towards his direction. He grits his teeth, looking up the side of the building. No cameras, no windows, no evidence that he’ll flee the scene tonight, having killed two men. Jeongguk isn’t necessarily violent. He doesn’t want to have to be , but these men are the same men that’ll end up standing over him with their own knives if he doesn’t get this done.

Jeongguk decides against the masked approach. He pushes it up once more, hidden beneath the thick material of his coat. He slides the knife up his sleeve, right where it’ll be easy to reach when he passes him by. He walks out of the corner, eyes darting up to look at the men. They ignore him as he walks past. Jeongguk’s surprised that they don’t even spare him a glance, but at the same time he isn’t the most threatening either, as he plays mouse. His shoulders slouch a bit. He’s curled into himself, less massive and more timid. That’s their mistake.

Jeongguk, once behind them, spins on his heel and cuts a loose line across the backs of either of their necks. They’re alarmed at first. It’s not enough to kill, not nearly fatal, but he allows their surprise to be his advantage. With a solid fist, he jams his knuckles into the taller one’s face and uses the follow through from his elbow to get the other one. They both fall onto the floor, hands to the back of their necks, suddenly realizing what he’d done. He stands over them. He kills the shorter one, quick, using the knife, right to his neck. And he presses a heel against the latter.

“–T-The fuck?”

“Do you know who I am?” Jeongguk asks, tipping his head to the side in question.

“No, y-you fuckin’ psycopath–”

Jeongguk tugs the collar of his shirt down, revealing a slight hint at his tattoo, bolded in black ink. The man’s eyes widen.

“Tattoo,” he realizes. But it’s too late. Jeongguk crushes his esophagus, just like that. He picks up his knife, reddened with blood and slips it back into its home. He withdraws his lighter and doesn’t hesitate to set their bodies ablaze.

It’s too cold a night to let a good fire go to waste.

Chapter Text

JEONGGUK ACTUALLY LIKES SCHOOL.

And so, he takes college seriously.

After taking one year of political science as an undergraduate student, he’d submitted a paper on social deviance and crime to a professor– Professor Lee Ki-guk. Lee had sent his paper over to administration without his knowledge, so over the winter break of his freshman year, they’d reviewed it, discussed it, and apparently found it to be amazing. So they’d recommended him for law school, pushing him to double major in law and criminology. He’d taken it, genuinely excited. Mostly because it was one step closer to him being able to plan perfect crimes. But partly because he just enjoyed the subject.

There are periods of time wherein he leaves his life as a crime lord in Itaewon to fully immerse himself in reading, studying, working. He was quick to plan it out before, though. He couldn’t be too obvious, so he studied weeks before exams. So when it approached them, he was free to do heists, send out jobs as he pleased. The officers would never suspect a college student to be the same man they’d been chasing. Tattoo to them wasn’t a nineteen year-old law major.

It’s one of those days where he’s tired of stressing himself out with the whole situation, so he buries himself in his dorm room, where he reads and reads and reads. He reads a book in english called In Cold Blood , by Truman Capote. It’s non-fiction, one on a crime committed– a quadruple murder. He’s read it a bunch of times before but back when his english was less polished. Now, he can take his time to understand every word, every phrase of it. The most interesting thing to him, though, is the M’Naghten rules.

The M’Naghten rules are instructions for when there’s a defence of insanity. It’s interesting because it’s allowed to act as a defence in criminal trials. It can be used to absolve defendants through the rationale of compassion. People believe that it could be morally incorrect to jail a person if they’re deprived from the ability to form a coherent, sane thought at the time of a crime. Jeongguk wonders if he’s insane. Maybe he is. Maybe he’ll be able to pull the card when he’s dragged into court. If he’s dragged to court.

After finishing the book again, taking him about two hours or so, he places it atop his desk and leans back in his seat. He has a relatively neat workspace. His pens are meticulously organized, sitting upright in a glass container. A small plant sits by his windowsill. A scent diffuser beneath the table, spewing the smell of fresh rainwater and pinewood. Out of his three residential locations, this one is the most worn-in. It’s like a completely different universe, one where Jeongguk may have just been a plain college student.

Not a national criminal.

He reaches forward to open one of the drawers in his desk. He has it organized by school year, and there are a hell lot of gaps. Nothing much from the time he was on the streets. This only year at high school was pretty stacked. He pulls out that folder and skims through it mindlessly, recalling his time as a student. He had nothing else to do for that whole year but study, study, study. He’d gotten so bored of what they were learning in classes because he was so far ahead that he’d taken books from the library, the ones for higher levels, until he was at the very top.

It’s a thick folder. He puts it back inside and takes out the folder from his first year in college, taking political science. It’s just about the same width, but everything inside is on a level ten times more complicated than the last. He has the paper on deviance, the one that got him pushed up to law school in a snap, in there; the paper sits amongst the other research endeavours and case studies he did in his spare time, just for fun. Jeongguk slips it back inside, too.

Then the folder from his first year at law school, when he was seventeen, the year he turned eighteen. He looks through it, and it’s the size of the last two ones combined. Mostly readings, notes from lectures and classes. A lot of stuff on criminology. Newspaper snippets and clippings merged together to paint pictures of imperfect crimes. Jeongguk wonders, to himself, how he’d managed to juggle everything out so well. He’s thankful for the fact that his brain can absorb information like this. Otherwise, he’d be rotting in jail then.

He closes his drawer and looks outside the window. And he suddenly can’t believe what he’s seeing. His blind eye must be deceiving, because if it’s real– if Officer Gi Ji-hyuk is standing on Seoul National University’s campus right now, then he may be decidedly fucked .

He leans forward in his chair. Jeongguk has to squint slightly, his vision slightly blurry, as Officer Gi walks over to a man with a cane who Jeongguk recognizes immediately to be nobody other than Professor Lee, the man who favored Jeongguk greatly. He’s not the best at reading lips, but he can see it: Gi mentions something about Tattoo . Jeongguk pulls back from the window. He can see himself in the reflection, his face creased into confusion. Did they know?

He’s in a sweatshirt and tight-fitting sweatpants right now, just like most of the other students. He could just pass by them and eavesdrop, just a bit. Jeongguk looks outside again. They’re laughing now. His stomach settles, just a bit.

He stands, picking up his most recent essay from the corner of his desk. He staples the papers together, shuffling them to make sure it’s in pristine condition. Jeongguk could approach, maybe, submit his paper and scout out the situation. He could kill two birds with one stone, he supposes. But he’d rather kill three. If only he could get his hands on Officer Gi in a more discreet location.

There’s another, better option, though. Jeongguk doesn’t have to debate the thought in his mind, before he reaches into the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out the small, secret compartment. He picks out a little contraption before slipping it into his pocket.

Jeongguk runs outside of his dorm room, quickly down the steps, all the way to the front of campus, where they’re standing. He paces himself well-enough to appear timid, as if he’s fearful of the police, completely oblivious. He can act well.

He pauses at the edge of an invisible circle drawn around them. With his one working eye, he’s able to scour out the campus front, searching for any other police or agency cars. But it’s just Officer Gi. Which means that he’s not fucked. He releases a deep breath and waits, rocking back on his heel for effect. It’s enough to catch Gi’s eye, prompting him to pause their conversation, motioning for Professor Lee to pay him attention.

He’s even more surprised at what happens next. Lee’s eyes widen, his bearded lips curling into a wide smile. “Ah! Jeongguk, I was just talking about you. My friend from the National Police Agency’s been looking into one of those criminal cases… Tattoo , is it? I recommended that he take you as an intern. I passed along your essay to him, too.” Lee turns to Officer Gi, who looks him up and down curiously. “Can you believe? At the age of sixteen, writing something like that ?”

“It was a good paper,” Gi commends with a nod of his head, although he seems impatiently patient. He appears nice, but Jeongguk can sense the urgency in the air that surrounds him.

“Anyway, I was just about to ask if you were interested in an opportunity to help with the case. Even just offer perspective onto it. You always seem to be good at detaching yourself from bias when needed,” Lee praises.

Jeongguk looks down at his paper, then back at his professor. “Um. I don’t know, Mr. Lee. I actually just wanted to come and submit my research paper.”

“The one that’s due after winter break?” Professor Lee’s brows shoot up, impressed.

“Um. Yeah,” Jeongguk nods swiftly.

He reaches out. Jeongguk places the paper on his hand. The man skims through it, flipping through the pages. It’s not the longest paper he’s done but he threw in a lot of effort into it as usual. “Jeongguk, do you have any extracurriculars? Sports? Clubs?” He asks suddenly.

“I… Don’t.”

“Do you have any friends?”

“Um. Not really. I don’t live on campus full-time, I mean. I don’t really get involved in social events. They aren’t my thing.” It’s true. Jeongguk isn’t lying. He doesn’t like social events at college, nor outside of it. The most socializing he does is with his proxy workers. With Jimin. With Seokjin, sometimes. Otherwise, it’s just him and his thoughts.

Lee taps the papers against his palm consideringly. “I want you to take this opportunity. The one I’m offering you, to help with the Tattoo case. It’s not schoolwork. I just want you to think of expanding your horizons. No more empty, old, archived cases. Something real. Something thrilling .” He turns to Officer Gi, who seems to agree with his words, giving Jeongguk an encouraging look. “You’re special, Jeongguk. You’re absolutely brilliant, but if you’re going to live a life immersed in research, books and school, what’s going to happen when you graduate?”

That doesn’t necessarily resonate with him. Jeongguk, even in his small time in high school, didn’t have anybody. Growing up, he had nobody. He’s so used to being alone that he’s accepted the fact that he’d die alone eventually. But he’s not that Jeongguk right now. He’s supposed to be optimistic, a dreamer. He forces himself to agree, nodding. “Okay,” he says, placing an unsure tone to his voice. “I’ll do it.”

“Great.” Lee takes his shoulder. Jeongguk tries his best not to stiffen at the contact but he does anyway. His professor withdraws his hand at that, appearing surprised. Before he can ask or read him, Jeongguk turns to Gi, who stands there, tapping a foot against the pavement.

“Um. When can I begin?”

Gi and Professor Lee exchange looks. “You can drop by the building… Tomorrow? It’s in Seodaemun, I’m sure you could hail a cab and they’ll take you there.”

“Seodaemun. Okay,” Jeongguk bows slightly in acknowledgement, respect– although for Gi Ji-hyuk, he has none . “I actually have to run errands right now. Just around Itaewon area. There’s a new store opening.”

“Itaewon?” Officer Gi folds his arms. “Be careful around there. That’s where all of the Tattoo stuff is going on. We just found two bodies a few streets away from the center. It’s his work.”

“How can you tell?” Jeongguk feigns fear in his tone.

“Fire. I wouldn’t put it past him to be some sort of pyrophiliac ,” Gi scoffs.

Pyrophilia? Getting off from setting fires? Jeongguk thinks about it. He isn’t sexually gratified by setting things on fire, but he sure gets a high from it.

He opens his mouth, presses it shut. He looks at Professor Lee, who’s reading through his paper already, nodding along. Then he turns to Gi. “I have an apartment in Itaewon, I share it with a friend of mine, uh, Kim Seokjin. I had no idea that the Tattoo crimes have been happening around the area. Should I be worried?”

“Kim Seokjin. I’m friends with him and his father, nice guy,” Officer Gi remarks with a fond smile. Friends with Kim Seokjin? Mercenary Kim Seokjin? Person-who-kills-people-for-money Kim Seokjin?

Why the fuck is Officer Gi the spearhead of this investigation when he can’t even smell criminals when they’re standing in his line of sight?

He continues, “I’d advise you not to go around during night time. Keep doors locked. Maybe consider living on campus for the next month or so, while the bounty circulates.”

“The bounty. I read about it. Is it true that there’s a 2 billion won bounty on his head?”

“Yeah. Tattoo’s done a lot of shit. The National Museum of Korea even pitched in some funds to take him down because he’s caused so much trouble for them,” Gi shakes his head in disappointment. “The bounty’s doing good in keeping other crime down, though. Everyone’s too focused on trying to find out who Tattoo is, to get him locked up for the price. It’s a two-thing deal.”

There’s less visible crime. The crimes that are seen to the public eye, he means. Homicide. Shoplifting. Stealing. But he’s not considering all the things that are going on behind the scenes. All the people paying for illegally-obtained government reports. The people beating up others for any sign. The people who are paying bounty hunters and mercenaries like Seokjin to hunt him down. Virtually everybody is looking for him right now. It’s a wonder that he hasn’t been caught yet.

“Okay, enough talking. Go and do your errands. I have to head back to headquarters, anyway. Do you need a ride?” Gi offers, taking out the keys to his car.

“Oh, no, I’m alright. I’ll just take public transport, it isn’t too far anyway.”

“Alright. Stay safe, okay? Tell Seokjin I say hello, if you see him.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Before Officer Gi can turn away, Jeongguk steps forward and pretends to trip. He lands on his leg, feigning pain. The man bends down to help him up, asking if he’s okay, but all Jeongguk’s focused on is his I.D. badge. When Gi offers physical help to haul him up, Jeongguk presses his fingers, which pinch onto the small contraption, against the I.D. that swings beneath his coat. Secured.

“Sorry.”

“It’s ok. Take care.”

Jeongguk turns back to Professor Lee when Gi leaves, waving them both a brief goodbye as he does. He’s more stoic as he walks away. He’s more… Threatening, or at least more of a threat to people on the news. Face-to-face, Jeongguk can pinpoint his flaws, down to the dot. Impatience is his hamartia. He wants everything done fast. That’s why he’s so irritated and stuck on the Tattoo case. Because it’s taken two years– everyone’s expecting him to solve it but he hasn’t.

Impatience will take a toll on the investigation. Jeongguk can already tell how he, as Tattoo, can make things hell for him. Leaving red herrings everywhere, fake, seemingly easy leads that would eventually drive him insane. Or he could draw it out by pausing his operations. He could go stagnant for a whole month. No crime, no killing. As long as he secured Sungwoon and Sol down, he’d be good.

“I have a class to get to, but I’ll finish this up later. You can swing by my office tomorrow, before you head to Seodaemun to get the feedback?” Lee’s walking away already.

“Yeah. Thanks, Mr. Lee!” Jeongguk calls.

Once he’s gone, and Jeongguk’s sure that Gi’s off, he runs back to his dorm room.

Jeongguk pulls out the accompanying contraption. He’s grateful that he had the bug made. It’s a new model. It’s a transparent sticker containing nanotechnology, completely invisible to the naked eye. He presses the paired earbud against his ear, turning it on. The bug’ll only last a few days, but it’ll give him a heads up on about what’s to come.

“Hey, you know where uh… Kim Seokjin owns an apartment? Yeah. It’s listed under his name and a Jeon Jeongguk . Mhm. That one, in Itaewon. I need a post around that area. Seokjin’s the son of a friend of mine, an important one. Jeongguk’s going to be helping with the case… Mhm. Thank you.”

Jeongguk smiles to himself.

He’s in.

Jeongguk does do his errands. Except he takes Jimin along with him usually, so he stands outside Jimin’s own apartment building. Jimin lives not too far from his apartment building. When Jeongguk bought it for him, he’d picked the second most expensive on around Itaewon, knowing that if he wanted to pique Jimin’s interest, he’d have to go overboard. Jimin accepted. And he’s lived there since.

It takes twelve minutes and forty-four seconds before Jimin actually steps outside. Jeongguk looks at him sideways, casting him a dirty look. Jimin ignores him, stretches out his arms, yawning and embracing the light of the afternoon.

“Why’d you take so long?” Jeongguk asks, beginning at a pace towards the street.

“Because I took a pre-errand nap,” Jimin responds, catching up to him, staying to his right but keeping a distance.

“Of course you did.”

“Why are you complaining? Do your errands yourself.”

“You’re my bodyguard ,” Jeongguk responds with a sickly sweet tone, although he’s nothing but wanting to get it over with so he can get to planning. Or reading. Or working. “You’re supposed to do these things. Or else what am I paying you for?”

Jimin laughs. The sound cuts through the dull scene of the streets. It’s so lighthearted. Too pretty. “You basically pay me to be your friend. I think that’s sadder than you paying somebody to get laid.”

“We’re colleagues. That’s all.” Jeongguk saunters ahead.

“Ugh– slow down, the grocery’s still going to be there when we arrive,” Jimin complains this time, running after him.

They arrive at the new small grocery five minutes later. Jimin’s the one that’s in charge of pushing and pulling the cart around. He’s also in charge of picking out food and snacks and whatever he wants. Jeongguk’s in charge of swiping his card and pulling out the bills at the end of it. He follows after Jimin this time, watching as the older boy turns childish at the sight of kids cereal, picking the rainbow-coloured ones shaped into stars. It’s a comical sight. Jeongguk can’t imagine himself doing the same.

Jimin’s almost filled the cart to the brim when Jeongguk realizes that something’s off. He looks at the contents. It’s all snacks. Gross, greasy snacks. Jimin usually picks out a good balance between the salty delicacies and healthier foods. He also usually throws in what Jeongguk’ll need too, but Jeongguk sees nothing that he’ll actually like in there. Jeongguk grabs the edge of the shopping cart. “What the fuck are you buying?” He asks, before digging through the pile. Nothing but filth.

“Food,” Jimin responds with a tone.

“This isn’t food . Put it back.”

“Uh, I’m not putting this back.”

“Jimin, the fuck is wrong–”

“I had a bad day, okay? I want to stuff myself full of all the good things in world and wallow for a bit. Anyway, didn’t you say that you were going to be off this week because of school stuff?” Jimin begins putting back most of the items anyway, dragging Jeongguk along as he does so.

Jeongguk’s too hooked on the fact that Jimin had a bad day. What could have possibly happened to make his day bad ? He grits his teeth and replies, “Yeah, I’m off this whole week. Just wanted to get the groceries done. I’ll be staying in the dorms for more than just this week.”

‘Why? You scared that Tattoo ’ll come and get you?” Jimin jokes.

“Yeah, actually. Officer Gi warned me about it.”

Jimin stops arranging the stacks of cookie boxes then. He creases his brows, then turns to Jeongguk. “Did you just say–”

“Officer Gi warned me about it. Yeah. Apparently my professor recommended me to help give perspective to the Tattoo case. So I’m going to the National Police Agency headquarters tomorrow.”

“Well shit . You’re in!” Jimin exclaims.

Jeongguk slaps a palm over his mouth. Then withdraws it immediately, wiping away the traces of wet against the fabric of his pants, grimacing. “Shut up. Seriously. I still have to visit Sol later. Seokjin just informed me that he was arriving tonight.”

“Can I come?”

“To Sol’s?” Jeongguk responds, urging him to continue along the aisle. They’re standing in the middle of it, being a bit bothersome.

“Yeah. He always brings back really nice animals when he leaves for longer intervals.”

“You like animals?”

Jimin stares at him, appalled. “I’m genuinely disappointed in how little you know about me, Jeongguk.”

“We don’t know anything about each other. We shouldn’t.”

“I know that you pretend to like your coffee black when you actually take it with one sugar. Which is, I guess, basically the same thing, but different. Hm,” Jimin takes it upon himself to make it a challenge, Jeongguk supposes. He’s the one dropping in the healthier foods now, waiting for Jimin to add, “I know that you hate physical interaction. You hate taking medicine– it makes your stomach upset when you even look at pills. Uh. You don’t like not brushing your teeth, you do it all the time. You’re particular about smells. Always earthy, never anything too artificial.

“And– And, get this. Your favorite number is thirteen. Which, I would like to assume, is because my birthday is on the thirteenth of October, but I also assume that you don’t know my birthday. So you like it because you’re a criminal. All bad guys like the number thirteen. It’s like… The lucky number for bad people.”

Jeongguk tosses the words over in his mind. He’s right about everything and he’s not going to lie– he’s surprised that Jimin can spout out a list just like that. Especially one so particular and oddly knowing. He’s wrong about the birthday thing, though. Jeongguk knows that Jimin’s birthday is on that date. “I bought you a birthday gift, Jimin. Why do you think I forgot?” He mutters, as they make their way to the counter, to check all of the items out. Jeongguk makes a mental note to come here again. The new grocery is nice.

“Oh yeah. You bought me two birthday gifts. The first one was a car. You forgot that I don’t drive. The second one was another car. I think you forgot, two times in a row, my birthday. Then just sent over a car to my apartment parking lot and told me it was– surprise! A birthday present.”

“Maybe I’m trying to send you a message,” Jeongguk offers as Jimin helps the lady at the counter deposit their stuff onto the platform.

“You’re giving me shit for not driving when you don’t even drive yourself.”

“Jimin. I’m basically fucking legally blind, do you want me to drive?”

Jimin pats his cheek before stepping out to help pack up the things. Jeongguk has no time to recoil at that. His touches are light, fleeting. “Sometimes I forget that you have a dead eye. You work so well without it.”

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, pulling out his wallet and paying. Jimin looks so happy, packing up the stuff. Inside, Jeongguk’s still wondering about the boy’s bad day. And whether he felt better now.

“He really sent a whole entourage to protect you, huh?”

Jeongguk and Jimin stand on a rooftop, just a few blocks away from his apartment building. There are cops that subtly line the streets approaching it. He teeters on the edge of the roof, squinting with his one working eye to figure out the pattern. It doesn’t take him too long. They’re spread in a radial manner. It’s more dense on the outskirts, less dense on the inside, forming a discreet yet firm circumference around the building.

Seokjin’s family must be really important to Gi if the officer was dispatching officers like this.

Then again, Jeongguk literally killed two men nearby, burning their bodies and leaving them for literal dead.

He understands the worry.

Jeongguk doesn’t realize how close he is to the edge until Jimin warningly places a warm palm against his shoulder. He shrugs the hand away. It’s not too bad when it isn’t skin-to-skin contact, but he still shrivels up. He steps back, pulling his foot from it’s hold at the line between concrete and free air. He takes one last look at the view before he tugs on the strings of his hoodie and says, “Even if I am in with Gi, it’ll be a pain in my ass. He’ll have an eye on me now, you realize that?” He asks Jimin, who sighs.

“Yeah. It isn’t going to be fun at all. If you’re not with him at the time of a crime, he might suspect something. You’re going to have to play subordinate to him.” Jimin casts him a sympathetic look.

“I’m going to need to play subordinate if I want to stay on top. I’ll do it if I have to,” Jeongguk replies, reaching into the depths of his pockets. He doesn’t have a lighter on him now. His fingers itch with the urge to flick a light open, to stare at the flame. To set something on fire. He’ll have to get it out of his system before he has to play low for the next few weeks.

Jimin stares at him for a beat longer. There’s something in the look that carries genuine sympathy. It’s fleeting, but Jeongguk sees it and he doesn’t like it. The boy turns away and he’s the one leaning over the edge now. He sits on his haunches, looking straight below him. He doesn’t fear the height , Jeongguk thinks. He’s so good at scaling walls, defying gravity that he owns it. He owns gravity .

It’s silent. They stay like that for a while, Jeongguk blankly examining Jimin’s side profile and Jimin staring at the ground thirty floors below them. It breaks when Jimin stands up and says, “It’s going to get really difficult from now on. He could bug you. And if he does, we’re the ones who’ll end up in flames.”

“Good thing I bugged him first,” Jeongguk mumbles, rolling back his shoulders, feeling the sensation of his bones cracking slightly. “It’s going to last just a day or two but it’ll be enough to know what the set up will be from this point on. I think I have the upper hand, though, considering that he’s friends with Seokjin and his family. One good word from him and I’m off, scott-free,” Jeongguk muses.

“God. This is why justice is never fully served in our society. It’s partly because people are so fucking close-minded all the time. Partly also because people follow crowd mentality– go along with whatever the majority believes. But mostly because the people that work in the government, in the police force– all fucking idiots,” Jimin says annoyedly, picking up the grocery bags. “He’s friends with Kim Seokjin, who happens to be a murderer . Call him mercenary if you want, but we all know that at the root of it, he is a killer.”

Jeongguk can’t disagree with that. “Officer Gi’s a good policeman, but he’s not a good policeman. I don’t understand why they’d assign him to a case like mine.”

“Because they think you’re easy.”

“Then why haven’t they caught me?”

“Because you aren’t easy. You’re so complex,” Jimin tells him in a matter-of-fact tone. “You’re like a rubik’s cube. Except the stickers are all wrong. So it’s impossible to solve and a pain in the ass to deal with.”

“You’re getting more creative,” Jeongguk offers, as he heads for the stairwell.

“I learn from the best.”

Jeongguk has a lot of time to kill before he and Jimin visit Sol. He sits by the table in his dorm room, palms flat against the surface of the table. His eyes shift consideringly between his laptop and his notebook. There are so many things that need to be done. He’s never had trouble with priorities before, but now it’s kind of a dilemma. He has two options:

The first is to get a head start on all of his upcoming papers. He’s already far ahead into the syllabus content– he could sit down for the next few weeks and get all of the required research papers and essays done in a snap . It’d be beneficial in the sense that he wouldn’t need to bat an eye for college. He could focus all of his energy into his plan– escaping the predicament occurring in his other life. The bounty hangs over his head heavily. He can sense the tension in the streets rising day by day. Everyone wants to see Tattoo dead.

The second option is all about authenticity. He’d attend classes as normal, get papers done as everyone else. Struggle a bit– or at least, pretend to. At least then Gi would never suspect him. How could a struggling college student balance out a second life as a crime lord?

So he could work on another part of his plan: studying his own case.

He’s already into the mind of the criminal in this case. He is the criminal. But it never hurts to have an outsider’s perspective. Jeongguk figures that it’s important to fully understand the NPA’s approach to his case. To figure out how they’re trying to break the barrier between the civil world and the underground world; how the NPA is trying to leak their way in.

He’s not stupid– he shouldn’t underestimate the National Police Agency as a whole. He can imagine it: a small trickle of water seeping through a crevice in a rooftop. If they can find the smallest way in– if they can find one way into the root of it, they could do serious damage, tearing the structure from the inside out. If they get to him, they could get to everyone else– Yoongi, Jung, Seokjin, Sol, Sungwoon– all of them. The NPA could easily have their heads.

Jeongguk reaches for his laptop. He considers placing everything into a document, but goes against it. He reaches for his stack of scratch paper, a pen and gets to work.

The first thing he searches for his the general things. He types in Tattoo into the search engine. He scrolls past the initial suggestions: a Wikipedia page on physical tattoos, images of tattoos. He scrolls until he finds the first site. It’s from an online amateur detective type of site– not from an authentic news source. He’s curious, so he clicks on it.

WHO IS TATTOO?

In case you haven’t been caught up on the recent news, Tattoo is an unidentified criminal who has been responsible for various heists, robberies and murders. He operates primarily in the area of Itaewon but his reach extends to every corner of Seoul. His omnipresence is domineering and could pose a threat to lives all across the country.

WHAT’S WITH THE NAME?

The Korea Herald released an article on December 2, 2016. A photo was attached, one of a man bearing a tattoo. So far, this has been the only sighting of him. There is no confirmation that the man in the photo is Tattoo, but it is most likely. Police assume that he is in his late twenties and has received a full education.

LINKS

Click [here] for our detectives' insight onto Tattoos’ endeavours

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Jeongguk has to laugh. He doesn’t, but it’s a funny thought. A man in his late twenties with a full education. Jeongguk’s nineteen and he’s only gotten poor homeschooling from the orphanage, one year of high school and three years of college. He’s nowhere near fully-educated but it’s nice to know that the police think highly of him. He scrolls more, deciding to give the smaller sites a chance, before he got into the bigger news sites. He presses on an article written by a Seoul National University student next.

According to a report by the Overseas Security Advisory Council, crime rates in South Korea were low prior to the year 2016. In years past, most crimes were reported to be non-confrontational, manifesting in the forms of pickpocketing, purse snatching and home thefts. However, after the National Police Agency was able to infiltrate a drug ring on the streets of Itaewon on November 2, 2015, it was clear that there was more to Seoul than what it seemed. Underground operations, human trafficking, smuggling– all heinous crimes extending to homicide. All of these continue to this day.

In the past two years, beginning 2016, an influx in crime has been observed. The National Police Agency (NPA) have been able to crack a lot of these cases, yet one remains standing: the case of a mysterious man given the name ‘Tattoo’. Although unconfirmed, police have attributed the countless of heists and cases of fires to him. Tattoo is only one of the many men and women propagating crime on the streets, yet his case remains the most important; as recently, a 2 billion won bounty has been placed for his arrest, co-funded by the National Museum of Korea, who had been the target of one of his infamous heists in 2016.

Jeongguk scrolls up to the beginning of the article, pausing there. He reads the name and recognizes it to be one of the freshmen in law school. He sifts through his memories, trying to pinpoint a face to the name. It takes a while, but he finally gets it. The boy has a thin figure. Small. Always peevish. Jeongguk makes a mental note of his name. Kang Eun-seok .

He opens up a proper news article the next time and begins scrawling down notes. He purposefully writes in a quick manner, as if he’s excited. He doesn’t make any pauses in between notes unless fully necessary. He places himself into the shoes of an excited student. Jeongguk knows the power of graphologists. The people who could sense the hesitation based off of handwriting, people who could tell somebody’s mental state based off of a single stroke. He’s read a couple of times that graphology was all pseudoscience but he’s not going to risk anything at this point.

He writes on.

Jeongguk stops taking notes when dark pours through his windowsill. He’s written a whole stack of papers, just taking note of prior investigations and police reports. He’s most fascinated by the Bangasayusang heist case. In one of the reports, an officer speculated about whether he was just of young age. It was the only report that assumed that he was anything less than 25 years old.

He files all of the papers into a neat binder, one he’d take to the NPA tomorrow, so he could show Officer Gi that he was invested in the case. But it was more for his own personal benefit. Jeongguk now knows three things:

1. The police generally assume that he’s approaching his 30s, which he most definitely isn’t.
2. The police are tracing heist and robbery patterns across Seoul. They’re beginning to narrow down their searches to only Itaewon. What the police don’t know, however, is that Jeongguk isn’t responsible for most of the heists. He’s only done about four or five out of the twenty or so they’re investigating.
3. The police think that he’s a pyromaniac. One article even used the word pyrophiliac, which is somebody who gets off of setting things on fire. Jeongguk likes fire but not for the reasons they think.

He settles back into his seat and sighs, content with the work. He remembers, immediately, that he has to visit Sol with Jimin soon, so he stands up to rummage through his closet for anything relatively presentable. All he has is winter clothes. A lot of sweatshirts and sweatpants. And– oh, there it is. Jeongguk reaches for a black suit that sits at the very back of his closet. He doesn’t use it often, only sometimes, when Seokjin drags him along to some events.

Jeongguk knows that Sol lives in Pyeongchang-dong, which is considered to be the wealthiest portion of Seoul, so if he’s going to go there, he’s going to have to look the part. He suspects that Sol’s hosting a party tonight. Whenever he comes back from a trip, he’s always flaunting his new prizes to potential buyers. Or probably trying to reel in a chance to meet wealthy women.

He tugs the suit onto him, feeling the way the suit jacket slightly pinches at his arms. He’s grown a lot since he’d last used it. Jeongguk makes a mental note to buy new suits sometime soon.

He lodges a burner phone into the crook of his neck and arm after dialling Jimin’s number, fastening a too-expensive watch around his wrist. It’s a while before Jimin picks up.

“–m’hello?”

“I hope you didn’t forget we were going to Sol’s tonight.”

“Mm… M-wait…” There’s scuffling. Jeongguk squints slightly at his reflection in the mirror, wondering what the fuck is going on. “Okay.” Jimin’s voice is clearer. “Yeah, I didn’t forget. I was just going around town a while ago. Apparently everyone ’s going to be at his house.”

“Everyone?” Jeongguk asks.

“Like. Yoongi. Jung. Taehyung. Seokjin. Maybe Sungwoon. When I mean everyone , I mean everyone . The only people that matter to you,” Jimin responds.

“Sungwoon, huh?”

“Yeah. How lucky are you this week? Getting to hold hands with Officer Gi. Now you have Sungwoon delivered to you, wrapped up like a little present,” Jimin hums through the line.

Jeongguk doesn’t like the streak of luck. Something’s bound to go wrong soon. “Yeah. By the way, we’re not taking public transport there. Not at this hour, so I’m going to ask Seokjin for a ride. Can you come over now?”

“Open your window.”

Jeongguk hesitates before he turns around and walks back into the main room. He inches towards his desk, where the window sits, and he opens it. Jimin drops from some ledge above, perching on his windowsill, phone sitting in between his lips. He uses one hand to steady himself while the other picks the phone and presses it against his ear. “Hey.”

“I’m debating pushing you off this ledge,” the crime lord responds grimly. Jimin’s expression is so satisfied, so happy, that he wouldn’t. But Jimin’s so… Jimin sometimes. It makes him feel weird on the inside.

Jimin ends the call and leaps gracefully over his desk, landing on the balls of his feet with bravado. “And he sticks the landing,” Jimin narrates. It’s when he huffs and lies down on Jeongguk’s bed, when Jeongguk realizes that he’s dressed up. Jimin usually sticks to tight-fitting, flexible clothes or comfortable ones. He decides to choose the former tonight, his suit clinging onto every curve of his body. Jeongguk presses his lips together tightly, moving his eyes away from the boy on his bed to his own reflection.

He tugs on his suit jacket, picking off a speck of dust. He reaches for the phone again and dials Seokjin’s number.

“Yeah?”

“You’re going to Sol’s.”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“We need a ride there.”

Seokjin pauses. Then says, “Alright. Where are you right now?”

“I’m at campus. Jimin’s with me already.”

“Of course Jimin’s with you.”

“Bye.”

He clicks the phone shut. He turns the device over in his hands before he moves to his table. He pulls out a lighter. It’s a cheap plastic one from the nearest convenience store. There’s no way he’d keep any of his nicer ones in the dorm.

Jeongguk tosses the phone into the fire-resistant trash can he bought just months ago. He sets it on fire and feels an odd sense of catharsis. It’s always like this– relief seeping through his bones as he watches the burner phone settle into flames, cascading into a string of semi-transparent black smoke.

“I was reading something the other day,” Jimin says, all of a sudden.

He keeps staring at the flame. His eyes are on the fire, but he’s listening to Jimin. The words are unfamiliar; foreign, because Jimin doesn’t read. Not because he doesn’t like to, but because he never really… Learned? Jimin’s never told him, but Jeongguk knows. Jeongguk can see the strain in his eyes whenever he looks over street signs or menus, especially when they go to restaurants or places they’ve never been before. He can read smaller, easier things, but books– Jeongguk doubts it.

“You did?” Jeongguk responds, pulling his eyes from the fire, that’s slowly beginning to die. He looks at Jimin then. Jimin’s eyes are closed.

“Mhm. It was about a famous heist. The Antwerp diamond heist,” Jimin replies, “It happened about fifteen years ago. They got away with a hundred million dollars’ worth of jewelry. There were five men that were behind it, led by a man named Leonardo Notarbartolo. It’s pretty interesting, how he got through security. How he built the foundation of the heist, but what was really funny was how he got caught.”

“How’d he get caught?” Jeongguk doesn’t know much about the Antwerp diamond heist. He knows about many other famous heists like The Great Train Robbery and the case of D.B. Cooper, though.

“They found a DNA sample in a salami sandwich found near the crime scene.”

Jeongguk knows what Jimin’s trying to tell him. To be cautious– to be wary of every possible scenario because anything’s possible.

Pulling off a heist is one feat but getting away with it is a whole other level.

Jeongguk’s good at both, but if he wasn’t attentive for one second– if he’d let down his guard for just a millisecond , he could be caught and thrown into jail. For all of his crimes, for all the terrible, terrible things he’d done as Tattoo , Jeongguk knows that he’d never make it out of jail alive. They’d give him a death sentence.

Capital punishment is legal in South Korea. In 2017 there were 300 people sentenced to death. Jeongguk’s seen the list of people listed for hanging and he doesn’t want his name to be marked on there for history to see.

“How unfortunate,” Jeongguk says after a while, his voice hoarse. He swallows and straightens. Before Jimin can respond– if he was going to respond, he doesn’t have a chance to. Jimin’s phone buzzes.

“Seokjin’s here.”

“Let’s go, then.”

The car ride consists of Jimin and Seokjin talking and Jeongguk sitting stagnant in the back. They’re sitting in the front and he’s sitting in the back of his black Bugatti Veyron– a really fucking expensive car. He feels like a kid. And like always, he doesn’t like it.

He doesn’t say anything. It’s about a twenty-minute drive and the conversation between the two go like this:

Seokjin: So. You guys are trying to shut both Sol and Sungwoon up?

Jimin: Yeah. Sol’s gonna be pretty easy but Sungwoon’s gonna dangle the prize in Jeongguk’s face and make him squirm a bit.

Seokjin: Hm. I heard that Gi asked you to work on your own case with him.

Jimin: It’s pretty cool. And funny. But risky.

Seokjin: He won’t suspect Jeongguk. He’s too busy chasing after Tattoo.

Jimin: Jeongguk is Tattoo.

Seokjin: Jeongguk and Tattoo are two different people in one body. Jeongguk’s a little nerd. Awkward. Socially… Blue-balled. Tattoo’s the real threat.

Jimin: You underestimate Jeongguk. He’s smart.

Seokjin: I was saying that from Gi’s perspective. I just talked to him. He’s a bit reluctant about taking Jeongguk as a sidekick because he thinks he’s a pussy.

Jimin: Yikes. If only he knew you were a mercenary and that his new intern is the man he’s been looking for for years

Seokjin: He’s pretty thick in the head.

Jimin: I can tell.

Jeongguk zones out until they arrive in Pyeongchang-dong. Jeongguk recognizes it because they pass by the Art Complex. It’ll take about five minutes from here to Sol’s house. Or, well, mansion. It’s a huge lot.

He sighs when they’re stopped by guards at the door. Sol’s very particular about his parties. They’re very exclusive. Mostly because of security, but partly because he likes playing hierarchy. He knows he’s rich and powerful and he’ll flaunt it if he wants.

“Names?” The head guard asks, tapping a pen against his board.

“Kim Seokjin. Park Jimin. Jeon Jeongguk,” Seokjin replies.

He checks off two names. Then looks in the backseat. Jeongguk responds with a menacing glare. He flinches. “There’s no Jeon Jeongguk on the list, sir.”

Jeongguk holds out his hand. The man hesitates. “I’m not allowed to give the list out.”

“Give it to me or I’ll fucking call Sol myself.”

The man passes him the board.

Jeongguk runs through the pages until he’s at the T section. “Son of a bitch,” he mutters, before handing it back. Of course Sol would put him in as Tattoo. He anticipated this, clearly. “I’m on the list.”

“Who–”

“I’m on the list,” he repeats, firmer this time.

The gates slide open. Seokjin looks in the rearview mirror at him, smiling before he pulls the car into the lot.

When they get out of the car, Seokjin enters ahead, leaving them in front of the house. Jeongguk takes a long look at it. It’s made of expensive wood and a thin yet resilient glass. It incorporates so aspects of the environment, with greens peeking out from the windows. The garden is flourishing, glowing beautifully even in the dark. It’s a nice home. The type Jeongguk would’ve liked in another lifetime.

“Sol has good taste,” Jimin remarks, as if echoing his mind.

“Yeah. He does,” Jeongguk replies airily, before turning. He checks his reflection one last time. His tie is kind of crooked. He tugs it off completely, grimacing at the imperfection.

Jimin sighs, reaching forward, holding out his palm. Jeongguk places the tie. Jimin carefully laces it around his neck, making sure to avoid contact. Jeongguk appreciates it. The former acrobat makes a perfect tie, patting against his chest after he’s done. “Do you realize how often you look at yourself in the mirror? It’s like you don’t know you’re hot.”

Jeongguk doesn’t care about his looks. But he cares about how he appears to others– not because he wants to please, but because he wants to make sure that he’s not giving anything away. So many people walk around, transparent and ripe for the taking. So many people walk around with their fatal flaws exposed for the world to abuse. They care too much about their physical appearance, how they look, whether they’re the object of somebody’s sexual appetite, that they forget the most important thing: their dignity.

He looks at Jimin. He takes care of himself well. He is one of those people who can be an open book but at least he wasn’t such a people pleaser. “I didn’t know you thought I was hot.”

The boy smiles. “I would actually like you if you weren’t so unpleasant all the time, you know?” He steps back and begins for the entrance.

Jeongguk wonders what he means by unpleasant. Then he realizes. He knows he’s not the best person emotionally or empathetically but is he really that bad?

He frowns and follows.

The thing about these high-class parties that Jeongguk appreciates the most is the civilization. There are no bodies grinding against one another, no people reaching to cop a feel of everybody that walks within a one-meter radius. These are all spoiled socialites. Not the old ones, but the children of them. The ones that are funneling in money from their parents’ trust funds and using it for filthy, filthy things. He recognizes many people. Wealthy young businessmen and women who stumble into the bars he sits in, looking for any semblance of affection; allowing themselves to fall into the illusion that the backrooms of a club equate to genuine human interaction.

He tips his head when he sees Kim Taehyung in the center of it all. The little socialite smiles at him, raising his flute of champagne. Beside him, Jung stands. Jeongguk pauses to stare him down. Jung. Jung Hoseok’s intimidating. He really is, but he’s the one to back down tonight, turning away first. Taehyung must’ve told him to play nice.

He looks around the crowd for Jimin, but the boy’s gone. He’s probably looking for Sungwoon or Sol. Jeongguk remembers what he’s here for and he sets off himself.

Jeongguk knows that Sol is probably off somewhere wooing a pretty socialite girl. He gives the main room one last look, deciding that he isn’t amongst the crowd and he remembers from the list that Sungwoon hasn’t arrived. He exits through a door on the very left. It leads him to an open veranda area. It’s widespread and brightened up with subtle candlelights. He can spot Sol. And he’s just about right. He is with a girl.

But she isn’t a socialite. She’s wounded and bleeding and he’s helping patch her up. Jeongguk feels like he’s intruding on something. Little does Sol care about people, and if he’s helping somebody who’s beneath him, she must be important.

He listens in for a bit.

"You have to stop getting yourself into shitty situations," Sol says tiredly.

"I need the money," she replies, her voice so rough.

"I can give you all the money you want."

"I don't want your money."

Jeongguk doesn't understand. Nor does he want to. He ducks back inside the house.

It’ll have to wait.

He looks to find Jimin then. It takes a bit of circling around, but he eventually does. The boy’s with Taehyung. They’re laughing and smiling and talking. And Jeongguk remembers that he hasn’t asked Jimin why they’d met up at some club that one night. He clenches his jaw, strolling across the room, whisking past people, to get to them. Taehyung waves him over with a flourish. “Jeongguk!”

Jimin turns to him, holding a glass of red wine. He tips the glass into his mouth, barely batting an eye as the drink disappears, just like that. He looks consideringly at the other drink in his hand. He swallows it down as well.

“Watch the drinks,” Jeongguk warns him, coming to a halt in front of him.

“I have a feeling that we’re in for a long night,” Jimin replies with a wink. “Just trying to numb it down.”

“If you’re tipsy, you won’t be able to scale.” Lie. Jeongguk has seen Jimin climb a wall drunk. He can hold his alcohol well. He’s just annoyed because of Jimin and Taehyung and whatever they were keeping from him.

“We both know that isn’t true, Jeongguk.” Jimin says, lingering a bit too close for Jeongguk’s liking. His breath smells of alcohol. He smiles before walking away, probably to drink more.

Jeongguk doesn’t realize that he’s clenching his teeth until Taehyung rubs his shoulder, snapping him out of it. He jerks back. “You’re always so tense,” Taehyung frowns, “it’s a party. Can’t you loosen up a bit?”

“I don’t like being touched,” Jeongguk replies flatly.

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Why did you go and see Jimin that night? In the club?” He steadies his tone, reeling in from the dizziness he feels. It’s still amazing to him, how much he reacts from being touched. Every single brush, every contact he makes with another person sends a literal shudder through him.

“Because he wanted to hang out? I mean, I was serious about getting along for real. No malicious intent. Jimin’s nice.”

Jimin is nice.

“–Anyway. He told me you were looking for Sungwoon. I just saw him enter a few minutes ago. If you’re going to talk, you should catch him before he leaves. He usually doesn’t hang around in these things,” Taehyung encourages, lifting his shoulder.

Jeongguk nods slowly. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

He goes off on his search again, this time finding Sungwoon. The man stands on his own by the drinks bar, pouring himself a long glass of white wine. He shouldn’t be scared of him– Jeongguk isn’t, but he needs to stop baring his teeth at everybody if he wants to get anywhere. It’s a party , Taehyung had said. Can’t you loosen up a bit?

The young crime lord shakes off the tension and approaches. He leans his back against the table casually, eyes on the glass. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show up,” he says. Jeongguk pushes all emotion aside. Anything other than the confidence that Tattoo would wear is out the window. Seokjin was right– Jeon Jeongguk and Tattoo were two very different people. It used to be easy to slither between two identities because nobody was watching. Now it’s like a light switch. He can’t be both– he has to be one or the other because if somebody matches up his identities, he’s screwed.

“Jeongguk,” Sungwoon replies after a beat, sounding surprised. “I didn’t see your name on the guest list. Didn’t see that Tattoo was crossed out either. How’d you get in?”

“Are you going for the bounty?” Jeongguk questions. Cut the bullshit. He needs to secure this.

“Are you scared?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. He means it. “If you take me down, I’ll take you down with me.”

“You’re always so unnecessarily violent,” Sungwoon clicks his tongue and turns to pour another glass. Jeongguk glances his way to find that he’s pouring a glass for Jeongguk.

“I don’t drink.”

Sungwoon looks up, pausing. “Didn’t get the impression that you were sober.”

“I just don’t drink.”

“Understandable.” He downs both glasses in a manner similar to Jimin’s– quick and easy. As if he doesn’t know that alcohol can kill his liver. As if he doesn’t care, that even maybe by 1%, his inhibitions are lowered.

Jeongguk faces him. “Are you taking the bounty?” He repeats, this time firm.

“No. I’m not.” The man shakes his head. “You do realize that we’re all on the same side, in the end? All of us. You, me, Sol, Jung, Yoongi, Seokjin– all people in this room. All of us are committing such terrible, heinous crimes. There’s no going back at this point. We’re all enemies of the police, the government. Why would I out you when I know that very well, you could do the same?

“I know I’m not the nicest person to you. Don’t get me fuckin’ wrong, I don’t like you. I don’t like anybody else here but if the world worked that way– if we played eye for an eye over and over again, there’s truth to the saying. We’d all go blind.” Sungwoon holds his gaze while saying this. There’s nothing nice about his words, but Jeongguk feels comforted by them anyway. He’s right: if anybody wanted him outed, he’d be in jail right now.

He searches Sungwoon’s face for any sign of insincerity, but there’s nothing. It's either he's good at hiding it or he's being sincere. Jeongguk seriously doubts the latter. Sungwoon doesn't just let things go. He likes to make people work for it.

“Are we done here?” He asks, breaking the silence. “I have to make my rounds. Then I have to leave.”

Jeongguk steps back, nods. “Yeah. We’re done.”

“Alright. I suppose I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe.”

Sungwoon dips his head low before he saunters off into the crowd. He’s welcomed by a lot of people. He’s well-liked amongst the people in this room, but out on the streets, not so much.

He doesn't trust Sungwoon. The man's words were comforting, but that's all they were. His diction. The way he said it... It made Jeongguk feel like he was a part of some sick criminal family. The words he'd so meticulously picked out. Sungwoon knows how to sweet-talk. Jeongguk won't believe it because he knows that Sungwoon could very well be the cause of his downfall.

Jeongguk stares at the crowd, eyes darting around until his gaze goes slightly blurry with strain. Working with one eye is a bit of a headache. Having to compensate for the lack of sight, knowing that once, he’d been able to see fully– it’s painful. It makes his head spin with unease.

It takes a copious amount of him blinking for him to regain clear sight. He doesn’t drink because it actually could affect his eyesight. He has little to work with in the first place, so he’s trying his best to maintain what he has left. It’s his greatest weakness and he doesn’t want to make it worse by succumbing to things so easily controlled like alcohol and smoking.

Jeongguk stands still until he sees Sol enter the room, all the way across the floor. The girl’s no longer with him. He’s trying to hide it, but Jeongguk can see the remnants of blood on his hands. He ducks his head and tries to make his way to the door to the left discreetly, but Jeongguk’s watching. He presumes that the door leads to the more private part of his home. Two guards are posed there, greeting him as he enters. Jeongguk curses, knowing that they won’t let him in.

As if Jimin reads his mind, the boy appears out of nowhere, placing a hand on his back quickly, letting him know that he’s there. “I can distract them. I’ll need your knife, though.”

Jeongguk blinks at him. “My knife? For what?”

“I’m gonna cut my leg. They’re going to help me because they probably don’t want to cause a scene.”

Jeongguk doesn’t give him the knife. Jimin’s not going to cut his leg for Jeongguk’s benefit. Plus, it’s too dramatic for his taste. There are too many other options to consider over Jimin’s idea.

Jimin frowns at him. “Fine. Kick me in the shins.”

“I’m not going to let you cut yourself or kick you in the shins. We’ll find another way.”

Jeongguk scans around. There are only three doors in the room. The main entrance. The exit to the foyer. The door to the rest of the house. There are no bathrooms. He and Jimin could pretend. They could ask for the directions to the bathroom. A guard would lead them there, and Jeongguk could knock him out. And they’d find Sol.

“When we walk to the guards, we’re going to act,” Jeongguk tells him.

Jimin raises a brow quizzically. “Act? How?”

“ Act .”

“Oh. Oh .” Jimin nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

They walk together to the guards. Jeongguk has to suck it in when he slides a hand around Jimin’s waist, tugging him close. He forces himself to get through it, exhaling through his nose. Jimin leans towards him, batting his lashes. “Do you know where the bathrooms are?” He asks, voice velvet. His hand is on Jeongguk’s chest, pressing lightly so that Jeongguk isn’t too bothered, but it’s still there. He’s holding Jimin. Jimin’s holding him.

Jeongguk’s about to be sick.

The guards don’t budge for a minute. Jimin sighs. “Do you want us to fuck in front of everyone?” Jeongguk’s stomach lurches at the thought. They open the doors. A guard, as predicted, leads them down the hall.

Jeongguk moves away from Jimin then. Jimin shoots him an apologetic look. Jeongguk shakes his head, waiting. Once the door falls shut, Jeongguk juts out his arm, striking the guard in the neck with enough force to knock him unconscious. Jimin steps back, surprised at the sudden movement. Jeongguk would stay to drag the body away but he feels too sick. He runs to the bathroom, pushing the door open and throwing up into the toilet. Sickening , he thinks, slowly pushing away from it. Absolutely sickening .

His mind shifts a bit. Back to the past. He shuts his eyes closed, trying to rid of it, but the darkness only brings images– memories.

Too many hands on him.

Too many voices.

Jeongguk had been too vulnerable, too weak.

He couldn’t fight back.

He slaps a hand across his face, snapping out of it. Jeongguk pushes away even further, until he’s on his feet. It’s not the time to be wallowing in the past. He can barely remember anything but the hands but they still haunt him to this day. He wrings his hands around, trying to regain his footing but it’s too much sometimes.

Jeongguk walks over to the sink, wiping the remnants on his lips from the back of his hands before washing them, throwing on extra pushes of soap to make sure that it’s all gone from him. He even rinses out his mouth, ridding of the bitter taste.

He looks at himself in the mirror, just to make sure that he isn’t crying. His eyes are mismatched. The dead eye is unmoving. It sits there, useless. His working eye, on the other hand, is slightly tinged with red. He sucks in deep breaths, inhaling in and out and in and out until he feels better. He’s less light-headed by the end of it but he feels the continuous urge to throw up.

Jimin doesn’t follow him to the bathroom– thank god. Jimin’s never seen him throw up or react as violently to touches. He knows that Jeongguk doesn’t like physical contact but he doesn’t know why and Jeongguk isn’t about to explain.

When he exits the bathroom, regulating his posture, he spots Jimin closing a window. The boy glances his way, offering an apologetic look. Jeongguk only shakes his head. “We’re never doing that. Never again.”

“Sorry,” Jimin says sincerely, rubbing the back of his head. “Uh… I also carried the guard and threw him out the window.”

Jeongguk, in any other instance, would call it stupid, but there’s no point in arguing. “Good.”

They walk together down the hall. Jimin keeps a clear distance from him, arms folded as they continue in silence. There’s a room at the very end. There are no guards, no cameras anywhere, so he doubts that it’s Sol’s bedroom. Office, perhaps.

Jeongguk knocks twice. He doesn’t expect an answer, but the door swings open almost immediately. Sol stands there, without his deep grey suit jacket. His white undershirt is covered with blood. “What are you guys doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Jeongguk replies, unable to look away from the blood.

“I’m busy.”

“Who’s the girl?”

Sol narrows his eyes. “None of your business. I said, I was busy. What do you guys want?”

“To talk.” Jimin pushes past him, striding into the room. Jeongguk watches as Sol sighs, shoulders collapsing. He allows Jeongguk in as well, closing the door shut behind them both. Jimin’s quick to walk to the cages, where there are many different animals pawing at the steel bars. He coos, already distracted.

“Do I even want to know what happened to the guard at the door?” Sol questions, although without any annoyance.

“He’s out in the garden,” Jimin replies, sticking his small fingers into the cage. Jeongguk watches as the small animal aggressively bats at his hand. Jimin doesn’t falter, continuing to murmur a string of aww ’s and so cute ’s.

“Of course he is.” Sol turns to Jeongguk. “And you. You’re here to ask me if I’m going to take the bounty. I’m not. First of all, I don’t have any time. Second, I actually have some news for you .”

Jeongguk’s not surprised at the straightforward answer. But he’s wondering about what news Sol has in store. “News?”

“You’ve got bounty hunter on your tail. Rumor has it that Gi’s pulling a scheme. That he got a hunter to work for him. They find you, they split the income,” Sol informs him, moving towards his desk, where he pulls out files. He licks through them, skimming through until he pulls one out. It’s a profile on somebody. “Kim Namjoon. You’re gonna wanna keep an eye out for him. I hear that he has a 100% success rate.”

Jeongguk walks to the table. He eyes Sol before taking the profile in his hands. Kim Namjoon. Genius. But not as smart as him. There isn’t much information on the page, but it’s a good start. And a good helping hand from Sol. “If I can get evidence that Gi’s working with a bounty hunter, it could end his career. They’re illegal here in South Korea.”

“You’re right, but he’s not going to get caught. Namjoon. He’s good at his shit– really good. I get word from overseas too. I was in the states. People know him there.” Sol rips out a piece of paper from a notepad. He clicks a pen and scribbles something down: an address. It’s incomplete. “I actually saw him yesterday, at a bar. He mentioned this place, but I don’t have a specific house number or anything.”

Jeongguk reads over the address. Migeun-dong, Seodaemun. He blinks. “I know where this is. This is the National Police Agency headquarters.”

“Well shit,” Sol whistles. “Any chance you have a way in?”

“I do, actually. You know how I’m a student at SNU?”

“Oh yeah. Law school, right?”

“My professor set me up with Gi. I’m now apparently helping work my own case.”

Sol pushes the hair back from his face, smiling. “Jeongguk, you’re a lucky prick.”

“I know. I’ve been feeling a bit fortunate lately. It’s only about time before things go wrong.” Jeongguk hands Sol the profile back, having already memorized every piece of information on it. His mind is elsewhere then. He watches as Jimin retracts his hand, turning to stare back at him. They’re both thinking along the same lines now.

You’re going to kill Namjoon, aren’t you? Jimin questions, with a raise of his brow.

That’s the only way. Unless I manage to get him to cooperate . Jeongguk purses his lips.

They’re good at reading each other. They’re so different: Jimin a bit childish sometimes, not fond of education, always free-spirited. He’s too coy, too cocky, too flirty. He likes physical contact. He likes people, and animals and everything good in the world. He enjoys the simple things in life. He’s a bad person in what he does, but he’s a good person at heart.

But despite all that; despite being black and white, both on the opposite sides of the spectrum, they’re on the same spectrum. The same line of criminals out in the world. Jimin may have his heart set out on protecting young children on the streets of Itaewon, when he’s set to business, he’ll do what he has to do. Sex, crime, murder– he’ll do it all and he’ll do it for Jeongguk.

Jeongguk gifted Jimin the apartment he lives in now. Along with the apartment, he’d gotten Jimin to sign a contract, binding him as Jeongguk’s bodyguard. Of course, the job description fell flat and loose. Jimin became more of an equal in their relationship.

Jeongguk wonders, if he burns the contract, sets it away– would Jimin remain with him?

He would never destroy it. He doesn’t know what he’d do without the older boy. As much as he hates depending on others, he needs Jimin.

Jimin looks at him then and smiles. It’s not a kind one. It’s absolutely menacing.

Jeongguk needs him.

Chapter Text

IT WAS NEARING CHRISTMAS TIME AT THE ORPHANAGE.

Another time for most of the kids to be greeted with absolute disappointment as their appointed caretakers continued to neglect them, to show no love nor compassion. Jeongguk, at the age of eight, didn’t expect anything anymore. He’d learnt to keep his expectations so low that he would never, ever be disappointed again. So he sits by the fireplace, warming himself up, as the other kids form a circle on the other side of the room, talking about their wishlists.

Jeongguk pities them for being so naive. Most of them are new to this orphanage, so they don’t know what it’s like to be under the care of people who had no ounce of care in them. They expected presents to appear in the fashion stockings that lined the fireplace, each one labelled with their names in sharpie marker ink. Not embroidered, like in the movies. Some are bursting at the seams, not from use, but from being thrown around carelessly.

He listens into their conversation, however. Eight year old Jeongguk is a cynic, but not entirely. Not yet. Some part of him still thinks that a loving couple would swoop in to adopt him any day, but it never comes.

“I want new tracks for the train set,” one of the kids says chipperly, “the train always stops and it’s so hard to do anything with the one we have.”

“I kind of want new books so I can learn things,” another one muses, “I always play with kids who go to real school and they bully me because I’m stupid.”

“They’re stupid. School is stupid. Let’s just ask for more toys.” Jeongguk knows the voice. It’s Mingyu, one of the kids his age. He’s been here for a few months. His parents abandoned him for unknown reasons, Jeongguk had heard when he was first brought in.

The rest of the kids murmur assent. Jeongguk tunes out then, focusing on the way the fire pricks at the ceiling of the fireplace, the flames threatening to set it ablaze. He can see it– the fire starting, burning this place to the ground. He’s the only one who can see it. The only one who can anticipate it. He’ll escape. Maybe he’ll tell the other kids, but not the caretakers. He wants them dead. Dead for all the things they’ve done to him.

He thinks about the time he’d been studying on his own. He’d been taken in by a foster family that gave him books for elementary school but they’d given him back to the orphanage, having second thoughts. So Jeongguk had the books, and worked on them day and night. One of the caretakers had yelled at him, confiscating the books. He’d punched Jeongguk, fractured his ribs and called him useless. He was only seven.

In the same year, the same caretaker had caught him studying again, this time, a book on law and adoptions. Most of the words were too difficult for him to understand but he was trying hard to find out when he could legally leave the orphanage on his own. The caretaker gave him a concussion so hard that when he woke up, his right eye had been blurry. He’d tried to wash it away, to rub at his eye to get it working again, but his vision only began to deteriorate from then on.

But nothing was as troubling as the incident from just months prior. He can’t remember much at all. He knows that his mind was working to keep him from remembering the trauma, but he was left in the dark. All he knows was that there were too many hands on him. So much pain. So much fucking pain that moreso, he was glad that he couldn’t remember. He was glad that his mind had locked it away.

After it happened, Jeongguk couldn’t be around any of the other kids. They were too touchy, too playful with one another and seeing skin made him sick to the stomach. The caretakers went along with their lives, working and placing on false smiles as potential parents walked in and out of the orphanage. They didn’t bother with Jeongguk anymore. He knew that they saw him wince away whenever somebody touched him but they didn’t care.

Nobody did.

Jeongguk never wished he was dead, though. Even if it pained him so much to wake up with half of the world blurred, taken away from him, he never wished to die. He only wanted to become smarter, to become better than the people who’d done this to him. He’d gotten crafty. When the caretakers took the kids outside to show the inspector that they were doing well, Jeongguk faked sickness and was left alone. He’d picked the lock to their office and guessed the passcode to their file cabinets.

Jeongguk first took out his file folder. There wasn’t much on it in the first place, other than his name, his birthday and the general area from where he was found. He places it back, figuring that it was useless to him. He pokes around more until he finds his books. He removes all of the pages from the covers, stacking them neatly into one pile. Then he grabs a bunch of random blank and scratch papers from a bin, placing them inside the book covers to look like they’re still there.

Jeongguk takes the pile of papers, cuts a hole underneath his mattress and slips them in. At night, he feels the papers against his back. Once it’s lights out, he takes them out and reads. When the caretakers take the kids out– although rarely–, he stays back feigning sickness and they don’t argue because they think he’s sick in the mind. Jeongguk spends all those hours reading and reading and learning.

One day, he’s left alone in the orphanage again. They lock him in, making sure that he can’t escape. Jeongguk is nine now. He’s smarter than he was when he was eight. He can pick locks. He can sneak around. And over the past months, he’s been taking note of everything that was happening around him. He knows that his caretakers leave a spare set of keys on top of the cupboard, where they think the kids can’t reach. Jeongguk climbs the counter, takes they keys and climbs back down.

He takes a spare backpack, stuffs in all the money he can find from the office, as well as some food from the fridge. He takes a butter knife from the kitchen and slips it into his pocket. He takes a lighter from he drawer and grips it tightly in the palm of his hand.

And fuck it– he doesn’t care about leaving the place without impact. Jeongguk wraps cloth around his fist and slams his hand through the window. It shatters under his angry force. He tosses the keys aside and jumps out the window. He runs as far as he can. When he’s sure he’s relatively far enough, he pulls out a file from his backpack.

It’s his folder. The one containing the little to no information about him.

He reads his name.

Jeon Jeongguk. The letters are faded, the ink worn out from years of being taken out and placed back into the cabinet.

Jeon Jeongguk.

He promises himself that when he leaves this earth, nobody’s ever going to forget his name.

Nobody.

Your name, sir?”

“Jeon Jeongguk.”

“I.D.?”

He hands it to the man. The man takes it, inspects the information then looks at him. He begins writing down something before typing the information into the laptop. Jeongguk bounces on his heels, waiting for the process to be finished.

He’s in the National Police Agency. He barely got to talk to Gi, only being able to hand him the file of notes he’d taken. Gi looked over them once and promised to read them, before he was off, whisked into a meeting. But before he’d left, he told Jeongguk to sign up for an I.D. to enter the building. He wouldn’t have access to the higher floors, where more important officials worked, but he’d have access to the general areas.

Progress.

He has to wait a few more minutes before the man at the counter withdraws a newly-printed identification card, handing it to him, along with his old one. Jeongguk mumbles a thanks before he makes a beeline for the exit of the building. Seokjin’s not there yet, so he waits in the lobby, foot tapping against the floor impatiently. He has places to be. Important things to do.

While he’s sitting, a man enters the front of the building. Jeongguk eyes him. He’s not an officer– Jeongguk can tell from how he dresses: casual but expensive clothing. He wonders who the man is, but his eyes manage to catch a small glimpse into his identity before he pulls down his sleeve. A small insignia printed onto his skin– one of three overlapping triangles.

The mark of a bounty hunter.

He’s seen it many times before. He’s hired one himself. And he’s sure that Sol Young, the man who now was a smuggler and businessman, used to be one. Anybody could label themself as a bounty hunter but not everybody was good enough to qualify for the mark. Which means that Kim Namjoon– the man after him– was good at what he did.

Jeongguk looks down at his hands to avoid staring for too long. He thinks about Sol’s words. Kim Namjoon . The bounty hunter who was allegedly working with Officer Gi to track Tattoo down.

To track Jeongguk down.

He knows that bounty hunters thrive off of information. They tear down people and ransack the streets for information. But the best ones are the ones that use intuition and intelligence. The ones who don’t rely on violence to learn.

He stares at his hands. His mind buzzes with questions. He makes a mental note to ask Sol if he has more information on Namjoon and bounty hunters within that circle in general. He’s never been the person being hunted. He’s always been the person maneuvering the hunt. To have the circumstances turned against him isn’t pleasant.

He’s still looking down when he hears footsteps. Then, “ Jeongguk! ”

Jeongguk looks up at the sound of his name. Gi and Namjoon stand together, and they’re both looking at him. Gi waves him over invitingly while Namjoon remains in his own distinguishing bubble of space. He stands with his hand stuffed into his pockets. His body language places a silent divide between himself and others– and Jeongguk’s glad. He’s never in the mood for a handshake.

“I thought you’d be gone already, but this is good. Jeongguk, this is Kim Namjoon. He’s another person I’ve brought in to help with the case.” Jeongguk turns to Namjoon slowly. He’s eyeing him scrutinizingly. He’s not bothering to hide it at all. He tips his chin up intimidatingly.

Play subordinate .

Jeongguk dips his head out of respect. “Nice to meet you.”

Gi smiles and nods. “Yeah. He’s brilliant, just like you. I told him to come in today to get an I.D. too. I still have a meeting to get on with. Do you need a ride?” Officer Gi offers, leaning his head questioningly.

“Oh. No, no thank you. Seokjin’s picking me up, actually.”

“Kim Seokjin?” Namjoon asks. His voice is rougher, lower than Jeongguk expects.

He perks up at that. “You know him?” Of course Namjoon would know Seokjin. They’re basically the same thing. Killers for hire. And with Namjoon’s obvious popularity as one and Seokjin’s sharp reputation, they’re bound to have heard of each other.

“He’s a friend of mine,” Namjoon replies.

Friend .

Kim Seokjin’s connections extend to both extremes, he supposes. He’s friends with government officials and some of the most ruthless killers out there. He’s always been the best at socializing, at negotiation, so it’s not really a surprise to Jeongguk. But the fact that Seokjin’s connections are beneficial to him is surprising.

“That’s cool,” Jeongguk comments. At the same time, his phone buzzes, signalling Seokjin’s arrival. He tugs it out of his pocket and looks between Gi and Namjoon. “He’s actually here now. I have to go.”

“Alright,” Gi says. “I’ll contact you sometime this week, after I read your notes? Is that good?”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“See you.”

Jeongguk rushes out of the building. He glances around the rows of cars in the parking lot and he’s quick to spot Seokjin’s pretty sports car. He walks over to where it’s parked, the engine still prominently loud and running. He slips into the front seat and shuts the door behind him. Seokjin eyes him up and down with a brow that’s unimpressed. “You wore sweatpants. And a sweatshirt to the National Police Agency,” he comments, as he pulls out of the lot.

“Just drive,” Jeongguk replies airily, closing his eyes and resting his head against the seat. He’s so tired.

“Alright.”

Jimin’s already sitting with Jung and Taehyung when Jeongguk gets dropped off at the restaurant. He and Taehyung are talking feverishly, Jimin smiling brightly. Taehyung’s expression mirrors his happiness and excitement. Jung Hoseok, on the other hand, looks stormy, sitting there, watching Taehyung’s face with an expression that gives away everything . He’s infatuated with Taehyung. It’s not love– although Jeongguk isn’t sure about what love looks like. He can sense that Jung’s protective over Taehyung. His arm is slung over the back of Taehyung’s chair and it looks innocent from where he stands but Jeongguk knows that he sees Jimin as a threat.

He walks over and pulls out the seat next to Jimin. They all look up at him. He sits down. Then he turns to Jimin, who eyes him up and down, too. “Damn.”

“Damn?” Jeongguk replies, narrowing his eyes.

“You look good, that’s all.” Jimin turns so he can sip from his tall glass of iced tea.

Jeongguk eyes him for a beat longer before turning to Taehyung, then Jung. Jung’s less tense now. He leans back as if he suddenly understands something. Jeongguk knows exactly what he’s assuming– that there’s something going on between him and Jimin, but there isn’t. He doesn’t want to say anything against it. He only says, “Jung.”

“Jeongguk,” Jung Hoseok replies after a moment.

“You guys are so fucking tense, jesus ,” Taehyung cuts through, when they don’t say anything more than that. He slides a glass of water over to Jeongguk’s side of the table. “Here, drink this. You look tired. And super dehydrated.”

Jimin, at the same time, offers him his glass of iced tea. Jeongguk looks between the water and Jimin’s face and he picks the iced tea. He pushes the straw to the side, drinking from the rim of the glass, just a bit. Then he remembers. He looks at Jung and says, as he discards the glass of iced tea, pushing it back to Jimin, “I thought I told you not to give away my identity.”

Jung looks at Taehyung, who lifts his shoulders. “I never promised anything,” he replies dryly.

“Then how do I know you won’t go telling other people?” Jeongguk questions.

“Because he won’t,” Taehyung interjects. “Hoseok won’t tell anyone. Jeongguk won’t kill Hoseok. We all live in peace. Okay?”

“I’m not threatened by a nineteen year old kid,” Jung hisses.

“I’m not threatened by you, either,” Jeongguk mutters.

“But you are–”

“Shut the fuck up and put your alpha dicks away please ,” Taehyung says, tone sharp. “I wanted a nice meal with my friends, not another petty family dinner.”

Jeongguk looks away from Jung. He looks at Jimin, who’s quick to jump in to ease the tension. “Yeah. No fighting. Seriously– if you’re going to hash it out, not here.”

He sits quietly. Jimin and Taehyung pick up their conversation and he’s glad to tune out. He thinks about his history with Jung. They’ve never really seen eye-to-eye, mostly because Jung used to be one of his competitors, back when Jeongguk was still trying to climb up the ladder. Jung was older, and more experienced. He wasn’t smarter– he was nowhere close, but he was a pain in the ass, especially since he was so fucking stubborn and headstrong all the time.

It didn’t help that Jeongguk was headstrong, too. They clashed often. And when Jeongguk finally surpassed him in rank and superiority, he knew Jung disliked him. They haven’t really fought in a while. Nor have they actually interacted, but then again– circumstances are changing. Alliances are shifting. The people who Jeongguk once considered unimportant, beneath him, were all suddenly precious acquisitions.

Play subordinate .

After ten more minutes or so, Jimin reaches under the phone table and presses on one of the ringtones. Jeongguk watches as he brings the phone to his ear, feigning a conversation. He looks at Jeongguk and says, “Yeah? You need us right now?”

He’s pretending.

“Mhm. Okay. We’ll be there.” He presses on the bottom area of his phone, acting like he’s hanging up. Jimin stands up and motions for Jeongguk to follow. “We have to go. Apparently one of your proxies tried to rat you out to a loyal one.”

Jeongguk makes a show of sighing, as if he’s annoyed. He stands up and tosses a wad of cash onto the table. He holds Taehyung’s gaze. The socialite boy looks upset with him. Jeongguk knows that he’s genuinely trying to be friends with Jeongguk and the crime lord has to sigh inwardly then. He doesn’t have any reason to act like such an asshole to Taehyung, especially when he’s being helpful, so he says, “We should grab lunch another time,” he offers.

It’s worth, he supposes. Taehyung’s eyes light up immediately. “Please. I’ll contact you.”

“Alright,” Jeongguk supposes, pushing in his seat before he leads the way out of the restaurant.

Once he and Jimin are a block away, Jeongguk says, “Nice thinking in there.” Jimin was clever to pull the phone trick. Jung didn’t look like he bought it at all but he seemed glad that Jimin and Jeongguk would be leaving. Taehyung, on the other hand, seemed to believe the best in both of them. His trust was so innocently misplaced that Jeongguk nearly feels bad. Nearly .

“You too. I guess you learned how to compensate after all these years, huh?” Jimin hums, casting him an impressed look.

“Compensate?” Jeongguk asks.

“You’re not seriously going to grab lunch with Taehyung, are you?”

“I am.”

Jimin falters in his step slightly. Jeongguk can’t see it– he’s too far back in Jeongguk’s blind spot to see, but he can hear the way his footsteps stutter a bit. He continues walking ahead. Jimin says, “You are? I mean,” he clears his throat. “You’re going to have lunch with Taehyung. Just you two?”

“You’re saying it with a tone, Jimin,” Jeongguk replies, finally stopping to look at the boy. He has a grimace on his face. “Is it weird? We always have lunch. You and me. Plus, if I’m going to keep Jung and Yoongi at bay, I need to treat Taehyung better. Or else he’ll spin them against me. I think he’s sensitive about this shit.”

“So you care about his feelings?” Jimin questions, voice still.

“No. He’s a commodity, that’s all.” Jeongguk doesn’t know why Jimin’s acting up all of a sudden.

The former acrobat’s brows knit tightly. “Am I a commodity?”

No . Jimin isn’t something he can just buy and sell and pick up anywhere. He’s not just another valuable tool for him to wave around to his benefit. Jeongguk grits his teeth. “What kind of question is that?”

“A serious one.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.” Jeongguk says, harsher. He’s not going to elaborate. He places his hands into his pockets. He can’t do this. He can’t look at Jimin’s expression because deep down, he understands exactly what Jimin’s words imply. He doesn’t like it. Nor does he want to hear any of it. It’s not the time, and Jimin should know by now, that Jeongguk’s a selfish piece of shit. “I’m heading back to campus.”

Jimin opens his mouth to object but Jeongguk shoots him a look– a sharp one. And he turns around, walking the other way.

He wants to set something on fire.

Jeongguk doesn’t arrive back at campus. He chooses to go back to his apartment, where he opens the second drawer to the right of his desk. He takes out a stack of papers that are lodged and stapled together. He places it on his desktop and stares at it. It’s Jimin’s contract. The one that legally and ultimately binds Jimin to him, unless he decides to destroy it.

Technically, Jimin could just walk out on the contract, too. It’s not like Jeongguk would fault him for it– like he’d said before, he doesn’t know why they haven’t exploded yet. They have a lot of arguments, especially in times wherein Jeongguk’s all stressed or when Jimin’s own endeavours aren’t working out. The longest they’ve gone being mad at each other was a whole month. Jimin disappeared for nearly four weeks after Jeongguk– hastily– called him a whore for sleeping around.

He hadn’t known that Jimin was doing it for his benefit, wringing out information about one of his targets. Jeongguk thought he’d be gone for good, but on the fourth week, Jimin returned with a clear mind and was ready to move on from it. Jeongguk should’ve apologized, but he didn’t. Jimin didn’t ask for one, either.

He sighs, staring at Jimin’s lopsided signature. It’s nothing nice at all. It’s a collection of loops and tangles that don’t truly mean anything. Jeongguk thinks about how Jimin can’t read. How he can’t really write, either. He’s making more of an effort these days to learn, but it’s not anything he’s prioritizing too much. At least he’s trying .

He places the contract back in the drawer, carefully closing it shut. He leans back in his leather chair and takes a deep breath through his nose. He can’t afford to be so hot-headed. Not now. Not against Taehyung, not against Jimin.

Jeongguk feels so tired. He rubs at his eyes and realizes that he is exhausted. He wants to rest. Through the door leading into his bedroom, he can see how inviting the comforter looks all of a sudden. All he wants to do is to collapse and to never resurface. But he has so many things to do. Papers. Studying. Working. He fights the urge and stands, walking to the bathroom instead.

He washes his face, splashing cold water onto his skin hoping that it would relieve him from the tiredness. He pushes the greyish-brown hair from his face, brushing it back. It reveals the scar on his right temple. The remnant of that terrible time in his childhood. The concussion that led to his blindness.

He touches it. It doesn’t hurt, but mentally, it does. It’s a reminder of what happened to him. Seeing it makes him upset, making his stomach churn with unease. Jeongguk withdraws his hand and hovers his head over the sink, dizziness suddenly consuming him. It hits him abruptly and imminently.

He leaves the tap water running. He turns off the light and stands there, head down, eyes closed. The sound of the water is like white noise, blocking out all of the memories. The sound of the water is calming in so many ways . It makes him feel like he’s miles away. Like he’s able to drown out the monstrosities of this earth, for just one second. He always wonders: what did he do, when he was younger, to deserve all those things?

Jeongguk presses his eyes shut so hard that when he opens them, they’re red. And he realizes that he’s been crying, too. He rarely cries. And when he does, he’s not even aware of it. He just closes his eyes and when he opens them, there are tears. It’s terrible.

He runs his hands under the stream of water and washes his face again. He turns off the tap and steps out of the bathroom, back into his office, where he’s drawn back into reality. Jeongguk feels the weight of it all. The bed, he thinks, is suddenly a desire that’s overwhelming.

He stumbles into his room, closing the door behind him so that he doesn’t see his office– so that he isn’t tempted to bury himself under work. He shuts the blinds so that he can’t see the world outside– so that he isn’t tempted to do something reckless. Jeongguk kicks off his shoes and slides underneath the blanket, drawing it all the way up to his neck. He closes his eyes, intentionally failing to set an alarm.

Sleep washes over him immediately.

When he wakes, it’s the beginning of the next day. He’d slept for over twelve hours.

He doesn’t feel any less tired but he feels like he’s wasted a lifetime. Jeongguk stands up, surprised at how the world spins around him. He stands still for a few seconds, until his vision is clear again– or well, as clear as a half-blind boy’s can get. He peers outside the window. The beginnings of nightlife are evident. Men stumbling around the streets. Flashy lights in the distance. His stomach aches with hunger. He looks down at his clothes and realizes that he’s still wearing sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Jeongguk moves to his closet, picking out a black turtleneck, a coat and pants. He figures he can walk around a bit, find a bar where they’re still serving anything that resembles food.

He showers. Then changes. Then heads into his office, where he slips a knife into his coat, as well as a lighter and a burner phone– one out of the many in his stash. Jeongguk walks out of his apartment to see that it’s clear. There are no policemen. He’s surprised, but at the same time, he expects to see them writhing underneath dancers at one of the bars he’ll be visiting.

He casts a look around one more time before he steps onto the sidewalk, shivering at the cold. He rushes downtown, to where it’s a bit more crowded on the streets. There are an assortment of bars to choose from but nothing compares to Cloud Nine. It’s one of those more modern-looking structures; more classy. For richer people. It’s hidden away, too, and most people who go there are snobby classists so they don’t spread word, either. It’s the same guests every time. Jeongguk’s a regular.

He enters the convenience store that acts as a front for the club. He greets the cashier, who offers him a blunt before he enters. Jeongguk shakes his head. Another thing about Cloud Nine is that everybody is always high. It isn’t called that for nothing.

Jeongguk doesn’t smoke or do drugs. He doesn’t drink, either. He sits back, allowing drunken and dosed people to run their mouths about anything. Most of the time it’s petty gossip or crude discussions about the dancers and workers. But there are the other times where he gets useful information– upcoming crime lords. The whereabouts about others.

He takes his usual spot at the bar. It’s a strategic position. It allows him to be at the center of everything, but at the same time inaccessible to others. He hears all.

Jeongguk asks for an extremely diluted mixture of alcohol and cola. He watches the bartender move. They always like to throw a little something into the drinks, so when the man slides the glass over. He inspects the color of the drink. He has a good eye already. He’s seen his drink been spiked once so he can tell when it isn’t. Gamma-hydroxybutyrate, the common spiking drug, usually changes the pigmentation of cola, so he’s able to tell now.

When he’s sure that it’s clear, he brings the glass to his lips. It’s so diluted that there’s no trace of the alcoholic drink. He looks around him. He’s skimming over the faces. All unimportant, he deems, but his gaze is caught on a sight .

Jimin and Seokjin.

Jeongguk blinks, to make sure that he isn’t imagining things. They’re making out. Jimin’s straddled on the mercenary’s lap. Seokjin’s smiling into the kiss. He pauses, breaking away so he can murmur something into Jimin’s ear. And Jimin smiles back at him brightly.

I respect you enough not to lay a hand on him , Seokjin had told him.

I don’t like Seokjin , Jimin had told him.

Jeongguk watches. He can’t take his eyes off them. Jimin’s the one to pause this time, leaning into Seokjin to say something. Jeongguk reads his lips. I’m heading to the bar to get more drinks , the boy offers. Seokjin nods feverishly. Jeongguk turns away. He doesn’t realize that his grip is strong enough to shatter the glass until he releases it. His fingers ache. He exhales. There’s no reason for him to be… Affected. But they both lied to him.

He fucking hates liars.

Jeongguk’s taking a long sip from his glass when Jimin sweeps into his view. The older boy stands on the opposite side of the bar– it’s shaped like a square. Jeongguk’s on one side and Jimin’s on the other. When the bartender whisks away from sight to prepare the drinks, Jimin and Jeongguk’s eyes meet. Jimin stills.

Jeongguk feels like he has the upper hand in the situation. Jimin looks like a deer in the headlights. He only takes another sip. If he can maintain a nonchalant facade, he’ll win this. He does. Jimin’s face is heated up as he pulls his gaze away so he can look at the bartender who leisurely makes his drinks. Jeongguk catches it. The man’s slipping in a drug. He passes the two glasses to Jimin, who hesitates. Jeongguk inclines his head, a single motion that has Jimin walking over to him, glancing back at Seokjin nervously. Seokjin isn’t looking. He’s on his phone.

Jimin stumbles with his words. “I thought you went back to campus,” he says unsurely.

“Your drinks are spiked,” Jeongguk responds cooly.

Jimin looks down at them. “Oh. Thanks.”

“Mhm.” Jeongguk turns his back to him. He can tell that Jimin hesitates again before he places the drinks on the bar counter. He quickly orders two others, this time specifying that he doesn’t want them drugged. The other bartender doesn’t slip in anything. Jimin rushes back to Seokjin, handing him a glass. Jeongguk watches from afar.

Seokjin and Jimin share the drink. Jimin doesn’t seem deterred, complying when Seokjin presses his glass against the boy’s lips teasingly. He takes a long drink. They resume the kiss– sloppier this time. Jimin’s hands fist into Seokjin’s shirt, tugging desperately.

Jeongguk shudders. How people can enjoy it– he would never understand. He never had the opportunity to understand. His chances of ever understanding were robbed from him when he was younger. So he has no reason to be feeling jealous. The overwhelming sense of disgust beats out the bitter emotions that stir in him. It’s easier to look away then. He finishes his glass and leaves Cloud Nine early. It’s one in the morning.

Jeongguk debates his little amount of options. He can’t hang out with Seokjin because Seokjin is making out with Jimin. He can’t seek out Jimin because Jimin’s making out with Seokjin. He probably can reach out to Taehyung, but chances are, he’s with either Hoseok or Yoongi. He really has no friends.

Well. There’s one person he can kind of consider to be a friend. Or ally.

Jeongguk has to think, but he manages to dial Sol’s number. The man picks up on the third try. “Yeah?”

“You in Itaewon right now?”

“Depends.”

“Depends on what?”

“Whether you’re going to hunt me down or not.”

“Why? Are you busy?” Jeongguk sighs. Of course Sol’s busy .

“Not necessarily. I mean– not in the way you think.” If Jeongguk listens closely, he can hear the calm to Sol’s voice. He can hear muffled sounds in the background. No music. No… Other noises.

The line clicks off.

Jeongguk does know his address but he questions if he wants to go there in the first place. He stands outside the convenience store for a second, before deciding that hey– Sol’s not too bad. He sets off for the direction of his apartment.

Sol’s sitting down at his desk, papers covering every inch of it. He’s reading, skimming through intently. Jeongguk tries to ring the doorbell about a hundred times but the man never answers, so he kind of breaks the front door. Jeongguk uses the handle of his knife and he slams it hard against the doorknob. The force is so strong that it unlocks the door. And he walks right in.

“You’re working,” Jeongguk notes as he crosses the distance over to where Sol sits.

“No shit. I was out earlier. One of your proxies was trying to sell information about you for a high price.” The businessman looks up. “I told him I was interested and that I would pay a high price. I’m meeting him in about half an hour.”

Jeongguk cocks a brow. His mind flutters back to lunch. When Jimin lied about a proxy revealing information. “Which one?”

Sol taps a finger against one of the photos. Wooseok .

Jeongguk sighs. He knew Wooseok would be a rat– he’d given the little boy the benefit of the doubt considering that he had done really well most of the time, delivering Jeongguk information that was beneficial for most of his recent heists. But Jeongguk had seen it in his eyes. He wanted more. Whenever Jeongguk gave him the envelope of cash, his eyes had flickered as if to say this isn’t enough .

“I’ll come with you,” Jeongguk says. The knife in his coat suddenly weighs, as if reminding him that it was there at his disposal.

“Hm. You going to kill him?”

“We had an agreement. I have an agreement with all the people who work for me. Those who talk more than necessary sever that agreement.” What a shame– Wooseok decides to cross him on the day he feels most like he wants to hurt somebody. To hurt something. The images from Cloud Nine linger in the back of his mind.

“You’re actually pretty scary when you’re mad,” Sol remarks, with a quirk of his brow. The man recollects the papers, stacking them into a neat pile. “Bad day?”

“Bad life,” Jeongguk replies lowly.

“Sucks, doesn’t it?” He places the papers on the side of his desk. He walks past Jeongguk. Jeongguk watches as he opens up a trunk disguised as a table in the center of his living room. He pulls out a gun. An IMI Desert Eagle , also known as a deagle. It’s a semi-automatic. It’s nothing too fancy but it’s effective, and that’s all they need. “I’m assuming you brought something on you,” Sol says, peering over at him.

Jeongguk pulls out the knife, waving it in the air before slipping it back into his coat– this time, not on the inside, but into the pocket, where he can easily withdraw it.

“I forget you like knives more. They’re so unnecessarily… Gruesome. Guns are better.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Jeongguk replies. He knows that knives tend to require more clean-up, but they’re his specialty. He can shoot a gun well– one of the perks of being half-blind is not having to close one eye to get a perfect shot, ridding of the millisecond delay and allowing him the millisecond advantage.

“Does he know how you look like?” Sol loads the gun. Switches it off of safety. Tests it on his hand before sliding it into his back pocket.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I use the mask.”

“Hm. Alright. Let’s go?”

“Yeah.”

Jeongguk trails after Sol all the way to his car.

It’s when silence settles in, when Jeongguk remembers to ask. He glances sideways first to see if he remembers it right. Sure enough, the bounty hunter insignia is there, printed on Sol’s wrist. It’s fading now, but the three overlapping triangles are clear as day. The valknut symbol. It’s supposed to be an ancient Germanic symbol. Jeongguk read up on it once. It was more commonly associated with religious connotations nowadays but he’s sure that the bounty hunters picked it for its more historical meaning.

Something about the god Odin and how he had the power to make men helpless in battle.

“I met Kim Namjoon today,” Jeongguk says, voice piercing through the thin silence.

“Did you?” Sol replies, glancing over. “How was he?”

“Tense."

"All bounty hunters are tense."

“Do you know him? Weren’t you a bounty hunter?”

“Yeah, when I was fifteen. Sixteen. That was nearly six years ago, remember? Namjoon was only initiated about two years ago, when I retired," Sol explains. Jeongguk remembers Sol from their encounter during that time but it always slipped his mind– the fact that Sol had been one. Especially at such a young age. He'd always remembered Sol as the rich tycoon he currently was. He always forgot that Sol used to get his hands bloodied.

"Anyway," Sol continues, "Namjoon's good. I'd be wary if I were you."

Jeongguk turns away. He knows Namjoon is good. That’s why he’s worried.

They arrive at a discreet warehouse on the outskirts of Itaewon. It’s an abandoned area, shadows cast on the buildings, enveloping the sight in a blanket of darkness. The only source of light is a broken-down lamppost that stands lamely against the street. They park in the very back of the compound area, waiting. It takes about five minutes before Jeongguk spots Wooseok walking into the lot. He looks around, failing to spot the car, before entering the warehouse.

He’s only seventeen years old.

Two years younger than Jeongguk.

Jeongguk knows everything about him. He’s not a student in high school. He’s making a lot of money as a proxy to Tattoo– Jeongguk pays pretty generously– and even more money by working for others. But some people always want more, more, more. They’ll never be satisfied with that they have. They’re going to put everything on the line hoping to win an all-odds-to-one gamble and it’s sad .

“So. How are we doing this?” Sol asks, turning to face him.

He shrugs. “Normal way. We walk in. He’s confused. I tell him exactly what he doesn’t want to hear. Then we can play with your little gun.”

“Ooh, no knife?”

“Not in the mood for it. Just want him gone .”

Sol smiles and steps out of his side of the car. Jeongguk follows. They walk together.

When they enter the warehouse, Wooseok is facing the other direction. He’s on his phone, rocking back on his heel nervously. Jeongguk looks at Sol. Sol’s expression is dark. “Wooseok,” he says, voice gravelly.

Wooseok spins around. His eyes zone in on Sol but they shift to Jeongguk immediately. There are so many questions evident by the way his mouth drops slightly. He can’t recognize Tattoo without the mask, but Jeongguk’s presence makes him fearful nonetheless. “Mr. Young,” he manages surprisedly. “Who–”

“I thought we had an agreement, Wooseok,” Jeongguk clicks his tongue. He allows a patronizing tone to seep into his voice, tangled in with the absolute venom that coats his voice.

Wooseok pales. He knows . “Tattoo.”

“Unfortunately, for you. Yes. I am Tattoo. Jeon Jeongguk, actually,” he smiles without humor. “Too bad you won’t be alive to spread word, right? The bounty is pretty appealing. Tell me– what would you have spent the money on?”

“Please don’t kill me,” he breathes out, stepping back. Jeongguk flattens his mouth into a tight line. Wooseok stills immediately. “I’m sorry– I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t tell. I won’t tell anybody– ”

“You were willing to sell information about me. I’m curious to know what it was.” Jeongguk cuts through his pathetic attempts to plead. He steps forward, until he’s towering over Wooseok. “Were you going to tell Mr. Young about everything I paid you to do? All the messages I sent through you? The ones you opened and read for yourself?

“Or was it the fact that you knew who sold me the lighter? The one that was left in the crime scene?”

“Tattoo–”

Jeongguk’s tired. He’s so fucking tired of the lies. He turns around, walks over to Sol. Sol hands him the gun. He cocks it, points, and without hesitation, shoots Wooseok right in the head. It does nothing to quench the fire in him. The boiling anger. But it’s enough. “You’re right. It is effective.”

Sol huffs. “I don’t know if you’re crazy sometimes, Jeongguk.”

“These days, I don’t even know myself.”

“That’s a dangerous thing,” Sol remarks, switching the safety button on.

To be trigger-happy is dangerous.

Jeongguk reminds himself that it’s too risky to be this way. To be fueled by emotion rather than logic. But he knows that in order to maintain his cool, he needs to work it out of his system every once in a while.

It is truly unfortunate, that little Wooseok had to slip up on a day like this.

Jeongguk wakes up at nine in the morning. He’d gone to sleep at about three. Sol had dropped him off at his apartment, where he stayed up for about ten minutes, trying to work, before he realized that he was, once again, tired. So he crawled into his bed and fell dead asleep.

He feels better the next day. His head is clearer. He opts for a book that morning. War and Peace , Leo Tolstoy. It’s about Napoleon's invasion of Russia in 1812. A really good book. Jeongguk’s english isn’t the best yet and the book weighs a lot in his mind but he pushes through the first few books. He has to skim over some passages twice. It’s really interesting.

He takes particular interest in one of the quotes:

Man cannot possess anything as long as he fears death. But to him who does not fear it, everything belongs.

Jeongguk’s afraid of death. Not because he’s scared of it actually happening– he’s suffered enough pain in his life to cope with whatever death will bring him. A gunshot to the head, a knife to the throat– he doesn’t care. He cares more about not achieving greatness before he dies. Of being forgotten. Of being buried away with the rest of the people who’d passed.

Maybe that’s why he’s so hell-bent on leaving impact wherever he goes– why he’s attracted to creating wreckage in his path. Individually, everything he’s ever done could be hidden away. The burns left on those buildings could be painted away. The bodies would be buried, with nothing but an insignificant little tombstone to commemorate their unimportant deaths. But emotional scars, some physical scars– they’ll never heal.

Jeongguk’s a terrible human being. But he’s known this for a while now. He’ll never be good . He’ll never be a good person so he keeps trying to better himself in other ways. Intelligence. Strength. Anything . He’s incapable of being loved and he’s incapable of loving so he could care less about others.

But why do you care so much about him ? A voice, somewhere deep inside his mind asks.

Jeongguk closes the book.

He stands up, puts a coat on.

He needs air.

He’s walking around when he hears scuffling. Then a whimper. Then sobbing. Jeongguk looks around. The streets are empty right now. He turns fully. The noises are coming from a secluded alleyway. Filled with curiosity, he walks over. He peers around the corner. A man’s harassing a little kid. The little girl curls up her body, trying to shield herself from his incessant kicking.

Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate. He rushes forward, body-slamming into the man, sending him staggering back in surprise. The young girl is crying, heaving, wishing she was dead . Jeongguk feels his throat tighten. The man surges towards him, a fist ready to swing but Jeongguk’s faster. With a firm arm, he knocks the man’s own to the side. He twists the man’s arm– making sure to do so without using his hands, avoiding fingerprints– and snaps it right in half.

He lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

Jeongguk looks at the girl. He picks her up right away and sweeps her into his arms. He fights the urge to lose his mind over the physical touch. All he can think about is rushing back to the apartment safely. But he remembers that carrying a bloodied and broken girl doesn’t look good for him at all, so he peels off his coat, wrapping it around her carefully and making sure that she looks like she’s just asleep.

She isn’t. She’s passed out from the trauma.

The concierge doesn’t bat an eye as Jeongguk walks in casually. There are no other residents around– thank god, so he makes his way back to his apartment with ease. Once he sets her down on the bed, he thinks. There’s only one person good enough to deal with this type of situation. One person who has a big enough heart to help.

He dials the number.

Jimin picks up on first ring. “Jeongguk?” He asks, voice tentative.

“Come to my apartment. Now.”

“Is there something wrong?” He can hear Jimin rushing.

“I…” Jeongguk pinches the bridge of his nose and exhales. There’s no time for petty argument. No time to be thinking about the forever embedded image of Jimin grinding against Seokjin’s lap. “Just… Just get over here. Fast.”

Jimin’s there in five minutes. His eyes widen when he sees the passed out girl lying down on Jeongguk’s couch. Jeongguk’s selfish. He couldn’t bring himself to touch her any longer so he’d sat back, staring. He could’ve been helping clean up her wounds. He could’ve tried to help her regain consciousness, but he doesn’t. He sits there quietly.

The former acrobat pushes the coat off her shoulders gently. He presses the back of his palm against her forehead, his lips tugging into a frown. And Jimin, his actions are methodical and practiced as he gathers up a bunch of wet towels so he can clean her up. Once he’s done, he motions for Jeongguk. “Do you have any bandages?” He asks, eyes not leaving her face.

Jeongguk stands up, taking the metal box from underneath his desk. He has bandages, definitely. For all the times he’d gotten injured and had nobody to help him– he’d learned how to stitch his wounds.

He passes the box to Jimin, who gives him a thankful look. His eyes are so caring, so kind, that for a moment, Jeongguk forgets who he is.

Park Jimin is too good for this life. He has too good a heart to be doing all the horrendous things he does. He does it for you , his mind tells him.

I know , Jeongguk thinks.

Jimin takes about ten more minutes until he’s done patching her up. His hands are bloodied– Jeongguk winces at the sight– and his sleeves are rolled up. He looks taxed out from it. Jeongguk notices the prominent dark circles that line the underside of his eyes. He looks absolutely destroyed. Probably hungover . Or he had a late night.

“She’ll be okay. I don’t think she has any broken ribs, but her arms will be sore for a while. What happened?” He folds his arms, giving Jeongguk a questioning look.

“I was just walking around and I heard it from an alleyway. The one two blocks away. A man was beating her up so I stepped in and broke his arm,” Jeongguk explains, moving to the bathroom, where he washes another towel underneath the sink. He brings it over to Jimin. Jimin takes it, wiping the blood from his hands. Jeongguk eyes the way his fingers quiver as he does so. He’s shaken .

Jimin places the towel on top of the others when he’s finished. “That was good on you,” he comments, head nodding. “You saved her.”

“I think she reminded me of myself,” Jeongguk says quietly. “When I first left the orphanage, I fell asleep in an alleyway. A man tried to… Touch me.”

The older boy’s gaze is so soft. “What happened then?”

“I killed him.”

“How old were you?” Jimin’s brows knit.

“Nine.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Jimin runs his hands through his hair and shakes his head. “Fuck. Fuck this world. Everything that’s happening… All the wars, all the people dying . All the people being discriminated against. All the people suffering for no fucking reason. I…” His eyes are glassy. Jeongguk’s never really seen Jimin cry, not truly. On the brink of it, yes, but never a fully shed tear. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Jeongguk often thinks about the world happening around them. He thinks about it a lot. Like Jimin said– the wars, the discrimination, the constant pain. The continuous string of negativity in media nowadays. It’s so rare that anything good makes the headlines of the newspaper or online articles. It’s always bad things, one after the other in an endless rhythm of succession.

He looks at Jimin. How the boy sits down in front of the barely breathing girl, his eyes holding such genuine sadness.

Jeongguk believes that he deserves it. He deserves everything he went through.

He also believes, with every inch of his pathetically soft heart, that Jimin deserves so much better.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Paper

Hello Jeongguk–

As per usual, your paper was absolutely amazing. Great insight, relevant research and appropriate use of language. I made some notes on it and left the paper in my classroom but I have a lecture today. Feel free to pick it up if you need; I look forward to the final draft.

Professor Lee

It’s another few hours before the young girl wakes up. She seems afraid at first, flinching when Jimin tries to comfort her, but once he speaks, telling her what had happened, she relents. Jeongguk’s still at his desk. She doesn’t turn to him until Jimin says, “I’m not sure you would remember, but Jeongguk– the guy over there, he saved your life. He kind of broke the man’s arm.”

She looks at him. Her gaze is grateful but wary. “Thank you,” she says.

He hesitates before replying, “It… Was no problem.”

“What’s your name?” Jimin asks, tipping his head to the side.

“Um. Jisoo,” she responds.

“Do you have a home? Anywhere to go?”

“Yeah. I was just walking around. I live around here. My parents are probably looking for me.” She looks pale. She tries to roll over but she winces, bringing a palm to her stomach. She lurches slightly, as if about to throw up. “Oh– Oh my god, it hurts.”

Jimin places a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Hey– Hey, no. Rest.”

“My parents are probably really worried,” she says urgently. “I don’t want to worry them.”

“No. Let me take you to the hospital first. I’ll pay the bills and stuff, it’s fine. Please?” Jimin offers.

She looks at Jeongguk, who watches their exchange detachedly. Then back at Jimin. “Okay. Okay, thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” Jimin helps her up. He turns to Jeongguk. “Do you want to come?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I would, but I have to go back to campus to get a paper. Jimin can I talk to you for a second?”

Jimin tells Jisoo to freshen up in the bathroom before he walks over to where Jeongguk is sat. Jeongguk pulls out his wallet and fishes for a huge wad of cash. He slides it over to the older boy. “Use that to pay. For the hospital bill and for the medicine after,” he instructs.

Jimin slowly reaches for it. “... Okay. Thank you, Jeongguk.” He turns to leave with Jisoo, who waits by the front door, bracing an arm against the wall. He pauses before he begins towards the exit. “After I bring her home… After the hospital, you wanna get dinner?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “Okay.”

“Okay.”

Jeongguk’s quick to make the trip to school to get his paper. There are a lot of positive comments sprawled all over in an annotating fashion, with Professor Lee’s familiar handwriting. He’s pleased with his work but he can see a little bit of imperfection here and there. It’s still pretty early by the time he’s done reading over it a couple of times and he assumes that Jimin won’t be out for another hour so he gets to work.

He keeps editing and editing obsessively until he’s sure it’s pristine.

There’s no room for imperfection– not for him.

He and Jimin meet at a small fancy restaurant in Seoul. Jeongguk looks around when he steps in, surprised at the choice. They almost always decide on cafés or fast food restaurants. Places that are easier to enter and leave. Jeongguk’s not even dressed close to formal. He receives a lot of looks from other customers, all clad in suits and dresses.

He’s still in his usual combination of a sweater and a coat.

Jimin’s wearing a semi-sheer dress shirt and his fading pink hair is styled. He looks so well-put together that Jeongguk has to pause at the edge of the table, unsure whether or not he’s supposed to be sitting across Jimin that evening. Jimin looks up at him through his lashes and says, “Jeongguk.”

It’s weird.

“You didn’t tell me we were going to get food from a… Nice restaurant. I would’ve dressed better,” he replies tiredly, sliding into the seat.

It’s only when he notices the small candle in between them, when he realizes how dimly-lit the restaurant is. And it’s only then when he realizes that most of the people in the restaurant are couples. Even the way the seats are positioned are for that purpose. It makes him feel so strange that he clasps his hands underneath the table and squeezes tightly.

“I forgot to tell you. Uh, you still look nice anyway.”

Jeongguk looks at him. Jimin looks nice but he says, “are you re-dyeing your hair?”

Jimin runs a hand through it and shakes his head. “I’m probably going back to black. It’s too risky now, I think.”

“It is.”

“Yeah.”

Silence passes. Jimin reaches for the menus and slides one over to Jeongguk. “Thanks for paying for the hospital bills and everything. I got Jisoo home safe. He parents asked a lot of questions about what happened and why her lip was busted but they didn’t see most of the injuries.”

The crime lord eyes the menu. He’s not that hungry. He rarely is, but he picks a salmon dish. “I have too much money lying around,” he replies, eyes drifting to Jimin. “Might as well use it.”

“For something really… Good ,” Jimin adds with a smile.

Good.

He doesn’t think what he did was good. A huge part of him was still so angry that when he’d seen the man beating Jisoo up, all he wanted was to slam a fist into his face. To watch the blood gush from his nose, staining the concrete underneath them. And the snap of his arm– it was gratifying. The pain that rebervated through him gave him more pleasure than he would’ve liked to admit.

So no. It wasn’t good . Jeongguk was still being selfish. It just so happened to be that he was able to save her life along the way.

They both place their orders. The waiter asks if they want a drink and Jimin orders a bottle of red wine. Jeongguk shakes his head, declining as per usual. It takes ten minutes for the food to arrive. And in those ten minutes, neither of them speak.

“I’m sorry,” Jimin says first, when their dishes are set on the table.

Jeongguk drags his gaze from the small candle that sits in between them to Jimin, who’s staring at him. “Sorry for what?”

“Cloud Nine. Seokjin.”

Of course. What else ?

Jeongguk presses his fork against the salmon on his plate, sawing at it slowly. He thinks about Seokjin and Jimin and finds that he’s less… Bothered by it. Or maybe he’s just worked it all out. Either way, he only heaves a sigh before he responds, “there’s no reason to apologize.”

“I–” He frowns. “Okay.”

Just move on , Jeongguk thinks. He sets his fork down and says, “I need to scout around tonight. I still need to keep an eye out for Sungwoon. I don’t trust him.” He’s been hearing that Sungwoon’s been working on something. He feels unease prick at his bones. Sungwoon likes to go underground but when he surfaces, he’s a bit… Theatrical, to say the least.

“Oh?” Jimin seems glad to change the subject. His demeanor shifts, too. His eyes aren’t so soft anymore. They’re sharp, attentive. “You think we’ll be able to get any information? I don’t think there are a lot of people willing to break the silence at the risk of him hunting them down.”

“People like to talk,” Jeongguk responds, thinking about Wooseok. “A lot of people would do it for a price. And if it means having a neck ahead of Sungwoon, I’m willing to pay.”

The former acrobat sips his water, thinking. “I can snoop around, too. I have a lot of friends that have direct lines to him. He’s kind of really sexually promiscuous.”

“Of course he is,” Jeongguk huffs. Then he pauses. “Jimin. You can fuck whoever you want. Whoever you want– but don’t…” Not Sungwoon. Not Sungwoon, and Jeongguk’ll be fine.

Jimin shakes his head. “No. No, I wouldn’t,” he insists with a conviction that’s enough to settle the bile that rises at the back of Jeongguk’s throat. “And I… I won’t do it again. Not unless necessary.”

“You can . Who am I to stop you?” Jeongguk questions although his tone isn’t convincing at all. He’s usually good at being level about this stuff; he’s usually better at reigning in his thoughts, his little emotions. Everything truly is changing . He can hear his voice as the words leave his mouth– it’s hoarse.

“No, seriously. I was just having a bad day and Seokjin was having a bad day and I couldn’t call you to talk because… You were mad at me. And I couldn’t talk to Taehyung because he was busy and I don’t really have anybody… Else.” He looks dejected. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”

Jeongguk wishes he could hold onto that promise. But like he’s said before, he’s incapable of being loved and incapable of loving– no, much worse– he’s incapable of even liking . He doesn’t like people. He doesn’t want to be emotionally attached and he doesn’t have the option to be physically attached either anyway. He’s not sure if Jimin’s words are implying what he thinks they’re implying but if Jimin…

If Jimin has feelings for him, then Jeongguk wouldn’t know what to do. He can’t give Jimin the love he deserves, nor can he give him genuine affection. Never mind what Jimin wants– he deserves so much better than Jeongguk and that’s a fact.

He pours himself more water and doesn’t respond.

He tries his best to ignore the sadness in Jimin’s expression.

Chapter Text

EVEN IF JEONGGUK IS SMART, he sometimes falls flat.

He stands at the gate entrance into the National Police Agency, tapping his card against the machine and flinching every time he hears the small bleep , indicating that something’s wrong. There’s nobody at the lobby right now, which makes it even worse. He curses underneath his breath.

He stands there helplessly for a few more seconds, thinking about how he’d probably just break through the gate if it weren’t for the fact that this was the National Police Agency headquarters. Jeongguk debates just turning around to leave, to come back later, when there’s assistance, but somebody’s there.

“Are you just going to stand there?” A man says from behind him, tone airy. Jeongguk turns to find Namjoon looking at him with a grim expression, as if he’s the reason for all of his life's inconveniences. In a way, Jeongguk is making his life more difficult. But what’s a bounty hunter without anybody to hunt down?

“Uh. My card isn't working,” Jeongguk replies. He doesn’t have to act. His tone is peevish. He feels like his cheeks are warm.

Namjoon pushes him to the side with a motion, taking his card from him. He flips it over, taps it against the machine and the gate opens wide for them both to enter. He hands it back. Jeongguk grimaces, knowing how fucking stupid he looks, but at the same time thinking, oh well. At least it plays into the character I have to play .

“Thanks,” Jeongguk mumbles, following after him, into the elevator. That time, Jeongguk uses his card the proper way, pressing for the second floor, where they were called to meet.

Officer Gi’s waiting for them in one of the empty meeting rooms. He beckons them over to take a seat in front of a board. Jeongguk moves aside to let Namjoon go first at the same time Namjoon steps to the side to allow him. They share a glance before Jeongguk relents, picking the right side of the table so he can see better. Namjoon takes the left. And Gi sits in between.

“So,” Gi begins, pushing forward two extra case files. “I prepared some files for both of you to read over. These contain mostly information that has been released to public, but the ones marked with red are the ones that haven’t and shouldn’t .” He fixates them with a serious look. “I would make you both sign a contract, but I trust you. This is a serious issue.”

Jeongguk is surprised. He wouldn’t mind having to sign a contract because he’s not really going to leak information anyway. Maybe to Jimin. Or Seokjin, or Sol, but that’s a big maybe for the two latter. He’s beginning to question Gi’s professionalism. No contract and hiring a bounty hunter? If Jeongguk wasn’t so set on how he wanted this all to play out, he would’ve reported Gi right away. He would knock Namjoon out too in that one punch.

“Now– I took a look at your notes, Jeongguk. I’m really interested in what theory you were trying to explore; the one that one of my former colleagues actually proposed. The one about Tattoo being under 25 years of age?” Gi sifts through the papers until he pulls out the paper with Jeongguk’s scrawly handwriting. “She pushed a lot for the theory, insisted that Tattoo was just a child. Such a shame she was demoted.”

Demoted? Jeongguk tries not to make a comment about how there was something so definitely sexist about that. He remembers his first time around the NPA headquarters and how the building was probably occupied by 99% men. He hadn’t seen a woman once, save for two working in the office on the first floor. God fucking damn , Jeongguk has to think to himself. The justice system… The police are so fucking backwards .

“Oh,” he says, taking the paper from where it sits in between all of them. “I don’t know, I was just thinking about it. Um. I go to Seoul National and there are a lot of really smart kids over there. I’m not saying that he’s a student– I don’t know. But it’s not impossible, is it?” He adds a blanket of tentativeness onto his tone. As if he’s afraid to speculate in front of them.

Gi squints slightly. “I don’t think it’s impossible . There are a lot of smart kids, I agree. But I don’t think he’s a student either. The course load for students nowadays… I couldn’t possibly imagine how somebody could juggle being a student and a wanted crime lord at the same time.”

Oh, you couldn’t possibly imagine, Jeongguk sighs inwardly. Gi’s an idiot.

“Okay. Then think about the location. Uh, if you look at where all of the crimes are happening, mostly Itaewon– save for, you know, his heists. Itaewon has a lot of street and gang activities. There are a lot of kids that are committing petty crimes to survive. What if he was one of those kids?” Gi’s silence urges him on. “Psychologically, don’t you think being raised in an environment where all you think of is survival– doing anything to get money– would carry on to your adulthood?” Jeongguk’s seen it so many times before. Many of the prominent crime lords were scrappers when they were younger. He and Jung were examples of that.

Namjoon speaks, then, while Gi turns over the idea in his mind consideringly. “That’s not a bad idea, but you’re betting on the chances. A lot of the kids on the streets don’t make it to that level of success. They’re always working underneath more powerful men and women,” he says. “It’s either Tattoo was very lucky or he had to have come from wealthy background.”

Jeongguk nods slowly, as if considering this idea, too. Namjoon and Gi seem to think that Tattoo’s gotten so prominent just off of luck. Partly so, but mostly not . Jeongguk broke his back to get to where he was today. Like Gi said, juggling the life of a student and a crime lord was near to impossible. But Jeongguk barely slept. He studied, tried his best to attend classes and fit some planning in between. Heists were his extracurriculars. Bridging deals between parties was a pastime. Incendiary was a guilty pleasure.

“I’ve been so hooked on the cases. The Bangasayusang case, especially. And the lighter– the damn lighter. It could’ve helped us crack the case but all it led to was another stone wall,” Gi sighs, folding his arms. “I’m going to check out Itaewon street activity, but I’m not going to limit my search to there. It’s such a hotspot for criminal activity and underground activity that it could be just a facade. We could be tracing everything down to that one spot that Tattoo could be operating from miles– maybe cities away.”

They’re so wrong. They’re so wrong about Tattoo. Gi’s trying to approach this intelligently, by trying to gain a foot ahead of Tattoo that he doesn’t realize that he’s too far behind to get anywhere close. He needs to dig into the fundamentals of crime and law. To realize that Jeongguk– Tattoo is playing the game and leading the game by simply knowing it. Gi thinks this is a fun game of cat and mouse but it’s not. It’s so much more than that.

Namjoon runs a hand through his golden-brown hair, heaving a sigh. “I’m going to try and investigate as well. I’m going to scout around Itaewon tonight, try to see if I can get any information from the people who live in the area.”

“You need to be careful,” Jeongguk says, with a frown. “I live in an apartment building there, actually. I hear there’s a lot of bad things that happen, especially in the downtown area.”

The bounty hunter’s eyes flicker. He knows. Like every other bounty hunter, he knows . “I’ll be careful,” he says, nonetheless.

“Good,” Gi nods, rubbing his chin. “I don’t want either of you doing anything risky for this case. You guys are both here to provide insight, like you did now– and I greatly appreciate that. But please don’t put your lives in danger– don’t make yourselves a target. And if you are going to Itaewon, you need to be careful.” He’s looking at Jeongguk when he says this, not Namjoon. Because he knows that Namjoon is capable of taking care of himself.

“Okay. I will,” Jeongguk replies with a small smile, but it falters immediately. To them, he looks unsure. Inside, Jeongguk just doesn’t like smiling. He’s not used to it so it feels like a strain on his mouth.

“Alright. Thanks for coming in today, Jeongguk, Namjoon. I want you both to look over the cases over the weekend then we can meet again on Monday. I’m going to be pretty busy from then on, however. It’s less than two weeks until Christmas, meaning there’s going to be an influx in petty crime all over Seoul– not just Itaewon,” Gi purses his lips and rises to his feet. “Is that good with your schedules?”

Jeongguk and Namjoon look at each other again. Namjoon raises a brow. Jeongguk shrugs.

“Yeah,” they reply in unison.

“Okay. I’ll see you then.” He taps on the case files and leaves the room, already hopping onto a phone call.

Gi’s a pretty busy guy.

Jeongguk reaches for a file first, opening it up. He immediately shifts to the pages marked red. He knows everything that was released to the public so he’s curious as to what they’re keeping.

He feels his throat tighten when he sees the image. You can’t see the face– it’s impossible to tell who’s in the photo, but Jeongguk knows exactly who it is. The photo is printed in black and white but the light hair styled in that manner is undoubtedly Jimin’s. He tries to keep his face as neutral as possible, but he fails. Namjoon reaches for the other file and follows to the same page.

Jeongguk flips to the next page. It’s a photo of Sungwoon. Again, you can’t tell who it is– the photo is terribly taken, but he knows it. The next page is Seokjin. The next page is Sol. The next is Jung, then the next is Yoongi. Then what follows after is another string of important, powerful people in Itaewon and around Seoul. “Who are these people?” He asks, looking at Namjoon. He knows who they are. His mind lingers on the fact that Jimin’s photo is at the very front of it all.

“I have no clue,” he responds, sounding partially truthful. “All of these are… Really bad photos. If I did know, I couldn’t tell.”

Jeongguk agrees inwardly. These are horrible photos, but they’re photos of the people who know who he is. The universe is working in his favor, and for a moment, it’s understandable– the belief that luck is truly on his side.

He continues skimming past the stack of photos until he pulls out a paper full of writing. His eyes flit over the words quickly. “Hey, look at this. They think that Tattoo could be a network of all of these people,” Jeongguk murmurs. It’s not a bad theory at all. But it’s still… Off. “Do you think that could be true? I mean, if they think what he– or she is doing is a feat to pull off, wouldn’t it make sense that Tattoo is a group of crime lords and stuff?”

Namjoon’s reading now, too. “Doesn’t seem… Too far-fetched, I guess.” He looks skeptical. He closes the folder and places his hands on top of it. “Why are you doing this?” He asks, all of a sudden.

Jeongguk looks up. He closes his folder too. He’s doing this so he can get ahead of the cops. To be able to manipulate the information he’s able to siphon to his benefit. He’s doing this so he can survive. So that he doesn’t get caught, locked up and thrown into jail. “Because my professor asked me to,” Jeongguk replies. He’s not lying. “I’m a bit… Anti-social, I guess at school. But I’m good at school, so Professor Lee told me to step out of my comfort zone. To try something new. So I am.” He lifts his shoulders nonchalantly, as if that’s all there is to it.

“How old are you?” He shoots, next.

“Nineteen. Um–”

“And you’re already in law school?” Namjoon raises a brow questioningly.

“Yes– Uh–”

“How?”

“How?” Jeongguk asks, confusedly. “Like… How am I in law school at the age of nineteen?” When Namjoon’s silent, he takes that as a sign to answer. “I mean… Lee recommended me after one year in his class. He liked my paper on deviation… And he said I was fit to skip ahead. Um, is this an interrogation or something?”

Namjoon shakes his head, rising from the seat. “I’m just curious.”

“Don’t I get to ask questions about you?” Jeongguk shoots back. The tattoo . Make him squirm.

The bounty hunter pauses. Then shrugs. “Okay.”

“What does that tattoo mean? The one on your hand?”

Make him squirm .

Kim Namjoon makes a move to cover it up. Then he stops and drops his hand to the side before he makes a move to pull down his sleeve, revealing it. “When I was younger, I was one of those kids. One of the kids, like you said, had to do what they needed to survive. I couldn’t do it alone so I wanted to join one of those street gangs. I did.”

Two years ago , Sol had told Jeongguk. Namjoon was only initiated two years ago.

“You’re in a gang and you’re… Right here. In the NPA,” Jeongguk says, adding surprise to his tone. He’s really not surprised.

“Before you think about ratting me out or whatever, Gi knows. It’s why he hired me. I know Itaewon.”

“I wasn’t going to rat you out. I just was… Curious .”

“Kids like you always are,” Namjoon retorts, before exiting.

Jeongguk leans back in his seat, pressing his eyes shut.

He has a lot to do.

“It’s like the Shakespeare thing.”

“The Shakespeare thing?” Jeongguk glances at Jimin. He’s changing his sweatshirt into a dress shirt. They’re going to a big banquet that evening. It’s going to be a lot like a party at Sol’s house. But rather than the small circle of people, it’s open to socialites as well. So Kim Taehyung, Kim Seokjin– their families are going to be there.

Jimin’s eyes are on his bare back, gaze unflinching. “Mhm. They think Tattoo is a network of people. All co-conspirators, working together to trick them. Just like the whole theory about Shakespeare being a network of writers, who for some reason, put up a front about their identity.”

He buttons the shirt up, turning to face outside the window again. “Where’d you learn that?”

“Like I said, I’ve been reading.”

Again, Jimin doesn’t know that Jeongguk knows he’s illiterate– he can’t read well nor write. But Jeongguk doesn’t know what he’s doing on his side of it, either. Maybe Jimin’s learning. Teaching himself these things. It’s a good thing but Jeongguk wonders if Jimin will ever tell him. Maybe he doesn’t want to be patronized for it.

“Is Sungwoon coming?” He asks, as he finishes the last button. He tucks the shirt into his pants and eyes himself in the reflection of the window before turning around to pick out a suit jacket.

“Uh-huh.” Jimin’s in a white suit. Under the light of his office, he’s… Glowing. Like, literally glowing. Mostly because his hair is now blonde and he looks like he’s gotten a good amount of sleep. “Everyone’s going.”

He looks at his limited assortment of ties. He doesn’t know much about fashion and he doesn’t care too much about it, but he lingers, trying to make a decision. After a few seconds, Jimin sighs, walking up from behind him. The older boy picks out a dark blue one, holding it up to his eyes, asking for his confirmation. Jeongguk nods stiffly, watching as Jimin reaches behind his neck– avoiding his skin– to tie it. “I know how to tie a tie,” Jeongguk mutters.

“I know.” Jimin steps back when he’s done, turning to the body-length mirror. “Do I look nice?” He asks. And when Jeongguk doesn’t respond, Jimin shoots him a look. “It’s just a question. No commitment.”

Jeongguk can tell that his words are somewhat loaded, but he takes it in stride and says, “Yeah. You do.”

“Wasn’t that hard, was it?”

Jeongguk bites back from saying it was . He sighs and combs a hand through his hair before saying, “Let’s just go.”

Sol’s waiting to drive them there, parked outside the apartment. Jeongguk pulls the door to the backseat open for Jimin then follows after. The businessman looks at them both in the rearview mirror. He says, “You should learn how to drive.”

Jeongguk huffs. He can’t make the excuse that he’s half-blind because Sol doesn’t know. So he replies, “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Sol shakes his head but doesn’t comment. It’s a slow, long and quiet car ride.

Jeongguk perks back up, snapping back into reality, when he sees the location come into view. He knows very well who owns the whole building. Sungwoon . He immediately looks to Jimin, who leans over to his side to see it better. It’s a grand building. It’s mostly known to be a hotel but one whole side of it is for his operations and business– and provides a space for very exclusive parties.

The infrastructure is modelled heavily after more european buildings, just another way for Sungwoon to flaunt his wealth. Jimin says, “This is such a bad idea,” under his breath, addressing Jeongguk mostly, but Sol picks it up from where he’s seated.

“You hear the rumors? He’s planning something,” Sol tells them. “It has to be happening tonight. This is such a big event.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Jeongguk responds, feeling unease settle in his stomach. His eyes are already darting around the perimeter, analyzing the structure of the building. He’s been to the hotel part before– he still remembers the general layout. But Sungwoon’s private half is going to be tricky. He’s going to have to be on his toes the whole time while maintaining the facade of indifference.

“You know I’m on your side,” Sol offers grimly.

“Same,” Jimin murmurs from behind him. Jeongguk turns. Jimin’s eyes are dark. He says, just quiet enough for Jeongguk to hear, “no matter what happens, you’re leaving this place alive, okay?”

As much as he wants Jimin’s words– Sol’s words, too– to be reassuring, it does little for him. Something about the way Jimin said it implies that he might not make it out safely if something went wrong and he doesn’t like it.

Sol chooses to park manually in the parking lot underneath the building. He doesn’t trust valet drivers, which should be about right considering how much of a snake Sungwoon can be. He’s good at manipulation– smooth talk, so everything he’d told Jeongguk at Sol’s home was probably a lie. And even if he wasn’t going for the bounty himself, he’d love to watch Jeongguk dance on coals for a bit. He’ll do anything to prove that, even if Jeongguk is smarter, he’s richer– has more power through connections and his lack of regard for anybody but himself.

Jeongguk steps out of his side of the car, holding the door open for Jimin. The boy tugs on his collar, adapting his own facade. Sol’s in his own, too. Nobody can afford to show vulnerability now.

Sol looks to Jeongguk, who does a sweep. There are no cameras. He shakes his head, to which Sol takes as the signal to walk over to the back of his car. Jimin and Jeongguk follow. There’s a hidden compartment that sits beneath the original board and there are an array of guns and weapons.

“Holy shit,” Jimin breathes, reaching for one of the knives– a Kershaw Cryo. It’s a curved blade that can be retracted. Jeongguk remembers– it’s one of Jimin’s favorites. One of the things he wants but never really buys for himself. “Can I borrow this?”

Sol nods. “Yeah.” The businessman seems to debate a gun but he opts for his own knife, a slender one. A Cold Steel Counter Tac. It’s not retractable like the Cyro, but it’s still deadly. Jeongguk watches as he slips it into his coat.

Jeongguk gives him a questioning look. Surely they’ll get the full pat-down, to maintain security and any attempts on Sungwoon’s life. “Try,” Sol says, tipping his head, motioning for Jeongguk to touch him.

He purses his lip, obviously averse to it, but he’s curious so he reaches out and presses lightly on the place where he presumes the knife to be. And it feels like fabric. Nothing underneath. “It’s double-padded,” Sol explains.

“Do I want to know why you conveniently have a double-padded jacket?” Jeongguk mutters, turning to watch Jimin slip it into a more questionable area. Down the front side of his pants.

When Jimin realizes that he’s staring, he lifts his shoulders. “Everyone’s fuckin’ homophobic these days. You think they’re going to make a grab for my crotch?”

“I didn’t say anything,” Jeongguk takes a SOG Seal Pup Elite, putting it alongside his belt, at the hip. They won’t feel it underneath.

He looks between the three of them. Something’s bound to go wrong tonight, he can feel it in his gut. For the first time, he doubts whether he’ll be able to survive or not.

They’re barely equipped.

The contrast between the hotel lobby and Sungwoon’s private lobby is astonishing.

The main lobby is beautiful. It’s wide-spaced with pale yellow lights. It’s golden and modern but also incorporates the classic architectural structure of a hotel. The floor is a clean white marble– how he manages to keep it pristine, Jeongguk doesn’t know– that he can see specks of gold in. It makes him feel welcome. He figures as such, considering that there were a lot of families lined at the front to book their rooms. He notices that there are more foreigners in comparison to Koreans. He must really be targeting tourists.

Sungwoon’s lobby is dark. It’s classy and futuristic. The lights aren’t a warm yellow; rather, they’re white and plain against the dark walls. Even the marble matches accordingly– a deep obsidian.

The bridge between the two contrasting sides of the hotel is a long hallway, one secluded and with an excessive amount of security. The last layer is when they get the pat-down. Sol passes easily, walking through into the lobby. Jeongguk stands behind Jimin in line, who gains skepticism.

The guard lingers a bit too close to where his knife is hidden. Jimin has to swat his hand away, saying, “hey– no ,” causing the man to not only blush but to allow him in hastily. Jeongguk follows, stepping forward. The man seems a bit peeved from Jimin and he’s less thorough, allowing Jeongguk through, too.

Once Jeongguk steps into the small lobby, his working eye darts around. There’s one camera. It’s not one of the big, bulky ones– it’s small and miniscule and he wouldn’t have seen it if it weren’t for the small red blinking light. Jimin’s looking around too. It seems as if there’s only one way out for now– through the lobby. He hopes that there’s another exit. Or another handful of them. He could use anything.

Sol looks at them both. “Ready?”

“No,” Jimin admits, while Jeongguk says, “yes”.

“Okay.” Sol smiles a bit before he leads the way in.

There are so many people. It reeks of exclusivity– he can tell that all of the people in the room are filthy rich. They carry themselves as such. But at the same time, this is the only time for them to drop the stern facade. Many of the single men are here to meet women, to try and become the next power couple. All decisions being made in this room are fueled by self-interest.

They spot Seokjin first. Jeongguk isn’t too glad to see him and Jimin stiffens when he walks over. Jeongguk wonders if Seokjin knows he was there at Cloud Nine that evening. If he does, he doesn’t show it. He holds Jeongguk’s gaze, saying, “I don’t think you should’ve come tonight.”

“Why?” Jimin asks for him, doing a little turn to look around the room.

“Because there are people looking for you. Jeongguk, you don’t know everything. Any one of these people could know exactly who you are. They’re just waiting to pounce.” Seokjin sounds really concerned and urgent. Does Jeongguk care?

“No. I’m staying. If somebody wants me, they can try.” He shoulders past Seokjin with a little more aggressiveness than intended. He saunters into the crowd, avoiding as many people as he can as he goes. He’s sure that he’s going to be able to find somebody he knows. And thank god– he can see Taehyung sitting by the bar. He’s not alone. He has his hand straying close to Yoongi’s inner thigh, right out there in the open.

Min Yoongi is flustered. It’s not visible on his face but Taehyung’s smiling and smiling at him and Yoongi’s nodding along, gaze so intent.

From where he stands, he can see Taehyung’s father and mother. They’re off talking to other socialites, completely oblivious to the fact that their son is so easily seducing one of the biggest crime lords in Seoul.

Jeongguk inches forward until he stands in between them, more or less. Taehyung looks up, withdrawing his hand. His brows perk up. “Jeon Jeongguk!” He greets with a genuine smile.

“Taehyung,” he replies, not quite returning the enthusiasm. He glances at Yoongi who keeps a neutral expression. But he’s clearly annoyed that Jeongguk’s interrupting. Jeongguk turns back to Taehyung. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Taehyung slinks off the chair although not before pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek. Jeongguk fights the urge to grimace openly at the gesture.

They find a secluded spot near the outer walls. Jeongguk looks around. No cameras. And he hopes to god that Sungwoon’s not forward enough to bug the location. Even as he drags his gaze around, he says, “Have you heard anything about what Sungwoon’s planning? A lot of people are telling me tonight is a bad idea.”

“Sungwoon… I haven’t seen him around tonight. He’s probably fucking someone in his office.” Taehyung says this so casually that Jeongguk looks at him.

“Have you been to Sungwoon’s office?”

“Yes. But no, I haven’t slept with him.”

“Haven’t.”

“ Won’t. Didn’t. Never will. Guy’s a pig. I,” Taehyung points at himself, “am a luxury that Sungwoon can’t afford. Like I said, he’s a fucking pig. And I don’t sleep around. You look at me like I’m disgusting. And you don’t like me touching you. I’m really… You know I’ve only slept with like, two people?”

Jung and Yoongi, Jeongguk assumes. He sighs out loud. “I’m sorry if I come off as… Abrasive . And about the touching thing… I went through some… Things in the past. I can’t touch people. I don’t want to touch people because of it. It’s not just you.”

Taehyung nods, empathy flickering in his eyes. He leans back, rolling his shoulders. “So. I have been to Sungwoon’s office and I’m almost a hundred percent sure he’s there. Are you going to confront him about it?”

“Maybe. I’m going to need a layout. Any information on how to get there– how many guards, how many cameras… Anything.”

“Hm. You’re in luck. I’m not too sure about the cameras– that’s going to be tricky, but I’m sure you know by know the cameras blink red.” Jeongguk nods. Taehyung smiles and continues, “you’re going to need to take the elevator to the third floor. Now, when you step out, there are two different ways you could go– left or right. They both lead to his office but they have different purposes–

“The left way is for his personal guests. The people he likes and trusts. I would advise that direction but there are more cameras. They’re likely to see you come from that way and… Well, I think you wouldn’t want to be swarmed with all of his guards. The right way, however, is better. More men but no cameras.” Taehyung takes a pen from his coat pocket, clicks it and begins to draw on the palm of his hand. “I think you should be able to take anybody, but the layout is kind of confusing. Last time I was there, I was super drunk but I remember.”

Taehyung raises his palm to Jeongguk’s line of view. He memorizes it in an instant. “Thanks, Taehyung,” he says then, because he is thankful. When he’d sought out Taehyung, he’d only expected him to quench the fires between him, Yoongi and Jung. But he was proving to be a better ally– one more useful and… Easy to work with.

“No problem. Like I said, I help my friends.”

Jeongguk nods once. He could work with that.

Taehyung looks like he’s about to add something but he stops, eyes moving to focus on something behind Jeongguk. The crime lord follows. Jimin’s standing there, arms awkwardly folded as he waits for them to finish up. “Hm. You should go.”

“Why?” Jeongguk looks at him.

“Because Jimin’s waiting?” Taehyung smiles knowingly.

He presses his lips together. “Alright. I…” He pauses before he leaves. “I’m still holding onto that lunch.”

“Me too!” He replies, eyes bright. “Like I said, contact me any time.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

He walks towards Jimin. He’s… Absolutely ethereal under the white light of the room. Jeongguk towers over him in height but Jimin’s grabbing all the attention between them. There are men, women who all look at him with hungry, curious eyes. Neither of them are foreign to these parties but it’s not like they socialize that much, either. Jeongguk and Jimin often stick together.

“What was that?” Jimin asks, looking at Taehyung, then back at him.

“He gave me the floor plan. And some information about Sungwoon’s floor in the building,” Jeongguk responds. “We should go.”

“Just us? What about Sol?” Jimin looks doubtful as he trails after. “Don’t you think he’s going to be maxed out on security, especially on a day like this? Where literally everybody important is scouring his private building?”

“Just us. We’ve done harder things than this–  plus , I’ve done harder things.” He can see the hallway leading to a single elevator. There are no guards at the entrance so there must be a guard waiting for them at the very top. He feels the side of his hip. The knife, cold, sits there, awaiting purpose.

They enter the elevator. Jeongguk expects to see the red flashing light but it isn’t there, thankfully. It would’ve botched their surprise.

When the elevator stops at the third floor, they only have milliseconds to prepare. Jeongguk looks at Jimin. Jimin nods his head, unsheathing the knife. He uses the last moments to weigh the blade in his hand, looking dazzled by it. When they make this out alive, Jeongguk’s going to buy him his own Cyro.

The elevator doors pull aside. There’s a thin man who awaits. He barely has time to blink before Jimin’s stepped forward, bringing the hilt of the knife to knock him over the head. Jeongguk’s always been fascinated by Jimin’s reflexes and strength. He’s pretty lithe and small in height but damn , can he pack a punch.

Jimin looks at the blood that stains the black hilt and he sighs. “I picked a bad day to wear a white suit.”

“You can have mine after,” Jeongguk says, stepping past him. He looks to the left. He can see the shadow of another guard around the corner. He looks to the right and he can see the same. He leads the way down the hall, trying his best to be light on his feet. He has his knife up his sleeve, ready if he needs but he won’t. When he steps out from around the corner, he has the element of surprise on his hands. With his forearm, he strikes at the man’s neck, knocking him out instantly. There’s another guard. His eyes narrow and he surges forward. Jeongguk’s still reeling in from his own hit so it’s Jimin who steps forward to take the blow.

The man swings, barely missing Jimin’s face. The acrobat ducks swiftly and cuts his knees. He falls forward with a choked scream. Jimin knocks him out by delivering a swift kick to his head. They’re not here to kill guards– just knock them out. But Jeongguk’s afraid that the rules are about to change. The scream has signalled for more men to come pouring through the other end.

He rolls his neck and allows them to come. He swings his fist, along with the hilt of his own knife, right across the man’s face. Blood splutters across the wall. Jimin pushes forward from behind him, finishing off by once again, clapping him on the neck.

They move like that, one after the other in a powerful succession of hits and swings– all the way to the end. There are about seven unconscious bodies left in their wake and a lot of blood. Jimin’s white dress shirt is painted with blood. His cheek is baring an open wound from getting hit. Scarlet drops trickle down in a way that makes Jeongguk queasy.

“I’m fine,” Jimin breathes out, although his shaky voice reveals otherwise.

“We don’t have to rush,” Jeongguk tells him, wiping the blood from his own mouth.

Jimin nods, not arguing with his words. He hesitates to wipe the blood from his cheek, eyeing his white sleeve, so Jeongguk reaches forward and presses the sleeve of his own against the open wound.

Jimin’s eyes are round and surprised when Jeongguk does this. He ignores it, holding the sleeve there. He’s trying to ignore the fact that Jimin’s blood is seeping through and the cloth isn’t a good enough barrier to make it easy to withstand. He keeps it there for a minute. When he pulls away, the blood’s not running anymore and all that’s left is a shallow cut.

“Thanks,” Jimin says quietly.

“Yeah,” Jeongguk clenches his fist and moves down the hall.

There’s a mahogany wood door that sits at the very end. He presses his ear against it. He can’t hear anything other than his and Jimin’s mixed, shallow breaths. And he says, fuck it . There’s nowhere else to go at this point. There’s certainly no going back. He grips the doorknob and pushes the door open.

Sungwoon’s sitting at his desk, legs propped up on the table. He looks at Jeongguk then flashes a menacing smile. “Took you long enough,” he remarks amusedly. Then he gives them both a full once-over. “I was really debating putting my best men out there tonight. I thought they might actually kill you.”

“Clearly they weren’t the best if they couldn’t take us,” Jeongguk grits out.

“So sour.” He clicks his tongue and leans forward, lowering his legs from the desk. “I was expecting you, but I’m not sure why. Is it the rumors? Or just you not trusting me again?”

“I never trusted you.”

“Of course you didn’t. And don’t. I see why, but didn’t I tell you I wasn’t going for the bounty?” He inclines his head.

Sungwoon has a way of getting under your nerves. It’s such an effortless thing for him to do. His mannerisms are so irritating. His words are purposefully layered. Everything he says is a double entendre. Nothing about him is simple, but at the same time, he’s such an easy person to figure out. A promiscuous, playful crime lord. Borderline predatory but not enough to come off completely as such. Borderline threatening but never really fully following through.

“ You’re not going for it, but you’re encouraging others to,” Jimin speaks then, cutting through the tension. “I was walking around the main room a while ago. I saw some unfamiliar faces. Did you tip them?”

“Park Jimin– you are the winner tonight. I did tip a few of my friends off. I didn’t give them a name or identity– like I promised. I just told them that Tattoo happened to be on my guest list.” He shrugs. “I’m just having a little fun.”

“You having fun is going to cost me .” Jeongguk snarls . He has no time nor patience to play Sungwoon’s little game of cat and mouse.

“Do I give a shit about you? No, I don’t, Jeongguk.” Sungwoon stands and slams a hand against his table. “I keep your identity a secret out of courtesy . And like. I. Said– I won’t tell. Is that so fucking difficult for you to comprehend?”

Jeongguk really has to hold back the urge to just kill him right there. He clenches his jaw and focuses elsewhere. Jimin stands there, still. In his peripheral vision, he can see Jimin move forward. Jeongguk barely misses it– Jimin leans over Sungwoon’s desk and grabs him by the collar, tugging him so close. Sungwoon’s surprised by Jimin’s actions, so much that he doesn’t move.

“Look, you fucking prick. You may be rich and powerful– I won’t deny that– but that doesn’t give you the right to be an absolute fucking piece of shit. I know what you do to women– to men. I know what you did to Kim Taehyung. I know everything so consider this a courtesy– me not slitting your throat right here, right now.”

He’s never seen Jimin so angry. He’s been a target of Jimin’s upset more than a few times before but there’s something so terrifying about the way he’s so calm– so still. His voice teeters on the lighthearted side when he says the words and it’s horrifying.

Jimin releases Sungwoon with a force that sends him onto the chair, which skids back slightly. Sungwoon’s stunned. He looks displeased but he doesn’t say anything, blinking after Jimin as the former acrobat walks out of the room with his head high.

Jeongguk gives Sungwoon a final look before he follows after Jimin.

They enter the elevator. Jimin presses for the basement.

Jeongguk allows himself to stare. Jimin doesn’t look back, his gaze sharp and unfaltering as they stand in silence.

Terrifying.

In the parking lot, Jimin leans against Sol’s car, looking down at his feet. Jeongguk doesn’t know where to begin. He doesn’t know whether to ask about what happened with Taehyung, what happened with all those other people or if Jimin’s okay. He figures that the former two can wait. He rubs his wrist, feeling it strain from all the fighting. “Are you alright?”

Jimin inhales deeply. “I don’t know. Sungwoon’s a piece of shit. I lost my temper.”

“That was more than losing your temper, Jimin.”

“I know ,” he snaps. Jimin raises his hands to his face to rub at his eyes but he can’t– his fingers are too bloodied. He shakes them against his sides instead, obviously frustrated. “I know,” he repeats, softer this time.

Jeongguk swallows. He takes off his jacket and offers it to Jimin. The older boy looks at it with his too-sharp gaze but he relents, taking it so he can gently wipe away the blood from his hands, his face. The crime lord reaches inside his own pocket to take out his phone. He dials for Sol’s number.

“Hey– Where’d you go?” Sol sounds frantic.

“We went to see Sungwoon. I’ll talk about it later– we need to get out of here.”

The phone line goes dead for a second. He can hear a few sounds– it’s ambience now, not the deep thrum of the music inside the main room. “Hello?” It’s Taehyung now. “Jeongguk, are you good?”

“ Yes , I am. Tell Sol to hurry the fuck up.”

“Jeez. Okay.”

It’s not just Sol and Taehyung who arrive by the car– Seokjin’s there too. And Yoongi. And Jung. They all look confused.

Jeongguk watches Seokjin walk over to Jimin’s side. He leans close to say something, to which Jimin only nods once. That’s enough to make the mercenary step back, folding his arms, waiting for an explanation. Instead of giving one, he says, to Sol, “Can you drive us back to my apartment?”

Sol looks around before he nods. “Yeah. Get in.”

Jeongguk holds the door open for Jimin. He slides into the backseat, visibly wincing as he does. Taehyung stops him before he can follow. His eyes are worried. “Please don’t tell me you riled up Sungwoon.”

“I can’t tell you that,” Jeongguk replies with a shake of his head. He wrings Taehyung’s hand off his arm with force before he closes the door shut, taking a seat inside Sol’s car.

As the car pulls out from the parking spot, he can see all of their faces. They stand, staring back at him. Taehyung, Seokjin, Yoongi and Jung– all of their gazes offer him both sympathy and pity.

As if they know exactly what’s about to happen.

Jimin sits on his windowsill, ready to leave, but Jeongguk tells him to wait. He moves to the bathroom where he dampens a bunch of small towels. Jimin can’t walk around, much less all the way back to his apartment, bloodied and bruised.

In the mirror, he can see Jimin. The older boy looks pensive, staring at the distant view with an unreadable expression. He partly looks upset but otherwise, he looks like he just wants to leave everything behind. Dread settles in Jeongguk’s gut when he thinks about it. He wants Jimin to stay because he’s not sure if in the morning, Jimin will be back. He takes all the time he can washing the cloths, dousing them in water again and again until he’s sure that he can’t delay it anymore. So he slowly draws out the medical kit that sits under his table, placing all of it on top of his desk.

Jimin glances over at him, brow flicking up. He doesn’t say anything as Jeongguk pulls out a bandage. It’s more or less the optimal size for the wound on Jimin’s cheek. He places it down and takes a seat. He holds the cloth to Jimin’s face, dabbing away at the blood.

He wants to brush the golden hair from Jimin’s face but he’s already sick enough from all of the blood, all of the contact he’s made today. He can’t anymore, so he says, “can you push back your hair?”

Jimin nods stiffly, running a hand through his hair and holding it back for Jeongguk to wipe the blood from his forehead. He continues until all of it is washed away, leaving Jimin’s face clean and bright. Jeongguk turns, exchanges the bloodied cloth for a new one. He reaches forward again, wanting to press it against Jimin’s neck but it makes his throat swell with difficulty. Jeongguk retracts his hand, resting it against his knee and hanging his head.

“It’s okay,” Jimin says softly.

“I don’t like getting up close and physical in these situations,” Jeongguk admits, heaving out a strained breath. “It’s too much.”

“It’s okay,” Jimin repeats, taking the cloth and doing it himself.

The crime lord has his eyes closed. He takes a few moments to regain his composure. When he’s done, he doesn’t realize that it takes him more than a few minutes. Jimin’s done, cleaned as best as possible. He has one leg swung out the window, ready to depart.

The former acrobat scratches the back of his neck. “It’s getting really late. I didn’t get any sleep last night so I’m kind of… Off right now. Look what happened.” He releases a dry laugh. “I lost my shit.”

“I don’t know what happened with Taehyung… What Sungwoon did but I’m sure he deserved what he got today.”

“He did. But it wasn’t the best timing,” Jimin frowns slightly. “I don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow– tonight, even. I could’ve pissed him off, provoked him to do something worse than tipping a few scrappers off. I could’ve ruined you.”

Jeongguk has considered it. And he doesn’t deny it– it would be partly Jimin’s fault, but he thinks that all of this is much deeper, much more complicated. He thinks about what Jimin knows about Sungwoon. If it’s what Jeongguk assumes, deep in the back of his mind, then he knows that Jimin will be able to hold it against the other crime lord. It could either be their greatest advantage or their biggest weakness and Jeongguk can only hope for the former.

He leans forward, clasping his hands. “I’ll take care of whatever comes,” he tells Jimin. His mind spins with everything. It’s so rare that he feels this immense of a pressure on him. School suddenly seems to weigh more than a feather for the first time in a while.

“ We’ll take care of it.” Jimin corrects.

He nods once.

Jimin swings his other leg over the edge and sits. “I’m really sorry for getting out of line. I just really had an off day.”

“I’ve been having too many off days recently, too,” Jeongguk purses his lips. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Yeah.” Jimin rubs his hands together, wringing them out before he perches, ready to leave. “Goodnight, Jeongguk.”

“Goodnight, Jimin.”

He’s gone, just like that. Jeongguk sits there for a minute, mind blank. When he stands up to peer over the edge, Jimin’s gone. In his wake is the cold breeze of the night, seeping in through the window. He reaches forward to grab the handle, pressing the window shut. He immediately makes his way towards the fireplace, where he flicks open a lighter, setting the wood ablaze. It bursts into life. He takes a seat across the couch and rests his head back against the leather.

He falls asleep.

Jeongguk and Namjoon sit together in the same room as last time. They’re staring at a bunch of photos and articles laid out on the table for their disposal. He looks at them, sifting through the different photos of different crime scenes. It’s strangely nostalgic, seeing photos of the National Museum of Korea and the aftermath of the Bangasayusang heist. Seeing other things he’s done, other different crime scenes. He’s staring at a photo of the artifact he took– the one that sits in his place back in Busan–, when Namjoon says, “I saw you at the hotel yesterday night.”

He looks up smoothly, doing his best to look unaffected. Then again, it totally slipped his mind, that Namjoon had been there in the first place, so it isn’t too hard. “Really? You were there?”

“How’d you get in? I thought it was a very private event.”

“Seokjin. He’s like my… Legal guardian. Kind of a brother to me. He asked if I could tag along,” Jeongguk responds with a shrug. “He always wants me to feel included. I think he knows I don’t go to any college parties and stuff.” That’s, too, mostly true. He likes these parties better anyway. Less body grinding and body sweat and body contact in general. More civilized. Less chances of being spiked, taken advantage of.

“I wasn’t fond of college parties, either.” Namjoon stands, taking a pin and a photo. He sticks it to the center of the board. It’s the only photo of Tattoo, the photo that gave him the identity.

He has black hair in the photo, which is probably the most misleading part of it. Jeongguk’s hair is naturally brownish-grey, the hair he has now. He’d dyed his hair black then because he wanted to blend in during that time. He didn’t intend it to be the greatest advantage in this whole investigation but it’s surely done a lot for him. Most people in Korea were born with black hair so they think it’s his natural hair but it’s really not.

Jeongguk raises his brow. “Oh?”

“I don’t like touching.”

“Neither do I.”

Namjoon hums in agreement. He tags another photo. It’s a dead body marked with the same date as the Bangasayusang heist. Jeongguk wonders why it’s there– he didn’t kill anybody going in or out. It was a completely silent enter-and-exit operation and nobody really found out until the morning after. By then, he was stashing the statue in his place in Busan. He asks, “what’s that?”

The bounty hunter shrugs. “It’s one of the cases. Happened around the Bangasayusang case, so I presume it’s tied with him. It doesn’t follow the same pattern as some of his other kills, though.”

Jeongguk’s curious. “How so?”

“It’s a gun wound. I was looking at all of the other related killings and they’re mostly knives. I don’t think Tattoo uses guns.”

Not the entire truth. Jeongguk’s used guns in some occasions, but Namjoon’s more or less right– he prefers a knife. “Oh. Yeah, I noticed that too, uh, here–” Jeongguk pulls up the Bangasayusang crime scene photo and slides it across the table. “– the Bangasayusang case. How are we sorting this out?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never done this before. I don’t think it’ll be hard, though.” Namjoon pins it right next to his photo.

“Huh. Okay.” Jeongguk skims around more. “I think we should color code it. You know. Heists. Killings. Suspects. Possible conspirators? Like, maybe we should have a separate board for those. There seems to be a lot of them.”

“Alright.” Namjoon nods, eyeing the printed photos and pages in front of him. “You can get started on that and I can continue tacking on the crimes.”

“Okay.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to organize the photos. He can tell who everyone is– he’s good at identifying face and body structures. They’re all terrible photos but he has a good eye. He begins tacking them on randomly until he reaches the end of the stack– Jimin’s photo. He debates crumpling it up to throw it away but he can’t. He pins it beside the photo of Seokjin then says, “for basically the biggest police agency in Korea, you would expect better photos. This gives us literally nothing .”

The bounty hunter glances at his board while Jeongguk looks over. He’s organizing his already. “Yeah. You can’t tell anybody in there. How’d you organize it?”

“I didn’t. I don’t know how I would.”

“Can you see any doubles? I don’t know–” he frowns slightly. “Maybe look at their clothes. Or something.”

“Uh. Okay.”

Jeongguk ends up organizing it by age. It helps that he knows their actual ages. Jimin’s twenty, so he’s at the very end. Sungwoon’s twenty-five, so he’s around the middle. Sol’s twenty-one, he’s beside Jimin. Seokjin’s twenty-four, so he’s beside Sungwoon. Yoongi’s twenty-two. Jung’s twenty-four. And the rest of them, he relies on his intuition. He stares at their body types, at their blurry features. He can also more or less tell by the way they dress, or the notes that accompany the photos– what crime scenes the people were seen in, which really gives it away. The younger ones do more petty crime and killing.

It’s five in the afternoon when they finish up, Namjoon tacking on the last photo. They’ve been there for a good two hours, silently sticking on photos, debating where to put some and contemplating ages. It’s ample time for Jeongguk to get a grasp of how Namjoon thinks. And Gi’s right– he is very smart. Like Jeongguk, he has a similar intuition and a similar thinking path. Jeongguk can tell that he reads a lot– he uses big words and speaks eloquently. His lexicon is broad and well-refined.

Namjoon, however, derives most of his intelligence from numbers and books. Jeongguk’s different in the sense that he doesn’t primarily think in numbers.

It’s like this:

Namjoon and Jeongguk have to fight somebody.

Namjoon would use numbers. He would calculate their height, make an estimation of their weight, calculate their reach and use all of the synthesized information to fight. He would let them strike first and would focus all of his energy into analyzing their movements before he, in turn, calculatedly knocks them out.

Jeongguk would put himself into their shoes. He would make assumptions. He would look at what they wear, the different scars on their body, the look in their eyes. If the man had anger in his eyes, Jeongguk would adjust. If the man had desperation, he would take advantage. If the man was insane, he would play cautious.

Jeongguk does rely on numbers sometimes, though. When timing things during heists, especially. When mapping out his entries and exits, he needs to know how long a hallway is and how many exits there are and how many people, approximately, he’d run into.

Regardless, Namjoon is smart. If Jeongguk wasn’t so far ahead in the game, then he wouldn’t doubt it– Namjoon would have him held at gunpoint right now. He’s a threat.

The bounty hunter releases a long breath when they finish. “That took longer than expected,” he admits, folding his arms and eyeing over the different photos and writings.

“Right,” Jeongguk replies. He glances at the clock again and then remembers that he has to see Seokjin. “Oh, shit. I’m going to be late for something.”

“School stuff?” Namjoon asks.

“I have a dinner with Seokjin.”

“Ah. You should go then. I’ll finish up and talk to Gi about what we did.”

Jeongguk grabs his backpack from the seat. “Yeah– thanks so much.”

“No problem. We should have dinner sometime. You, me, Seokjin. I haven’t spoken to him properly in a while.”

The young crime lord nods. “Okay. I’ll tell him.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

He and Seokjin meet at a café. They haven’t spoken in a while, not seriously, so it’s naturally awkward. Well, more on Jeongguk’s part. He’s still tasting bitter from seeing Seokjin stick his tongue down Jimin’s throat so he’s not too enthusiastic about meeting up with him.

They sit at the very back, where nobody can listen– or just so far from everyone else that nobody cares about them. Jeongguk's pressed up against the window, his eyes focused on the passerbys and the people strlling up and down the sidewalk. He tries to look anywhere else but at Seokjin because he knows that if he does, he'll feel sick all over again.

It doesn’t help that the first thing Seokjin says is, “Is Jimin okay?”

Jeongguk presses a finger to his lips, sucking in a breath to calm his prickling nerves. With all the calm he can muster, he says, “I saw you and Jimin at Cloud Nine the other night.” He cuts straight to the point. There's no point in hiding it. He's mad.

The mercenary stills. Jeongguk looks up to see his throat bob with guilt. He doesn’t reply immediately so Jeongguk adds, “You said there was nothing. You said you didn’t like him.”

“I never said I didn’t . I said that he doesn’t like me . There’s a difference.” Seokjin’s tone has an edge to it– something that Jeongguk doesn’t like.

“So you like Jimin,” he mutters.

“Maybe I do. He likes somebody else.” It’s undeniable. Seokjin’s upset.

Jeongguk narrows his eyes. “Then what was that ? At Cloud Nine? You said you respected me enough not to lay a hand–”

“Maybe I’m fucking tired of you being an emotionless piece of shit, Jeongguk. Jimin’s been sad lately– he’s been really fucked up because of things he knows, things that haunt him. And you’re going to go boss him around and get mad at him for having emotions – that’s fucked up.” Seokjin glares at him openly.

“I’m so sorry for being emotionally and physically traumatized. I’m so sorry I can’t treat Jimin better even if I wanted to. Jimin told me. He told me he had feelings but I just can’t and–” he’s mad. He’s mad at himself, at Seokjin, at everything. “It’s my fault? It’s my fault that some fucking caretakers decided to beat me up, fucking ruin me when I was younger? Is that my fault? Huh?”

Seokjin doesn’t know. His face says it. His eyes widen.

“I can’t see anymore, Seokjin. This eye,” Jeongguk taps at his right eye harshly, “I can’t see because one of the men there gave me a concussion when I was six . I can’t see.”

“Jeongguk…” Seokjin reaches forward, tries to hold his hand.

Jeongguk recoils at the attempt. “ Don’t touch me.”

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

He presses his eyes shut. He needs to hear the sound of water– the cackling of fire. He needs to be very, very far away right now. He doesn’t want to be where he sits. He doesn’t want to have to face these sickening emotions, feelings anymore. “I know it’s selfish of me. To ask you not to… Pursue him, but please, Seokjin, please ,” he says, breaths ragged. “Don’t.”

Seokjin can do so much more for Jimin than he can. He can hold Jimin and care for Jimin and do all the things Jimin deserves. The boy deserves happiness– much better than the little Jeongguk can offer. If he reaches into the deep pocket of emotion in his heart, he can see how terrible they would be. Jeongguk would keep dragging Jimin down and down and down into the darkness. He can see it– Jimin’s eyes wishfully staring at the way other people are able to embrace, to hold hands. He can see Jimin longing for the chance to share something more intimate with him. Jimin longing for something as stupid as a fucking kiss and Jeongguk will never be able to give it to him.

He’s said it before himself: wanting more is the ultimate downfall. Jeongguk’s selfish. He wants Jimin but he can’t have him. And with the realization, he’s losing himself. His emotions are unravelling, sending him into a mindless spiral– something he can’t afford to do in a time like this. So what’s it going to be?

Jimin or himself?

He tries to think of a situation wherein he could have both but for the meantime, it’s improbable. Pursuing Jimin opens him up to vulnerability and weakness. It sets him up for carelessness, which is something Jeongguk– no, Tattoo– can’t pay. So the real question is:

Jimin or Tattoo ?

He could run away, abandon his identity as the crime lord. He could be with Jimin– he could try. But is that really who he is? Jeongguk tries to think past the glamour of it. He’ll leave South Korea, he’ll find a beautiful place to live with somebody he cares about. But what happens after a year? Two years? Won’t he get bored? Sick and tired of the same domestic routine?

His heart longs for fire. And because he’s never experienced love, he doesn’t know if love can give him the flame he needs.

“I won’t,” Seokjin says, strained. “I won’t.”

Maybe , Jeongguk thinks, as he opens his eyes, maybe I can try .

He brushes a hand underneath his eyes, feeling the moisture. “Good,” he says detachedly.

Seokjin hangs his head after that.

The night is still young by the time they're finished eating. The dinner continues in a stretch of silence, save for a few attempts made by Seokjin to clear the air. Jeongguk appreciates the effort but he's still shrinking in on himself, thinking about everything and at the same time, trying to get his mind off of everything. So Seokjin's one-sided conversations fall flat and become nothing more than ambient sounds to him. 

Just like the clink of a glass. The swing of the door. The call of a waiter. Everything is ambient noise. His mind is blank.

After they're finished, Seokjin places his credit card against the receipt. He glances at Jeongguk. Jeongguk's looking at his reflection against the glass of water in front of him, still elsewhere. Seokjin's expecting him to say something, to argue about the payment like he usually does, but he doesn't. 

His mind is blank.

He doesn't snap back into reality until the mercenary taps the table and tells him that they should get going. Jeongguk nods, not caring if he sounds pathetic when he sniffles a bit. He stands up and trails Seokjin to the front of the café, where the man holds the door open for him. He ducks his head and walks out, stepping into the cold night.

They walk in silence down the streets of Itaewon. They have to pass through one of the barely-lit neighbourhoods on the way to Jeongguk's apartment and for some reason, passing through the high-rise abandoned buildings invite a cold chill. Their footsteps are loud against the pavements. Their breaths are hollow, giving way to a puff of warm air. Jeongguk stuffs his hands into his pockets, fingers wrapping around the lighter that sits there. 

Holding it gives him immediate warmth.

It's when they get deep into the abandoned part of town, when Seokjin speaks. As if the empty street is secure enough for him to do so.

"Can I ask you something?" He says, voice light as compared to earlier, when it was filled with venom. The words cut through the empty quiet.

Jeongguk peers over at him. The collars of his coat are drawn up to his cheeks. It’s insanely cold. “Yeah,” he answers.

Seokjin clears his throat, appearing unsure. “Your eye. You said you can’t see. How does it feel? I mean, you do all of these amazing heists and can fuck people up real good. How do you work around it?” He sounds genuinely curious, but his voice teeters on caution. Like he thinks Jeongguk’s sensitive to it.

Jeongguk’s gotten over it. As long as nobody can see his flaw physically, he’s fine. It’s only something for he, Jimin and now Seokjin, to know. He lifts a shoulder nonchalantly. “I got it when I was really young so I just learned how to work around it. Sometimes it’s hard, like I get uncomfortable when people sneak up on me. Because I used to be able to see, so I get a tingle– like this weird feeling that someone’s there, but I can’t see. It’s… Terrifying,” he admits.

“I’m really sorry for saying all that stuff. I thought… I thought you were being ignorant towards him. I kept on thinking: how could Jeongguk treat Jimin, somebody so fucking nice, like shit? ” Seokjin shakes his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I didn’t tell you in the first place.”

“You weren’t obligated to. I understand why you’d keep it quiet.”

Jeongguk sighs. “Yeah, but you’re like… My older brother. Legal guardian. I figure I owe you as much as an explanation on why I’m so emotionally messed up. Messed up– actually, in general.”

“Oh, you’re messed up all right. But aren’t we all?” Seokjin smiles faintly. “I’m living my best life. I have rich socialite parents that give me anything I want, but here I am– a killer for hire. I don’t even know why I do it. I was young and dumb when I started. I don’t know why I still do it.”

“Old habits die hard,” Jeongguk quotes, looking up at the night sky. The moon hangs above them ominously.

“I guess so. It’s hard to give something up when it’s all you’ve really ever known.”

Jeongguk can’t argue with that.

As he stares up at the buildings, he feels something crawl up his spine. There’s something off. He can feel it.

Through the years of navigating these streets, he's learned to become a part of them. To feel the vibration of the ground. To listen for even the slightest echo. The heartbeat of another presence. It's one of the things he's had to learn all on his own, especially with his half-vision. He's learned to listen to the sounds of the town, to interpret them into friend or foe. Jeongguk senses the latter.

“Seokjin, I need your gun,” he says lowly, eyes darting between building to building.

Seokjin slips it to him without question.

Jeongguk listens. He listens for footsteps– any telltale sign. For a heartbeat, there’s nothing. Then there it is– the soft click of a gun. He cocks his pistol and aims. The sniper peeks his head from the corner of a building rooftop, from behind an abandoned crate. Jeongguk shoots him in the head.

The sound of the gun reverberates throughout the empty street.

He turns to Seokjin, who has another gun in his hand. As a mercenary, it's like an extension of his body. Jeongguk's seen him work a sniper with an insane accuracy. He's seen Seokjin work a pistol too. His aim is impeccable.

He’s aiming for the adjacent rooftop. Another sniper cocks his gun, but Seokjin’s quicker, better. He barely takes a second to aim. He lifts his hand and shoots. It’s a silent gun– there’s no noise that echoes. All they hear is the sound of the body thumping against the ground.

Jeongguk stuffs the pistol into his back pocket, already beginning towards the opposite direction. “Do we need to worry about bullets?” he asks, as Seokjin jogs after him.

“No. They’re unmarked.”

The two of them turn the corner. There’s a brute man that nearly topples him over. He steps back when the man reaches for his head. He stumbles back into Seokjin who nudges him to the side so he can shoot the man, right in the middle of his eyes. The spray of blood into the air is a familiar yet disorienting sight. Jeongguk staggers for a bit, catching himself before he topples. “What the fuck?” he hisses.

“It’s starting, isn’t it?” Seokjin helps him up, touch fleeting, hands prying away once Jeongguk’s steadied. “Sungwoon. He gave people information. Do you think he told them who you were?”

“I don’t think so– he couldn’t. Jimin has shit on him.” They run down the opposite street again, this time heading for the safety of the crowded area of Itaewon. “He probably told them that we– I had information. And that’s beginning to spread.”

Seokjin shakes his head, sprinting right after him.

Once they’re in the safer part of Itaewon– well, as safe as Itaewon can get –, they come to a stop. Jeongguk braces a hand against the wall, breaths heavy. Seokjin’s staring at the direction they’d been ambushed in. “Things are only going to go downhill from here, aren’t they?” He asks, although they both know the answer. “It’s not just going to be about you. About me. About Jimin, Yoongi, Jung– any of us. It’s going to be everyone– the police, Officer Gi, the bounty hunters, the scrappers, the citizens.”

“Everyone’s going to get involved. The bounty makes sure of that. Everyone wants the money,” Jeongguk breathes out. “But in the end, it all comes down to me. This isn’t going to stop unless either I’m dead, or everyone else is.”

It only hits him now, how fragile the circumstances are. He’d known before that he’d have to be cautious, but now, it’s so much more complicated. People are after him. He only has a few trusted allies and even then, he can’t fully rely on them.

So maybe Gi is right– this whole thing could come down to a little game of cat and mouse.

Now the only question is: Who’s the cat and who’s the mouse?

Chapter Text

ITAEWON WORKS LIKE THE TIDE:

Rise, fall. Rise, fall.

Rise.

Fall.

Jeongguk learns this at the ripe age of thirteen. At thirteen, he’s working back and forth between different crime lords. Proxies usually stick to one crime lord, working loyally with them in hopes of being elevated as a reward, but not Jeongguk. He realizes, after two years on the streets, that not just anybody can make it to that level of importance. So he switches gears. He moves from one crime lord to another. Then another. Then another.

He’s surprised that nobody notices him scuffling around, hopping from boss to another. Then again, he uses a mask. Not a full one– he doesn’t need it. Just a half mask to hide the large scar running down the side of his head, a mark of the caretakers back at the orphanage. And to hide his identity in case anybody suddenly noticed what he was doing.

At first, it becomes tedious. Physically, he finds it difficult to run back and forth and back and forth. To get beaten. To have to beat people. To have to kill people. To live on the brink of death. But mentally, he’s never really had a hard time. All of the information is sorted in his head easily, flawlessly. It makes him a great asset and provides him leverage over the other young boys and girls because nobody can do it like him.

And so, Itaewon works like the tide.

When a new crime lord comes to rise, the rest fall.

Enter Lee Sungwoon. The man commanded power, wielded it like a double-bladed sword. Every single proxy, every single wishing child and teen on the street wanted to work for him. Everybody wanted to be his ally. Mostly because he was rich and there was word on the street that he provided actual accommodations– he was, too, a huge player in investment and infrastructure so he had a lot of buildings and hotels on the rise.

Jeongguk had no interest. He was fine squabbling around like this– he was gaining money, gaining security, rising above the other boys but when his bosses began to dwindle like dying stars, he’d realized it– if he was going to get anywhere, he needed to flow with the tide. He poured himself into catching Lee Sungwoon’s attention. And when he did, Sungwoon took him in.

He was one of the only proxies working for Sungwoon so he felt like he could get somewhere, but Sungwoon treated him like nothing. It was always orders, pay, orders, pay, orders, pay. When Jeongguk was fourteen, he was drowning in filthy money. But he was nowhere close to the status he wanted. So he made the choice.

That year was big for Lee Sungwoon. The cops were on his tail– he had a massive bounty on his head. Jeongguk knew exactly who he was and where to find him and he was bitter. He was bitter because despite all of his efforts– he’d even abandoned his previous bosses–, Sungwoon never recognized him. Jeongguk goes to the bounty hunters and gives them the information. He gets payed a big amount of money and gains a few allies. One of Sungwoon’s big drug operations was shut down.

The tide comes again.

Once Jeongguk secures his foothold, he rises. He rises and rises and rises. Sure, there are others. There’s Jung. There’s Min Yoongi. There’s Sol Young. But none of them– none of them can do what Jeongguk does.

Other crime lords subconsciously lean on proxies. They feed them work and feed them money.

But what happens when you lose your followers?

You become nothing.

Jeongguk doesn’t have to rely on proxies. He does the work himself. Every heist, every robbery, every crime, he does. Those years were the dirtiest for him. He’d held a knife as easily as he walked. He’d pulled a trigger as easily as he breathed. By the time Jeongguk was sixteen, he was the rise in power that the rest of the boys envied, aspired to be. But nobody knew who he was.

At his peak, he required proxies to do the dealing for him. But he’d kept close eye on them. Jeongguk follows, he knows. He uses his intuition to tell who’s lying and who’s telling the truth because he knows exactly how that looks like. Because he’d been there himself.

If a worker stepped out of line, he’d killed them.

Filthy, terrible years for him. So much blood, so much terror he’d inflicted.

Jeongguk adopted the alias Tattoo after the police photo had been released to the public. And so Tattoo he became. A masked vigilante to some, a cold-blooded killer to the rest. Nobody knew who Jeongguk truly was. Yoongi, Jung, Sol– they’d met him somewhere along the lines, so they knew his name. Seokjin knew because Seokjin was the only resemblance of family he’d had. And Sungwoon– Sungwoon had figured it out. One look at Jeongguk and it clicked.

“Jeon Jeongguk,” Sungwoon had said. “I remember you.”

He’d remembered.

He’d known.

But it was far behind by then. Jeongguk doesn’t regret exploiting his business for personal gain because Jeongguk is terrible. A terrible, terrible person.

For the next years or so, he doesn’t have anybody. It’s him, high school– eventually, college–, his work and the emptiness. He speaks to Seokjin often but not enough. He deals with Jung but the man is bitter– they’d been rivals when they were scrappers. He sees Min Yoongi a few times. Sol, more than the rest. Sungwoon’s a dark shadow that looms over the city. After his tide fall, he’d burrowed. Jeongguk hears that he’s working deeper underground. He hears that Sungwoon’s slid into a life of a retired, wealthy man. Sleeping around.

He sits on top of Itaewon. It’s his city but he doesn’t claim it. All Jeongguk wants is to be remembered. And maybe, maybe on the inside, he wants revenge. Revenge for what happened to him in the past.

He’s alone in his own world until he meets Park Jimin at the age of sixteen. Park Jimin, who becomes his bodyguard. Park Jimin, who becomes his shadow.

Wherever he is, Jimin is, hovering about, waiting to protect him, to fight with him.

It’s the best it can get.

But–

Itaewon works like the tide.

Rise, fall. Rise, fall.

Rise.

Fall.

Jeongguk’s been so far on the rise. It’s only about time before he falls.

Itaewon’s crime has a structure. Not many people know about it. Not many people acknowledge it, but anybody who’s been up and down the ladder knows the ranking. Jeongguk knows it best. He’s been everywhere.

The lowest are the scrappers. They aren’t exactly called that but many people refer to them as such. Scrappers are often young kids. Abandoned kids, runaways, troublemakers. They were called as such because they were always scrapping around the streets for opportunities. Whether it be in a brothel, whether it be at a club– they were always looking for ways to make money. Many of them never find their way out. But a lucky few are able to surpass the odds. The lucky few advance, often becoming proxies.

Proxies are essentially what their name connotes. They become the face of many of the crime lords that work in Itaewon. They work deals, they deliver messages. As a reward, they’re well-paid. Sometimes, even offered apartments, accomodations. But consequently, they’re the ones taking the hits. A lot of proxies die on the job. If they don’t do their job right– if they upset or disrespect any of the people they deal with, they could get shot. They could be tortured for information, in reverse. The life of a proxy, although rewarding, is a double-edged sword. Now the odds are truly slim from there. Little to no proxies make it on to become crime lords– the men and women who run the underground businesses. But a lot of them turn to become mercenaries. And if they’re good enough, bounty hunters.

Mercenaries are those who take money to kill people, targets, enemies of their employers. Kim Seokjin is a mercenary. He works a sniper and makes thousands off of one pull of the trigger. Then the bounty hunters– anybody could take the title but not everybody can take the mark. They’re their own circle of shared connections and information. There’s no leader– just a ring of loyal, dedicated and impeccably talented killers. Sol Young was a bounty hunter. Kim Namjoon is a bounty hunter.

There are many more people in between– people who own clubs, who work brothels. There are the smugglers. The drug dealers. But out of the hundred percent that is composed of Itaewon crime, less than one percent are considered to be crime lords .

Jung Hoseok. Min Yoongi. Lee Sungwoon. Jeon Jeongguk. They’re considered to be the top of it all at the moment. Jeongguk, a bit more than the others. He was given the edge because so many people respected the Bangasayusang heist. But they’re pretty much all on the same level of power. Sure, Yoongi has more connections. Jung has more men. Sungwoon has more experience– but in the end, they the ones the made it past the threshold.

Jeongguk’s been through every rank but being a bounty hunter. He’d worked as a mercenary for a few weeks. He’d given it up after realizing that it was greatly unnecessary to do so. He’d never really wanted to pursue becoming a bounty hunter mostly because he didn’t want to work with anybody else. He didn’t want to share his information. Jeongguk was thriving without the flow of information they had.

He thinks about all of this as he stands on the rooftop of the apartment, looking down at the bustle of the buildings below him. He thinks about all the people in Itaewon. All the people in Seoul. All of the scrappers, the proxies, the mercenaries. The crime lords, the drug rings, the clubs owners. So many things happening– so many bad things happening but it’s not easily visible. From up here, he can’t see the crimes happening. He can’t hear the gunshots. But he can hear the sirens.

He looks down at his feet, poised at the edge of the rooftop carelessly. With the winter breeze that tugs at him, he could so easily fall. But it’s not quite enough. He stands for a few more seconds before he pulls back. Jeongguk draws his phone from the pocket of his sweatshirt. He scrolls through the limited number of contacts. Seokjin. Sol. Taehyung. Jimin. His eyes linger on the last, but he doesn’t press to call him. It’s been two days since the ambush on him and Seokjin and he hasn’t told Jimin. He wants to but at the same time, he doesn’t want to drag Jimin into it. Nor does he want the boy to feel guilty about what happened at the hotel.

So he calls Taehyung, figuring that he does owe Taehyung a lunch. He doesn’t pick up the first time so Jeongguk sighs and paces back and forth. Now that school’s over, leading into break, he has nothing much to do. He’s going to have to see Namjoon tomorrow to work more on their crime boards together but that’s the extent of what he has to do.

Well– he still has to try and avoid being kidnapped or killed. That’s another important thing. And he has his plans. The plans that sit in the back of his mind, all interconnected and all requiring heaps of mental and physical effort. He supposes that he can wait until after Christmas to execute any of them but with danger looming over him, it’s difficult. Maybe he’ll have to draw out the thoughts soon.

He’s on his way back downstairs when his phone buzzes intently. He picks up.

“Sorry,” Taehyung says across the line, “I was in the shower. What’s up?”

Jeongguk presses on the button to his elevator floor. “I was thinking we could have that meal together now?”

There’s a pause. Then a relieved sigh. “ Thank god . My parents wanted me to attend some stupid gala. You,” Taehyung laughs lightly, “are a saviour. Where do you want to eat?”

“I don’t really know. I mostly eat on campus. Or at shitty restaurants near my apartment.” Jeongguk has a feeling that Taehyung’s taste buds are far too refined for a regular Korean barbeque.

“Oh. Cool, I can spoil you, then. Do you have a ride?”

“I don’t drive. I can take a cab or something.”

“Okay. You’re in Itaewon right now, right?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll text you the address. It’s going to take a ride so if you’re not okay with it, we can definitely just eat in one of the shitty restaurants near yours,” Taehyung offers.

“It’s alright. See you.”

“See you!”

Jeongguk places the phone back into his sweatshirt pocket. He realizes that Taehyung’s probably taking him to a fancy restaurant. And so he quickly changes into a white dress shirt, decent pants and polished shoes. When he’s done trying to make himself look the least bit presentable, his phone buzzes with the address. It’s a fine dining restaurant called Jungsik in Gangnam-gu. It’s about fifteen minutes using a cab. Thirty using the subway system. Not too far.

He takes a cab.

Jungsik isn’t as big as he expects but it’s still a really nice place. He steps out of the car to see Taehyung standing in front of the building wearing a striped dress shirt and slacks. He waves Jeongguk over with a smile. Jeongguk slips a hand into his pocket and walks over.

“You look good,” Taehyung comments.

“Uh. Thanks,” Jeongguk replies. He hesitates, before saying, “you too.”

“You made a really fuckin’ constipated face when you said that.” Taehyung’s trying to suppress a smile. “Was it that hard?”

He thinks about Jimin. Was it that hard?

“I don’t know. I’m not used to compliments. Or giving compliments.” Jeongguk feels peevish.

Taehyung’s grinning wide. “It’s kind of hard to believe you’re the Tattoo sometimes. You’re so surprisingly human .”

“Thanks?”

“You’re welcome.”

Taehyung leads the way in. They’re offered a seat at the very back of the rows of tables. Jeongguk opens the menu once it’s placed in front of him. He doesn’t know what to order in these types of restaurants because he doesn’t eat in them. The only time he eats good food is in parties and even then, he’s just served the good. Or the selection is presented to him. Seeing all of the fancier dishes makes him squirm. He takes a safe route and decides on a pork meal. Taehyung orders a caviar gujeolpan , which Jeongguk reads is worth 150,000 won.

Just a small nibble at Taehyung’s fortune, he supposes.

When they’ve ordered, they’re left to talk. Jeongguk starts it. He tells Taehyung, “Seokjin and I got ambushed the other night.”

Taehyung’s brows shoot up as he sips at his wine. “What? By who?”

“I don’t know. Not bounty hunters, definitely.” You can usually tell. Bounty hunters use a different kind of sniper. One that has a quick fire trigger that allows for a fast kill. The men on the rooftops were slow in holding a target. “Maybe some people Sungwoon tipped off. He invited people to his party, saying that Tattoo would show up. So they’re probably tracking everybody down.”

“Shit. Shit ,” Taehyung says with a shake of his head. “That’s terrible. You should seriously be more careful.”

“I’m… Trying. I don’t have problems with snipers. I don’t have problems with anybody, really. Bounty hunters are my only threat.” Jeongguk eyes his glass of wine with a slight grimace. He doesn’t like the taste of it, nor does he like alcohol. He reaches for the water instead.

“Shit,” Taehyung repeats with a frown. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, you’ve done a lot. Giving me the layout to Sungwoon’s building… Reigning back Yoongi and Jung. I seriously appreciate it.”

“No problem. About the latter part– I wanted to ask why you and Hoseok hate each other so much. Whenever I bring you up he always gets annoyed. And when you guys saw each other last week, you looked like you wanted to kill each other.” Taehyung props his head up on a hand, eyes curious.

Jeongguk lifts his shoulders. “We were both trying to climb the ladder. We were opponents, competitors when we were younger, so I guess it’s just… Been like that since.”

“Oh. Oh , shit.”

“Is this…” Jeongguk motions between both of them, “Ruining anything? Between you and Jung?”

“There’s nothing going on. Other than sex and stuff,” Taehyung says with a small frown. “It isn’t ruining anything. If anything, it’s working. He’s not going to say a word– neither is Yoongi.”

Jeongguk may be emotionally… Lacking , but he knows that there’s more to Taehyung and Jung than just sex. If Jung’s willing to set aside his dislike for Jeongguk for Taehyung ’s sake, then he clearly likes the boy. Then again, Jeongguk’s inwardly confused. “Are you… Into–” he cringes at the word choice, “– both of them? Yoongi and Jung?”

“I’m not into either of them. Like I said. Sex.”

He nods. Jeongguk wants to ask but the waiter brings over their dishes. When he unveils Taehyung’s dish, Jeongguk forgets all about their conversation. The caviar gujeolpan is exactly what it’s name implies. It’s a gujeolpan– a plate split into nine parts– with caviar. And other fancy micro dishes that Jeongguk can’t point out– he usually knows things but food is the least of his concerns.

He leans forward and eyes the plate in confusion. It looks unappetizing.

“Wanna try some?” Taehyung holds out a spoonful of caviar, pressing it suddenly against his lips.

Jeongguk moves back, smacking his lips at the odd taste. “Isn’t caviar fish eggs?”

“Uh-huh. It’s delicious.” Taehyung slips the spoon into his mouth and releases a moan. So much that his eyes roll back into his head. “Fucking amazing .”

“Why does tiny food cost ten times more than normal-sized food?” Jeongguk asks, mostly to himself, as he digs into his plain pork dish. He pushes the small leaf that sits atop the pork with his spoon.

“Honestly don’t even know. Rich people like to spend their money on stupid things. Honestly, you could make little gel balls and color them orange and call it caviar and they’re begging for a taste.” Taehyung takes another spoonful and claps his hands appreciatively. “‘S really good, Jeongguk.”

He places a slender slice of meat into his mouth and eyes Taehyung’s platter. Rich people do spend money on stupid things. Food , Jeongguk thinks, is fucking food. As long as it’s decent-tasting, nutritious– it’s fine. He doesn’t need it served in a fancy platter form with strange, disgusting exotic add-ons.

The meal goes by quickly. Taehyung talks through most of it, narrating his meal. telling Jeongguk how amazing everything tastes. Jeongguk nods along a few times but mostly sits back and allows Taehyung. The boy, Jeongguk realizes, just wants company. Away from his demanding family. Away from Jung and Yoongi– especially since there’s something obviously so complicated going on there . Away from having to appear like a picturesque socialite man.

It’s such an innocent want that Jeongguk can’t deny it. He figures that he really does owe Taehyung that much, at least.

They step out of the restaurant into the cold an hour later. Taehyung holds his shoulders, rubbing and squinting. “God, it’s so cold,” he says, as he watches his driver pull around the corner. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride home? It’s pretty dangerous to be taking a taxi. Or to just be alone in general, in a time like this.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “No thanks. I have to see Jimin anyway. I haven’t told him about the ambush,” he admits.

“Oh. Yeah, that’s definitely a good idea.” Taehyung nods and smiles again. The car sits in front of them, a bodyguard stepping out of the car, holding the door open for him. “Thanks for this. Stay safe, okay?”

Jeongguk nods swiftly. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

“Cool.” Taehyung seems to want to hug him but he holds back, waving instead before he steps into the car.

Jeongguk watches as it drives away before he waves over a cab.

Time to see Jimin.

Jeongguk breaks into Jimin’s door again because the boy doesn’t answer. He walks in, holding the destroyed doorknob in his hand, and he closes the door shut. He walks further into the living room. There’s nothing. He looks in the kitchen. There’s nothing. When he peers into the study room, he finds Jimin lying, upside down on his couch. He’s reading a book.

Jeongguk stays there for about five minutes. Jimin doesn’t notice, too concentrated. He doesn’t turn the page once. His eyes are squinted. He’s having trouble, clearly, but Jeongguk isn’t going to say anything. So he pretends like he’d just arrived, rapping a fist against the door. Jimin nearly falls off, tipping his head back to look at him. “Jeongguk?” He asks, snapping the book shut in an instant.

The crime lord holds up the doorknob. “You didn’t answer.”

“You fucking broke in again?” Jimin turns over so that he’s sitting upright. “I just got it fixed since the last time.” He’s frowning.

“You didn’t answer.” Jeongguk repeats, setting it down on the desk. “I’ll pay for it.”

“I was busy.” Jimin says sourly, pulling a blanket over his shoulders and sinking down into it. “Why are you here?”

He doesn’t want to say it, but he does. “Seokjin and I were walking together a night ago. And when we were crossing the abandoned buildings, we ran into a few snipers trying to take us out.” He looks up to see Jimin’s face. His brows are creased. “Not bounty hunters. Probably just some people trying their luck with us. They were probably going to use tranquilizers, knock us out and interrogate.”

“I don’t give a shit if they weren’t bounty hunters. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. You seemed really… Upset the last time we spoke.” He shrugs once.

“We’re supposed to be doing this shit together. Just because you have a contract that says that I work for you doesn’t mean you get to keep shit from me, Jeongguk.” Jimin’s upset. So either way, Jeongguk kind of loses. It fucking sucks. “And according to that contract, like you read, I’m supposed to protect you.”

Jeongguk heaves out a sigh. “Alright. Alright, I’ll tell you if anything happens next time. If there is a next time.”

Jimin laughs dryly. “You’re smart, Jeongguk. So smart. You know there is a next time. And a next. And a next. Aren’t you a bit worried at all?”

“Of course I’m fucking worried. My friends. My freedom. My life– they’re all in danger. I’m just trying to keep calm for the sake of myself at this point.” Jeongguk shoots back, tone suddenly harsh. “How is it going to help if I go around crying about how fucking scared I am? I need to be smarter. Better. And crying– crying about it won’t get me anywhere.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to show some emotion sometimes,” Jimin snaps.

Jeongguk can’t believe it. He clenches the fist inside his pocket. He didn’t want it to go this way when he was coming over here. He wanted to tell Jimin. To work out a plan. To move forward, but Jimin’s still in some mood– clearly still upset and riled up from Sungwoon and everything. They’re both losing their tempers so easily nowadays and it’s really not helping. Like he’d said before– it’s not anything foreign to either of them. They spend a lot of time arguing but only now does Jeongguk realize that they truly can’t afford to be enemies of any sort.

Jeongguk needs Jimin right now.

So he roots himself to the ground and doesn’t show any spite in return. He only breathes out and says, “How’s your wound?”

Jimin’s anger dissipates, just like that. His hands are tight around the edges of the blanket and only then do they loosen up. He tilts his head to the side to show Jeongguk the scar, close to being fully faded. “It’s… Better,” he says, voice suddenly small. He looks embarrassed, slightly.

“Good.” Jeongguk replies. He rounds the table so he can sit down on the chair. He picks up a pen from Jimin’s stand and a notepad. The pen’s unused. He scrapes off the tiny piece of rubber that sits atop the pointy edge, the one that indicates that it’s brand new. Then he has to make a few scratches on the paper before the ink starts to flow. “I need some information on Xiyue. Have you seen him around? Heard anything.”

Jimin’s sitting on the edge of the couch, still wrapped in the blanket. “Xiyue? Why are you looking for Xiyue? You haven’t needed him for a whole year.”

Xiyue was a mercenary that Jeongguk worked with around the time of the photo circulation. When he was attributed the name Tattoo. He agreed to work as Jeongguk’s double. To throw off some enemies. He’d gotten the same tattoo– not identical, but close– and styled himself to look like Jeongguk for a few months. When men tried to go for him– thinking that he was Tattoo, he’d killed them.

Jeongguk has a plan. The National Police Agency only has one photo of him– the one of him with his dyed black hair and exposed tattoo. If he can get Xiyue back, he’d have the best red herring to use against the cops. Xiyue’s dangerous enough to deal with them if he gets caught and that’s what makes him the best.

“Do you have information? I need to talk to him about work again.”

Jimin stands up and walks to stand by his side. “He went back to China after the photo circulation died down. Then he came back. He’s not working in Itaewon– he’s in a whole different city right now. Maybe Daegu?”

Jeongguk writes it all down. Daegu. China. “Is he still working as a mercenary?”

“Uh, I’m not sure, sorry. I could scout around for information tomorrow. Actually, maybe you should ask Seokjin. He knows a lot of other people in his line of work.”

“Smart,” Jeongguk nods. Ask Seokjin , he writes on the notepad. He folds the paper and slips it into his pocket for later.

“Do I get to know the full master plan?” Jimin asks, leaning against the table.

Jeongguk looks at him. He’s hoping, eyes innocently wide. He can’t keep anything from Jimin. Not anymore. So he says, “Yeah. Just wanted to see if he could throw the cops off-track again. Nobody can tell from the circulated photo– it’s literally just black hair and the tattoo that act as identifiers. Maybe my body structure, but it’s taken from such a horrible angle that it’s really too hard to tell.” He leans back. “They’re grasping for straws at this point. We could set up another photo circulation. Make people believe that Tattoo is elsewhere.”

Jimin’s nodding along as Jeongguk says all of this. “Seems like a good plan. Xiyue’s always been easy to work with but one , we don’t know where he is. Two , we don’t know if he’s still a slut for money.”

Jeongguk nods, too. Xiyue’s a bit trigger happy. Dangerous, like a bomb on the brink of explosion. He likes doing these things. Anything that gets his adrenaline running. But maybe he’s changed. Maybe he doesn’t like money anymore. Maybe he’s settled. It’s not improbable. “See if you can find anything– any word around the streets, but be careful. Seokjin– I’ll talk to him about it tonight. Then tomorrow, I have to head back to the National Police Agency.”

“Ok. Settled,” Jimin smiles a bit, giving him a tired thumbs up. “Are you busy after that? Kinda wanted to hit a café or something after.”

“Yeah, I’m free,” Jeongguk replies. A café sounds nice. Sinking into a warm cup of unfiltered black coffee sounds like a dream.

“Alright.” Jimin looks down then.

Jeongguk searches through his mind until he remembers. “Jimin?”

“Yeah?”

“Your photo was the forefront of the photos. In Officer Gi’s files. They know you’re an accomplice, or associated with me. I–” Jeongguk watches his expression grow dark. “–You can’t tell that it’s you. All of their photos are, luckily, absolutely terrible. And I’m going to do my best not to let them follow you as a lead– I’m going to… Protect your identity. At all costs.”

A beat passes between them. Then Jimin asks, “Should I be afraid?”

Jeongguk is quick to shake his head. “I won’t let them get to you.”

It’s reassuring to him. Jimin’s shoulders slack.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

Seokjin texts him to meet him at his mini warehouse. Jeongguk’s been there more than a handful of times. Mostly to borrow a gun but sometimes to just admire Seokjin’s self-built arsenal of weapons. He steps inside the discreet building, locking the door shut behind him. The mercenary’s dressed in all black, from head to toe. He’s inspecting his rifle, running a finger over the edge of it, as if he’s trying to find a flaw.

“This is possibly the single best thing you’ve ever done,” Jeongguk comments as he walks along a wall of rifles. He reaches out to touch one of them but Seokjin clicks his tongue.

“Don’t touch the goods,” he says warningly.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes and turns to face him. “You have a job? Now?”

“I always have jobs,” Seokjin responds, cocking the gun with a satisfied expression. He slides it into the slender black case, nestling it into the cushion with care. “What do you need? I have to leave in about seven minutes if I want to catch my target.”

“Where are they?”

“Somewhere near Jimin’s building. Probably two blocks down.”

“You have ten minutes and forty two-seconds, tops.” Jeongguk’s mind is quick to calculate. “We have a lot of time to talk.”

“You’re like a human clock,” the mercenary shakes his head, disbelievingly.

Jeongguk watches as he locks the case up. It’s a very light material, but impenetrable. He has to sling it around his back. He needs to be able to move it around quickly, to be able to put the gun in and out as quick as light. Once he takes out his target, he needs to be packed and ready to run as far as he can. The job of a mercenary takes a lot of practice and strength. It’s admirable.

“Do you have any word on Xiyue?” Jeongguk asks, tearing his eyes away from the case.

Seokjin looks up. “Xiyue? As in, mercenary, fucked up Xiyue?”

“Is there another Xiyue?”

“Kind of surprised you’re asking about him. It’s been a while since you used him.” Seokjin leans against the table. “He’s in Daegu right now. I don’t think he’s active at the moment . He took a job two months ago, but that’s all so far. Why?”

“A plan in mind,” is all Jeongguk says. “I wish I had a fucking on-call for him. I don’t want to have to go all the way to Daegu to see him.”

“Why not? You could use a break from all of the bullshit. Take a breather or something.” It’s not a bad idea. Jeongguk has to visit Busan too anyway. He needs to see his house there. To check on all of his special belongings. To see the Bangasayusang sitting in his basement. “You should take Jimin with you, too. If you’re going to Busan. He’s from there.”

“I know he’s from there,” Jeongguk replies dryly. “I’m not sure if he’ll want to tag along.”

The mercenary shoots him a look. “He’d follow you to the end of the earth.”

“Because of the contract,” Jeongguk amends. The contract’s making it hard to distinguish whether Jimin’s doing everything he does for Jeongguk or whether he’s doing it because he wants to. It makes Jimin hard to read. And it certainly makes their… Relationship difficult to understand. He keeps thinking about it. The contract– it could be the only thing tying Jimin down. He could be far from here. Safe. Thriving.

Seokjin hums. “The contract. Is it indefinite? Or is there like, a date where it nullifies?”

“Indefinite. We agreed that if he didn’t want to do it anymore, he’d tell me. And I’d nullify it myself.”

What if he wants to break it, but he’s too afraid to tell you? Jeongguk’s mind prods at him.

“Hm. Anyway, It’s been six minutes. I need to go. Fast.”

“Alright. I can lock up here.”

“Don’t touch my fucking rifles. You can play with the pistols. That’s all.”

When Seokjin leaves, Jeongguk stares consideringly at the pistols. Then he reaches for one of the sniper rifles– the one he’s tried before. He slips it into one of Seokjin’s disguised cases and locks up.

The case weighs heavy in his hand.

Jeongguk has a case file ready for when he returns to the National Police Agency. Namjoon’s early, as per usual, sitting down at the table, sorting through more of Gi’s information. Jeongguk, however, is playing to trick them. He’d taken photos from online from different, unreliable sources claiming to have photos of Tattoo. And amidst it, he’d printed an old photo of Xiyue. One that shows enough to make him look relatively close to the NPA’s photo of Tattoo. He places the file down in front of Namjoon. “I gathered a set of photos from the internet. All probably fake– I haven’t looked through them, though. But these are from people to claim to have seen him.”

Namjoon sets aside Gi’s case files– the real information, in exchange for Jeongguk’s set-up. He sits next to the bounty hunter so he can help spread out the photos. “A lot of these resemble him, but none of them have the body structure. Or the hairstyle. And some don’t even show a tattoo.” Namjoon wrinkles his nose, digging through the pile.

“I should’ve checked them before compiling. Sorry,” Jeongguk falsely apologizes.

“It’s fine. Maybe we’ll be able to draw a more solid model of how he looks like. People have different interpretations of how somebody looks. Maybe they see something we don’t.”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk nods his head and skims through the photos. He ignores Xiyue’s one on purpose, inspecting one of the photos of a man that is definitely not him. As Jeongguk predicted, it takes about five minutes before Namjoon picks Xiyue’s.

“Hey,” the bounty hunter says, sounding like he’s figured something out. Certainly not , Jeongguk thinks as he feigns excitement, leaning over to look at the photo. “Have you seen this one?”

Jeongguk makes a show out of scanning the photo with his finger. “No– wait,” he says, bringing it closer for effect. “The tattoo. The hair– it lines up. Do you have the original?”

Namjoon takes the photo of Xiyue and holds it up next to the board they’d assembled. The NPA’s photo of Tattoo hangs there, a proud achievement amongst all of the false leads and dead ends that hopelessly surround it. “The body structure matches, too. Where’d you get this?”

“I’m not sure. I just downloaded all the photos I could find and printed them out. I could have a look through my search history when I get back home,” Jeongguk offers.

“Please do,” Namjoon says, rubbing at his chin. He’s thinking. Jeongguk can see the wires connecting in his mind, the cogs spinning. He takes a pin and tacks it onto the board– not at the center, where his photo sits. More on the outer edge, where it’s left for speculation.

Xiyue’s photo is in limbo. Namjoon’s going to have to ponder it over before he can decide whether it belongs on the board or not.

Jeongguk will take it. He’s glad he’d set up those fake news articles, all those years ago. Presently, he continues to look through the photos. None of them are good for shit– he just needs to make it look like he’s remotely interested in finding anything else. “There’s nothing else that seems to match up. Maybe one or two. But not quite,” he says after a while of falsely searching. Namjoon hums from behind him, still consideringly staring at the board. “What’s wrong?” Jeongguk asks, turning the chair.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking. This photo of him– assuming it is him– which I think is probable, considering the body structure, the tattoo, the hair and the clothes– it shows his side profile. I don’t think he’s from around here.”

“Around here?”

“Tattoo. He’s not Korean.”

Checkmate .

“Assuming–” Namjoon adds, “That it is him. I won’t say so now. It could be a fake. Anybody could style themselves to look him him. But if it is real, then he isn’t Korean. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to find him. What if he’s not even in Itaewon? In Seoul, right now? He could’ve fled long ago.”

Jeongguk hasn’t forgotten that Namjoon is beyond intelligent. He thrives on doubt. It makes him cautious, keeps him in his smarts and that’s a good thing. But he’s still somewhat implanted the idea into his brain. If he can get ahold of Xiyue, he can bring this game to life.

“That’s an interesting thought. He really hasn’t been active for the past weeks or so. Maybe he just left.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time. A lot of crime lords that had bounties on their heads just left the country. Took all their money and started up business in another country. Sometimes, just a different city.” Namjoon turns to look at him. “Do you think this is all a waste of a time? Tracing a theory stemming from something so obviously false?”

Jeongguk pauses. “I mean, isn’t that why Gi brought us here to the first place? New perspective? Maybe he’s right. Maybe we need to stop looking at the obvious because it’s clear– Tattoo doesn’t want to be found. And he won’t be found unless we try something new. No matter how stupid it seems at first.”

“I suppose so. Anything is better than nothing. Or the same old.”

“Right,” Jeongguk agrees.

When Namjoon turns, Jeongguk smiles.

Oh, if he knew.

Jeongguk and Jimin have lunch together.

They sit across each other.

Jimin looks extremely tired. The dark circles under his eyes have never been more pronounced. He has bruises on his fists. His black hair is tousled and lacks the usual care. Jeongguk stares at him, all the questions on the tip of his tongue. Jimin is slowly browsing the menu, going back and forth and back and forth as if they’re not regulars to this café. His eyelids droop momentarily. The ring of the bell that sounds from the front door is able to jolt him back awake.

“You look like shit ,” Jeongguk says then, as he draws out his own menu.

Jimin blinks up at him, yawns then stretches his arms. He winces visibly when he tries to turn his back. “I didn’t know looking good was in my job description,” he says without spite, in return. He just sounds so tired. “I was up since last night. I couldn’t sleep. Insomnia hit me like a truck.”

“I don’t think anything was hitting you.” Jeongguk motions towards his used knuckles. “I think you were hitting something. Really fucking hard.”

The boy rubs at his eyes, really trying to stay awake. “I tried to look for anything on Xiyue. But he’s been inactive here for so long that–” another yawn. “– everyone’s forgotten. Or they haven’t heard.”

“You stayed up. All night. Beat people up to get information on Xiyue.” Jeongguk frowns.

“Mhm.”

“I appreciate it but… That’s stupid.” Jeongguk sighs. “Look, I’ll order. You can take a nap before the food comes. And then before we get to any work– I have things to talk about–, you can take another nap on my couch, back at my apartment.”

“‘S not necessary. I can sleep tonight.”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “I might need you tonight.”

That’s all it takes for Jimin to nod his head, then bow off. He drops his head on his arms and closes his eyes. Just like that, he’s drifted away into slumber. He must be really tired , Jeongguk’s mind tells him. And he knows. Jimin’s stayed up for longer than that before but he wasn’t so overwhelmed with fatigue. It must be everything weighing down on him. Pressure, stress, emotions. Jeongguk partly wishes he could take the weight of some of it just to alleviate the pain. Even just a little bit.

He orders Jimin a heavy meal so it would take longer to arrive, giving him more time to rest and because Jimin hasn’t been eating lately. He can tell– Jimin’s gotten less lean and more skinny. He wonders about what Seokjin said. Jimin’s been sad lately– he’s been really fucked up because of things he knows, things that haunt him. While waiting for his own dish, he thinks about the encounter with Sungwoon as well. Jimin knows about something. And he seems to be really upset about it. And Jeongguk– he’s trying to hold back from asking, but he wants to listen.

It’s a feeling that’s been endlessly prodding at him for the past weeks now. It’s surfacing in a rapid motion. It’s taking him from the blindside; he’d never expected it to surge like this– consume him like this, but it’s becoming more and more unavoidable. He finds himself staring at Jimin more and more, no longer wanting to turn away to avoid it. It’s terrible timing. To have these feelings in a time like this could put him in a lot of danger. But that’s just the thing, isn’t it? He asks himself. This would’ve never hit if I wasn’t under these circumstances.

Or would it have, eventually?

Jeongguk only looks away when the man brings over his food, setting it down in front of him. Then he comes back a few seconds later with Jimin’s dishes. He looks at Jimin’s sleeping figure, then at Jeongguk. The crime lord says, quietly, “Jimin.”

He wakes up slowly. The small nap makes him look a lit less exhausted but it’s evident, in his sluggish and less pointed movements, that he still needs hours of sleep before he’s back to normal. The man places dish, one by one, in front of him, before he moves away. Jimin blinks down at the four plates– one with salmon, one with chicken, one with vegetables, one with rice–, then says, “Huh.”

Jeongguk picks at his food. “Huh?”

“I’ve been having mostly sandwiches and alcohol for the past few months. It’s kinda weird to see a full-course meal on the table like this.” He digs away, evidently happy at the sight.

“Have you been eating lately?” Jeongguk questions as he eats.

“Not really. I try to eat stuff but my stomach gets all upset and I throw up. Or I just can’t finish a meal.” He says this with a small falter to his smile. But when he eats now, he’s happy, taking a bite from each dish. He looks a bit livelier– more alive , and that’s good. He seems to really enjoy the salmon. “This is good, though. I think I’m just really tired n’ shit.”

Jeongguk nods. “Good. Good, that you’re eating.”

Jimin smiles brightly, through the fog of weariness that surrounds him.

After lunch, they end up back at Jeongguk’s apartment. Jimin stands as Jeongguk slips into his bedroom. He looks at the bed consideringly, but he doesn’t think he can offer Jimin a place where he finds utmost comfort. Jeongguk’ll have to change the sheets, the pillow covers before he’d feel good sleeping on it after so he pulls out a spare blanket for Jimin to use for his couch.

Jimin takes it from him and mumbles a thanks before he’s kicking off his shoes. He draws the blanket over his whole body, over his head, and tucks himself into the crook of the couch. In a snap, he’s gone.

Jeongguk settles at his desk, where he has a lot of work to do. It’s early in the afternoon but it’s little time before he has to get going. His mind is everywhere– from hunting down and checking up on some of his lesser-trustworthy proxies to tracking down Xiyue in Daegu, to returning back to Busan. There are a lot more things to do in between– places to go, people to meet, alliances to make or break. His mind swirls with overuse but at least he doesn’t have any impending deadlines concerning school.

He runs his hands through his hair, biting back a long sigh. He can do this. He’s been doing this for years now. But why is it suddenly so overwhelming?

He pulls out his laptop. He has a spreadsheet. A masterlist of all of the men and women– boys and girls– he’s ever hired. All of his proxies’ names, all in one document. He doesn’t have it online. Nor does he have it lying around his desktop– it’s hidden behind coded layers. He’d spent a whole month getting acquainted with hacking and creating the best security around his laptop so nothing gets out and nothing malicious enters.

He types in the password– one that only he knows from the algorithm he’d developed. Every time he enters, there’s always a new password and it requires him to remember the previous one and the mathematical sequence that allows him to calculate for the next.

The document is color-coded and organized to utmost perfection. He can filter people out by age, height, his personal opinion and suspicions of them– it’s easy to navigate around. As he scrolls down, he realizes that only a few of them are immensely loyal to him. Most of them are harmless– he’s only worked with them once, the mask clasped on tightly. They probably didn’t even know he was Tattoo. Then a lot of them are marked red– the color encompassing all of the proxies he doesn’t trust.

He filters through it. The younger ones aren’t going to rat him out– at least, not yet. The ones that have taken more than a few jobs from him are more likely to. He keeps filtering through logically until he has a refined list of the three biggest possible leaks.

None of them know his name, his face, but they know who he’s dealt with. And information as seemingly little as that can definitely send him spiralling. Details are essential.

He memorizes their addresses. Their names. All of the basic information– descriptions of their faces. It takes him a while but he finally is satisfied with what he knows in about an hour or so so he checks it off of his mental list. He could go out later, while Jimin is resting. Hunt them down, watch them. See if they’re talking, selling information.

He moves on to the next matter.

Xiyue.

He pushes his laptop away for this. He has to think. It’s a week before Christmas and he needs to be back by then. It’s probably going to take a minimum of three days away from Seoul if he wants to visit Daegu then Busan. Both cities are quite distant. He immediately notes down, on a piece of paper, an estimate of the travel expenses. Timing.

Expenses, of course, won’t be an issue. He considers taking a plane because it takes half the time but he decides against it, knowing that the KTX train is a better option. A one hour and forty minute ride to Daegu. Then a forty-four minute ride down to Busan. Not too bad.

Timing, he thinks, is important. He needs to talk to Jung and Yoongi individually before he leaves. He needs to ask Sol to watch his back. He needs to tell Seokjin to cover for him in case Namjoon or Gi ask about his absence. He also needs to make it back in time for Christmas. He needs to get Jimin a gift. He needs to attend an important party. And he doesn’t want to be too far from his apartment, his city during this time of the year– as much as his body begs for him to rest.

He notes down all of this. His mind is stuck on Jimin’s gift but he’s absolutely lost on what to get the boy. He can probably buy him another really useless, expensive thing. Then he thinks about how Jimin’s cars sit, untouched, in his apartment garage. Jeongguk decides against being a pain in the ass for once. Because everything can go wrong if his plans don’t work out. And this may be the last Christmas he celebrates.

A grim thought, but he has to be self-aware. He knows that his luck is running thin. He knows that he’s skating on thin ice with fate. And he knows that the world works in a way that’ll throw you off balance when you feel like you’re gaining stability. It’s happening now. As much as Jeongguk tries to ignore it, he can’t anymore. His autonomy is present but it’s not as liberating as before. He used to be able to do this for himself. But now, it feels like all of his actions are being influenced by the police, his enemies, the people conspiring against him.

Jeongguk is slowly getting trapped. Perhaps not in a physical jail– not yet, and hopefully never. But he can feel it.

He’s no longer holding the key.

The crime lord taps his foot against the ground, thinking. He doesn’t realize how long he’s been working, mindlessly thinking and trying to focus his mind, until he looks at the clock. Three hours have passed. It’s already five in the afternoon. The sun is still pretty high in the sky but it’s sinking. He looks at Jimin’s sleeping figure. Three hours are definitely not close to the amount of sleep he needs to be energized for a full week of work. Not to mention the fact that he needs his perfect senses. They’re being hunted and they’ll need all of their wits if they want to make it out alive.

He decides that he can read for another hour before he visits the closest proxy. He stands up, inching towards his bedroom, where he looks through his bookshelf. He wants to practice his english reading so he kneels down, hand hovering over the many english titles he’s acquired in the past year or so. He hasn’t read all of them– he has to keep re-reading the ones he’s read before because he wants to perfect his knowledge of the language and the understanding of the story before he moves on. He looks between two titles but he settles for one called Slaughterhouse-Five .

He’s read about it online prior to buying it, of course. It’s an anti-war novel focusing on World War II. It was semi-biographical– it’s author, Kurt Vonnegut actually having gone through the events explored in the novel. It was controversial and continues to be controversial to this day. He picks it out from the shelf eagerly and walks back out to his desk, where he settles comfortably in his leather chair.

Jeongguk reads.

He’s confused by the end of it. So confused.

There’s time-travelling and aliens called Tralfamadorians that live on a planet called Tralfamadore . And it’s written in a non-linear, fragmented narrative that makes everything so much more complicated. Not to mention the fact that the narrator is incredibly unreliable. And everything– all of it just doesn’t make sense. But he is able to decipher a few things.

The non-linear and fragmented style is representative of the post-traumatic stress disorder that Billy Pilgrim, the main character, suffers from. He sees things– hence, believing he was abducted by the Tralfamadorians – fatalist aliens. Aliens, essentially, that believe that everything is according to destiny.

The phrase “and so it goes” is mentioned over a hundred times throughout the novel, always after a death is mentioned or described. It’s powerful because the diction connotes a lack-of-care attitude towards death throughout the novel. The novel is against war so the constant repetition of the phrase throughout the novel makes readers question the casualties in war. So many people overlook the deaths. Life goes on.

Lastly, “poo-tee-weet” is another repeated phrase that Jeongguk is awed at. It’s a phrase that is written after a massacre happens. It encompasses the wordless shock that everyone feels after such a traumatic and tragic event. The only sound that rings, that echoes in the end of it all is a birdsong because nothing else can be said.

It’s going to take more than the usual amount of re-reads before he can fully understand the depth and extent the novel explores. By the time he’s finished, it’s a little over six in the evening. Four hours after Jimin had fallen asleep. Still too little time to be considered healthy.

He places the book on his desk top and stands up. He’s wearing a thick sweater but it’s not enough to face the winter cold, so he picks out a leather coat from his closet, one lined on the inside with an insulating material that would definitely, and hopefully, keep him warm. He brings a pistol. His lighter.

He takes out his mask from the compartment, slinging it around his neck. He’ll use it if needed. if not, it’ll sit snug against his back.

He casts a look at Jimin before he leaves, standing above him on the couch. He’s dead asleep, head nuzzled into the blanket. Jeongguk walks out his door, making sure to lock it secure behind him.

He steps out into the cold.

It’s not hard to find Yongguk.

He’s nineteen. Jeongguk’s age. And he’s where Jeongguk expects him to be. But not doing what Jeongguk expects him to be doing.

He’s mugging a man. Beating him up on the sidewalk. They’re in a secluded part of Seoul, not in Itaewon, but on the outskirts of it. He sits high above them both on the rooftop, watching from the shadows as he delivers another well-tuned punch to his face. The man is whimpering– he’s begging for mercy. But he isn’t giving up his money. He’s trying to tap into Yongguk’s emotional path, telling him that he has kids. He has a wife. He has to make money for them.

Yongguk, of course, doesn’t care. He continues pushing the man across the floor, blood smearing the ground in a disgusting fashion. He’s messy. Bloody. And mugging a man with hair as white as snow.

Jeongguk pulls out his gun. With a perfect aim, he shoots Yongguk right in the head.

Yongguk is a threat to him because he’s desperate.

The man is writhing on the pavement below. He looks terrified. He’s crying. And he’s pissed his pants. Jeongguk has enough humanity in him to stop Yongguk from beating him to death but he doesn’t have enough of it to go down there to help the man. He can tell that the injuries– the cuts and bruises aren’t fatal. He’ll take time to recover but he will , physically. Mentally, not so much. Not for a while.

The crime lord sheathes the gun then walks down the fire escape. He leaves the place like he hasn’t been there at all.

He’s on his way back into Seoul when he realizes that he’s being followed.

Jeongguk keeps walking. He’s been in this position many times before so he listens for the footsteps. The sounds that tell. The heartbeat. The click of a gun. The wisps of smoke. The scent of determination. He can distinguish two people on his tracks. One from above, one from his level.

Left or right? His mind asks.

The one above is on his right.

The one below is on his left.

Where? His mind asks. Where are they?

Jeongguk turns a corner, leading back into the abandoned side of town, where it’s silent. Completely silent. It’s then when he can get a clear map of where the people are standing behind him. Jeongguk can turn now. But he doesn’t expect the sudden rush of footsteps towards his direction.

Jeongguk– Tattoo– whirls around with impeccable speed. He raises his hidden pistol so he can shoot the man who trails him from the ground but from one of the ledges above, a figure drops down. He recognizes the person.

Jimin scales down the wall in one go and is quick to toss a knife as the man approaches him with a fucking axe. A fucking axe.

The knife impales the man on the back. Definitely not enough to kill him, but enough to slow him down.

He's old. He's old, and he's probably just batshit crazy but that information does nothing to quench the rise of horror Jeongguk feels. He's always dealt with more level-minded people. Maybe some trigger-happy, killing-lover people like Xiyue, but not somebody like this. 

He's wearing torn up, ragged clothes. He looks like he hasn't showered in days. Jeongguk's mind is yelling at him, telling him that the man isn't one of the men looking for him. He's just a crazy man. A crazy man with nothing to lose.

People with nothing to lose are the  most frightening of them all.

The man swings at the air rabidly. His eyes are wide, blown like he's purposefully trying to scare Jeongguk. Jeongguk steps back, trying to gain distance so he can shoot, but he can't lift his arm without risking the chance of it getting choped off

Jimin’s running towards them, fast on his feet. Jeongguk doesn’t want the older boy to because the man is crazy . He’s swinging the axe and laughing– laughing like a madman and it’s possibly the most terrifying encounter Jeongguk’s ever had in a long time.

Jimin ducks underneath his next swing and stabs the man in the leg after retrieving the knife from where it sat, lodged in the divot of his back. It’s enough. The man falls to the ground, the axe landing on the pavement with a clutter. Jeongguk doesn’t even think twice– he kicks the man over and presses the heel of his shoe to his neck. “Who the fuck do you work for?” He snarls.

He's crazy. He's just crazy.

The man laughs. And laughs. And laughs. “ We know ,” he says. “ We know. We know– We know, we know, we know, we know– ” it’s too much for Jeongguk. He jabs his foot, hard, against the man’s neck and then shoots him in between the eyes. 

Blood seeps onto the floor below them in a pool that reflects the dim light of the sky. Jeongguk can see his reflection in the blood. He hates the fear.

We know. We know. We know. We know.

We know.

They know .

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck ,” he breathes out, finally hearing what the man had said. People other than the named few know .

Jimin’s reeling back too, eyes wide with unmistakable fear. “No,” he says, head shaking. "No, Jeongguk, no, he's just crazy. I followed him– he's just crazy–"

“People know. People know, Jimin. They’re going to get me. And you. And–” His chest is constricting. He feels like the wind has been knocked from his lungs. He feels pain tearing him from the inside out– a terrifying sense of anxiety overwhelms him.

Jimin’s shaking his head. “No. No, Jeongguk, no–”

“I don’t want to be locked up. I don’t… I don’t want to be–” no more. No more. No more.

Jeongguk’s losing his shit.

He’s losing it.

He’s spiralling.

The tides are coming to take him down.

Everything is going wrong.

Everything is–

A hard slap is delivered to his face.

Jimin clutches his open palm. Jeongguk blinks back into reality. He can see past the haze of sudden anxiety and he stares at Jimin, shocked.

“You’re not going to get caught. We’re not going to get caught. Jeongguk, you can’t lose your shit now. Not when you need it the most. Not when I need it the most, okay?” Jimin looks like he wants to hold Jeongguk’s face in his hands. He doesn’t. Jeongguk’s mind is going haywire, to the point that he almost wishes Jimin was hugging him right now. He doesn’t. Instead, he continues, “We’re going to get rid of this body. And we’re going to go. We need to get out of here… Clear our minds.”

They know , Jeongguk thinks to himself.

He doesn’t respond, still lapsed into a state of stupor.

He remains like that.

For the first time, his mind is clear. Not in a good way– but in a horrible one. He can’t think. He can’t formulate. He can’t find the next step to this situation. He’s shaken.

Jimin cups his cheeks then, bringing him close. They’re looking right at each other.

“Jeongguk. Jeongguk, we’re going to do this together. You said it. I said it. And I’ll do anything to protect you. If you do go down, I’m going down with you. We’re…” He murmurs, voice quivering. “We’re going to do this together.”

It’s enough to calm him down. It’s a sickening concoction of Jimin’s soothing words and the feeling of skin against his own.

When he’s coherent enough, he’s able to turn around.

Jeongguk throws up all over the floor.

Chapter Text

“YOU.”

The man points a crooked finger at him. Jeongguk steps forward from the line of young teenagers, into the light that casts down on him like it  knows  what this is for hi m. A catalyst for the series of events to come.

Jeongguk wouldn’t know the crime lord’s real name– not yet, but he’s chosen now, to work for him. After weeks of hard work and a lot of bloodshed, Jeongguk’s the only one out of the lineup to be picked. He can feel the anger radiating from his competitors. They’re all irrelevant to him, but the way Jung Hoseok glares at him is menacing in a way that conveys his fury.

Jung Hoseok.

Jeongguk’s main competitor. A tough one, admittedly, but not as good as him. He’s good with charisma and gathering information but otherwise, he doesn’t have the smarts. So Jeongguk’s casted into the light once again while Jung stands back in the shadows, ready for disposal. After this, he’ll have to find somebody else to work for. He’ll be starting from the bottom all over again while Jeongguk catches his fifth job. It’s that easy for him.

All of them are dismissed. Jeongguk is told to come to the building in a week to discuss jobs. So he’s left to walk out the building with the rest of the kids but even if they wanted to, they can’t hurt him. Jeongguk’s an important asset now. One of the benefits of working under a crime lord is having their protection, their eye. So he keeps his head high.

He and Jung head the same way. They walk in silence. Then Jung says, “I don’t get it.”

Jeongguk looks his way. “What?”

“Why? Why do you get everything?” He doesn’t look mad. Just genuinely confused. Upset, even. “I’ve been in this since I was six. Younger than you. And even if I do get jobs, I always end up kicked to the curb. But you have a permanent installment working for so many crime lords. How?”

Jeongguk doesn’t get everything. Like many of the kids and teens vying for a chance to rise on the streets, he’s been robbed of a childhood, a home, familial love. He can’t touch anybody. He can’t be loved. He doesn’t get everything he wants. “I don’t know,” is his lame but truthful response. He knows that he’s smart but even with born intelligence you need to work to do anything with it. But Jeongguk can’t tell Jung that his key is working hard, either, because he knows how hard Jung works. He doesn’t need to start unnecessary feud.

“You do know. Look, I really need a fucking job. A stable one. I have…” He trails off for a second. Jeongguk pauses when he realizes that Jung’s stopped trailing after him. He turns to face the older boy. He looks so sad. “I need to pay bills for my mom. Hospital bills. I need the fucking money.”

Jeongguk has no kind bone in his body. He debates walking away now because truthfully, he feels no sympathy. But his mind works wonders. He’s thinking ahead. And he figures that Jung would make a good ally if he helped him rise. So he nods. “Okay. I’ll try to find an opening with somebody. How much do you have?”

“Nothing. Close to nothing,” Jung admits. You often have to buy your way in to get a job. A small pay in for a huge cashout– if you did good enough.

“I’ll try to find a cheap one, then. I’ll tell you when I do.”

And Jung, for the first time, smiles. He’s usually scowling or glaring at Jeongguk but he supposes that desperate times do call for desperate measures. The worst circumstances really draw out vulnerability, Jeongguk thinks to himself before he walks away.

He does find Jung somebody. And Jung spends the last of his savings to buy in. But without Jung’s knowledge, Jeongguk’s competing too. He spends all of his efforts trying to impress the man. And he’s chosen. And Jung is thrown to the curb.

Jeongguk works for Lee Sungwoon.

Jung is left for dead.

It’s one day, when Jeongguk decides to trail Jung, curious to see what had happened after his defeat. He has a cab trail Jung’s car, all the way to a cemetery. And Jeongguk doesn’t have to get out the car to realize what’s happened. He watches from afar, as Jung kneels by a broken-down tombstone and cries and cries and cries. His mother is dead.

It’s one of the only times Jeongguk feels a twinge of guilt. He feels tears sting as his eyes and it scares him. He has the taxi man drive him to Jung’s home, where Jeongguk is able to easily sneak in. It’s as broken-down as the wooden tomb marker. The walls are barely painted, bald concrete. The plates are stacked in the sink. Everything is so depressing that Jeongguk pulls out his wallet, takes out every piece of cash he has, and he leaves it on the counter top. It’s a lot of money. Enough, he thinks, for Jung to buy a new home, to find a better life.

Jeongguk is a year older the next time he hears about Jung Hoseok. The man’s risen to power. And he has a grudge against Jeongguk. They never truly cross paths or attempt to sabotage one another. But their history hangs over them both, like a bad omen.

It’s strange to think about it.

Jeongguk tried to help him. He fucked Jung over. He tried to help him. And now Jung has the power to fuck  him  over.

Jeongguk makes a note to never feel sympathetic ever again.

He’s still shaken from the night before. The man with the axe had terrified him, admittedly. He doesn’t often dream– sleep usually passes like a blur, like a non-existent state of being. But that night, all Jeongguk can hear is  we know, we know, we know . It’s a never-ending mantra that was repeated enough to almost make him believe it. But a familiar, looming voice in his mind says, y ou’re not going to get caught .

We’re not going to get caught .

He’s glad for the echo. But now, Jeongguk is more than willing to go to Busan to recover. The thought of being able to breathe is so appealing– he doesn’t realize how much pain and constriction he’s in until he wakes up that morning with a powerful heaviness pressing down against his chest.

Jeongguk, for the first time in the past two busy years, wants out.

Even just for a bit.

After the occurrence, Jimin walks him back to the apartment, where he collapses on his bed. The former acrobat sits on the edge of his bed, his silhouette dark against the light of the office. He stares at Jeongguk, eyes kind and soothing, and it's enough to drive him to a quick, deep sleep.

Jimin is gone by the time he wakes up, but he leaves a note that tells him to call when he wakes. 

Jeongguk takes a long time in the shower. He washes himself over and over until his skin is rubbed red. He didn't... Touch anybody. But what happened felt so violating and strangely terrifying that the urge to be clean is overwhelming. He feels raw once he steps out of the bathroom, dressed up for the day. But the sore feeling is nothing compared to the sense of peace that settles when he's all cleaned up.

He rubs the towel over his wet hair, staring outside his window. There are fewer cop cars that line the street adjacent to his place, which he suspects is because of the police spread. Gi's reallocating them for the Christmas season to prevent petty crime and robberies around the heavily populated shopping areas.

He places the towel on the windowsill, reaching on his table for his phone. He dials for Jimin's number and the boy is quick to pick up.

“Hey,” Jimin says, voice slightly breathless. He can tell that Jimin's moving. He can hear the faint sound of some type of collision.

“Hey,” Jeongguk replies, rubbing at his eyes with his free hand. “What are you doing right now?”

“I’m–  oh shit –”

“Please don’t tell me you’re fucking somebody.”

Jimin laughs across the line. “–N-no, I’m out for a run.” There’s the sound of shuffling– Jeongguk assumes that he's stopped. Confirming his suspicions and sounding much steadier Jimin adds, “Are you feeling better?”

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk, physically, feels clean. Better in that sense. But mentally? His mind continues to spin, the aftereffect of the heavy whiplash last night has sent him on. “Hey, I know this is a bit abrupt but I’m actually leaving for Daegu this afternoon. Then I’m headed to Busan. I wanted to ask if you could come but you probably have–”

“Yeah. Sure,” Jimin replies chipperly, with certainty. Jeongguk raises his brows. He can see himself in the reflection of the window. He looks surprised. “We’re looking for Xiyue?”

“Uh-huh. I need him to play distraction.”

“Do you think he’ll agree? The hunt wasn’t bad like, last year. Now he could get seriously hurt.”

Xiyue hurt is an oxymoron. The boy thrives on pain. And even when he's being beaten up and kicked to the ground, he's laughing and laughing and laughing. The boy’s batshit crazy. He’s like a ticking bomb. Except the difference is, once he explodes, he’s already ready to go for another. And another. And another. His lack of a refractory period is impressive. He has no qualms with killing. Nor does he have a recognizable moral code. “All he wants is money. Give it to him and he’ll do anything. He’s like a dog.”

“That’s also true, I guess. I mean, if he’s willing too. I’m just reluctant about dragging others into this. I don’t want any more lives to be at cost because of our mess.” Jeongguk imagines a frown drawn on Jimin's face.

His  mess. Jeongguk’s alone. He stares down at his shoes and bites down in the inside of his cheek.  He’s  dragging Jimin into this. The contract is binding. And in a way, Jimin’s as much of a dog as is Xiyue. Jeongguk’s the hand that feeds and they keen at that. The only difference is, he has Jimin on a tight leash. And at one point, yes, that had been appealing to Jeongguk– to have that sort of power. But now? Not so much.

He swallows. “Yeah. You’re right,” he admits.

Jimin is oblivious to the predicament he’s in– the whirlwind of emotions that are tossing Jeongguk around in their wake. “But yeah, I’ll get packing as soon as I finish this run. I have some things to do before we leave. Can you send me a schedule?”

“Okay.”

“Okay! Bye.”

“Bye.”

Jeongguk places his phone down on the desk and clasps his hands behind his neck. He stares out the window, thinking. He wants to talk to Seokjin, Sol and Taehyung before he leaves. Even though he’s going to be gone for about three days or so, a lot could happen in that time. He needs Seokjin to cover for him in the Officer Gi department, Sol to keep him updated and for Taehyung to keep Yoongi and Jung occupied. He doesn’t know where to start. He looks at the time– it’s pretty early in the morning.

Seokjin is probably in a meeting. Sol’s probably hungover or something.  Which leaves Kim Taehyung, who he hopes is available. He purses his lips and grabs a thick, puffy black jacket before he exits his building.

Like a routine, once he steps into Taehyungs home, there's a flurry of helpers that navigate around him. They offer him food. They offer to take his jacket, to which he refuses politely. He wants to be warm, especially when the house feels strangely and unnaturally cold.

They lead him down the same route as last time. Same door. 

Different sight.

He’s both thrown off and unsurprised to find that Taehyung and Jung are making out on the socialite's deep, red velvet couch. They're lost in one another. Taehyung's hovering over the older man in a way that's probably really fucking uncomfortable but it doesn't matter to them. But to Jeongguk...

He doesn't want to watch so he clears his throat, in hopes that one of them is coherent enough to turn his way.

And it's Jung who notices him standing in the doorway awkwardly, hands stuffed into his pockets for a lack of nothing better to do. His fellow crime lord rolls his eyes and nudges Taehyung, who’s completely unashamed, smiling brightly at Jeongguk. His lips are shiny and swollen under the candlelight. He makes no move to wipe it away so Jeongguk’s forced to look anywhere else to avoid feeling sudden sickness.

“Jeongguk,” Taehyung calls, patting the space beside him. “Come here.”

He glances at the deep indent on the couch and he doesn’t even try to hide his disgust. “No... No thanks.”

“Okay, suit yourself.” Jung tries to get up but Taehyung pushes him back down so that the man’s head is spread across his lap. Jung looks slightly embarrassed, being locked down like this, but he doesn't object. His cheeks are painted with a red that's so vibrant that yeah... He must really into Taehyung, to allow himself, a powerful crime lord, to appear so…  Coddled  and babyish like that. “What’re you doing here? Not that I mind. You’re always welcome.”

Jeongguk wishes he could have this conversation in private, with Taehyung, but the socialite boy seems too attached to his former competitor to let him go. So he says, “I’m leaving town for a bit. I just wanted to ask you to  take care  of those  assets .” He says this without a falter to his tone. And he hopes that Taehyung understands what he’s implying.

Keep Jung and Yoongi in check. Make sure they don’t throw my identity around. Make sure they don’t get brave.

Taehyung is intelligent. He’s good with people and socializing so he catches the cues, as easy as that. He nods, not missing a beat. “Yeah, the two buildings, right? Do you need me to keep the key or anything?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m giving the keys to Seokjin but in case things go wrong. Or whatever, I trust you.” Jeongguk finds that it comes easy to him, to tell Taehyung that he trusts him. Maybe he does, really. Taehyung’s not hard to like. He’s kind. He’s cunning. And he’s charismatic. And again, he’s incredibly smart.

“Hm. Alright.” Taehyung beams at him happily.

Jung interjects from where he lies. “Where are you going?” He asks, clearly demanding an answer.

Jeongguk doesn’t owe him one but he figures, if he wants Jung to trust him, to be on his side in this, he’ll need to be honest. “I’m taking Jimin to visit Busan. Our hometown. Might as well see it one last time, before shit goes down, I think.” There’s a knot in his throat, tight. He doesn’t realize how strangely emotional the thought makes him– that it could be the last time he’d see the sun sink down the Busan ocean view. The last time he’ll see the gold, shining Bangasayusang sitting in his basement– a symbol of his greatest heist.

Jung doesn’t respond. He seems slightly surprised by Jeongguk’s honesty and a bit…  Empathetic ? His brows knit together, as if the thought is suddenly occurring to him, too. Failure. Jail. Death– they’re ever-present, like a dark shadow that trails them around. Those things will always be tied down to them because in reality, that’s how the story always ends. Failure. Jail. Or death.

Taehyung picks up the conversation. “That’s really sad, Jeongguk,” he says, looking bothered.

“I’m sorry.” He feels bad for making the two feel bad. “Something shit really happened last night. I’m starting to doubt whether I’ll make it out alive at all.”

He’s not going to give up, obviously. Jeongguk’s a fighter. He’s weaponized his intelligence, his wit and his primitive will to survive.

“What happened?” Taehyung asks curiously.

“First ambush happened. Snipers. Then last night, this man… He tried to attack me when I was alone. Jimin was following me, so he helped, but the man was  insane . He had an axe. And he kept swinging, and swinging. And he said– he told me, again and again, ‘ we know ’.” Jung sits up then, a look of alarm on his face. Taehyung’s mouth is ajar, shocked as well. “Jimin told me that he was crazy. Just a crazy, axe-swinging man. But something tells me that…”

“Sungwoon’s playing games?” Jung fills in, with a slight shake of his head. “I wouldn’t put it past him. He’s probably still bitter about you fucking him over years ago.”

“How’d you fuck him over?” Taehyung looks between them, lost.

“I worked for him. I was bitter because I thought he wasn’t paying attention to me. So I sold information to bounty hunters and one of his big drug rings was shut down.” Jeongguk remembers it vividly. It marked the headlines of the news for weeks on end. Nobody knew who he was– his name, but it was a big bust and Sungwoon took a massive hit as a result. “I was selfish. Still am. I gained a lot of bounty hunter allies and a lot of money for it so at that time, I wasn’t thinking about the consequences.”

Taehyung and Jung look at each other for a long while. Jeongguk decides, fuck it. Why not kill another bird with this fucking stone? “I’m sorry for fucking you over too, Jung.”

Jung Hoseok turns to him. Taehyung does, too.

The older man, his former competitor and even once friend. He runs a hand through his messy hair, smoothing it out, contemplating, before he replies, “You did fuck me over. Big time.” His gaze is sharp, serious. Jeongguk holds his ground well, expecting as much. He doesn’t expect Jung to forgive him at all. “ But . It happened years ago. When we were both young. Unsensible. And let’s be honest, you were a big prick. You stepped over others and always took what you wanted. You didn’t care if I made it. You didn’t want me to make it because you cared, but because you wanted an ally. And it backfired on you.

“I lost my mom because of you. The person I loved most, just because you couldn’t keep your grubby fucking hands to yourself. You were never satisfied with what you had– you had to keep on taking and taking and taking because you always wanted to be  better . Ten times better than the rest of us because you knew,” Jung taps at his brain harshly, “that you had the intelligence capacity to do it. Honestly, I fucking hated your guts.”

Jeongguk can’t respond because he can’t object to anything Jung says. He’s absolutely right. Taehyung’s looking at the other crime lord, face contorted with pain and sadness. As if he feels what pain Jung’s feeling. His hand rubs against Jung’s back in an attempt for comfort, to quease the anger.

Jung continues, “Like I said. It happened years ago. I’m over it. Not going to lie, I like seeing you squirm. But not to the point where it makes me happy, that you’re contemplating death. So,” he inhales, lifting his shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t care anymore. As long as you stay in your lane and I stay in mine, I’m willing to put it behind us.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jeongguk says, because he doesn’t deserve Jung’s words. It’s not forgiveness but the opportunity to step over the fact that Jeongguk was responsible for his mother’s death was a powerful thing.

“It’s okay.”

Silence.

Jeongguk’s looking away now, trying to focus on the luxurious gold that scatters across Taehyung’s room. He can see them in his peripheral vision– Taehyung kissing Jung’s cheek affectionately, like he’s proud of him. And Jung ducking his head and shrugging like it was no big deal. It is a big deal– it  was . He’s just glad that they can move on.

“Well. Wow. Now that  that’s  all over,” Taehyung says, voice cutting through the stretch, “What’s the next move for you, Jeongguk? After Busan?”

The next move. There are a lot of ways this could go. A lot of different things he can do. He’s not sure what path he wants to walk yet– a lot of them are barely lit. There are a lot of roadblocks in the distance that he can sense and he doesn’t want to commit to one without being absolutely sure. It’s tough luck for him because Jeongguk knows that there’s never an absolute when it comes to planning ahead. Circumstances change. Plans shift. He’ll have to dive in headfirst.

Xiyue’s his first step. He knows that the boy is key because he’s fearless. If Sungwoon wants to play with him in a game of psychological warfare, Jeongguk’s going to retaliate with something–  someone  better. Xiyue will ensure that.

“I’m not really sure right now. I have a few things I want to do. Call it insurance, I guess. But for the main event–” he shakes his head slowly. “Nothing.”

“Well. You have me on your side. And Sol. And Seokjin. So that’s money, connections, refuge, gunpower.” Taehyung says this, chin rested on Jung’s shoulder comfortably. “I think your insurance is well-covered. You need to start worrying about that main event.”

“I have a few ideas. Just don’t know which one will be most explosive.” Jeongguk has a vision. Flames. This world on fire. Everything in chaos. And him, standing in the rubble, the lone survivor amongst him and his competitors. Again– there are a myriad of ways he can get to this endgame and that’s the problem.

“Sounds fun.” Taehyung’s smiling.

Jung rubs his chin pensively. “One person you’ll want for insurance is Yoongi. If you need a fresh start, in the case that this blows over. He could wipe you clean from this earth. Nobody would ever find you. And if you need him in this master scheme of yours– he could do a lot of shit with technology. He’s an asset.”

Jeongguk nods along. “He doesn’t like me either, though.”

“Yeah. He doesn’t. But you’ve managed Hoseok to hate you a little less, so you could  try  to talk to him.”

Jung doesn’t object, just staring at Jeongguk with a thoughtful gaze.

“Alright, I guess. Maybe I will talk to him when I get back.”

Taehyung smiles and hugs Jung. “Good.”

Jeongguk looks between them. He thinks about Taehyung’s words.

They can’t possibly just be in this for the sex.

Jung’s in love.

But is Taehyung?

By chance, Jeongguk sees Sol in one of his favorite cafés in Seoul. He peers at the businessman from where he stands, waiting for his cup of black coffee. He’s not alone– he’s sitting across a girl. Somebody familiar, who Jeongguk quickly realizes is the girl from the day at Sol’s home. The one he was patching up. The one bloodied and beaten. She looks better now. But her expression is troubled and there's a trace of a black eye– a dark bruise that taints the skin on her face.

Jeongguk turns away but tunes into the conversation to his best ability. He has good hearing, so it’s not too hard, but without context, it’s a bit off-putting.

“... I don’t know what to do anymore. I can’t find anything. Time is running out.” The girl.

“Let me help you.” Sol. His tone is pleading. “I know these people. I was one of them.”

“No. No, if they find out I cheated, I’m out for good. I  need  this, Sol. I need the money.”

“Koda–”

“No. Not  your  money.”

Jeongguk nods respectfully towards the man that gives him his cup of coffee before he pulls back from the counter. He slowly makes his way over to their general area. He’s three steps past their table when Sol says, “Jeongguk.”

He turns around to face them. Koda, the girl, slowly pulls her papers, tugging them against her chest and looking away. Her movements are defensive, sharp. Jeongguk can tell that she's a scrapper.

Her knuckles are red. Maybe she'd beaten somebody up. The black eye is fading, but he has no doubt that she's going to get it renewed soon. Her hair is cut short, to her shoulders. A defence mechanism– people with longer hair can get grabbed easier in fights or chases. She's fit. But he can see the signs– she's slightly malnourished.

A scrapper.

Sol looks at him, brows arching up. He says, "Hey."

“Sol. I was supposed to come over. I actually wanted to talk about something.”

Sol looks at Koda, then back at him.  I’m busy .

Jeongguk narrows his eyes.  This is more important .

The businessman scowls.  I doubt it .

Jeongguk ignores the death glare Sol sends him and moves to stand in front of their table. “Can I join you guys?”

Koda shrugs and scoots down the booth, leaving space for him to sit. Sol shoots him a warning look as he slides into the cushion, setting his cup of coffee down in front of him. Sol reels back. “Jeongguk. This is Koda. She’s a scrapper right now.”

Koda eyes him warily. “I hate that title. But yes, I’m a scrapper. What are you?”

“Nothing, really. I used to be a scrapper until I was dragged out of the businesses. I’m a law student now," he explains. White lie– he isn't really out of the business. But in a sense, he's running his own. He's a crime lord. Distinctly different from a scrapper, in power, lifestyle, wealth.

“Law,” she says dryly. Her tone is sarcastic, deadpan. Another defence mechanism. “Must be fun.”

He doesn't falter under the way she presses her gaze against him, attempting to pin him down. Jeongguk dodges the clear swipe at him, instead opting for a calm response. “It is. I now know legal loopholes.”

It works. Her brow flicks up in interest. “That’s smart.”

“It is.” He agrees, casting a faint smile at her. Sol is staring at him with a reflective expression. Jeongguk makes a motion towards the papers in her arms. “What’s that?" He asks, despite already knowing.

Koda looks at Sol, silently asking if Jeongguk's worth trusting. The mercenary says, with reluctance, “Don't worry. He isn’t a snitch. He knows all about  Tattoo . And the bounty hunters, the Itaewon system. We’ve been friends for a while now. And like he's said," Sol adds, "he used to be a scrapper himself."

She places the papers on the table with disinclination. It's then, when she breaks through her tough facade. She glowers. “The bounty hunters, some of them– they’re putting out an open spot for anybody offering good information on Tattoo. I’ve been trying to get initiated for so long now. It’s the easiest way in.” Jeongguk looks over the papers. Newspaper clippings, headlines, reports on Tattoo. A lot of colorful highlighting and annotations. He turns to Sol. Sol fixates him with a  look .

How fucking sad,  Jeongguk thinks. The scenario goes something like this:

Sol is friends with Tattoo. Tattoo is Jeongguk. Koda is hunting Tattoo down. Koda is sitting next to Tattoo, but she doesn’t know it. Sol knows it. And the mercenary is sitting there, looking between Jeongguk and Koda like he’s trying to figure out who’s more important to him.

“Huh,” Jeongguk ponders, taking a sip from his coffee. “Why do you want to be a bounty hunter? You want to shine. To stand out, in the eyes of everyone. To do that, you're going to want to do it on your own."

Koda grimaces, running her fingers over the surface of the papers. With a solemn tone, she elaborates, “men don’t treat women nice. Especially scrapper girls like me. They always tell me that I belong in the brothels. Or in clubs. Fucking sexist pieces of shit,” she says bitterly. “If I join the bounty hunters, at least I’ll be taken seriously.”

“Don’t you think you’d make more of a statement, if you forgot about that whole bounty hunter thing? Itaewon is a kingdom. To get to the crown, you go for it. You don’t try and rely on a prince– a man– a  group  of men to get you there. It’s going to be hard, definitely. But this–” Jeongguk waves his hand over the papers. “–This is something else. The police. The hunters, they’re all going for Tattoo and to what avail? Right now, Itaewon’s system is scrambling. Everyone’s forgetting their place. Even the people on top– everyone’s trying to be the one that catches Tattoo. It’s too much competition. And as much as I hate to say it, you’re right. Sexism is going to be an enemy. Take advantage of the scramble and fight your way to the top.”

The young scrapper's hands curl into small fists. Her expression shows it all– she's only realising it now. There's a hint of uneasiness as she seems to realize what she's been doing wrong. The fact that she's been playing the game along somebody else's rules when she could be the game-maker herself. 

She and Sol stare at each other for a long time. Then she nods once. Her voice is kinder, softer, when she admits, “I guess you’re right."

“I wish I didn’t have to be.” He doesn’t know a lot of many powerful women in the system. It’s a problem because he  knows  that the men treat them like shit. It’s always about sex. Sexuality. Sensuality. And so he understands why Koda is so reluctant and withdrawn from Sol’s offer of help. She doesn’t want to be paid on the basis that Sol– a man– is interested in her.

“Yeah, well. That’s how it is.” She gathers up the paper with less care this time. As if they don't hold the same importance to her as they did minutes ago. Her tone is matter-of-fact, like she's grown to accept the discrimination and inequality she faces. It's sad.

Koda turns to Sol as she slowly rises from the seat. “I have to go. I have an interview.”

Sol perks up at that, eyes brightening significantly. “You’re taking the interview?”

His response is a nonchalant lift of the shoulders. “I'm probably not going to get in, but it’s free, so why not?”

Jeongguk stands so she can slide out of the booth. She mutters a thanks to him. Jeongguk gives her a thumbs up. Koda stops beside Sol, taking his shoulder and squeezing it tightly before she walks out of the café.

He sits.

“That’s pretty fucked up, even for you,” Jeongguk states dryly before taking a long sip of his coffee. “First, throwing me under the bus. Second, in the case that you  weren’t  going to throw me under the bus, you’re lying to somebody who I  hope  is genuinely important to you.”

Sol scoffs. “When I say I want to help her, I mean accommodations. Housing. Food. I do care about Koda and I’d do anything for her.  But  not at your expense.”

“How romantic.”

“You wish,” Sol replies with a short laugh. “Anyway– since you ruined my happy meal with the girl of my fucking dreams, what did you want to talk about?”

Jeongguk holds back the urge to roll his eyes at that. “I’m going to Busan for a bit. Actually, Daegu first, but only you and Seokjin’ll know that. I’m hunting Xiyue down. I want to use him as a red herring to throw the cops off for the meantime, while I gather my rocks and shit.”

Sol nods along as he speaks. “Xiyue. Hm. I actually ran into him in Singapore a few months ago. He’s different now, I think. Last I remember, he was still taking some jobs, but I think he’s off drugs.”

Jeongguk rubs the palms of his hands against the ceramic of the cup. “As in, he’s not trigger-happy useful anymore?”

“I mean, his brain is probably still whack. He was under an alias when I saw him. Wes or something. He was trying to suck up to some businessman in the circle I work in so I don’t get why he’d be in Daegu right now.”

“Maybe it didn’t work out.”

Sol shrugs his shoulder. “Maybe. Anyway, take that with a grain of salt. He could’ve relapsed. But in the case that you have trouble finding him under  Xiyue , look for a Wes.”

“Duly noted,” Jeongguk nods his head gratefully. He stares at his ally. Sol Young. Jeongguk’s kind of surprised about Sol’s words. He seems to care a lot about Koda. But  not at Jeongguk’s expense . It’s a comforting statement, one that reassures him that maybe he isn’t so alone in this situation. Jimin’s with him. Taehyung. Maybe even Jung. Sol. Seokjin.

Maybe Jeongguk’s just so hard on himself. Constantly telling himself that nobody cares.

Maybe he’s wrong.

The last stop is Seokjin. A quick-paced walk downtown is all it takes before he finds himself in Seokjin’s apartment. A high-end modern wet dream. Jeongguk likes the way everything is so  clean . His apartment is more or less the same style but he prefers this. Light. Earthy. Just like Sol’s home.

He raps his knuckle against the wooden door loudly. He hears a loud huff from the other side of the door. But nobody opens up so he knocks again, harder. “Hold on!” Seokjin yells from inside. Jeongguk slides his hand into his pocket and waits.

Seokjin opens the door with wet hair. He rubs a white towel against his head, looking annoyed. But he welcomes him anyway, stepping back and tugging the door wide open for him to step through the threshold. “I wasn’t expecting you, but. What’s up?”

Jeongguk makes a beeline for the couch, where he sits down. “Jimin and I are going to look for Xiyue. Then we’re going to Busan. Just for three days– hopefully it’ll be easier to find Xiyue but… Yeah,” he explains, brushing the dust from the edge of his jacket. “I just need you to cover for me in case Namjoon or Gi ask. I don’t have any planned meeting until after Christmas but… In the case that they do.”

Seokjin stands across him, pressing the cloth to his face. He nods. “Yeah, I can do that. Gi’s pretty busy though, dealing with the increase in petty crime. He and my dad have a dinner tomorrow, both other than that– I don’t think he has time to ask.”

“Good.”

“Yeah. So,” Seokjin places the towel on the table, “Christmas. You’ll be back by then?”

Christmas is the day after they return from Busan. “Yeah. I usually don’t think about gift shopping. Like, seriously, but it might be my last Christmas so. I’m going to need to think of decent gifts this year.”

“Why are you saying that like it’s over?” Seokjin frowns.

“I got crazy axe man ambushed last night. We got ambushed by fucking snipers. I feel like Sungwoon’s put his own mini bounty on me. Not as Tattoo, but somebody who may have information. And as much as I want to believe I can get away with my big plan, I’m really not sure if I’ll live that long.” He frowns, too. Because it’s true. Jeongguk’s already limited by his half-blindness. Even if he wants to believe that he’s above all of Sungwoon’s petty games, it takes a huge emotional, mental and physical toll on him, to have to be so  on edge  all the time.

“Jimin told me about crazy axe man. He seems to think that it’s all just a coincidence.”

“If Jimin believes that it was a coincidence," Jeongguk begins.

“If Jimin really does believe that... Then..." Seokjin grimaces. “He'd be desperately grasping for straws at this point. Only Sungwoon is deranged and sadistic enough to go down the terror route. Usually, when crime lords fight it’s practiced. It’s guns. Physical stuff, at the most. Emotional warfare? Mental shit? That’s him. Crazy axe man has Lee Sungwoon written all over it."

Jeongguk licks at his lips and shrugs. “I guess so, but doesn’t stop me from retaliating the same way. Xiyue’s going to be  my  personal crazy axe man. Except he’s actually  fucking insane . That is– if he is still on drugs and stuff. Sol just told me that he went sober. That he’s trying to climb a different system under a new alias.”

A scoff from the mercenary. “Please don’t tell me he’s trying to get in with the suits.”

Suits . Businessmen like Sol. “I think he is. Or was, for a while. I suppose I won’t know until I see him in Daegu.”

“Yeah, well. Be careful with him. He needs more than a leash to be tied down.”

Jeongguk nods in agreement. “I remember the last time he was around. I told him that I needed a duplicate of me. He came back an hour later with everything done, just like that. Then I told him once that I needed somebody dead. Twenty minutes after leaving my apartment, I got a doorbell. I opened the door and there was this box,” he explains, remembering the gruesome sight. “When I opened it, there was a fucking head in there.”

Seokjin shudders at that. Jeongguk guesses so because the man’s used to far-distance shooting. He never gets up close and personal– he prefers being a sniper. He doesn’t have to see blood; he doesn’t have to touch blood. It’s one well-aimed click of the gun and  bam – dead. So people like Xiyue, to him, are insane. People who like blood and gore and dismembered body parts. Jeongguk has no problem with Xiyue mostly because he was loyal when he wanted to be. And he and Jeongguk– when the boy was off drugs– mostly got along.

Seokjin shakes his head slightly. “It’s gonna be a treat to have him back around. At least he made things…  Interesting .” He sounds reluctant in tone. Seokjin clearly seems withdrawn about Jeongguk’s plan. Maybe even afraid of the other mercenary. “Is he just going to play double again or are you going to have him play bodyguard?”

“Not for me. Jimin.”

“Ah.” Seokjin nods. “You think he’s going to be okay with that?”

Jeongguk honestly doesn’t think Jimin wants a bodyguard. But he doesn’t care if Jimin’s going to be pissed at him for it, just because… Well. Jeongguk’s too busy with trying to formulate the perfect plan. He’s trying to save his own ass. As much as he wants to spend an inch of his efforts on protecting Jimin too, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to spare enough– and he can’t commit even that bit because it’s  not enough . If anybody is going to keep Jimin from Sungwoon or the police’s grabby hands, it’s Xiyue.

“He won’t like it. But I don’t want anything… Bad to happen to him.” Jeongguk admits it because Seokjin understands. The crime lord knows that the mercenary is still somewhat…  Interested  or protective over Jimin, too.

“I get it. You’re becoming really…” Seokjin trails off.

Jeongguk huffs. “Soft?”

“No. Nah– I don’t think that’s the word. And you say that like it’s a bad thing– It’s not. Vulnerability at a time like this tells me that you have a lot of humanity in you. And it’s nice to know that.” His friend offers, brushing the hair from his face, smiling a bit. “That’s what sets you apart now. All of the other crime lords– Sungwoon…  Heartless . So it’s easy to cut their strings, connections. Because they don’t care about anybody  but  themselves. You, however,

“Are a softie, actually. In a good way, of course. You care about Jimin. And Jimin, I think he needs that. He cares about you too. And correct me if I’m wrong, but you care about me too. And I care about you. Reciprocity. The best and most reliable form of loyalty.”

Jeongguk inhales deeply, nodding. He understands. He’s kind of… Reluctant when it comes to vulnerability. He’s never opened up like this before and it’s all so foreign to him. But so far, it’s been beneficial in many ways. He hasn’t felt this… Simultaneously tense and relaxed at the same time.

He rubs the back of his neck, staring down at his shoes. “Yeah. And I don’t think you’re wrong. I do care a lot about Jimin. And…  You , too. I get this killer urge to burn things whenever I see either of you upset.”

“I’m like, rarely upset.”

Untrue. Jeongguk is attentive to detail. He knows when Seokjin’s ticked off because of his parents. He knows when Seokjin’s ticked off because of work. He knows when Seokjin’s sad. Mad. Happy. Because yeah– maybe he does care a bit more than he wants to admit. Seokjin’s the one that gave him the opportunity at education. The one who continues to support him even when he’s a fucking shithead, most of the time.

“Well. Now you know. I’d kill for either of you.”

Seokjin smiles.

“Jeongguk!”

At the sound of his name, he turns. Jimin jogs up to him with two duffel bags slung over his shoulders. Comparatively, Jeongguk only has one. And well, the case containing his golden egg. He raises his brows when Jimin dumps both bags on the ground with a loud huff of exhaustion. “I see you pack lightly,” Jeongguk remarks.

Jimin’s cheeks redden. “One of them is clothes. The other is for  other  things.”

“What are  other  things?”

“Hopefully, you’ll never have to know. Just for backup. Trust me.”

Jeongguk turns away to check the clock above them. “Alright,” he says, racking his mind for the time they were supposed to catch the train.

The platform isn’t too loaded with people. At least, their side of it. Nobody really takes the KTX unless completely necessary. Everyone turns to planes because they’re faster but Jeongguk wonders why– they’re much more expensive. And he doesn’t like the whole airport process– especially the part where they pat you down. So the train is much more efficient and comfortable for him. It gives him a lot of time to think too.

The view they get when travelling across South Korea on land isn’t hard on the eyes, either.

On the dot, the train comes to a stop in front of them. A few people travelling from far away pile out of the carts with their suitcases. There are a few foreigners snapping photos of themselves left and right, gawking at the station– which is fucking stupid, because it’s a  station  and they’ve probably seen four or five identical ones in stops on the way here. Other people pile out in a silent fashion, rushing up the escalators.

Once the conductors clear out the carts, they’re allowed to pile in. Jeongguk holds his own bag and the case in one hand and picks up one of Jimin’s bags with the other. The older boy protests but he ignores it, swiftly hopping up into the train and finding a seat he likes. He picks one far enough from the bathroom so he’s not bothered by people walking in and out. One close enough to the exit. Because he needs the reassurance– that there’s a way out.

He lodges his and Jimin’s bags in the overhead compartment. But he takes the small case with him, slipping it beside his feet in the spacious seating. Jimin eyes it once. Twice. But he doesn’t ask. Jeongguk doesn’t tell him, either.

It takes another five minutes before the train doors slide close and the train begins at full-speed. Jeongguk stares out the window, at the passing scenery. Lots of buildings at the moment, but in an hour or so, he’ll be met with an endless row of trees. And snow. In the reflection of the window, he gazes at Jimin. The boy’s plugging in his earphones, scrolling through his phone for music. Before he can immerse himself, Jeongguk speaks:

“Do you trust Xiyue?”

Jimin stops scrolling. Then he looks over. “Uh,” he begins. “Yeah. I do. He saved my ass a couple of times when he was around. Not  life , persay but. When I used to dance around for information and people would get too grabby, he’d tell them to keep their hands off.”

Jeongguk didn’t know that. “That sounds uncharacteristic of him.”

“Really is. He probably just wanted an excuse to break peoples hands.”

“Why was he around anyway?” Jeongguk asks.

Jimin shrugs. “Maybe because I saved his ass too, once. He was high as a kite. Trying to launch himself off the side of a rooftop during the stakeout we did before one of your heists.”

Jeongguk didn’t know that, either. “So you think you’d get along with him? It won’t be uncomfortable?”

Jimin smiles at him and shakes his head. “No, actually. I don’t think so.”

“Okay.”

Halfway through the ride, Jimin is dead asleep and Jeongguk is still staring blankly out the window. The sun is setting, dipping below the skyline and the sky is painted with a concoction of unnatural tones. The sun sets quicker now. Which is why he likes winter the most– more of the day is dull, grey and chilly. And the night– the night is the best. The skies clear and the stars peek out from hiding. And it’s a calming sight.

He taps his finger against the edge of his seat, along to the faint rap music that pours through his earphones; the music is complete nonsense. He doesn’t listen to mumble rap because he likes it. Moreso, because it’s meaningless. He doesn’t have to think when he listens. And he doesn’t have to commit either because he doesn’t like it.

As they pass through another deep tunnel, Jeongguk feels a weight against his shoulder. Jimin’s head is pressed against his arm, his lips parted slightly as he snores. Jeongguk tries his best not to flinch, but he does. The small jerk movement makes Jimin wake up. The former acrobat grimaces, pulling away quickly. “Shit. Sorry,” he apologizes.

Jeongguk takes his coat and drapes it over his dress shirt, so it acts as a padding barrier. He looks at Jimin and tips his head reluctantly. Jimin blinks at him through a haze of tiredness. Then hesitantly, the boy leans on his shoulder again.

They sit like that for a while, in an awkward silence. But as time passes, it becomes… Tolerable. He doesn’t necessarily feel disgusted by the contact. The discomfort stems primarily from the thought that it’s happening– that Jimin is lying down against his shoulder. But when Jimin’s asleep again, looking like he’s finding peace for the first time in a while, Jeongguk wills himself to forget about it. Jeongguk turns away from the reflection and digs his airpods into his ears, blasting the rap music to a greater volume.

He sleeps.

“Jeongguk?”

“Jeongguk?”

“ Jeongguk!”

He wakes up, jolting. He takes out a blade from his pocket and holds it out and he has to blink a few times before he sees Jimin, hands raised up in defence. His eyes are wide. “Hey– Whoa. I’m sorry.”

Jeongguk looks around. Nobody is looking their way, most people piling out of the side of their cart. He sheathes the knife and slides it back into his pocket, peeved. “You could’ve just… Tapped me or something,” he says with a grumble, peeling the coat from over his shoulder.

“Sorry. I tried.”

“It’s… Fine,” Jeongguk replies, exhausted. “Why’d you wake me up? We still have half an hour until we get there.”

“We’re at a stop. They’re checking the fuel right now so we’re allowed a fifteen minute excursion. To shake off the stiff muscles, or whatever.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jeongguk mutters, finding distaste at the way his muscles practically  creak  from the lack of use for the past hours. He’s not used to sitting stagnant like this. He’s always moving, one way or another. The cart is just so constraining and compartmentalized. Jimin stands up, tugging a plain black scarf around his neck. Jeongguk follows him outside.

They walk together, along the row of convenience stores and restaurants. Jeongguk stops short when he sees a poster on the wall. It’s a wanted poster, encouraging onlookers to report any information to the National Police Agency. There’s his infamous circulated photo, printed right on it. He debates tearing it down– irritated both from the interrupted sleep  and  the fact that it’s following him everywhere–, but he decides against it, knowing that there’s no use.

There are two cameras on them, too. So it would look suspicious.

So Jeongguk makes a show of typing down the number on the poster while he speaks to Jimin. “We’re in the middle of nowhere and there are posters looking for Tattoo. Maybe I’m underestimating how big this hunt is.”

“I mean,” Jimin says with a pulled frown, “He does have a 2 billion won bounty on him.”

Jeongguk reads over the printed estimates. According to the poster, Tattoo is a 25 year old, 6 foot tall man. Which is,  needless to say, incredibly wrong. It's so o ff . “It’s a terrible poster. You can’t even see him.”

“Which is probably why he hasn’t been caught yet,” Jimin muses.

“Sad.” Jeongguk eyes it for a while longer before he begins walking again. They walk into a convenience store around the corner, Jimin wanting to buy snacks for the remainder of the ride.

Jeongguk’s looking at the different soda options when he hears something in the aisles behind him.

“You better fucking pay up.”

“Why would I need to? You gave me a dead end. Again. Who are you even getting information from?”

“Wes.”

“Wes? As in, suit Wes?”

“Yeah. That one.”

“He’s bullcrap. Has nothing on Tattoo and you know it.”

Wes. As in… Xiyue? Wes?

Jeongguk picks out a cola to drink. And a box of milk to spill. He looks at the small mirror that sits high above them, giving him a perfect view of the aisle– the boy and the girl that talk to each other. He can see them about to round the corner at the same time Jeongguk speedily walks in their direction. He pulls the can of cola back but spills his milk over the boy’s shirt. “Shit–” Jeongguk exclaims, feigning embarrassment. He reaches forward, frantically swiping at him.

It’s a good enough illusion for him to easily swipe the boy’s phone from his coat pocket– something Jeongguk hoped would be sitting there– and to his luck, was right there for the taking. While the two of them are busy trying to wipe off the mess, he slips the phone into his back pocket with ease. And once he’s sure, he dips his head low. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

The girl fixates him with a deathly look. “Pay for your fuckin’ mess and scram, kid.”

Jeongguk takes that as his cue to exit. He pays for the spilled milk, apologizing to the cashier, who is kind enough to say that it’s fine and that they’d clean it up. He leaves the store in a rush, and it’s only when he’s basically running back to the train, when he realizes that Jimin’s not with him. He looks around confusedly. He could’ve sworn he’d seen Jimin picking through the aisles just a few minutes ago.

He pulls out his phone and dials.

“–M’hello?”

“Where the fuck are you?” Jeongguk looks around again.

“Paying for my stuff. Where are  you ?”

“I got into a mess so I left as soon as possible. There are two people there that know Xiyue. And they’re on the hunt for Tattoo. I may have caused a commotion to steal the guy’s phone.”

“So  that  was why I saw two people angrily walking to the bathroom.”

“Yeah. Hurry up, we’re about to leave.”

“Aight. See you.”

Jeongguk releases a sigh of relief.

Jimin runs over when the conductor is yelling for last call. Jeongguk stands outside the train, waiting. He can see the boy running quickly– bag of snacks in hand. “Thanks,” he heaves, passing Jeongguk and stepping into the cart. Jeongguk huffs in response, following him inside.

Once the train gets going, Jeongguk pulls out the man’s phone. He turns off the WiFi, puts it on airplane mode and turns off the  find my iPhone  feature. Then he scrolls through the messages until he finds what he supposes is Xiyue’s number. Jimin looks at the screen, at the messages while he eats. “Sure that’s him?”

“Apparently. He’s selling false information about Tattoo.”

“Are you going to call him?”

“It’s gonna speed up this whole search process. So yeah.” Jeongguk presses  call .

Xiyue doesn’t pick up. So Jeongguk calls again. And again. And again. To no avail.

With a sigh, he pulls up the messages and he sends one.

HELLO, DOUBLE.

It doesn’t take long before the phone receives an incoming call. He picks up.

“You’re shitting me,” a familiar, low voice says from across the line.

Jimin paws at Jeongguk’s arm. The crime lord places the phone between them, so they can both hear. “Xiyue,” Jeongguk greets. “I hear that you’re in Daegu?”

“If I say no, are you going to turn around?” Xiyue replies with a dry laugh. “Yeah. I am. Are you coming to see me? I assume so, since you have a client’s phone.”

“A client who isn’t satisfied with your service.”

“Yeah, well. Thank god I fucking knocked him out and did a clean search. He’s a heavy smoker so I slipped a cyanide pill into the tips of his cigarettes. He’ll be dead soon.”

Jimin and Jeongguk look at each other.

Still crazy , they both think.

“I hear that you’re trying to become a suit? What’s that about?”

“Sol told you, didn’t he? I just had to pose as one for a big mercenary job. And when I mean big, I mean fucking government shit. But I’m on hiatus right now. Vacation, if you will.”

“Wanna give me an address?”

Another laugh. “I suspect this whole visit involves a  lot  of nice cash. So yes, I’ll text you an address.”

“Alright.”

“See you soon, double. You too, Jimin.”

The phone clicks before Jimin can say anything. Instead, the boy huffs. “I swear. Xiyue’s the weirdest type of smart I know.”

Jeongguk doesn’t argue with that. He memorizes the address sent to him before he snaps the phone in half with a practiced ease. He eyes the two separate pieces and the way the insides sizzle slightly. Then he slips it into his pocket to throw away later. He reaches for the can of soda, popping it open to take a long sip. “Not gonna lie. I missed having him around.”

“A deranged psychopath?”

“There’s something comforting in having somebody with that power so willing to protect you,” Jeongguk replies.

Jimin eyes him with a thoughtful gaze. “Yeah,” he says quietly, before he turns away, focusing on his food.

It’s a quick taxi ride from the train station to Xiyue’s address. They stand outside the small house. It isn’t anything grand– nothing like Sol’s mansion. Or Jeongguk’s apartment. Or Taehyung’s boastful stretch of land. It’s a plain old traditional home. Jeongguk lugs the case to the door. He rings the doorbell as Jimin finally dares to ask, “What’s in that case?”

Jeongguk eyes the case. “A gift for Xiyue. I didn’t feel like taking out cash. So I got something better. Maybe he’ll consider it a Christmas gift.”

“Lucky him. He gets something he can actually use,” Jimin snorts. There’s no contempt in is tone but he seems kind of bothered by the fact that Jeongguk’s gotten something nice for Xiyue.

Jeongguk doesn’t reply because he’s not going to admit how often he’s been racking his mind for what he wants to get Jimin. He has a few ideas in mind, one better than the rest. But to acquire said gift, it’s going to take a lot on Jeongguk’s part. A lot of self-control and admittedly, willpower. He bites down on his lower lip and waits for Xiyue to answer.

Right when Jeongguk is about to bust down the door, it swings open. An old woman blinks back at them.

Jeongguk opens his mouth, confused. “Uh.”

Jimin is gawking, too. “Uh? Hi? Is there a Xiyue here–”

Before Jeongguk can even begin to comprehend what the hell is going on, the woman collapses, eyes rolling into the back of her head. Jeongguk looks from her body, to Xiyue, who stands behind her.

He looks much... Different. Probably because the last time they'd seen each other, Xiyue was a splitting image of himself. Now, Jeongguk's back to his own nattural greyish-brown hair and Xiyue's is a deep black. He's leaner. His skin is less pale, eyes less dilated. So he is off drugs. He looks so much healthier.

Xiyue kneels down and inspects her body, checking the pulse. “I just did the old pressure point trick. She’s very much alive and healthy, so stop giving me that look, Jimin.”

Jimin, beside Jeongguk, releases a long breath. “I forgot how fucking spontaneous you are.”

Xiyue smirks up at him. Then Jeongguk. “Sorry about the meeting place. I live in a hotel right now but I didn’t want anybody to get suspicious of you guys so I’m borrowing this home from Ms. Kim. Now. Can you please help me carry her body to the living room or something? So we don’t look like serial killers?”

Jimin volunteers, saving Jeongguk from having to touch anybody. So Jeongguk takes his and Jimin’s bags into the house, closing the door behind him. He leaves their bags by the entrance, save for the black case that he takes into the living room, where Jimin and Xiyue place the woman’s unconscious body. Once Jimin himself has checked for her pulse, shoulders sagging with relief, Xiyue claps his hands together. “So. What do you need me for?”

Jeongguk eyes Jimin sideways. The former acrobat’s eyes harden. “You know about the bounty, I assume.”

“You assume right.”

“I need you to play red herring for now. Just run around, cause some trouble. I don’t know. Divert the National Police Agency's attention while I work on breaching.”

Xiyue raises a brow. “Breaching? How?”

“I may be working with the NPA right now. On my own case. I’m trying to throw them off but it’s hard because the officer that’s leading my case– Officer Gi–, he hired a bounty hunter. He’s pretty rough.”

“Well aren’t you lucky?” Xiyue deadpans, eyes shifting to the case in Jeongguk’s hand. “Is that the cash?”

Jeongguk shakes his head and lays it flat against the table. “Even better. Open it.”

Xiyue holds his gaze before he clicks the suitcase open. His eyes widen momentarily, a grin shaping on his lips. Jimin looks from the gift, to Jeongguk with a  look . He must realize what it is because his gaze is incredulous, as if to say,  you stole it from him?

Jeongguk shrugs.

“KSJ?” Xiyue says, looking at the engraved initials on the bottom end of the rifle. “As in, Kim Seokjin? Mercenary Kim Seokjin?”

“Yeah.”

“ Jeongguk . Sidebar.”

Jeongguk follows Jimin into the hallway. Xiyue’s too busy inspecting the sniper rifle with a sickening interest, his hand grazing every inch of it, even testing the trigger– thank god, with safety on. Jimin gives him a sharp look– one that Jeongguk doesn’t like because it makes him feel like he’s being patronized and reprimanded at the same time. “You stole one of Seokjin’s sniper rifles?” He asks, tone sharp.

“Why do you care? I fucking stole the Bangasayusang. You didn’t have any problems with that.” Jeongguk grimaces at Jimin. “Is it because it’s Seokjin that I stole it from?”

Jimin doesn’t reply. And Jeongguk feels bitter. Jimin does care about Seokjin, then.

“Whatever. I’m sorry. I’m going to tell him okay?” Jeongguk has no time for this. He looks at Xiyue, who’s looking back at him with a glint in his gaze. He doesn’t wait for a response from Jimin. He enters the living room again and stands in front of Xiyue. “Are you in?”

“You sure this is mine? Don’t wanna call Seokjin up to confirm the transaction?” Xiyue peers past him. “Jimin looks a bit upset.”

“I’ll tell Seokjin later. He won’t care.”

“Alrighty, then. Lay down the plan. I’m sold."

JEONGGUK:  i stole your sniper rifle

SEOKJIN:  i know.

SEOKJIN:  what for?

JEONGGUK:  to buy xiyue.

SEOKJIN : alright.

JEONGGUK:  sorry?

SEOKJIN:  it’s alright. just ask next time. i won’t say no.

Jeongguk hands Jimin the phone after the conversation ends. Jimin reads over the messages, eyes slanted slightly. Jeongguk waits for him to finish before he takes it back. And he says, “Happy now?”

Jimin looks down. “Yeah.”

“Good. Are you going to come to dinner?”

Jimin nods. “Yeah.”

Jeongguk turns so he can pick up his bag. Xiyue’s waiting at the entrance, scribbling a note on the door. Before he can walk over to the mercenary, Jimin stops him, tugging at the edge of his sleeve. Jeongguk turns.

“I’m not mad about you stealing from Seokjin. I think.” He frowns. “I just… I guess I was jealous.  Am  jealous.”

“Jealous?” Jeongguk furrows his brows.

“I don’t know. You and Xiyue always get along so well. And you got him Seokjin’s  AWM . That’s like, the best sniper rifle in the fucking world.”

“First. I just picked out a random rifle– I really didn’t know. And second, I hope you’re not insinuating that I’m…  Interested  in Xiyue like that.”

“I can’t read you.” Jimin shakes his head. “I can’t tell.”

“Then let me make it clear. I don’t… See Xiyue like that. Never will.”

Jimin suddenly looks guilty. Jeongguk wants to squeeze his shoulder, to reassure him. But doesn’t. He just says, “Hey. Let’s get dinner. We have another long train ride tomorrow.”

Jimin nods and stands up.

Jeongguk walks on ahead to where Xiyue stands, finishing off the note.

HEY MRS. KIM–

I CAME IN TO CHECK UP ON YOU BUT YOU WERE ASLEEP ON THE COUCH. CALL ME IF YOU NEED ANYTHING.

– WES

Jeongguk eyes the mercenary warily. “Do I even want to ask why?”

“She bakes good cookies,” Xiyue replies, taking the pen cap from where it sits between his lips and pressing it back onto the marker. “Slip a little bit of  LSD  or something. Delicious.”

“So you’re still a druggy?”

“No. It took the raw fun out of my job. And as much as I liked how it felt, my aim got shit. I just sell it sometimes.”

“Ah.” Jeongguk follows him outside, to a car that sits on the opposite side of the road. As Xiyue gets it started, Jeongguk turns. Jimin quickly runs out of the house, two bags slung over his arms and looking less upset about everything. And maybe it’s going to be fine, Jeongguk thinks to himself, as Jimin flashes him a small smile before he slides into the car.

Jeongguk gives one last look to the house. He won’t be back here anytime soon.

He keeps the sight in mind.

They all pile into the restaurant. Xiyue waves at the people at the counter, who wave back at him kindly. Jeongguk and Jimin follow after him, keeping a small distance. Jimin murmurs, almost inaudibly, “sometimes I forget he’s a psychopath.”

“That’s a dangerous thing,” Jeongguk replies quietly.

“I think that’s what makes him so powerful.”

Jeongguk hums in agreement, quickening his pace to make it less obvious that they were discussing him.

The restaurant is a ramen place. It’s backlit with red and to be honest, it looks more like a nightclub than a ramen restaurant. Jeongguk doesn’t like the tight corners but he’s impressed at the way some of the booths are designed. Circular, open and elevated. When he takes a seat, he has a clear view of everybody. The cameras perched on every high corner of the large room. He even has a slight view of the kitchen.

Comforting .

Jimin sits beside him. Kind of close. But Jeongguk can sense that he’s apprehensive about  something . He looks at the older boy. He always seems to have intuition when it comes to bad situations– a gut feeling that something bad is about to happen. “Is everything good?” Jeongguk asks.

Jimin nods quickly. “It just reminds me of a club back in Itaewon.” That’s all. No further elaboration.

“It does look like a club, doesn’t it?” Xiyue cuts, reaching forward to take one of the menus. His eyes dart around and Jeongguk can tell that he’s also looking at the multitude of cameras. “But don’t worry. I’ve been coming here for a while now. Nothing bad.”

They all order the same basic ramen bowl. While they wait, there’s an expected silence.

Xiyue looks between them, eyes searching. He looks at Jeongguk and smiles.

You’re in deep shit , his grin says.

Jeongguk draws his gaze from Jimin.  Is that bad?

Xiyue lifts a shoulder.  Is it ?

Jeongguk thinks that,  yes , it could be very bad.

Could  be.

The initial belief was that Jimin would be a liability. A weakness. A target. In a hypothetical scenario where Jimin would be used against him, Jeongguk knows– he knows now– that he’d do anything to get the boy back. He knows now, that he’s fallen into it. He’s stared at Jimin for too long– long enough to make him realize that yeah, he does like Jimin. So in said hypothetical scenario, Jeongguk would sacrifice a lot to get Jimin back and that’s dangerous because it’s a situation wherein he’d put his heart over mind and he doesn’t like that vulnerability.

It’s all hypothetical, though.

In reality, Jimin is powerful and strong and he can take care of himself. Jeongguk  will  break bones, will shoot people if something bad happened, but he has enough trust in Jimin to know that he would never truly be a weakness. So it’s not bad. It could be, but Jimin is Jimin.

Considering all of this, Jimin’s talent and wit and ability to take care of himself, Jeongguk reminds himself that Jimin  is  still in some sort of immense danger. Which is why he needs Xiyue to help.

“So,” Jimin says, suddenly, interrupting Jeongguk’s thoughts. The boy looks up from the small dish of soy sauce that sits in front of him. “Xiyue. What have you been up to in the past year or so?”

Xiyue reaches for the knife in front of him and taps the metal against the tabletop. “Well, after working with you guys I actually went back to China. Got into a lot of local drug stuff. Wasted the first two or three months away, in the mountains. And then one day, I woke up and took a  loooong  hit and realized that I was getting bored of it. I went back to the city. Resumed my job, still took the occasional hit but like I said– it was messing up my aim,” he explains, running a finger along the jagged edge of the knife. “ So . I got off drugs. Rehab. When I got my shot back, I landed a big job.

“Some corrupt government stuff. I had a big target, hence me posing as a suit– I would  never , otherwise. Those guys are so pretentious,” he huffs. “Worked on it for a few months, took him down, got all the money and travelled back here. I wanted to come back to Itaewon but I wanted to watch the  Tattoo  drama from afar. So yeah. I’m here.”

“Sounds like a trip,” Jimin replies conversationally, his eyes on the knife.

“Uh-huh. Hey, double. You never gave me a name.”

Jeongguk looks up, realizing that he’s been staring at his hands. “What?”

“Are you going to tell me what your  name  is?” Xiyue asks.

Right. Xiyue doesn’t know.

“It’s… Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk.”

Xiyue’s eyes glint underneath the red light. “Damn. That was pretty anticlimactic. Probably because I’ve known you for like, two years.”

“Well. Now you know,” Jeongguk responds, eyeing the waiter that picks up their orders from the counter. “Speaking of names. Why Wes?”

A laugh escapes the man. “Dunno. I like Wes Anderson a lot. The filmmaker. Nothing special to it.”
Jeongguk nods, pausing the conversation while the man places their bowls in front of them. Xiyue murmurs a thanks before he leaves them be. The mercenary picks up his chopsticks and happily digs into the food. Jimin does the same, eyes widening at the first bite. “M’f–this… M’this is really good,” he says, through a mouthful of noodles.

“Yeah? It is, isn’t it?” Xiyue replies amusedly.

Jeongguk takes a small bite. It is good.

Jimin reaches for a napkin so he can wipe the soup from his lips but there isn’t one. He picks up his phone and checks himself in the reflection and he nearly gags. “I look disgusting,” he mutters. Jeongguk doesn’t see  where  that is factual at all, but nonetheless, Jimin stands up and says, “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“Alright.” Xiyue shrugs.

Jimin descends down the platform, shrinking in on himself as he crosses over to the bathroom. As Jeongguk does another brief inspection of the restaurant, he feels a twinge of dissatisfaction. He doesn’t know why Jimin feels so uncomfortable here, other than the fact that it’s a club setting. But they’ve been to too many clubs for this to be any different.

As he’s staring around, Xiyue clears his throat, pressing a hand to his mouth as he chews. “So that’s new.”

Jeongguk looks at him. “What’s new?”

“You and Jimin.”

“What about me and Jimin?” He asks, because he doesn’t know what Xiyue sees different.

Xiyue rolls his eyes. “God. Both of you. You like each other. Are you guys having sex?”

Jeongguk chokes. He shakes his head immediately and he’s glad for the fact that anything sex-related doesn’t get him flustered. He would be blushing, otherwise. “No. We’re not having sex. I don’t like physical contact.”

“Huh. So no kissing. Hugging. Hand-holding.”

You don’t have to rub it in , Jeongguk has the urge to say, but he doesn’t. He chews the inside of his cheek and takes another spoonful of soup. He doesn’t know how to respond. He just breathes out through his nose. “No. None of that for me.”

“It’s alright.” Xiyue might be fucking crazy at times, but he surprisingly has a decent side to him. Apparently. “You gonna get him anything for Christmas?”

“Don’t remind me,” Jeongguk says with a grimace. “I’ve been racking my mind for a good gift but there’s nothing. I swear, he’s going to pull through with a very thoughtful gift and I’ll be the asshole again.”

“That’s because you’re always an asshole,” Xiyue says lightheartedly.

“Fair enough.”

Their conversation is cut short when Jimin returns. As the boy digs in, Jeongguk and Xiyue look at each other.

They’re alike in more than just physicality and looks.

They both want to protect Jimin.

And they will.

They part ways with Xiyue after that. He and Jimin share a hotel room. There’s only one bed. Jeongguk tells Jimin right away, that he’ll be sleeping on the couch. Jimin tries to object, to switch. but Jeongguk doesn’t take it. So they lie down in the dark on opposite sides of the room. It’s bad enough, that Jeongguk can’t ever really get a good sleep– the stiffness of the couch doesn’t aid anything. He lies in the dark, eyes on the ceiling. He’s irritated at the way the fire detector blinks red– a vibrant color, distinct against the white.

He can hear Jimin’s soft breathing. Jeongguk’s never slept in the same room as Jimin before, so he’s not entirely sure if the boy’s awake. He doesn’t want to ask either, not wanting to risk waking him up. He turns his head far enough so that he can see Jimin with his working eye. Through the darkness, he can make out Jimin’s side-profile, illuminated by the moonlight. He’s awake, staring at the ceiling, too.

Jeongguk shifts so that he’s lying on his side. Jimin blinks and turns his way. It’s about two in the morning now– Jeongguk can’t believe how quickly time’s passed. He’s been lying there for a while but he hadn’t realized that he’d been so lost in his thoughts that two hours had slipped by.

“Jeongguk?” Jimin asks, squinting slightly.

“Yeah?” H  e responds, voice hoarse.

“Oh. Why are you still awake?”

“I don’t know.”

“Uh. Can we switch?”

Jeongguk huffs. “No. I told you already.”

“No– I actually sleep on couches more often. And I think you sleep on beds more often. Maybe it’ll feel a bit more like home?”

Jeongguk doesn’t know if he follows that logic but he’s so desperate to sleep, knowing that he’ll need all the rest he gets before he returns back to Seoul in a day or so. He bites the inside of his cheek, pondering the options. Jimin’s staring at him with big, doe eyes, though. So he relents, sighing. “Fine.”

“Cool.”

Jimin stands up first. Jeongguk slowly edges himself off the couch, landing on his feet. They pass each other in silence. Jeongguk stares at the crumpled bed sheets, shivering slightly. And it’s not because of the cold. “Can we keep the blankets?” He asks, picking up the comforter and holding it up.

Jimin peers at him. He takes Jeongguk’s blanket. They swap. And it’s much easier for Jeongguk to nestle into the deep cushioning of the bed. He closes his eyes. He’s enveloped in a scent that is distinctly  not  his own and it’s a bit uncomfortable at first. But the warmth is unbearably tempting. And Jeongguk– Jeongguk’s bones are tired. His muscles are aching. His eyes– his  eye  is straining. So he allows himself to be sucked into a deep sleep.

He’s barely conscious, but he can hear it.

“Goodnight Jeongguk.”

Jimin’s voice drifts across the room, a lullaby.

They arrive at Busan early in the afternoon. Since they’re in the very south the country, right beside the open ocean, they’re met with an immediate wall of cold wind. Jeongguk doesn’t necessarily feel too bothered by the often-dreaded weather. Jimin is tucked into his fur coat, half of his face buried into the insulating material. He rocks back and forth on his heels, hands in his pockets, as they wait on the curb of the sidewalk.

The train ride had been highly uneventful. He’d only messaged Xiyue a handful of times, going over more details. He informs Xiyue of the risks that accompany his work doubling up for Jeongguk. Xiyue metaphorically waves a hand like,  no big deal . Jeongguk believes it, because they’ve gone over this before. Xiyue assures him that if he gets caught, it’s only a further benefit. Having Xiyue in captivity is dangerous. He’ll kill his way out.

So his prickling nerves ease up a bit by the time they arrive at their hometown.

Jeongguk looks at his watch. Then at the lack of taxis. Then he says, “This is why you should learn how to drive.”

Jimin scoffs. “ You  should learn how to drive.”

“I told you–”

“Blah blah, you’re legally blind. Listen. If you could pull off the Bangasayusang heist with one functioning eye, you could drive with one functioning eye.”

“That’s an unfair comparison. Entirely different.”

“Nuh-uh.” Jimin tugs a frown, looking at him.

“It is different,” Jeongguk replies, fighting the urge to smile. Jimin looks so offended.

“It’s really not.”

“Is.”

“Not.” Jeongguk shakes his head and decides not to continue the argument because Jimin always wins.

Truthfully, Jeongguk doesn’t want to drive because he doesn’t trust himself to. His right side vision is completely blank. He can’t see the side view mirror and he’s scared of that limitation.

A taxi pulls up to the curb after two minutes. They pile in together into the backseat. It’s a seventeen minute and forty-two second ride to his house, which sits nearer in the mountainside. The taxi has to defy gravity a bit, pulling up the steep hill with effort. Jeongguk grimaces when the vehicle surges backwards a bit. The slope is a bit slippery from the cold. He grips the side of the door tightly until his knuckles turn white. Beside him, Jimin fearlessly hums along to the music he’s listening to.

Once they’re at the top, and Jeongguk’s out of the car, lugging his and Jimin’s bag along with him, he pays the cab driver way more than the original price. The man slowly drives down the hill. He and Jimin watch him disappear around the corner before they turn to face his small cabin-looking home. It’s inconspicuous and so plain that it’s impossible to guess that one of South Korea’s national treasures lies in the very basement of it.

He uses the key to unlock the door to the home. He places his bag by the doorway, eyeing the familiar interior design. Jimin pads into the living room excitedly, dropping his bags on the couch. “This place is super cool. You should visit more often.”

“It’s just too… Far from Itaewon,” Jeongguk replies, mouth twisting into a grimace. “I would if it was closer, I guess. But I need to keep the Bangasayusang far away.”

“I guess so,” Jimin echoes, pressing his hand against the television, clicking the different buttons in succession. The T.V. buzzes with a lack of signal. Jimin turns it off and rubs his hands together. “I always forget how much of a ghost town Busan is.”

The crime lord shrugs off his jackets, draping them over the side of the couch. “Are you going to visit your parents?” He asks, curiously. He doesn’t know much about Jimin’s parents. Jimin never really talks about anything before the circus fire.

Jimin’s demeanor shifts. He shakes his head slowly. “No. They probably disowned me already. I left them to join the fucking circus. And now I’m a vigilante.”

“You don’t have to be,” Jeongguk replies.

“Huh?”

“I mean. They don’t know what happened after the circus– I assume. You could see them. Tell them about your life. Friends with socialites like Kim Taehyung. Rich businessmen like Kim Seokjin, Sol Young.”

“What would you be?”

Jeongguk looks in the reflection of the mirror he’s staring at. Jimin’s looking back at him, with a thoughtful gaze. When Jeongguk doesn’t respond immediately, the former acrobat adds, “I mean… If I do visit my parents. And I bring you with me. In this alternative version of the life I live… What would you be?”

Employer?

Boss?

Friend?

“I… Don’t know. What do you want me to be?” It’s the best he can do. Jeongguk really doesn’t know what he is to Jimin. What he would be in the case that they have to go through the meeting-the-parents scenario. He’s almost fully come to terms with the fact that he  likes  Jimin. And he knows that Jimin  likes  him too, but they don’t do anything with that information. They never really put a label to what they are because he knows that they’re definitely  more  than just employer and bodyguard. But most definitely less than friends.

At least, so he thinks.

Jimin presses a hand to his cheek, rubbing at the skin with a thoughtful gaze. “I dunno. If I do decide to see them again, I guess I could say that I’m working for you. Say that you’re a big shot rich kid or something…”

So maybe Jeongguk’s fucking stupid. And they are mostly just employer and bodyguard.

“Yeah. Well, we have a day here. If you decide to visit them, maybe for dinner?”

“Sounds good.”

He watches as Jimin sits down on the couch, picking up the remote. The boy turns on the cable and begins to channel surf.

Jeongguk heads downstairs.

The Bangasayusang. A statue. Not too grand in size or anything but grand in  value , both culturally and well– the fact that it is valued at an estimated 50 billion won.

It’s beautifully crafted. Jeongguk stares at it through the small glass exhibit he’d built himself, of the many things he’d stolen. Mementos of his heists– big, small, significant, minor. Everything lies in this room. Endlessly precious to him and the nation of South Korea.

The room is a cool temperature, enough to ensure that nothing deteriorates the pristine quality of each figure. It’d taken a lot of research into how to store each small monument properly. Paintings from the National Museum of Modern and Contemporary Art. Some figurines from the War Memorial of Korea. Just a few things that lie around the small exhibit. But nothing is as pretty as the Bangasayusang.

Jeongguk stares at it for a long time. He rarely sees it. Maybe two or three times every year since he’d stolen it. It reminds him of the night of the heist. All of the technicality and research that had gone into constructing the perfect plan. All of the late nights spent calculating measurements. The fact that he’d only seen the interior and exterior of the museum  once – it was astounding, even to him.

That first visit. He’d been shown the Bangasayusang. And Jeongguk, on his way back to the exit of the museum, had counted every camera, every guard rotation in the span of three hours– he’d estimated the rest of the switches. He’d counted his steps. How long it took down one hallway, up the next. Most importantly, the dimensions of the case that held the Bangasayusang. The dimensions of the treasure itself.

Jeongguk has something like photographic memory. Not quite the real thing, but he’s able to comprehend information and make nearly perfect estimates every time.

He has a knack for mathematics– it comes to him like second nature. He’d done prior research to his visit to the National Museum of Korea but this is where luck comes into play. He hadn’t known that the crowd was going to be so tight on the day itself– enough to make him appear like one of the rest of the endless number of visitors. He didn’t know that it would be raining that day, either– which gave him an edge as he could spend a lot of time walking around without suspicion– the rain was too hard to allow anybody outside.

Luck. Intuition. Memory. Just some of the few things that helped him on that one day. And set the stage for arguably the greatest heist ever pulled in Korea. No trace left behind other than a limp-legged, useless photo that, for the past two years, has led to  nothing .

Amazing , Jeongguk thinks, shaking his head at the sight.

He closes the lights and shuts the door. He locks it. Slips the key back into his pocket, holding it there to make sure that it  remains . Because underneath his home– underneath this house is the greatest treasure to him.

Jeongguk turns the corner to see Jimin lying down on his couch, asleep.

He decides that this house holds a lot of things dear to him.

So Jimin does decide to visit his parents after more than ten years of having fled. Jimin keeps on tugging on his tie in the mirror. He keeps on fidgeting, adjusting the way his hair parts, pushing loose strands back and forth as if he’s having a debate–  rugged  or  refined ? Jeongguk watches this unfold in front of him. Jimin  is  usually more on the refined side of fashion but he has this wild side to him. Watching him try to suppress it is… Unnerving.

Jeongguk’s been dressed in his own suit for the past half hour already. He hadn’t brought his own, actually, but Jimin packed one for each of them in the other bag he’d been bringing. The one for emergencies. Jimin had slid the zipper down and Jeongguk caught a glimpse of a gun in there. He wonders what else sits in the bag.

The clock keeps ticking away. It’s seven now, and Jeongguk doesn’t want to wait any longer. He walks up behind Jimin. The boy glances at him through his peripheral vision but doesn’t stop to say anything. He moves his hair again.

Jeongguk pinches at the cloth of his suit lightly and turns him around. Jimin blinks up at him confusedly. Jeongguk lightly pushes the hair away from his face in a way that  he  likes best. Right in the middle. Clean. “Are you afraid of what they’ll think when they see you?”

Jimin purses his lips. “Not really. I don’t have any… Real connection to them. I just wanna present myself in the best way possible. For  me . Y’know?”

Jeongguk nods. Understands. Looking good– it doesn’t need to be for others. “You want to be powerful,” he says, not a question.

Jimin nods, too. “I do. Is that bad? To want to give off the illusion that I’m more powerful than I am?”

“No. I do it a lot myself,” Jeongguk replies, searching his eyes. Jimin looks away momentarily. “It’s not a bad thing. The more you believe it, the more powerful you really become, anyway.”

“Maybe I should start believing in myself more.”

“You should.”

Jeongguk’s fine with the intensity in the air because he can see it– for the past weeks, Jimin has been so… Upset. So down about everything and it’s unusual. He  knows  for the fact that Jimin is more powerful than most of the people in the Itaewon system. He can see it right now, as Jimin turns back to the mirror and blinks at himself. A newfound fire in his eyes, rekindling. Reigniting.

Jeongguk’s glad. They need to be more charged up– now more than ever.

The two of them call another cab. Jeongguk locks the door– all three of the locks–, before he slides into the backseat with Jimin. Jimin tells the man the address. They make the slow descent down the hill in silence. Jeongguk sneaks a look at Jimin, who sits up straight. His mouth is drawn into a firm line as he stares outside his window.

Jeongguk reaches for his phone. Nothing from Sol. Taehyung. Seokjin. Which he assumes is a good sign. He presses Xiyue’s name in his contacts.

JEONGGUK:  enjoying the rifle?

XIYUE:  not really. still in daegu right now. no fun targets.

JEONGGUK:  who is considered a fun target?
XIYUE:  you

JEONGGUK:  should i be concerned?

XIYUE:  nah

XIYUE:  having fun on your honeymoon?

JEONGGUK:  bye xiyue

XIYUE:  :)

He sighs and pockets the phone. Jimin eyes him. “Who’re you talking to?”

“Just checking up on Xiyue. After giving him the rifle, I’d assumed he would’ve shot somebody.”

“He hasn’t?” Jimin smiles.

“No. I think the drugs were really his driving force.”

“Maybe.”

Jeongguk doesn’t want to assume the worst. He doesn’t want to think about how it could be the other way around– the drugs suppressing his psychotic tendencies.

Then again, Xiyue is on their side. He’s the rock. And Jeongguk’s ready to catapult him into the kingdom that is Itaewon.

He’ll gladly watch it all crumble to the ground.

Jimin’s house is grand. In a traditional sense– not modern. Jeongguk and Jimin stands together on the gravel, in front of the house. He seems more confident now, unafraid, but he eyes the place with a gaze that is somewhat longing. But there’s a distinct sense of detachment, like he doesn’t really identify with the home itself. Like he’s never been here before.

Wordlessly, Jimin walks up to the door and knocks his hand against it. There’s no answer for the next seven minutes. Jimin sighs and turns. “Let’s go,” he says.

Jeongguk stares at the house. “Why? Knock again.”

“There’s no point–”

He’s interrupted when the door creaks open. Jimin spins around on his heel. Jeongguk sees a young boy looking up at him, eyes wide and cautious.

Jimin’s brows furrow. “Uh. Hi?” He asks.

The little boy looks behind him. Then at Jimin. Then Jeongguk. “Who are you?” He asks warily.

“Um. I’m Jimin. That’s Jeongguk– this… I’m…” Jimin’s voice falters. Jeongguk notices it now too. The same slightly plump lips. Feline eyes. Lithe figure.

Jimin’s little brother.

And by the looks of it, Jimin doesn’t know this until now. His brother must have been born after he’d left.

“Jimin,” the boy tests the name on his mouth. “Mom!” He turns, to yell.

A woman walks over to the entrance. She’s on the phone, dressed in clothing that is a clear indication of her wealth. She moves to scold the younger boy but when she sees Jimin, her jaw slacks. The phone drops to the floor. And Jeongguk feels like he shouldn’t be here, present in such an intimate and raw situation. She runs up to him and hugs him. Jimin looks taken aback, still, but his hands wrap around his mother.

“Jimin. Jimin,” she says breathlessly, against his shoulder.

Jeongguk wants to look away, but he can’t. Something pricks at his heart.

“Mom…” Jimin responds weakly.

She pulls back. “Where have you been? You– You’re so old now. So handsome. I–” His mother is crying, teary-eyed with something of relief and surprise.

“I’ll explain everything over dinner. If you’re not busy.” Jimin’s eyes move to the phone in the ground.

“I’m not. We’re not. Come in.”

Jimin doesn’t walk in, only turning to look at Jeongguk. Jimin’s mother looks at him now. It clicks to her that they’re wearing expensive clothes. Sharp, tailored-to-fit suits. “Oh. You brought a friend?” She asks, eyeing Jeongguk up and down.

“Yeah. I’ll… Explain everything over dinner,” he repeats shyly.

“Okay. Come in– I’ll prepare dinner. Come on, Jaemin,” she beckons for the other boy to follow. Jaemin– Jimin’s brother, seems reluctant to follow but he does, trailing after his mother obediently.

He and Jimin linger in the living room. Jeongguk looks at the photos of their family– obviously lacking the presence of their eldest son. Jimin picks up a frame from the most elevated table. It’s him. Young, holding an award, a golden medal strung around his neck ceremoniously. He passes it to Jeongguk. “They wanted me to do professional dance. And gymnastics,” he explains, but not.

Jeongguk stares at the photo. Jimin is so young. His smile is tight, forced– it’s clear that he’s strained. “You ran away to join the circus,” he says.

“Because it was too much pressure from them. I woke up, trained, went to school, had tutor, trained. Weekends, constant training to be the perfect, pretty obedient son. My parents aren’t bad people. They’re just bad parents.”

Jeongguk wouldn’t know anything about parenting. He nods. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah. I’m… Kind of surprised. It’s weird. I have a brother now.” Jimin looks at a photo of Jaemin with a golden medal around  his  neck, too. “Looks like they’re still doing the same thing. It’s like once I was gone they had to pop out a replacement.”

“They’re the type to live through their children?”

Jimin nods. “Yeah. When I was younger, they used to begin the conversations with how unprivileged and how much struggle they had when they were younger. It guilt-tripped me into going along with whatever they wanted me to do. Made me more grateful as a person, but I guess I was just as constricted, too.”

Jeongguk sets the photo down. “How do you think this is going to go?”

“Honestly– no clue. I saw the way her eyes practically  glinted  when she realized that we were in these custom-made suits. She always wanted me to get in with  that  crowd. Socialites. Find a pretty wife. Or husband– surprisingly, she’s liberal in that sense.” Jimin’s rambling but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. “I mean, she got her wish. I’m friends with some of the wealthiest and most powerful people in Seoul. But if she found out that it was all dirty work… I’d be fucked.”

Jeongguk, again, doesn’t know how to reply. Jaemin enters the living room, looking timid. He says, “Dinner’s ready.”

They both make their way down the hall, trailing after the younger Park. They end up in a pretty grand dining room, the ceiling arched high and the table set with gold accents. Jimin’s mom sits on one side of the table. Jimin takes his place across her. Jaemin beside her. Jeongguk in front of Jaemin. Jimin looks around. “Where’s… Dad?” He questions.

Jeongguk watches Jimin’s mothers expression fall. Jaemin, beside her, picks at his food. “Um. Jimin, your father passed away two years ago.”

Jimin’s mouth forms an ‘o’. “Oh,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
His mother shakes his head. Jeongguk can sense a bitterness to her expression– something that is borderline hateful. He wonders why. “It’s… Not your fault,” she says with a lack of conviction.

How would it be Jimin’s fault?

Dinner passes by in an estranged silence. She makes small talk. Jimin’s good at carrying the conversation, usually, but this time, he falls flat. Jaemin is silent. And it’s only at the very end, when Jimin and Jaemin head to the kitchen to wash dishes together, when Jimin’s mom addresses him directly. “What is your relationship with my son?” She inquires. There’s no malice in her tone. Just pure curiosity.

Jeongguk thinks about what Jimin said. “I’m kind of his boss. Employer, I guess.”

“What are you, exactly?”

“I’m an… Entrepreneur. Businessman.” It’s probably the biggest white lie ever. He is kind of like a businessman. Just not the standard type.

“Corporate? Are you a CEO?”

“No. I do a lot of…  Bridging . I guess. Setting up deals between different companies and stakeholders.”

“Do you make a lot of money?”

It’s a strange question. Jeongguk shrugs. “Surprisingly.”

Jimin’s mother nods in a way that is almost…  Approving . Jeongguk takes this as the opportunity to ask, “You don’t have to answer– and forgive me if this is… Not my place. But how did Jimin’s father die?”

She takes a long drink from her glass of wine. “He went to search for Jimin. We kept looking after two years. He finally found Jimin, in one of the circus shows. He went to watch another show, he told me before he died. The one where the fire happened. Jimin escaped, I see now. But his father never made it out alive.”

“Do you hold resentment against him for that?”

“No. Not only that. We spent a long time searching for him. I loved–” she pauses, voice cracking slightly. “I  loved  Jimin a lot. He was my son. My precious son.”

Loved.

Was.

“Is he not anymore?” Jeongguk raises a brow.

“No. I don’t think so.” She stands up. Jimin’s mother empties the wine down her throat in the same manner Jimin usually does. It’s strange to put a connection between this woman and Park Jimin because Jeongguk can sense it. She’s full of hatred, despise, while Jimin is too forgiving. “I welcome him now because biologically, he is my son. I won’t… Turn him away. But mentally… His absence has been too long. Far too long.”

She casts Jeongguk another look before she steps outside, onto the patio.

Jeongguk feels himself scowl. He thinks about the way she'd greeted Jimin. The crocodile tears, the dramatization. She doesn't care.

Jimin walks back into the dining room with Jaemin. Both brothers look at their mother in the patio, pulling out a cigarette. Jaemin looks away, visibly uncomfortable with the sight. Jimin looks dejected.

Jimin doesn’t deserve this , Jeongguk thinks. He shouldn’t have come back. Even if Jaemin looks enthralled by the idea of having a brother, this is wrong. Jimin’s mother. Mrs. Park is bitter and angry. And she doesn’t value Jimin in the way Jeongguk knows Jimin wants to be valued. Her materialistic sense of interrogation, pressing to see if Jeongguk is anything worth. To see if Jimin is anything worth is  disgusting .

Jeongguk stands up and says, “We have to go.”

Jimin and Jaemin look at each other. “Why?” He asks, seemingly oblivious to the anger in his mother.

“We  have to go ,” Jeongguk repeats wryly.

They do get out. Jimin’s mother doesn’t even make the move to follow them out. Jaemin is the one staring at them from the front porch area, as they slide into the cab waiting for them.

As the’re driving away, Jimin says, “I’m not going to believe that what happened to my dad is my fault. It wasn’t.”

So he was listening.

Jeongguk shakes his head. “It wasn’t.”

Even if Jimin says it with utmost conviction, Jeongguk can hear it.

Uncertainty.

They sit across each other on the roof deck of Jeongguk’s house. Jimin swings his legs back and forth, staring at the distance. They can see the sea. They can hear the crash of the waves against the shore. They can see the moonlight and the way its reflection trickles into nothing the further it clashes against the blue of the ocean. It’s a beautiful, relaxing sight. Jeongguk leans back, slowly drifting asleep. But he holds onto consciousness for now. And it’s good, because Jimin says, “I didn’t expect anything.”

Jeongguk blinks at Jimin, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m…  Sorry  that it had to turn out like that nonetheless.”

“I’m sorry too. I hope it wasn'’t so hard. To talk to her. She’s so negative.”

“She is. I’m sorry you had to put up with that. All your childhood.”

“I’m sorry for bringing us there.”

Jeongguk looks back at the ocean. “Did it help?”

“I guess it did. I mean, I’ve always been wondering what happened to my family. I just didn’t expect a brother. And my dad to be dead. And my mom to be as fucking heartless as she was all those years ago.” Jimin pops open his can of soda and sips at it. Jeongguk hears the soft fizz of the bubbles. “But I think it really did help. I don’t have to ever look back. In a way, it’s been tying me down.”

“That’s good,” Jeongguk says quietly. A lot of things are tying Jimin down. Including the contract. The situation. His association with Tattoo.

Jimin remains a caged bird.

And Jeongguk, he doesn’t want that to be  it . He wants Jimin to fly free. To be free of the burden, the danger. But that isn’t his choice to make, as much as he wants it to be. But the idea is a small bulb of light that flickers in the back of his mind.  Maybe he does have the power to help that decision .

Jeongguk thinks of a paper.

A paper waiting to be torn.

They don’t speak after that. Jeongguk rests against his seat comfortably and Jimin does, too.

The sea breeze, chilly in the night. The stars arching high above them. The warmth of his jacket. The comforting presence of Jimin.

Jeongguk's sleepy mind wishes that this could last forever.

Xiyue returns to his hotel room that evening, pressing the key card against the scanner. He opens the door and shuts it behind him quickly. He looks at his bed. At the man laying down, handcuffed to the bedpost. He’s conscious now, blood trickling down the side of his head. He stares at Xiyue numbly, finally broken after all the hours of torture.

Xiyue ignores him, walking past. He stares at the mirror, at his reflection. He tugs up his black shirt to reveal the identical tattoo that brandishes the skin of his chest. The dragon that coils itself over his stomach, just like it does  Tattoo ’s.

Jeongguk’s.

It’s weird, knowing Tattoo’s name. He’s only ever referred to him as Tattoo or as  double .

Now, he’s Jeongguk. Jeon Jeongguk, too.

He drops the hem of his shirt and turns to face the man tied to his bed. Xiyue steps on the mattress, not bothering to take off his shoes. He steps over the man, kneeling down on one leg so he can grab the man’s face, twisting it to the side. A small incision. A small  x  mark, branding him. Xiyue presses down on the open wound, eliciting a small cry from the man beneath him. “How nice,” he says, mostly to himself.

He then caresses the man’s face in a kind manner that is nothing  close  to kind. “We’re going to have lots of fun, Jinho. Lots of fun. If you finally decide to cooperate, that is.”

The boy nods feverishly. “Y–Yes. I’ll talk. Please don’t… No more. No more hurting.”

“Good boy.” Xiyue peels away. “You’re going to tell me. Who do you work for?”

“Lee Sungwoon.”

“Mhm. And you tell me, he’s trying to kill Park Jimin?”

“Y–Yes. He wants me to kill Jimin. I… I followed them here. I need to kill him.”

Xiyue slaps him. Hard enough to send blood flying from his mouth, splattering over the blankets. “You do  not  think about hurting a fucking hair on that boy’s head,” he hisses.

The boy nods again, crying now. “N–no. N-no hurting… I won’t hurt him.”

“Like I said. Be cooperative, and we won’t need any hurting. Okay, baby?”

“Y–Yeah. Yes… S-Sir.”

“Wonderful. Now. Tell me why Sungwoon wants him dead.”

Jinho’s eyes flicker with dread. But he’s broken. Broken so much that he says, “Because Jimin  knows  what Sungwoon did to Kim Taehyung. He knows what he  did .”

Xiyue reels back. "Tell me," he says. "Tell me what Lee Sungwoon did to Kim Taehyung."

Chapter Text

JEONGGUK REELS BACK, FACE, HANDS, ARMS DRIPPING WITH BLOOD.

He uses the edge of his long-sleeved dress shirt to wipe it away, disgusted. He throws the knife onto the ground, reaching into his pocket. He doesn’t know how to get rid of a body– no, he’s never done this before. It’s his first real, intended kill, and as much as it is satisfying, to have an outlet for his anger, he feels slight panic. The only thing he has on him is an old plastic lighter, the type you’d buy from a gas station convenience store, worn down and busted. He flicks it on, the flames coming to life. And he tosses it on the man’s body. The dismembered man shrivels up into nothing, right in front of his eyes.

The young scrapper stays for a few minutes, watching. Then he recalls that the process of cremation takes more than two hours long and he doesn’t have the luxury of time. He peels off his cheap gloves, only useful to keep the fingerprints away. He tosses them into the fire, too. Jeongguk slips his makeshift mask from inside his jacket but in his bloodied fingers, it looks cheap. Too cheap for somebody like him now. He’s getting somewhere in the system. He can afford something of higher quality.

He throws it in.

The fire sizzles. The air begins to smell like rotten, burnt flesh and he takes that as a sign to leave.

The next morning, he has a custom mask made. It weighs heavy on his hands– not because it cost that much, but because he knows that this is the beginning of it. He’s growing his own identity, past the ranks of scrappers and proxies. Nobody else uses a mask in the business– at least, nobody important. It’s going to be his trademark, his image. He tests it back at his apartment, securing it around his face. It’s brilliant and pretty in the light of sunset. But it would look much better under the moonlight.

His assumption is confirmed on that day, when he meets up with one of his first proxies. The boy is intimidated by him, quivering. Jeongguk knows that he’s loyal. He tests out the loyalty of his little proxies by having them deliver messages back to him. He times them– seeing who’s the most efficient, who’s the most determined. He spies on them, hovering above the streets to see where they go. And he follows them, into the bars. They don’t know his real face. Jeongguk sits down, listening as one of his proxies reads one of his sent messages out loud, to his friends.

The boy doesn't make it out alive. Once he steps out onto the street, Jeongguk uses his sleeved arms to snap his neck. He walks away, onto the next one.

So he’s really left with one loyal little proxy. Who– Jeongguk doesn’t realize– ultimately would be his downfall. Not intentionally. But it’s all left to a small misspelling and a misunderstanding.

The message was addressed to one of Jeongguk’s targets. A man named Lee Jae-in, living in a relatively small neighborhood in Gangnam. It was to lure the man to a spot where a fellow mercenary would lock in their shot and kill him. Jeongguk was working as some kind of bridge during that time, too– he’d helped set up kills for a price.

And so, the  proxy did deliver it to Lee Jae-in in that neighborhood. But it turns out, there are two Lee Jae-ins residing in that area. And it goes to a married woman– a woman married to a mafia boss named Lee Doyoung.  So the woman, Lee Jae-in, is shot. Doyoung finds out, by capturing the proxy, that it’s Jeongguk’s fault. He doesn’t know who Jeongguk is, exactly, because he’s pretty much incognito– but he knows of him.

So it’s unfortunate. His proxy ends up dead because of a small mistake. Jeongguk has Doyoung trying to kill him, to avenge his wife. But Jeongguk eventually forgets about the man, mostly because he never gets too close.

Until now.

Jeongguk pours himself a tall glass of water. It’s the day before Christmas. He looks outside his window, at the people who scurry up and down the streets, window shopping, picking out last-minute presents. He takes a sip, one hand braced against the wall. He has presents for Seokjin, Sol and Taehyung.

For Seokjin, a new rifle to replace the one he’d stolen. A McMillan TAC-50 sniper rifle– the same one used to break the world record for the farthest sniper shot ever, at 3,540 meters. Seokjin doesn’t own one– Jeongguk remembers from the quick sweep of his warehouse the last time he’d been there. The case containing the gun is stored in his secret wall compartment.

For Sol, a car. Okay – it is a running gag for Jeongguk to be gifting cars, but at least Sol can drive. And he has a thing for really nice cars, so. He buys his oldest ally a white sports car– a Hennessey Venom GT, something he knows Sol’s been eyeing lately. It sits in Jeongguk’s garage right now.

For Taehyung, jewelry. Nothing overly special, but beautiful, Jeongguk supposes. A pair of mostly golden earrings with a large turquoise pendant in the middle. He has no knowledge on what makes good jewelry other than things like the quality of the gold and the price tag that’s attached, so he hopes for the best.

For each of those three, Jeongguk kind of gives up in the creativity department because they’re all rich. They all have a lot of money on them, whether from business income, single-payment jobs or inheritance from a wealthy socialite family. It’s extremely hard to get people who have everything anything. So he just adds on to each of their piles of wealth.

For Jimin, on the other hand, his gift costs absolutely nothing . Jeongguk sets down the glass of water on his desk top and shifts his attention to the small urn-like container that sits at the edge. It’d taken him a considerably long time to get to burning it so seeing it now, at its final product, Jeongguk just wants to give it already. He wants– no– he needs to see Jimin’s reaction. His own, he’s not sure yet. Jeongguk has doubts. He has the fear lingering at the back of his mind, but he ignores it.

He drinks again.

He has nothing planned in particular for today, other than the dinner call at Taehyung’s house to celebrate Christmas Eve. It’s not too big of an invitation– just him, Sol, Seokjin, Yoongi, Jung, Jimin, Taehyung. He doesn’t know how this is supposed to work out. He doesn’t know why Yoongi’s agreed to this either, considering how he’s so abrasive towards everybody. Then again, Jeongguk is too. So it’s going to be quite the shitfest. He can imagine it already:

Taehyung and Jimin keeping everything going, trying to clear the tension in the air. Jung and Yoongi sitting on either side of Taehyung, narrowing their eyes at each other occasionally. Then turning to Jeongguk to give him the double death glare. Sol pouring himself glasses of wine over and over until he’s loose enough to speak to anybody else. Seokjin stiffly attempting to join in the conversation but withdrawing, ultimately.

Yeah.

A whole shitfest.

But it’s Kim Taehyung. And nobody can really refuse the kind-hearted socialite’s son. So everybody does agree to go. Just for his sake.

Jeongguk plans on leaving early so he can go back to his apartment to work again. Or to sleep. Either way, he doesn’t want to hang around.

He’s about to sit down to start doing some research for his plans when his phone buzzes. He reaches forward. It’s Namjoon.

He heaves a sigh and picks up. “Yeah?” He says, tapping the butt of his pen against the surface of the desk.

“Can we have an impromptu meeting right now? At the NPA? I think we got something. You’re back in Seoul, aren’t you?”

“Uh. Yeah– What did you get, exactly?”

“Tattoo. Somebody reported a sighting in Cheongju. They sent in a photo from a CCTV camera. Again, not too good, but it’s him. The Tattoo was on display. And Gi got a forensic artist or whatever to try and match stuff up. Hey– how fast can you get here?”

“Fast. I’m already on my way.”

“Alright.”

The line closes off. Jeongguk stands up. He knows that Cheongju is considered some kind of midpoint between Daegu and Seoul, so it’s definitely Xiyue doing his thing. He reaches into his drawer to pull out his second phone, where he calls Xiyue. The boy picks up quickly. “What’s up?”

“Are you in Cheongju?”

“Huh. It circulated that fast. Not anymore. I’m headed over to Seoul. Just have to make another stop.”

Jeongguk nods to himself. Good. “I just got the call from the National Police Agency. I’m headed there right now.”

“Good luck then.” A snort.

“Yeah.”

“Bye.”

“How was Busan?” Namjoon asks, as Jeongguk walks into the room.

The law student shrugs his shoulder. “It was cold. And nice, to have a breather from all the work.”

“That’s nice to hear. I guess. Did you see your parents?”

Jeongguk stops, back turned to Namjoon. He wonders what Seokjin told him. He feels his throat swell slightly. He says, “No. I don’t have parents.”

Namjoon sighs softly. “Sorry. I assumed so. Seokjin told me you were visiting your hometown.”

“It’s fine. I was kind of ditched when I was younger, so I didn’t know them.” Jeongguk presses his eyes shut nonetheless. He doesn’t often think about his birth parents. He doesn’t know them, but for some reason, it hurts. Maybe because he knows that if they never gave him away, left him for dead, he would be a better person right now. Living with a normal family, studying. Able to touch others. Interact like a normal, functioning human being.

He turns around, dropping his backpack by his feet. Namjoon’s eyeing him like he feels incredibly sorry but Jeongguk has no time for that. He walks over to the table, to the spread of photos. He can definitely recognize XIyue. “Are these the new photos? From Cheongju?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure what to make of it. It’s definitely a match– you can tell from the body, the face, the hair. But why is he in Cheongju?”

“Maybe he is operating from somewhere else?” Jeongguk sits down and leans over the photos. He brushes his fingers over the plastic surfaces. “I don’t really know much about what kind of system these people work in. You said you were in some sort of gang?” He wants to see what Namjoon really thinks. The bounty hunter has been speaking as Kim Namjoon, genius. Not Kim Namjoon, bounty hunter and expert at the Itaewon scene.

There’s reluctance, before he replies, “Yeah. I am in a… Gang . How crime lords usually work– through more inferior players in the game, I guess. They have people working for them. A lot of people, sometimes. But I think Tattoo is working with just a small handful.” Right . “I’m not sure how else to put it. I guess you can call these people proxies.”

“Proxies. Makes sense, I suppose.” Jeongguk’s purposefully curling in on himself, to make himself resemble Tattoo less. Namjoon would never be able to make the connection though. Simply because Jeongguk does have his greyish brown hair and Tattoo’s is black. “God. I wish I knew more about the system. It seems really complex and stuff.”

“It is. Complicated. You don’t see anything on the surface– and it doesn’t just limit itself to Itaewon. Everywhere, something’s going on and you don’t see it. It’s… Phenomenal, in the sense that it’s been working for so long.” Namjoon speaks with knowledge. “That’s the fatal flaw of the whole bounty thing. Even if there are a lot of people scrambling for it, a lot of the higher crime lords, who know real things, who have real power– they don’t tell. They have fun with it, but they’ll never tell because in the end, it’s the system against the cops.”

Jeongguk knows this. It’s absolutely true– nobody wants to rat each other out when you get to that level of power because one slip could let the whole system crumble. It’s easier for lower ranking players to tell because they have no impact. He frowns slightly, pushes an expression of curiosity onto his face. “Wow. That’s… Insane. A lot of responsibility, but still. Maybe they aren’t as…”

“Unchained? Wild?” Namjoon smiles faintly– the first time Jeongguk sees it without it’s general sense of malice. “Yeah. The system is built structurally. As you go up, the more surprisingly civilized it gets.”

Jeongguk nods. He reaches for a photo and inspects it. It’s poorly shot, taken obviously in the dark. “So. Uh. This guy– Tattoo. If we think logically about this– Cheongju is the middle point between Seoul and Daegu. A lot of people use it as a stopover. I doubt he’s coming back to Itaewon. He could be fleeing.” He shrugs, offering his fake thought.

“Possibly so. I think that could be it. But why Daegu?”

“I don’t know.” Jeongguk shakes his head. “If we’re following through with the fact that this Tattoo and the Tattoo from the last photos are the same.. And he’s not from here. I can’t really make the assumption that he’s from Daegu.”

“Where do you think he’s from?” Namjoon pulls out the photo Jeongguk had ‘found online’. “I’m thinking China.”

“I got the impression, too. And if we’re right, then I really don’t know why the fuck he’d be headed to Daegu.”

Namjoon’s shaking his head. He looks utterly lost, but he’s not giving up. His brows are creased and he’s looking at the spread of photos as if it’s going to suddenly hit. It doesn’t, because he doesn’t say–  hey, Jeongguk. These photos are all bullshit. These are planted. These are fake. Instead, he says, “I’m stuck.”

Jeongguk inwardly smiles. Outwardly, he rubs his hands over his face frustratedly. “I really… Don’t get it. I don’t understand. Which is stupid to say, considering that my professor has a lot of faith in me– Gi has a lot of faith in me to know things.” He pours every ounce of frustration he has into his acting. And he feels his eyes grow wet. “ God .”

“Don’t be frustrated.”

“I’m trying not to be. I think it’s just everything in general.”

“Are you okay?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. And he finds that he’s being genuine this time. “No. I don’t know. I’m usually really composed. But recently, I feel like I’m carrying this huge… Burden. People expect me to be the best. To know more than they do. But…”

"You’re just a kid. And it’s okay to feel pressure.” Namjoon lowers his head, so he can catch Jeongguk’s eyes. Jeongguk brushes away the beginnings of his tears. “Hey. Jeongguk. Listen to me. I got into a very bad business since I was just a child. The gang I’m in right now… I’ve fought for years to get in. I used my intelligence, my talent– everything I could, but I was never picked. And I was your age, when they finally took me in. And I realized why they waited so long before they did.

“My first mission, I fucked up. Really bad. And I beat myself up for it– I was responsible for two of my colleague’s deaths. And I was under so much pressure. Everyone expected me– just like a lot of people are expecting you now– to be the best. But you don’t have to always carry that around. You don’t always have to be the smartest person in the room.”

Jeongguk feels himself ease. He laughs humourlessly. “You’re just saying that now because you think you’re the smartest person in the room.”

“Maybe I am.” Namjoon smiles again. Still faint, but there.

Jeongguk hangs his head, looking away from the man. He’s good at tapping into people’s emotions. And now, he’s gotten a bit more about Namjoon out of him. He smiles to himself, but not for a good reason. But because Namjoon is opening up to him. And that– that, he could use to his benefit. “Fuck. I can’t believe I just had a mental breakdown in front of you. That’s…”

“Embarrassing. Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

Jeongguk nods. “Thanks.”

“Yeah. Well, are you ready to get rolling? We have a lot of work to do.” Namjoon opens up the case file.

Jeongguk leans forward.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

After the long meeting with Namjoon, Jeongguk finds himself across Jimin at their usual café spot. Jeongguk sips at his coffee, quietly reading, while Jimin is texting somebody. Jeongguk can tell because of the rapid keyboard noises that sound from his phone. It gets to the point wherein Jeongguk has to set his book down. “Can’t you turn off those noises?” He asks, not even bothering to hide the irritated tone.

Jimin barely looks up. “I’m doing it on purpose.”

“You’re trying to annoy me?”

“Yeah, so you can stop reading and actually talk to me.”

Jeongguk closes the book, pushing it to the side. “You don’t seem like you want to talk either. You’re having lots of fun with your text buddy over there.”

Jimin shuts his phone off and slides it away too, a smile on his face. “That text buddy is barely a buddy. I was just typing random nonsense on a notes document.”

“You’re insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you like me.”

Jeongguk narrows his eyes at that. Jimin smiles at him in that I’m-so-innocent-but-not-really manner and it makes Jeongguk even more frustrated. And well, slightly flustered. He clears his throat, reaching for his cup again. “Well, now that you have my complete and full attention, what do you want to talk about?”

“Kinda wanted to talk about my past a bit. Now that you know a bit. And you’ve met my amazing mother.”

“Amazing doesn’t seem to encompass the creature that is your mother.”

Another wide smile. Sadder, though. “Well. It’s one of the many adjectives I could use to describe her. Anyway – Yeah. I was young and they wanted me to be the perfect son to marry off and everything, but not in the conventional sense, I suppose.  I took gymnastics. Ballet. Every dance form you could think of. I think they wanted me to marry a guy. Not a girl. Which is even weirder because I wasn’t… I didn’t know I was gay until I was in the circus.” He looks despondent. “I don’t know. My parents were just really fucking weird. Anyway–

“So I went and joined a circus because that was really all I knew, you know? I didn’t get proper education. It was all about becoming a trophy husband. So woosh , I was in the circus for the longest time. Had my gay awakening. Learned how to defend myself against grabby co-performers and stuff. But not the audience. They thought we were just fun things to watch– no offence taken, circus people are kind of fucking weird.” Jimin’s going on and on but Jeongguk doesn’t mind. He simply sips at his coffee and listens. “Yeah. Anyway. There was the whole circus fire. I escaped, but a lot of people… Didn’t. Apparently.”

By then, Jimin goes quiet. He’s looking down at his hands. And he’s thinking about his father– the person who’d gone in search for him, watched his shows from the audience, in the shadows. And he’s dead now.

“But you did,” Jeongguk continues, because he knows Jimin doesn’t have the strength to. Not now. “And now you’re a powerful, independent being. No pressure from a family that wanted nothing but to cage you. To sell you off like a… An object . But now, you’re here. In the biggest, busiest city in South Korea. And you can do anything you want.”

Jimin looks up at him with slightly glassy eyes.

“Believe me, Jimin. You’re going to be free soon. Free to do what you want for the rest of your life. I’m going to make sure of it.”

Jimin nods, smiling, expression soft.

Jeongguk feels his heart sink slightly. Soon. Soon, Jimin won’t be his anymore.

Jeongguk arrives a bit late to the time agreed upon by the group. He’s greeted by the same overt warmth that sucks him into the depths of Taehyung’s home. By this time around, he’s able to navigate his way to the dining room on his own. He pads through the hallway, one hand with the suitcase containing the gun, the other one carrying a bag with the urn and the two boxes– one to hold the car keys, one to hold the earrings. At the end of the hall is a glass sliding door. He can see the group already converged– all in one room together, but diverged in the sense that they’re all in their own little bubbles of being.

But it’s all kind of…

Not what he expects.

He sees Koda with Sol. She’s pointing at some ornaments that decorate the large tree that sits, poised in the corner. He has an arm around her waist and he’s nodding along but he’s not paying attention to what she’s narrating. He’s just staring at her.

Then there’s Sol, Yoongi and Jimin. They’re deeper into the dining room, talking while pouring wine into their empty glasses. Jimin looks strange wedged between the two, but they’re all conversing, and pretty well, by the looks of it. Jimin’s stifling a laugh, eyes glimmering under the warm-coloured light. He’s wearing a pale sweater. The design is obnoxious– it’s as ugly as any other Christmas sweater can be, but Jeongguk finds that it doesn’t irk him as much as he expects it should.

Taehyung and Seokjin are together, surprisingly. They’ve never really met before, but they’re both laughing and smiling on the couch, that sits beside the commercially-placed fireplace. Taehyung looks genuinely happy, clapping his hands as Seokjin recalls a story. The mercenary is smiling.

The familial scene is cut through by the image of Jung. The crime lord sits alone, at the side of the long table. He’s staring at Taehyung and Seokjin, and there’s no mistaking it– he’s jealous. Jeongguk understands why. It’s been Jung, Yoongi and Taehyung in their strange arrangement. Now Seokjin’s in the running for him now–  clearly . And Jung, he’s in love. So he’s the one losing.

Jeongguk drops the bag to the ground gently so he can open the door. The first to look his way is Jimin, who immediately sets down his wine glass. The boy excuses himself and quickly walks over to meet him at the entrance. “Another gun?” He says, smiling.

“Mhm. Seokjin’s gift.”

“And the bag?”

‘Yours. Taehyung’s. Sol’s.”

“Ooh. I have your present. But is it alright if I give it after the dinner? When we’re… Alone?” Jimin blinks up at him.

Jeongguk shrugs. “Yeah. I’m leaving early, though.”

“Oh. Why?” His tone seems slightly disappointed.

Before the crime lord can respond, Taehyung’s wobbling over excitedly. “Jeongguk! You’re the last one here. We can finally fuckin’ eat.”

“Sorry?”

“Nah. Come on.”

The seating arrangement is very different to what Jeongguk had imagined earlier.

It’s a long horizontal table. On one end is Taehyung. To his left, Seokjin. To his right, Jung. Beside Seokjin is Koda. Beside Koda is Sol.  Then Jeongguk, who finds himself at the opposite head of the table. On the other side, beside Jung, is Yoongi. Then Jimin.

Jeongguk thinks that Koda is out of place at first, but she isn’t. She speaks comfortably with Seokjin and Sol, settling into their small group quickly. He’s surprised that she’s here at all, but he knows that Sol’s brought her along so she can get to know some of the powers in the system. Sol’s trying to push her in the other direction– to make her own path in the system, not to rely on the bounty hunters to get here anywhere.

But yeah, no, she isn’t the one who’s out of place. Yoongi, Jung, they are. Mostly because they’re usually equally split with the attention of Taehyung, but the socialite keeps on making heart eyes at Seokjin, who seems simultaneously interested and wary– he must sense that Jung and Yoongi are being cast aside because he begins to include them in the conversation.

Once the food is ceremoniously placed on the table– a lot of food, maybe to the extent of it being excessive–, Taehyung uses the butt of his spoon, clanking it against the glass gently. There’s silence that follows. “Thanks. All of you, for coming. I know it’s kind of fucking awkward, but it’s better than having Christmas dinner with my parents, so–” there are a few sympathetic smiles. “–Yeah. Thanks. Now eat! I spent a shitton on food.”

Jeongguk hangs back, watching them all pick away at the different platters. He looks at Koda and Sol. Sol’s unbothered, stuffing his plate with food, while Koda reluctantly picks at peas . Jeongguk leans his head, successfully catching her attention. He mouths, eat .

Koda looks around at everybody. Then she turns to him and narrows her eyes. It’s awkward , she mouths back.

Jeongguk shakes his head.

She grimaces but begins to take more of the portions.

Jeongguk turns to Jimin then, who’s reaching forward for the salmon platter. Jung passes it to him. Then Jimin passes it to Jeongguk. “Isn’t this your favorite food or something?” He questions.

Jeongguk nods once. “Yeah. It is.” He takes a huge slice, as well as a lemon wedge. He glances at Jimin’s plate, which is filled . It’s a tower of assorted foods. “You’re really… Treating yourself.”

“Mhm. Not everyday I get to stuff myself full of good food.”

“You can afford it.”

Jimin shakes his head. “Yeah, but I never feel like it. My appetite is always kind of gone. But it’s Christmas.”

Right. It’s almost Christmas.

Jeongguk nods because he doesn’t know what else to say. He’s kind of drained right now. He’s still recharging and he wants to waste all of the bits of energy he has on his plan. Conversation is nowhere near the top of his priority list. He sits back and listens in, tuning in and out of the conversation that carries throughout the first part of dinner. It begins with a light interrogation directed towards Koda.

Taehyung: So. Koda. How do you and Sol know each other?

Koda: Uh. I’m actually… A scrapper. I guess, whatever you guys like to call it. I worked for one of his friends. A job.

Taehyung: Oh. Interesting. What’s a scrapper?

Koda: The lowlives of Itaewon.

Sol: That’s… Not exactly the best way to put it.

Koda: But it’s what it is, right? People like you step over people like me.

Sol: I didn’t–

Jung: Scrappers build up the system. We all started as scrappers. Don’t demean the position so much.

Koda: Sorry. I don’t have a nice experience being one.

Jung: I’m sorry to hear that.

Jeongguk looks up from his plate. Koda is picking at her food and Jung looks genuinely apologetic, like he feels for her. Really deeply. Yoongi, too. Sol. Seokjin. Jimin. Even he does feel empathetic because it’s true– women have it worse out on the streets, in the Itaewon crime system. The discrimination, gender stereotyping…

Jimin: Are you working for anybody specifically? Like. Are you a proxy to any of the big crime lords?

Koda: No. I just do isolated jobs when I get them.

Jimin: Have you considered picking?

Koda: I wanted to join the Tattoo hunt. To get into the bounty hunters but someone told me that I shouldn’t have to rely on a group of men to make it. I agree. But it’s still hard. Sometimes I want the easy way out.

Jimin: Who is this someone?

Koda: Jeongguk.

Koda’s looking down to her plate. The rest of them look at Jeongguk with raised brows. He shrugs. He didn’t do it to get her off his tracks. He did it to make the situation with Sol less complicated. And because she seems like she could do it on her own. Okay– so maybe it was self-preservation instinct but still .

Jimin snorts and shakes his head. “Of course Jeongguk did.”

Koda looks up. “What does that mean?”

“Jeongguk’s a nice kid,” Sol interjects before anybody else can hint at the fact that Jeongguk is Tattoo. “He wants the best for everybody.”

Jung chokes on his drink. Seokjin bursts into a loud laugh, and Jimin slaps his own thigh underneath the table. Jeongguk tugs on a frown. “The fuck?”

Taehyung’s looking between all of them with a fond gaze, eyes twinkling. Jung picks up his napkin, dabbing at his wet mouth. “Yeah. Jeongguk’s real nice.”

“Hey, I said sorry –”

“You know how to do that?” Jimin says playfully. “I deserve an apology for your shit birthday and Christmas gifts.”

“I have a good gift this year, okay.”

“Uh-huh.”

Koda looks confused, but she’s less stiff. Sol looks tense, though. As if he knows exactly what’s about to happen. The smuggler reaches for his own glass, tipping the contents down his throat in a rush. Beside him, the girl eyes him skeptically.

Jeongguk ducks his head.

Taehyung: So. You’re dating Sol?

Koda: Um–

Sol: It’s complicated.

Koda: Yeah… Complicated.

Taehyung: Oh. Uh. Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. I hope this wasn’t too overwhelming.

Koda: No, it’s fine. I don’t have anybody else to spend Christmas with, anyway. So in a way, you’re kind of saving my sorry ass.

So the conversation shifts legs from there. They talk about Sungwoon.

Yoongi: Koda. Do you know Lee Sungwoon?

Koda: Yeah. I’ve met him, actually.

Sol: You have?

Koda: Yeah. He gathered a lot of scrappers up and pit us against each other. Winner gets some information on Tattoo.

Jung: He’s psychotic.

Koda: I figured. I backed out when I saw one guy gut his best friend. I couldn’t do it.

Jimin: So he’s not in this to get Tattoo. He just wants entertainment.

Koda: I mean, he doesn’t come and watch. It was just the first batch that got to meet him, to show that it was legit and stuff. Now it’s just a few proxies running it.

Taehyung: First batch? You mean there’s more?

Koda: For some reason, nobody ever makes it out alive to hear the information. They just go MIA. Or they die.

Jeongguk can feel the pressure on him. Everybody thinking the same thing. They’re all looking at him. And he feels suddenly sick. The bile is rising up his throat. His eyes go blurry. And he’s glad that he has an ample amount of salmon on the plate because he pretends like he’s interested in the food, stuffing small pieces into his mouth. He tries to calm himself down but he’s so sensitive all of a sudden. He doesn’t know why he feels so weak. So pathetically concerned with emotions, with others. It’s gotten so overwhelming to the point wherein he wishes he was numb again.

He thinks about those poor scrappers killing each other. Being scammed of their lives for false promises dangled in front of them. Lee Sungwoon sitting on his throne, allowing it to happen. Knowing that Jeongguk would eventually find out. Knowing that Jeongguk would feel responsible. The elaborate pluck at his thin strings shows that Sungwoon is very well aware of his bleeding heart and he’s having fun playing with it.

Jeongguk stands up abruptly. Everybody– they’re all looking at him. He composes himself enough to say, “Sorry. I…” He looks at Jimin, whose eyes are wide with concern, anxiety, care for him. “I feel sick. Excuse me.”

Jimin tries to make a grab for his sleeved wrist but he jolts back and shakes his head. He leaves the room, walking down the steps in a rushed manner, crossing over to the bathroom. He closes the door behind him and leans over the sink. He stands in the dark, his head poised over the small curved indent, shutting his eyes tight. With his hand, he pushes the faucet lever. The water spills in it’s calming way, washing away the dark thoughts.

He wants to cry but it’s not in him. He’s grateful for that. The rest from Busan was enough to help him regain some of his resilience. You can do this , Jeongguk thinks to himself. You can do this . You can do this. You can do this.

Hold on , he tells himself. Just a while longer. Just hold on for a bit longer and you can leave. Leave it all.

It’s what you want. You want to burn it all. And never come back.

Make him happy. Set him free. Leave.

Jeongguk tugs his shirt free from where it’s tucked in his pants. He places the hem in between his lips. With steady hands, he withdraws a knife and pricks once at his skin– not enough to harm. Just to see if he’s still immune to the physical pain. And it hurts. It hurts so much that he has to throw the knife against the ground, frustrated, angry . He’s about to scream– and he will scream, but the light flicks open and the door peeks. “Hey, Jeongguk, I’m sorry for–”

Jeongguk drops his shirt. But in the reflection of the mirror, he can see Koda’s expression. Eyes wide, mouth gaping slightly.

He swallows. Koda pushes the door open and she walks up to him, and he can tell that she’s charged. She tries to touch him and he’s so disgusted by everything that he grabs her arm, whirls her around and uses his sleeved arm to catch her in a chokehold. “Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns.

“You’re fucking horrible. You’re Tattoo and you fucking made me believe that I could make it but you were doing it to save your ass–”

He tightens the hold slightly. She chokes. “I said it because I meant it.”

“You’re fucking selfish, that’s what.”

The door pushes open. It’s Sol now. And Jimin, behind him.

Jeongguk releases her. Koda swats his arm away with a viciousness. And when Sol makes a move to hold her, she slaps him across the face. “Fuck you. Fuck you, all of you. You lied to me, Sol. You said that I could do it. Forget Jeongguk– Forget Tattoo ,” she snarls. “You. You go around and tell me that you care about women. That you care that we’re suffering as scrappers, but no. What did you do?”

“Koda, I can–”

"What did you do?"

Sol's silent.

She punches him. Blood splatters across the white wall. Sol doesn’t make a move to retaliate, falling to his knees. “We’re done.”

Jeongguk watches as Jimin tries to stop her. She doesn’t hurt him, only shaking her head and pushing away his arms. She walks past Taehyung, Seokjin, who’ve come out to see what the commotion is all about. Jung and Yoongi are still at the table, but they’re watching, standing now.

Just like that, Koda’s gone.

Sol’s sitting on the ground now, shifting so that he’s leaning against the threshold. He shakes his head, ignoring the fact that his nose is probably broken. Blood trickles down his mouth. It takes a few beats, but he rises to his feet, pulling out his phone. A quick dial. Then, “Don’t let her get anywhere.” His tone is flat, Detached.

Jeongguk stares at Sol because he can’t look at Jimin behind him. “What are you doing?”

The businessman tugs at his collar. “Cleaning this mess up. It’s my fault.”

“Cleaning.” The word is contradictory. Nothing about this is clean.

“I’m not going to let her go and tell the world who you are. I value loyalty. And I told you. Not at your expense. This is how Itaewon’s thrived for so long as what it is. We know each other. You crime lords know each other but nobody really ever tells. Because even if you guys are each other’s enemies, we’re all against the same force. The police. The government.” Sol pulls out his gun and cocks it. “I like Koda. A lot. And I’m going to talk to her. Try to calm her down, figure out how she’s feeling. And she’s going to probably end up beating the shit out of me.”

“Sol. You say you wouldn’t. Not at my expense, but what about yours?”

“I’ll figure it out.”

Jeongguk watches as Sol disappears, quick on his feet. And now, he’s left to confront the rest of them. Jimin, he still ignores the older boy because he’s afraid of looking at his face. His expression right now. He’s glad for his blind eye because it allows him to walk past Jimin without seeing him. He just goes straight to Taehyung, who’s holding onto Seokjin’s sleeve tightly, upset. “I’m so sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry. You’ve only ever been kind. And I repay you every single time with drama. Bullshit. I know you wanted to have a nice Christmas Eve.” He hangs his head in shame.

“Jeongguk, it’s okay. What Sungwoon is doing… I know. I see why you’re upset. And it’s seriously okay.”

“It’s not. I can’t keep on excusing this. This whole bounty is making really bad, bad things happen and it’s becoming a burden, honestly. So I’m going to pull through with one last plan. And I’m going to leave. Forever.”

He’s been thinking about it for the longest time. Maybe not consciously, but subconsciously– it’s been an option. It’s always been an option but he’s been too stubborn to consider it because he’s been ignorant towards how much this is hurting people. And so yeah, Jeon Jeongguk has a bleeding heart. And he’s ready to give it all up. Just one final act left.

“You’re going to give up?” Taehyung’s bottom lip quivers slightly. “Just like that?”

“No. I’m not giving up. I have my plan. It’s going to be perfect. Combustive. And when it’s done, I’m going to leave.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything. Jeongguk looks up at Yoongi and Jung. His fellow crime lords, they aren’t mad. They simply offer him curt nods. As if they know that he’s about to set the world on fire. And as if to offer their full support. Jeongguk nods too, sternly.

He walks out of the house without saying goodbye to Jimin.

It’s such a shame, because Jeongguk should have gotten a good look before it all went down to shit.

Jeongguk has nothing but the plan in mind. Hands in his pockets, he walks down the streets of Itaewon. He’s fearless. He can’t sense any people trailing behind him or up in the rooftops. And even if there were people, he can’t be bothered. He walks along briskly, his headspace everywhere but the present. His mindset is shifting back to what it used to be. Plans. Plans. Plans. Looking to the future, forgetting about the present.

But it’s a mistake, because he only realizes that the car is heading towards him. Not down the street, but down to him. He jolts up at the same time the side door swings open. Men rush out and grab him. He writhes, flicking out his hidden sleeve knife. He manages to get a few quick jabs, but that’s it. A bag is thrown over his head and he’s shoved into the vehicle with no care. Jeongguk is throttled inside the car, shaken until he’s still. He does it to preserve his energy, not because he’s afraid.

He’s thought out these scenarios. He has a lot of hidden weapons on him. In his coat pocket, he has a few micro patches. He can stick them on people. The poison takes a while to settle but it does, eventually.

He thinks about the breathing patterns. Nobody is speaking, but he can tell. Two men up front. Two men beside him. One man behind him, with a respiratory defect. He listens, absorbs as much as he can. The shift of the car as they go uphill, he allows himself to slide slightly. He can feel the firm muscle of the man to his left. The car shifts right and he feels. Jeongguk feels bone. So when they get out, Jeongguk has to take the thinner man out first. Use him as a shield for when the man to his left tries to make a shot.

Jimin was right. He pulled off the Bangasayusang heist half-blind and he’ll have no qualms about taking five men while blindfolded like this.

Jimin.

He wonders– Jeongguk wonders if Jimin’s seen his Christmas present yet.

The car ride is a bit too long. He grows impatient, but he stands his ground and waits for the car to come to a halt. The doors swing open. Jeongguk’s pulled outside by the bulkier man, much to his dismay. So he sighs and decides that he has to make it work. With his elbow, he bashes in the man’s jaw. He can hear him stagger, feet pounding against what seems to be pavement beneath their feet.

Jeongguk reaches for him blindly and uses his body to block the impending gunshots. Two shots are fired, the sound ringing through the air sharply. He releases the body. From where the shots come from, he can find the source. He throws his pocket knife. He hears the gun clatter, falling to the floor. Then he pulls off the bag.

He sees the setting for a brief moment, before he’s knocked to the ground. A baseball bat, he can tell. His head spins. And when he blinks up, disoriented, he can make out a too-familiar face.

Lee Doyoung.

The mafia boss smiles down at him. “I finally caught you, didn’t I?” He says.

No. No. No.

Jeongguk tries to sit up, but the boss uses his hand to push Jeongguk back down. “Stay down or else I’ll put you down myself.”

Jeongguk remains still.

“I’m honestly over this feud. I think,” he clicks his tongue, “I’m just going to do it.”

Do what?

It’s excruciating.

It’s like in the movies. What’s it called– when you see something so horrible on screen but there’s music that pours in that has absolutely nothing to do with it? Anempathetic sound . When a person is being mauled, a character being beat to the ground and there’s classical music. Light pop music.

Any music.

Please . Any music.

Jeongguk is stuck in his mind, and he’s begging for it. He wants there to be music randomly pouring out right now because at least it’ll be something distracting.

But no, it’s dead, utter silence.

So he’s forced to live in his body.

To experience the pain. He can’t detach himself because he’s afraid that if he does, he’ll never wake up again. And he doesn’t want to go down like this– his death a result of a petty mistake from years ago. His arms scramble for purchase, trying to find anything to hold onto as the pain settles. He slides a hand into his pocket but it’s not comforting. So he grabs the next closest thing. Doyoung’s bare ankle. And he doesn’t care right now, that he’s touching the man. He just wants it to be over.

And so Doyoung’s blunt knife crooks into his eye socket. Jeongguk is screaming. He’s screaming and thrashing and crying. But Doyoung’s face, hovered above him, is nonchalant as he works Jeongguk’s eye out of the socket. His expression is calm, practiced. It’s so sickeningly inhumane– it’s worse than Jeongguk. There’s really so much worse than Jeongguk.

It takes him too long to realize that Doyoung’s not trying to scoop it out right away. He’s digging the edge in, inflicting a whole new level of pain. It’s so terrifying. It’s so fucking terrifying because Jeongguk isn’t numb. He can feel everything. The metal sliding against the inside of his eye, teasing at the optic nerve. And he’s about to do it– Jeongguk’s about to beg him to stop, but it’s too late. Doyoung gouges out the eye. And Jeongguk, he almost goes unconscious.

The man picks up the eyeball with his gloved hands. He tosses it around like it’s nothing more than a plaything. His gaze flickers with interest as he inspects it. Jeongguk has enough willpower to press down where his eye used to be, holding back the blood flow. “You can’t see. Not in this eye, can you?”  He taps at the iris. The fucking iris– God , Jeongguk is crying so much that he can barely see with his remaining eye. He can’t believe it happened. “Look. It’s a bit whitish. You’re half-blind. Well, even more so now.”

Even more so now.

Sick. So sick.

Doyoung smiles and gives him a thumbs up. A motion that is so familiarly human that it makes Jeongguk cry even more. “Thanks for the eye, Jeongguk . I think I’m going to give this as a little present, actually. What’s his name? Your little sidekick. Park Jimin. I think he’d like a piece of you. You know, considering how little you seem to be able to offer him in the first place.”

No. No. No. Not Jimin. Not Jimin. He’s repeating it so much in his mind that he can hear it leaving his mouth. Not Jimin.

“What should the tag say? I’m not quick-witted. I’ll have to consider a few options but maybe we can play around with him. Lure him out, like you did my poor wife. Remember her? Jae-in?” Jeongguk is holding on to his dear life. All of his energy is put into the pressure he holds over his eye socket. His mind is everywhere, uncontrolled. “She was kind. Beautiful. And the love of my life. You took her from me. And I would take Park Jimin away, but he isn’t the love of your life, isn’t he? You’re a narcissist. You love yourself. You only care about yourself. So I took away this little thing.” He waves the eyeball around with malice. “Fun. All fun and games.”

Jeongguk closes his eye and withers. Doyoung doesn’t say anything else. Contrary to what Jeongguk expects, he doesn’t hang back to gloat. He can feel the rumble of the car wheels against the pavement. He can smell the smoke in the air. And he listens, until the car is gone. Doyoung is gone.

Jeongguk is able to hold on because when Doyoung was leaning over him, Jeongguk managed to swipe a poisonous patch against his ankle. It’ll take more than a few days to take full effect, being too far from his heart, but it’ll kill the man. Jeongguk knows that his life isn’t over– it’ll never be over until he’s dead. He’s missing an eye. He’s lost his dignity. And his weakness will be exposed to the rest of the world. But it’s not over. The plan– the plan is solidified. When he gets out of here, he’ll do nothing but work until he sees all of it crumble to the ground.

The floor beneath him is cold. His arm is growing numb from pressing against the blood flow. But he keeps it there, knowing that it’s going to be about survival from now on. No distractions. No emotions. No more dragging people he cares about into his mess.

He thinks about it. He thinks about the boy he cares about most opening his gift. Seeing the ashes. Without context, it’s kind of fucked up. The thought makes Jeongguk laugh to himself. The sound echoes throughout the parking lot, bouncing off the walls. But he’s alone.

The boy– he’ll realize what it is. Because the boy’s smart. And when he does, he’ll be free to leave.

Jeongguk finds himself smiling as he lies in a pool of his own blood, against the cold, stone pavement.

Darkness.

In aftermath of the tumultuous dinner, Jimin finds himself sat in Taehyung’s living room, along with Seokjin, Yoongi, Jung and the owner of the home, who has a very, very sad look on his face. It’s the time they’re supposed to exchange gifts, but nobody’s in the mood to. Jimin just wants to know– he needs to know that Jeongguk’s okay. As a bodyguard, he’s obligated to. As Jeongguk’s… Friend , he has every right to be worried. But he trusts that the crime lord can take care of himself. Jimin swallows thickly and says, cutting through the silence, “Um. I think Jeongguk had presents. For Taehyung. Me. Seokjin and Sol. Do you think we should open them?”

Taehyung looks up. His hands are shaking, just a bit. And Jimin– Jimin tries not to sob at the sight. He’s seen it before. On the worst night of his life. Not only Jimin’s– but Taehyung’s too. He pushes the thoughts away, the guilt that nips at his conscience. “Yeah. I guess,” Taehyung replies. “I don’t think he’ll be coming back anytime soon.”

Seokjin’s sitting beside Taehyung, looking despondent. “I’ll go get the bags,” he volunteers, to which nobody objects.

Jung glances at Taehyung. “Are you… Okay?” He asks, and it’s a stupid thing to ask but at least it shows that he cares.

Taehyung nods. “I’m just kind of… Overwhelmed? I don’t know. It was all going so well. Why did it go wrong?”

Nobody can answer that question because it extends past what happened in the house tonight. Jimin laces his fingers together and looks away, eyeing Seokjin. The mercenary offers him a small smile as he walks over with the gifts. This time, he sits beside Jimin, laying down the suitcase and the bag on the ground in front of him. “This one's for me,” Seokjin says, picking up the suitcase. By the looks of it, Seokjin knows what it is. He pops the clips, pushing the lid open to reveal a sniper rifle nestled in a velvet cushion. His eyes widen slightly. “Well shit. This is a McMillan. It’s a really… Good gun.”

Jimin leans close, inspecting it. “Huh. That’s cool.”

Yoongi, across them, peers at it too, with interest. “How’d he even get that?”

“I honestly have no clue. He has a special way of obtaining the most expensive things.” Seokjin closes the lid and sets the case back on the ground. Jimin understands why he’s not relishing it more. He’s worried about Jeongguk, too. And he feels guilty for enjoying it when Jeongguk could be anywhere right now. The mercenary opens the bag, drawing out two small boxes. He reads the small tags that have Jeongguk’s distinct scrawl on them. “This is for you, Taehyung. The other is for Sol, but he’s not… Here.” Seokjin grimaces, passing the fine-designed box to the socialite boy.

Taehyung opens the box. He smiles half-heartedly. He fishes out two earrings. “How’d he know my birthstone?” He asks, curiously.

“Like I said. Jeongguk has a special way of obtaining things,” Seokjin says with a slight shake of his head.

Jimin doesn’t like how they’re speaking in this tone. He doesn’t like the solemn silence that hangs over them all. He doesn’t like how they’re talking about Jeongguk, as if he’s in trouble right now. Left for dead, ditched, bleeding. Jimin imagines it– catches a flash of it in his mind. He shakes it away, knowing that he’s only feeling doubt. Jeongguk is safe in his home, plotting his grand exit.

Seokjin pulls out a small jar– one that resembles an urn. “Oh fuck no,” the mercenary says, handing it over to Jimin. “Please don’t tell me that’s what I think it is.”

Jimin blinks at it. He looks around. Everyone’s faces are simultaneously curious and confused. He slowly pulls off the lid, setting it on the couch space beside him. He peers inside to find ashes. As expected, but gross nonetheless.

“I thought he said he’d finally get you something good,” Seokjin remarks dryly. “He got you a cremated body .”

But it isn’t, is it?

This isn’t a cremated body. These aren’t the ashes of a person. Are they, Jeongguk?

He knows what it is now. And he quickly covers up the urn. He stands up. “Fuck. Fuck– I have to go.”

“What? Why?” Jung frowns.

“It’s super important. Fuck– I… I’ll tell you guys tomorrow. This is really important. Taehyung–”

“Just go.”

Jimin’s turned to leave, but when he turns back to look at Taehyung, he sees nothing but bitterness in his gaze. He’s mad. “I…”

“Go. This Christmas Eve is ruined already, anyway.”

Jimin is guilty. He’s done Taehyung wrong so many times– too many times. But this… This could help him change it all. He bows his head once– he doesn’t know why, but he does. Then Jimin picks up his bag, placing the urn carefully inside it, before he makes a beeline for home.

Xiyue’s already at his apartment when he arrives. The mercenary looks like shit. He’s lying down on Jimin’s couch, blood on his clothes, a large rifle on the floor space beside him. Jimin carries the urn over to where he is, placing it down on the table. He eyes Xiyue up and down. “Are you good?” He asks, just as the man drags his arm from where it sits on top of his closed eyes.

Xiyue blinks at him wearily. “Uh-huh. Why’d you call me over? I thought you had fun Christmas dinner with the gang .”

“It… Turned out really bad.” Jimin frowns. Xiyue stands up, picking the gun from the ground. He leans it against the table and makes space for Jimin on the couch, where there isn’t blood. Jimin eyes the red that taints the clean cushion but doesn’t comment. It’s not the biggest issue on hand. “Do you know Lee Sungwoon?”

“The big crime lord,” Xiyue nods.

“Yeah. Well, he knows Jeongguk is Tattoo. But he’s not using the information to take the bounty. He’s having scrappers kill each other in some sort of competition to get it. But they’re not making it out alive. There’s been batches . But nobody really comes out alive.” Jimin curls up against himself, shaking his head at the thought. He’s done a lot of bad things– he’s not going to call himself morally right in any way. But this– this is a whole new level of sick. There’s no purpose for their deaths. Just for plain old amusement.

“And I assume you want me to join this competition.”

Jimin looks away. He does. He wants Xiyue to win the competition. To get close enough to Sungwoon to kill him, too. Because when Sungwoon is dead, Jeongguk is safe. Forget about the fact that the contract is burned to ash. Jimin wants Jeongguk safe because he… He really cares about him.

Xiyue sighs. Jimin looks at him. The mercenary is undeniably pretty. Jimin used to like him, back when it was all just kicking up. Xiyue had been a staple in their lives for months . And when Jimin was suffering from any affection– Jeongguk hadn’t been so open back then–, he’d turned to Xiyue. The man was always high. Or drunk. Or high and drunk, but at least he asked Jimin how his day was.

It’s petty, and disgusting for Jimin to be upset of the fact that Jeongguk can’t touch him, hold him, give him anything other than half-hearted comments. And Jimin appreciates the fact that Jeongguk’s trying now. The small gestures make his heart flutter. But Jimin is Jimin. And a huge part of him likes physical comfort.

“Xiyue?” Jimin asks, quietly.

“Yeah?”

“Where does your loyalty lie?”

Silence. The mercenary’s jaw clenches. So Jimin opens his mouth to repeat the question. But Xiyue cuts through and says. “With you. My loyalty is with you . Only you.”

Jimin nods understandingly. He knows this. “If I asked you to join the competition. To get close enough to Sungwoon to kill him, would you go against Jeongguk’s orders?”

“I would.” Absolute tone. Eyes sharp. Xiyue’s telling the truth.

“That’s… Thank you .” Jimin smiles at him weakly.

Xiyue tips his head. He wipes the blood from his neck, shifting his attention to the books on top of Jimin’s table. “You’re reading more?” He questions, reaching to pick up one of them. He sifts through the pages.

“Yeah. Um. Speaking of that. Do you think I should tell Jeongguk? That I can’t read?” He’s never told anybody but Xiyue, about his illiteracy.

“Do you think he already knows?”

Jimin swallows. “Uh. That’s a good point. Maybe he does.”

“I don’t think it’s too much of a big deal, anyway,” Xiyue says wryly.

“I didn’t actually read the contract before he burned it.”

There’s another pause. Xiyue then shifts his attention to the urn that sits on the table. “Huh. He burned it.”

“Mhm. As a Christmas present. It’s a damn good one, but is it bad, that I feel… Lost without it? I don’t have the obligation to protect him anymore. Even if I want to. But it’s weird.” He’s rambling, hands fidgeting as he thinks about it. He’s glad Jeongguk did it, mostly because Jeongguk has a limited amount of ways to show his emotions, his feelings. And breaking the binding contract between them, setting Jimin free– it’s a grand gesture. But even if Jimin feels his heart thump rapidly at that, he feels a sense of unease. He feels like something’s very wrong.

“No, it’s understandable. To feel lost at first. But you have your own way now. You can keep busting kids out of the system. And if you run out of money, well. I’m rolling in it and I honestly don’t fucking know what to do with all of it at this point.” Xiyue stands up then. “Can I use the bathroom?”

Jimin nods. “Yeah. The towels are under the sink.”

“Alright.”

When Xiyue’s in the bathroom to wash away the blood off him, Jimin rises to his feet. He walks over to the mirror beside the dining table, checking himself out. Not out of vanity, but because he feels so drained. So tired– and he wasn’t even involved too much in the evening’s conflicts. Asides from upsetting Taehyung– something Jimin feels so horrible about, he’d watched Koda storm out. Sol follow. And Jeongguk– Jeongguk acknowledged everybody but him before leaving. Jimin wanted to cry on the spot, watching the crime lord walk away from all of them. Especially after admitting that he was planning to leave.

Jeongguk hasn’t really told him about any of his future plans. Not even about his grand master plan– and now that the contract is gone, Jeongguk has no obligation to confide in him anymore. And that terrifies him. Jimin runs the back of his palms over his face, moving his hands to push the hair away from his eyes.

You are Park Jimin. You are strong.

He nods at the thought. He is strong. And he’ll pull this off. No matter what cost.

Xiyue stands behind him in the reflection, cleaned up. The mercenary says, “You good?” With a flick of his brow.

“Yeah. I–”

There’s a loud knock on the door. Just as the clock strikes midnight.

Jimin heaves a long breath, turning to face Xiyue. “You think that could be Jeongguk?” He asks, feeling hope surge inside of him.

His companion shrugs. “Maybe. Merry Christmas, though.”

“Merry Christmas,” Jimin smiles, walking past him, to the door.

He checks through the peephole. There’s nobody there. And that’s usually a bad sign.

Jimin slowly unlocks the door. If it’s anything dangerous, he has Xiyue right behind him. Somebody well-seasoned in the defence and offence department. So he feels less anxious, as he tugs the door open to reveal a–

A box?

Jimin takes it, picking it off the ground. It’s light, barely weighing anything, actually. The former acrobat closes the door, clicking at the different locks before he pads back over to where Xiyue stands. The mercenary eyes the box. “A present,” he comments.

“Right on the dot,” Jimin replies, placing it between them. With shaky hands, he pulls the ribbon. It collapses, slithering onto the table top, leaving the box and it’s lid. The box is brightly-coloured. An exaggeratedly-decorated Christmas present box, the type you could buy at a convenience store. Something about it is off-putting. He suddenly feels faint.

As if Xiyue catches his reluctance, the man offers to open it. Jimin nods, gripping at his sleeves. Xiyue pushes the lid off, placing it on the table. There’s nothing but a paper and little paper shreds to fill up the box volume. Xiyue slides over the box, opening the card with his other hand. His eyes darken as he reads it.

Jimin slowly inches his hand into the box. And he feels it– something slightly wet. Something round.

His fingers grip at it lightly. He tugs it out.

Jimin is met with a fucking eyeball. He screams, dropping it on the table and stepping back from where he stands. Xiyue doesn’t falter, only staring at it. He looks back and forth between the eye and the card and he says, “Oh, fuck no.”
“Holy shit. Holyshitholyshitholyshit–” Jimin wipes his wet hand on his sweatpants. He feels so nauseous, looking at it.

“Jimin.”

No. No. No.

“ Jimin ,” Xiyue repeats.

No. No. No. No. No.

Please don’t be what I think it is. Please don’t be it. Please don’t be him.

Xiyue just hands him the card. Jimin takes it with quivering fingers. And he reads:

AN EYE FOR AN EYE.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, PARK JIMIN.

Jimin passes out.

Chapter Text

JIMIN’S FIRST KILL , unsurprisingly, is for Jeongguk’s benefit.

A tall, foreign investor that neglected to pay Jeongguk for his help in bridging a solid deal. Jimin had traced him back to his hotel room, where he’d shot the man. The gun weighed in his hands, paralleling the new weight on his conscience, but it was for Jeongguk. Jeongguk who’d saved him from the brothels and gave him a well-paying job.

Jeongguk, who unfortunately, Jimin had feelings for.

After killing the man, he wallows in self-doubt. He sits there, gun in hand, staring at the dead body. He wonders why nobody’s come in yet to check up on him– the gunshot rang loud and prominent, the sound echoing in his mind. Perhaps it was all only in his head. He doesn’t know why it affects him so much but he remembers that he’s never killed anybody before.

He debates calling Jeongguk but he knows Jeongguk’s busy with school. Jimin wonders how the man can juggle college and the life of a crime lord so well. His identity flows between the two labels seamlessly. He’s seen Jeongguk play many roles, play different facades. But never once has Jeongguk been genuinely kind to him. There’s always something in it for him. And Jimin– little lovesick Jimin, plays along.

The once-acrobat dials for another man instead. The man who’s playing Jeongguk’s role in the wake of the photo circulation. Xiyue.

Xiyue and Jeongguk are alike in many ways– the resemblance is uncanny sometimes, both physically and… Everything else. They both show little remorse for what they do. They both do things for their own benefit. And they both aren’t… Physically… Active? Jeongguk hates physical contact in general. He despises sex. Touching. Affection. Xiyue is indifferent towards it. He doesn’t go out of his way to fuck around. If it comes to him, he’ll go along with it.

So when Jimin, sad and desperate, came to him. Xiyue gave him what he wanted.

He’s so desperate.

Jimin sits there, listening to the slow ring of the phone. Xiyue picks up. “Hello?”

“I just killed somebody.”

“Yeah? How was it?”

“I feel like shit.”

“It dies down after a while.”

“You say that like I’m going to do this again.”

“You say that like you think you won’t do it again.”

Jimin sighs into the phone and shakes his head. “I don’t like this feeling.” The gun is still in his hand. Why is the gun still in his hand? Why is he holding onto it so tightly? Jimin doesn’t know. He’s scared. He tells Xiyue that he is.

The man across the line is silent for a heartbeat. Then he replies, “Where are you right now?”

“The hotel room you helped me scout down.”

The line drops.

Jimin sits in dead silence, staring at the body, until Xiyue arrives. The mercenary, now Jeongguk’s double, pushes the door open with a slight creak. He closes it shut behind him, running a hand through his jet-black hair before he turns to face Jimin. Then the dead body. Blood pools beneath it, a sickly scarlet red tainting the floor below. It’s not the prettiest sight. Jimin feels slightly nauseous.

Xiyue walks over to the body, inspecting it with a nonchalance that Jimin’s gotten used to. He’s numb to these things. The mercenary has no regard for life whatsoever. Sometimes Jimin can see a flicker of humanity in Jeongguk– he knows that the crime lord isn’t completely… Gone. But Xiyue– Xiyue is different. He squats down next to the body and pushes him over. The corpse is pale. It’s been an hour. Jimin watches as Xiyue eyes the bullet lodged crookedly in the space between his eyes. “Good shot,” he says, tone a little too light-hearted.

Jimin sits still. His knuckles are white from holding onto the pistol but he won’t let go. Why doesn’t he let go?

When he doesn’t respond, Xiyue glances his way, finally noticing the way he holds onto the pistol like a lifeline. The man stands up, crossing the gap between them. He takes the gun and peels it away. Jimin feels a weight lifted from his shoulders but his mind remains heavy with fog. It had been too easy to kill the man. “Is it always that easy?” He asks, voice quivering slightly. Without the gun, he feels like he’s lost control. He’s so, so scared.

Xiyue unloads the gun, slipping the bullets into his back pocket. He presses the empty metal against Jimin’s palm again. Jimin grips. “I don’t know. Was it easy for you?” He questions.

“Yes.”

“That’s…” Xiyue trails off, turning his head. Jimin can see the slight smile on his face in the reflection of the glass. “That’s a bad thing, Jimin.”

“I know. I… I don’t like this. It just… It consumed me. This need. This want to do it. I’m so afraid.”

“I think it’s… Appropriate for you to feel afraid. It’s not a bad thing. You have a moral conscience.”

“You don’t.”

Xiyue shrugs. “I don’t. But that’s my problem. Not yours.”

Jimin starts crying. He keeps on crying, even as Xiyue wordlessly cleans up the mess on the ground, using the hotel towels to clean up the blood. He does it methodically, as if he’s done this before. Jimin doesn’t doubt it.

He doesn’t remember much after that. How Xiyue got rid of the body. How he’d cleaned up the towel stains.

Jimin can’t sleep.

He reaches under his bed, pulling the gun out from the space below. He hugs it against his chest and closes his eyes.

It’s not enough.

Jimin is forcibly sat down. Taehyung, Xiyue and Jung stand across him, all arms folded. A bowl sits in front of him. The smell is invigorating but lacks in ultimate temptation. He pushes it away in distaste, glaring at the three men. “You promised. If I slept for more than five hours, you’d let me out of here. Why are you making me fucking eat? I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like one,” Xiyue responds flatly. “Just fucking eat the food, Jimin. Then you can go and look for Jeongguk.”

“I’m not hungry,” he protests for the nth time in the past week. It’s been a week since Jeongguk’s disappearance. Jimin’s been searching for him non-stop. He’s been in and out of buildings, clubs, brothels– the filthiest, dodgiest places in Seoul but Jeongguk’s nowhere to be found. Jimin is terrified. But his anger, his drive is overpowering it. He’ll do anything to find the crime lord. Alive.

Taehyung sighs, leaning against the chair, glancing between Jung and Xiyue. “We did promise him. If he took a nap.”

“That’s… How is he supposed to find Jeongguk if he’s starving?” Jung replies, pulling a frown. He turns to Jimin, eyes sharp. “Are you stupid? You don’t have any sustenance. What’s going to happen if you get caught out? You’re skinny. You’re hungry. You won’t be able to outrun anybody at this rate.”

Jimin grits his teeth, reaching for the bowl. Not because he’s hungry but because he wants all of the pep talks to be over. They’re attempting to quell his anger, to keep him in check. Or at least, that’s what they tell him. The real reason is that they’re coddling him. Like a baby. They think he’s fragile, weak . Jimin’s tired of being called the weak one in their circle. He’s more than that.

He stuffs his mouth full of food, taking it by overfilled spoonfuls. He stares harshly at the food until his vision grows blurry. He’s so, so mad. By the time he’s finished, he stands up and says, “Good?”

Taehyung rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah. Jimin, don’t be reckless–”

He’s out before they can stop him.

As Jimin glides from rooftop to rooftop, he feels the weight lift from his shoulders. The air is freeing. Being out in the open, in stark contrast with the stuffy inside of his apartment, is absolutely liberating. He stands on the edge of a rooftop, peering down at the distant ground below. At the buildings, homes that scatter the pavement. He wonders– where could Jeongguk be? His worst fear is that Jeongguk’s being taken away. That he’s not even in South Korea anymore. The thought makes him feel dizzy.

He pulls back from the edge of the rooftop. He slinks down the rusty fire escape that winds around the side of the building until he regains footing on the sidewalk. He sees a car waiting on the opposite sidewalk, parked and running. It’s expensive. Jimin knows immediately, that it’s Xiyue, but he doesn’t acknowledge it. He just walks down the street swiftly. The car follows.

As he’s walking down a crowded lane, the car catches up to him. Xiyue rolls down the window. “Get in, Jimin.”

He keeps walking. He’s mad at Xiyue for trying to keep him in. Xiyue’s supposed to be that person. The one that gives him autonomy. Makes him feel like he has choices. But Xiyue’d been the spearhead of the Jimin Lockdown Operation. He’s still bitter.

Jimin hears a sigh. The car suddenly jolts, lodging up onto the sidewalk, blocking Jimin’s path, startling other people in the way. They give him crazed looks but speed on by. Jimin watches as Xiyue rolls down the window again, a pointed expression on his face. “I’ll fucking run people over if you don’t get in, he warns.”

The boy clenches a fist but obliges anyway. XIyue’s threats aren’t empty.

They drive along the streets of Seoul in silence. There’s music that cuts through the air, a deep bass that Jimin finds comfort in. He sinks into the stiff leather seat and stares on ahead. He watches as the buildings speed by. He wonders if any of them have Jeongguk inside. He wishes he could see into each one. He wishes he could see Jeongguk, alive and breathing.

Fifteen minutes pass. Jimin realizes that they’re deep into the city. Far away from Itaewon. He finally looks over at the man at the wheel. “Where are we going?” He asks.

“We,” he begins, stepping harshly on the pedal as they get on the freeway, “Are going to get you some fresh air. Not the shitty polluted one in the city. Real fresh air.”

“Xiyue, no. I… I appreciate it but we really need to keep looking. He could be… He could be dying, bleeding somewhere.” Jimin chokes slightly. He purses his lips tightly before he adds, “We need to keep looking.”
“Everybody is looking. Seokjin, Sol. Koda. Jung. Taehyung. The cops. Jimin, the cops are looking for Jeongguk,” Xiyue responds. Jimin watches as they pull into an empty lot. A wide field, grass growing unevenly. The stars are out tonight. “Just five minutes.”

“Fine,” Jimin responds with a shrug. He opens the door, stepping outside. He rubs a hand over his nose. It’s still cold.

He and Xiyue stand on the edge of the hill the field sits on. Jimin looks at the buildings from there. It feels so much better than standing on top of a building.

And Xiyue’s right. The air is fresher up there.

The peace stretches out for a good few minutes. Then he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket. He tugs it out. It’s an unknown number. Jimin reluctantly accepts the call, glancing at Xiyue, who eyes him warily. “Hello?”

“Hey– Hi. Uh, this is Koda. I found Jeongguk.”

Jimin’s heart leaps out his throat. “Where are you?”

There’s shifting. Silence. Then, “Um. We’re on the way to the hospital. Something… He’s not conscious. It’s really fucking bad.”

No. No, no, no. “Just… Just text me the address please.”

“Okay.”

Jimin walks through a cascading waterfall of stringed beads. He pushes at them, making way so he can enter the club. The outside and the inside are completely different, the music shifting into a deep thrum that courses through his veins. He’s been to many clubs before but not like this one. This one is big, grand and reeking of sex. He straightens. He’s never really had problems with self-confidence. At least, not to a great extent. He knows he’s pretty. He owns it, strutting through the crowd, smiling at men, women. They eye him like he’s the prize of the night. But Jimin’s unattainable.

He ends up at the bar that evening, alone. He sips casually at a non-alcoholic drink. He’s alone. No Jeongguk, no Xiyue. He and Jeongguk had another falling out, this time looking quite nuclear. They fight a lot. Jeongguk’s an asshole. Jimin’s stubborn and overly attached to him. Jimin wonders, nearly every day, why he’s so attracted to Jeongguk in the first place. He talks himself out of it– no, Jeongguk isn’t hot. No, Jeongguk isn’t powerful. No, Jeongguk isn’t the most intelligent man he’s ever met. But they’re all silly lies. Jeongguk is the most attractive person ever and it sucks because Jeongguk… He can’t even touch anybody.

Jimin’s a very touchy-feely person. He likes hugging. He likes sex. He likes hand-holding. He likes kissing. He can’t get any of that from Jeongguk, so his sickly mind has attached itself to Xiyue. Xiyue, who plays double for Jeongguk. Xiyue who looks and is payed to behave like Jeongguk. Xiyue’s actually asexual– something Jimin finds out from the start. He doesn’t particularly seek out sex but he fucks Jimin anyway. Probably because Jimin’s sad and lonely and Xiyue knows that he has a big crush on Jeongguk but will never have him in a physical sense. Much less, an emotional sense.

So he and Xiyue fuck. And make out. And hold hands. And it stems from something that happened before. Xiyue drunkenly and druggedly trying to throw himself off the edge of a building. Jimin saving him, stopping him from making the mistake.

Since then, the mercenary’s been undyingly loyal to him. A great asset for Jimin. Being Xiyue’s ally guarantees him an impenetrable protection. And Xiyue’s a good listener when he wants to be. Jimin rants his head off about how Jeongguk does this, does that. Xiyue listens. And in the system, the lonely system, Jimin really just wants somebody .

He drinks, sipping at the mocktail with disinterest. He looks around the crowded room. At the people being led into backrooms. At the men who are ogling women like they’re nothing more than sexual objects. Jimin scoffs, turning to the other side. He sees it then.

In a booth, lodged into an empty wall cavity, he sees a familiar boy draped over a familiar man. The young, pretty socialite Kim Taehyung wearing an angelic assemble tonight. He’s draped over another man prettily. Jimin stares at them, narrowing his eyes slightly, tilting so he can see the man below him. Lee Sungwoon, he figures out immediately. That predatory gaze is unmatched. He knows that Sungwoon’s a massive pig so he’s worried from that point on. Throughout the evening, Jimin alternates between talking to creepy men who approach him to watching Taehyung and Sungwoon. And somewhere along the time that passes, Jimin grows slightly hazy.

He looks at his mocktail with suspicion and curses when he realizes that he’s been roofied. Jimin pushes it away from him and orders a glass of water. The bartender hands it to him and Jimin’s quick to down the whole thing in hopes of flushing whatever drug it is out of his system as quick as possible. When he turns back to keep an eye on Taehyung, he feels panic settle. They’re gone.

Jimin stands up, hopping off the barstool. He searches around the crowd for a few minutes on his unstable feet, hoping that they’d just gone to dance. But they’re not around the floor. So he slips into the backrooms, quickly pacing down the endless hallway. By the time he catches up, he’s too late. He turns the corner, freezing upon watching Sungwoon practically hauling Taehyung’s unconscious body into the room. Fear settles into his stomach. The door shuts, locking, just as Jimin begins at a run towards them. He slams his hands against the door, yelling. But to no avail.

He can hear it– he can hear it all and all he can do is absolutely nothing. He slams his hands harder against the black wood, the solid material. He’s crying now. Or maybe he just hears Taehyung’s cries. But he can hear inhumane sounds. Jimin keeps on hitting at the door until his hands are bleeding. It remains shut.

Jimin turns around and runs into the main room, where he tugs at a guard. “Please help,” he cries, “Somebody… There’s somebody being…” He can’t even finish that sentence.

The man follows him. He busts down the door and barks at Sungwoon, telling him to leave. Jimin stands behind the guard, shrunken in on himself. Sungwoon looks at him on the way out, eyes flickering with some sick satisfaction. No remorse. Gloating, basking in it. Jimin doesn’t want to look at Taehyung. He doesn’t. He just stands uselessly as other guards come in to take Taehyung outside.

Jimin sits down at the foot of the door once they’re gone. He buries his face in his hands.

He couldn’t save Taehyung. He’s a terrible, terrible person.

It’s been a week since Jeongguk disappeared. And by the looks of it, it’s been a week of him alone, bleeding out. Unconscious. Starving, dehydrated. The image pains him. Jimin wonders how he could’ve survived– if he’d actually survived or if he was holding  onto the last strings left of his life. He feels absolutely terrified. He’s silent as they drive all the way to the hospital after receiving the address. Xiyue speeds down busy lanes with practiced ease.

When they arrive at the hospital, Jimin quickly rushes down the hallways until he comes to a stop in a loosely crowded one. Jeongguk’s in a special sector of the emergency room. Jimin peers around, confused at the commotion. He sees cops everywhere. He glances behind him. Xiyue hadn’t followed. A good thing, considering that he was playing Jeongguk’s double right now.

He pads forward until he sees everybody. Taehyung, stiffly sitting down in front of the room, hands clasped and head hung low. Sol, leaning against the adjacent wall, standing next to Koda, who remains cold towards him. The girl looks pale, eyes fixed on the door to the room. Jimin swallows roughly. She was the one who found him.

He passes by Seokjin, who’s talking to a cop. Officer Gi, Jimin presumes. He walks over to them, hands in his pockets. Seokjin welcomes him, shifting so he can join in. “Hey. Jimin, uh, this is Officer Gi. He’s working with Jeongguk on the Tattoo case. Um,” he looks at the officer. “And this is Jimin. Jeongguk’s…”

“It’s complicated,” Jimin fills in peevishly.

Gi nods and offers a sympathetic smile. “I’m sending out units as we speak. To be frank, I’m not sure where to start with this one. I’d like to pin it on Tattoo himself but there are no signs of similarity. No fire, no cuts. And it seems an action too inhumane, even for the wanted man.” He shakes his head. “But I assure you both– we will get to the bottom of this.”

“Thank you,” Jimin says weakly. He doesn’t trust Gi. Nor does he trust the police. But right now, having all those units sent out to find the man behind this– it’s beneficial in the long run.

Working for Jeongguk for two years has taught Jimin to look at the bigger picture. Details are important but it’s all about looking at what’s ahead, the long-term play. Xiyue can work his action as a double, cause chaos. Divert, confuse the police. It’s going to be quite a mess but nobody will ever suspect Jeongguk. And that’s the thing they need. Jeongguk needs to be safe.

Jimin excuses himself. He approaches Taehyung reluctantly. He looks so lost, alone. Yoongi and Jung aren’t around for obvious reasons– they’re high-profile police targets. He sits beside the socialite and says, “Hey.”

Taehyung seems to snap out of some kind of daze. He slowly turns to look at Jimin. “Hi,” he responds quietly. Something is bothering him.

“Are you good?” Jimin asks.

“Not quite. I feel really, really terrible. Instead of going after him that night, I sat pretty and… And god, I was so fucking bitchy and petty about Christmas dinner. There was so much more going on and what did I do? Get drunk and wake up with a fucking… A fucking hangover. And I didn’t even help and now Jeongguk… He’s…” Taehyung presses the back of his hand against his mouth, eyes slanting.

Jimin wraps his arms around the younger boy and pulls him in for a tight hug. He feels his throat swell, too. He closes his eyes tightly and catches his breath before responding, “If you… If you were responsible for it because you didn’t go after him, then… Then we all are.”

“I feel like that’s the only truth,” Taehyung murmurs. “Or else we’d all be lying to ourselves right now.”

Jimin hates that he’s right. He hates that well, yeah. Nobody really went after Jeongguk that evening.

He squeezes Taehyung tightly. He wishes it could all go away.

Whenever Jimin has a lot on his mind, he goes to the nearest gymnastics stadium to practice. He stretches out, does laps and then goes into routines. Routines are structured. He knows how they begin and how they end. And he likes the feeling of having controllable knowledge. When he feels like everything’s slipping away, it’s what steadies him, clears his mind and sets him back on track. He chalks up his hands, staring up at the daunting heights of each horizontal bar. He does a lead-up run and pushes up on his feet, grabbing onto the bar with all the strength he can muster. With the momentum, he swings his legs over. But his arm slightly twists. He drops down immediately, hissing.

He hasn’t done this in a while. He’s incredibly rusty. After rubbing at his arm, he goes for another run. This time, he’s able to complete the turn, launching onto the next bar. And from there, he doesn’t really know what to do. He drops again and curses. This is supposed to be easy for him. Why is it suddenly so hard? He feels like a complete amateur.

He rolls his shoulders and opts for a different routine instead. He works on his flips.

He does a front handspring, a back handspring. He sticks the landing each time.

He tries an aerial walkover next. And it’s a mistake. He lands on the roll of his ankle, hearing a slight cracking noise. He lets out a yell of pain, clutching at his foot tightly. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He can tell that it’s a sprain from the way it begins to swell almost immediately– not a nice one at that.

He doesn’t know what to do. He’s afraid to get up on his own, so he drags himself to his bag, drawing out his phone. He looks between his limited amount of contacts. And he decides that Jeongguk’s busy and Seokjin’s a better option– one who knows how to drive a car. He calls.

“Hi?”

“Hey. Could you come to the gymnastics place downtown? I think I fucked up my ankle pretty bad and I can’t walk. Or drive. Or anything– so, uh. Please?” Seokjin doesn’t respond for a few seconds. Jimin can hear other voices in the background. “Oh. Are you in a meeting or something?”
“Kind of. But I’ll come as quick as possible. Can you wait like, fifteen minutes?”
“Yeah. Thanks– so much.”

“No problem.”

Jimin lies down against the bag, staring up at the bright white lights on the ceiling. He rolls his ankle back and forth, feeling the throbbing pain. By the time Seokjin arrives, Jimin’s halfway to sleep. He’s tired.

The mercenary stands over him, a grimace on his face. “You want me to carry you?”

“Is there any other option?”

“Dunno. Just thought you were an independent, strong man.”

Jimin scoffs and lies limply against the ground. “Come on, pick me up.”

Seokjin carries him and his bag to his car. He lies Jimin down in the backseat, placing the duffel bag in the shotgun seat. And he drives them to the hospital.

Jimin is rolled down the hallway on a wheelchair. When they arrive at the emergency room, Jimin’s surprised to see Jeongguk waiting there. Jimin is paused by him. “How did you…?”

Jeongguk runs a hand through his hair. “Seokjin told me. Were you planning to hide it?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

He smiles humorlessly. “And how were you going to go about that?”

“Avoid you?”

“You work for me.”

“Unfortunately,” Jimin frowns.

“Careful what you say. I’m paying your hospital bills.” Jeongguk shoots him a pointed look before he walks away. Jimin huffs, leaning back against the wheelchair.

Jimin is released with a disgustingly bulky walking boot. He limps all the way to the entrance of the hospital where Seokjin and Jeongguk are conversing by the automatic sliding doors. Jeongguk looks at him, then at the boot and his brows flick up. Seokjin smiles but tries to suppress it, placing his hand over his mouth. Jimin looks between them annoyedly. “Shut the fuck up.”

“We literally didn’t say anything,” Seokjin responds, leading the way back to his car.

“Well, your thoughts are pretty loud.”

“How long is the recovery period? We’re supposed to finish another hunt,” Jeongguk says, pausing by the car door.

Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “Two weeks minimum.”

Jeongguk doesn’t even bother to hide the disappointment and… Annoyance? In his gaze. He just slips into the car. Jimin follows. Seokjin, too. The crime lord says, “The job’s in a week. I don’t have any back up.”

“I can come.” Seokjin fills in, glancing at Jimin sympathetically through the rearview mirror. “

Jimin mouths a ‘thank you’.

Jeongguk hums in agreement but he doesn’t look too satisfied.

Jimin feels bad.

To: [email protected]

Bcc: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Suspension Notice

Hello Mr. Park, we are emailing to inform you that your foster child has been suspended from Seoul Science High School. We would like to schedule a meeting in the upcoming week to discuss his behaviour and disciplinary action taken against him. If you have any immediate questions, please reply to this email.

Thank you,

Seoul Science High School Administration

[email protected]

“I can’t believe you,” Jimin says with a frown as he and Minho climb up the steps together. “You could’ve killed somebody.”

“That was the point, dad ,” Minho responds. The boy isn’t actually his son. Jimin’s not ready for that yet. But he has to parade around saying so because he’s sponsoring about fifteen kids right now, paying for their education. And to make it simpler to discuss with different admissions and administrations officers, he says that they’re foster children.

“Just because your classmate took your seat doesn’t mean you can set off toxic chemicals in the lab to kill everybody . You could’ve hurt yourself. Then what?”

“That’s why I had a mask on, Jimin. I’m not a fuckin’ dumbass.”

“Sometimes I wonder whether your intelligence is a curse or a gift.” Jimin shakes his head. Minho reminds him a lot of Jeongguk and Xiyue. Jeongguk in the brains part. Xiyue in the I’ll-kill-to-get-what-I-want aspect. Anyway, despite the fact that Minho is a pain in the ass, Jimin doesn’t have it in him to stop taking care of the kid. Jimin just wants to foster his intelligence, to give him a place to excel. A place that isn’t in the system. But Minho’s lack of an upbringing has had negative impacts on the person he is today. A lot of people in his school don’t like him because he’s so abrasive and constantly acts out of self-interest.

Jimin’s been to two teacher conferences already and he hears the same thing every time. Minho doesn’t know how to work with others. Minho’s smart but rude. Minho’s a pain in the ass to teach. Minho never does his homework. It’s always the same thing and Jimin always has to promise that the boy’s going to do better but it’s gotten to the point where Jimin has stopped telling Minho what to do.

They walk together to the administrations office. The secretary ushers them in. They’ve been here before, so Jimin’s accustomed to it. He sits to the left. Minho sits on the right. And in between them is Principal Yu. The man glances between them, then back to a paper in his hands. “Mr. Park, I’m sure you’re aware that your… Foster child has caused many problems for various teachers in our institution.” Jimin tries to interrupt, but the man raises a hand, silencing him. “Talking back, not turning in assignments. You are aware, right?”

Jimin ignores the condescending tone laced into his voice. He’d always been apprehensive of Jimin and Minho, mostly because Jimin walked in, twenty years old with a foster child who was just five years younger than him. A strange, unlikely pair. “Yes, sir, I am aware, but–”

“Then why hasn’t there been any improvement? As a foster parent, you are obligated to discipline him. I can excuse most of the things in the past, but this– setting off toxic chemicals in the middle of class? You should be lucky that I am proposing suspension only .”

“Why aren’t you suspending me?” Minho says bitterly.

Jimin jabs him in the stomach, warning him to shut up. This is bad enough as it is. The Principal is fuming but he retains his steady voice. “Because your grades are impeccable. Your test results are in top percentile. We value intelligence, competition in this school. The problem doesn’t lie in your academics, it lies in your attitude. Something that shouldn’t be too difficult to change if you’d tried harder.”

“So I’m sacrificing my individuality to conform to these ass-kissing students– ”

“Minho, enough.” Jimin shoots him a dark look. The boy clams up, thank god. He looks elsewhere, obviously irritated. The former acrobat turns to Principal Yu. “Sir, I promise I will try my best to get through to him this time. Having a suspension period will allow time for… Self-reflection. For the both of us. Anything to keep him as a student here, I’ll do it. I don’t want to give up his opportunity. He’s a very smart kid.”

“I don’t doubt that, Mr. Park. I only doubt your capabilities as a foster parent. However, I’ll allow one more chance. I hope this… Period of time for self-reflection serves its purpose.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Jimin and Minho end up sitting in front of the school, on the steps, while waiting for Xiyue to pick them up. Jimin’s wanted to accompany the mercenary to one of Sungwoon’s competitions. He will be tonight.

When the sleek sports car pulls into the driveway, Minho says, “A different guy. What happened to the other one?”

“Jeongguk?”

“Yeah. The smart guy.”

“Oh,” Jimin tries not to sound sad. “He’s not around right now. Busy.”

“I see. And who is this guy?”

“Old friend of mine. He’s just driving.”

“Because you’re too scared to drive yourself.” Jimin doesn’t deny it. He just slips into the shotgun seat. Minho enters the back seat reluctantly, hovering over the pristine leather as if he’s never seen anything like it before. Then again, he probably hasn’t. Xiyue’s pretty cars are so fucking expensive. Jimin thinks about all the scholarships he could pay for with the money.

Xiyue’s looking in the rearview mirror. In the rearview mirror, Minho is staring back at the mercenary. Jimin scrunches up his face. “Can you both chill? Please?”
“The kid’s giving me a look,” Xiyue mutters, stepping on the pedal.

“You started it.”

“You guys are kids.” Jimin sinks into his seat and closes his eyes. His head is pounding. It’s always pounding. Non-stop, these days. He feels like he has a constant migraine. He’s always moody. He’s always upset. And for some reason, he’s always so emotional about everything . He doesn’t know what it is. He’s googled it a thousand of times and he’s come so close to believing in astrology and charts and stuff just because he’s so desperate to know what the fuck is happening to him.

Maybe it’s just the overflow of suppressed emotions. Maybe it’s all just leaking through because of the changes that are occurring. Jimin’s just being tossed around in the tide.

“So. Why am I picking you both up from a high school on a Saturday morning?” Xiyue asks, breaking the silence. He makes a sharp turn. Jimin buckles up, clutching the belt tightly. Xiyue drives like he’s in an action movie.

“Because Minho got suspended. For trying to kill his classmates using toxic chemicals,” Jimin explains in a low mutter.

“Really? What chemicals?”

“I produced chloroform. Or at least, I tried to. Until my lab partner realized that I wasn’t doing a titration. He ratted me out to the teacher.”

“Cool. A bit of a hassle, though. If I can remember correctly, labs offer sodium hydroxide. It causes burns. You don’t have to do anything to get it in it’s dangerous form,” Xiyue advises. Jimin rubs a hand over his face and releases a long sigh.

“Yeah, but it’s not as bad as chloroform. Stop being such a downer, Jimin. I wasn’t even trying to kill anybody. I just wanted to knock people out, okay?”

“Like that makes a stellar difference,” Jimin responds flatly.

“It does, actually.”

Xiyue snorts.

Jimin sinks further into the leather seat and stares on ahead.

Jimin and Jeongguk work surprisingly well together. They clash a lot because of their extremely different beliefs and personalities, but when it comes to doing jobs together, they’re quite the unstoppable force. They walk together down the hallway of the small compound. Jimin with his gun and Jeongguk with his bare fists. Jimin grabs the crime lord’s arm loosely before they turn the corner. “Do you hear that?” He mouths, motioning for the left turn.

Jeongguk listens and nods. He eyes Jimin’s gun. Then holds up a number: 4.

Jimin nods, taking the lead. He sucks in a breath before he rounds the corner, raising the gun. A man pulls out his own but it’s too late. Jimin uses the butt of his rifle to knock him out. Then he ducks, dropping low as Jeongguk throws a knife with impeccable accuracy, lodging into the next man’s head. Jimin wants to avoid gunshots as much as possible, to prevent from alerting the other guards, but one of them fires. It misses. Jimin shoots the man in the chest and hits the next, clearing the path. He and Jeongguk sprint down the hall quickly.

They find the door after another calculated path of turns. Jimin busts it down with his rifle and raises it, pointing it at the man at the desk. A client who refused to pay Jeongguk. He looks up at them with wide, fearful eyes. He raises his hands in a plead for mercy. Jimin swings his rifle so that it’s slung across his back. He leaps onto the desk surface and brutally kicks the man’s chair until it’s pressed against the wall behind him. Jimin hops down and chokes the man, pressing him down harshly. “Where’s the money, Jeongin?” He asks sweetly.

The man struggles for breath. “S–Safe. The s–safe,” he chokes out.

“Code.”

“4509.”

Jimin turns to Jeongguk. The crime lord nods and punches the numbers into the safe that sits on top of a shelf. He opens it and takes out the money, sifting a finger through it, counting. Jimin is watching when he feels a sharp pain on his hand. He reels back to find Jeongin with a knife. His hand his bleeding openly, profusely. He hisses in pain, staggering back and holding it against his jacket. He’s about to use his rifle when Jeongguk comes up from behind him. The man easily dislodges the knife, prying it with strength. He jabs it into Jeongin’s neck. The man releases a bloodcurdling scream, but too bad no sound comes out. Jimin would’ve liked to hear it.

Jeongguk stuffs the money into his coat. He looks at Jimin’s bleeding hand and says, “Show.”

Jimin holds it out. It’s a deep incision. He watches as Jeongguk cuts a chunk of fabric from his coat. He wraps it around Jimin’s palm tightly, until he can feel the bleeding subside temporarily. His heart skips at the gesture, but it’s broken when Jeongguk says, “You’ll need to have that working for exit strategy. There are going to be plenty of guards. The rifle– use it.”

He just nods, slightly embarrassed at how he had so easily preened at the gesture. “Yeah. Okay.”

It’s all just in the plan, he supposes.

Jimin wears a tight cloak over his body. He stares at himself in the body-length mirror. He’s afraid of going to the competition. Something about the concept of it is so inhumane. Sungwoon pitting young kids and teens against each other for fun. It’s sickening. Jimin’s seen plenty of bad things before but his gut tells him that this is going to be ten times worse. And he feels terrible– hypocritical, mostly. He’s sending a seasoned killer in there to participate. Xiyue hasn’t been too transparent about the ongoings but Jimin knows he’s killed people without remorse. He wonders if he’ll Xiyue in his raw form tonight.

They don’t take a car. They have to be as discreet as possible. He follows the mercenary as they trail over to the empty compound. Jimin hasn’t been before. It’s empty, dull on the exterior. He sees no lights on the inside, no indication of life. He glances at the mercenary and wonders if this is the right place. Xiyue continues on.

They step into the compound. But it’s not plain like all the other abandoned locations. There’s a small hole in the far wall, barely covered with a torn black cloth. From where he stands, Jimin can hear it: the primal calling. He can hear jeers, screams. He feels anxiety build up inside him. But he’s seen worse. Or so he hopes.

Xiyue enters first, sliding down the steps with ease. Jimin pulls on the hood of his cloak before he enters.

Inside, everything comes to life.

And well, simultaneously, it reeks of death.

There are small platforms darting around the underground compartment. It’s so crowded that Jimin has to push between people, weaving through them as best as possible to keep in step with Xiyue. He feels disgusted by some of the people. Lots of dried up blood, sweat. He curls into his cloak but retains a straight posture. He’s not weak.

He stands with Xiyue on the edge of one of the platforms. Two late teens circle around one another. Their arms are poised into basic defence stances, a clear indicator of their inexperience. They circle around each other like vultures. But none of them are the predators. The real predator here looms over them, an omniscient figure that isn’t isn’t here but is forever omnipresent. He inches closer to the man beside him. “When’s your fight?”

“Next,” Xiyue responds.

Jimin nods and turns his full attention to the two boys. One of them goes for the first punch, successfully making contact with the other’s face. The younger of the two stumbles slightly, catching himself with a delayed reaction. He staggers before he throws a misdirected swing. The other boy grabs his arm and breaks it, snapping it right in half . Jimin doesn’t turn away. He can’t. He tries to swallow in the cry but he can hear it in his ears. A soft whine. Beside him, Xiyue is unmoving, watching this with his own sense of sick amusement.

Jimin feels too out of place. Like always, he has. He’s always had more of a conscience and it’s a weighing force.

The younger boy makes the mistake of trying to get up. The taller, broader one grabs him by the neck and throws him off the platform. The crowd bursts into a collective jeer. Jimin closes his eyes and tries not cry from relief. The taller boy doesn’t go for a killing strike. He simply walks over the cowering child and is hustled over to the scoreboard, where a messy line is drawn in tally. Jimin eyes the rankings. They’re all sorted by different numbered names. On the very top, number 127.

Jimin glances at Xiyue. “What number are you?”

Xiyue tugs down his collar. 127.

The former acrobat releases a stiff laugh. “Of course you are.”

Xiyue finally glances at him with those familiar twinkling eyes. “Wish me luck?”

“Luck,” Jimin responds.

Xiyue steps onto the platform, across the new opponent. He’s shirtless, boasting a very bulky body. He’s taller, more muscular than Xiyue and he’s holding a knife. Xiyue isn’t. Or he hasn’t revealed his own weapon yet– something Jimin assumes is more probably. Xiyue likes his knives but he likes them most when they come out in a surprise.

The other man, Jimin catches, is number 93. He’s ranked fourth on the leaderboard. He braces himself for what’s to come.

One of Sungwoon’s men, a moderator, motions for them to begin. Jimin watches as Xiyue stands still as the other man threateningly steps forward, throwing a false jab. Xiyue doesn’t flinch. He just stares back at the other man. And it takes that much to provoke the other. Jimin grimaces when the man reaches out with his bare fist, swinging at Xiyue’s face. Xiyue dodges it and calmly walks over to the other side of the platform. The man charges at him with the knife this time. Xiyue turns right on time to dodge again. He keeps walking back and forth and back and forth.

It’s a strange strategy and what’s even weirder is that it works. The man keeps on attacking and attacking until he’s heaving. Jimin stares at Xiyue’s face. And because he knows Xiyue, he catches the tell. The man’s sharp amber eyes darken momentarily. When 93 strikes, Xiyue ducks into a roll, getting underneath him. The mercenary draws out his own knife, a heavily-serrated edge. He digs it into the man’s ankles, until it’s burried into the hilt. The man drops to the ground in a surprised yell.

Xiyue stands up. He picks out another knife from somewhere on him. He raises his arm. With a well-delivered throw, he impales it into the back of the man’s head. Another bloodcurdling scream escapes him. And that’s not enough. Xiyue walks over and kneels by the man’s face. He easily picks out the knife from his hands. Xiyue inspects it and sighs before he stabs right through 93’s hand, impaling into the ground.

Jimin lurches at the sight. He presses the back of his hand to his mouth and really tries not to throw up. The crowd is yelling, screaming. They’re all obviously delighted by the display of violence. And complete dominance. Xiyue stands over the man, looking impassive. The moderator makes a motion. Jimin traces his gaze to the leaderboard, where 127 sits right on top, record pristine.

Xiyue hops off the platform, not without retrieving his knives. He slips them into his coat and disappears into the crowd. Jimin tears away to follow him but he’s met with a sight. Sungwoon is standing right there, in the flesh. He’s not looking at Jimin, but he’s looking at Xiyue with a smile on his face. Like he’s delighted. Jimin feels dizzy with realization. Maybe this isn’t… Maybe there’s more to this. Sungwoon’s trying to breed the perfect killer. For himself to use.

Jimin pushes out the crowd immediately. Xiyue’s already gone. And he quickly rushes out into the empty night. They’ve agreed for their meeting point to be past the first outer layer of buildings. He keeps rushing along the sidewalk until he sees Xiyue’s car parked. Jimin rushes over, glancing over his shoulder, hoping that he isn’t followed. There’s nobody.

He slips into the shotgun seat as usual. Xiyue glances over. “How was it?” He asks, if nothing had happened in the first place.

“Terrifying,” Jimin replies quietly. He laces his fingers together. “Is it always that bad?”

“Sometimes. Depends on my mood.”

“What mood are you in right now?”

“Bad one.” Jimin can’t really tell. His moods fluctuate but he’s able to keep it masked insanely well. Jimin’s always envied Jeongguk and Xiyue for being so difficult to read. Jimin’s such an open book and it’s debatable, how useful that is. Transparency in Itaewon is a strange thing. It’s harmful in the sense that everybody sees right through you. It’s beneficial in the sense that it helps you blend in.

Jimin frowns. “Are you alright?”

“Business stuff. You know I’m working a whole suit thing, right? They expect to see me back in China in a few weeks. To finish off another high profile target. But I can’t exactly leave Seoul, either. The leaderboard continues until forfeit or death. I doubt anybody’s going to be dropping out anytime soon. Sungwoon’s been visiting games.” Xiyue says all of this with a flat tone. Jimin looks between him and outside the window. They’re approaching his apartment. “People think he’s going to give information out this time around.”

He sees the dilemma. Jimin knows that Xiyue’s real job is important to him. He doesn’t know how Jimin’s request compares. “You… Don’t have to finish this. If it overlaps. Your job pays. I… Don’t. And even if I could, I don’t think it’s as significant, y’know?”

“I’ve made it this far. I’m not turning back.”

“But your job–”

“I’ll figure something out with it. Trust me.” Xiyue starts up the car, driving them away from the compound. Jimin watches as it disappears from the hindsight mirror. Then he looks ahead. They’re back in the city, amongst other cars, other people.

Jimin is the second person allowed into Jeongguk’s hospital room, once all the surgeries and treatments are finished. He’s been impatient, antsy about it, but he knows that he has to trust the process. At first, he’s reluctant to enter, but the rest of the people encourage him with kind gazes. He pushes the door open and slips in. He closes it shut and turns. Jeongguk’s asleep right now, head tilted away from him. As if he’s ashamed of what happened. Jimin feels his heart lodge in his throat.

He takes a seat by Jeongguk. His expression is difficult, his body is tense. As if he’s reliving what had happened to him as he sleeps. Jimin forgets himself for a moment, reaching out to touch his cheek. Jeongguk jolts awake at the contact, eyes– no. Eye prying open immediately. Jimin tries not to flinch at the sight. He looks… Different. Vulnerable. “Sorry,” Jimin whispers.

“No… No. It’s… It’s not that anymore. I just got… Startled,” Jeongguk responds, sitting up, rubbing a hand over his cheek. He’s looking the other away again to hide it.

“What do you mean it’s not that anymore?”

“The touching thing. It doesn’t bother me as much anymore. I don’t know why, but the repulsion comes, and dissipates. I think it’s because I was left for dead.”

Jimin presses a hand over his mouth and tries not to cry at that. Jeongguk’s no longer bothered by physical touch because he’d probably longed for it while he was alone. Left in the dark, cold compound. Lying in his own pool of blood, eye gouged out. Jimin can’t even begin to imagine the mental trauma he’d gone through. The physical trauma– the eye is irreversible. But the mental strain is worse. So much worse. “God, Jeongguk, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry this happened.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. The man who did it, I accidentally got his wife, the person he loved, killed. He wanted revenge for a long time now. He caught me out.”
“Still. That’s so… I’m really sorry.”

Jeongguk toys with his black shirt, shaking his head. “Don’t be.”

Jimin feels anger boiling inside him. He makes a mental note to ask Xiyue to help him find the man. Kill him. But for now, he needs to be strong. He needs to be calm, for Jeongguk’s sake. He clenches his fists and releases a quivering breath. “You said… You said it didn’t bother you as much anymore. The…”

Jeongguk doesn’t look at him as he replies, “Yeah. I didn’t realize until Seokjin asked me how I went through all the surgeries, treatments without throwing up. It feels weird. I don’t like it. But it doesn’t make me want to puke my guts out anymore.”

“Oh.” Jimin nods. He feels like he’s not even talking to Jeongguk right now. The man is facing the other way completely, disguising it by acting like he’s inspecting the bedsheet. He rubs the back of his neck before adding, “Jeongguk, please look at me.”

“It’s terrible.”

“Jeongguk. Please look at me.”

The crime lord shakes his head, features sharpening. “Don’t push it.”

Jimin goes quiet. He leans back and nods. “Sorry.”

Jeongguk doesn’t respond.

They sit in silence for minutes. Jimin stares at his side-profile, jaw stubborn and set. But his hands picks at the fabric of his sweatpants. He’s lost in thought, mind elsewhere right now. Jimin can’t tell exactly, but he knows that Jeongguk is persisting. Planning. Calculating his next move. It’s good that he’s continuing along but at the same time, Jimin thinks he needs to put it to rest for a week or so. He needs to recover.

So Jimin stands up. Jeongguk looks over at him, turning just a bit. “I don’t think it’s the right time to talk. Not right now. You need to rest and recover well and… And I need to think.”

The crime lord doesn’t respond once again, so Jimin begins for the door. Then, “Jimin. Wait.”

Jimin pauses, hand hovering by the doorknob. He turns. Jeongguk’s staring at him. And despite the lack of one of his eyes. Despite the obvious pain and embarrassment in his expression, he faces Jimin. He holds out a hand. And it takes a few moments for Jimin but he walks over and holds Jeongguk’s hand. He feels the initial flinch but Jeongguk doesn’t pull away– despite how he appears slightly uncomfortable with it.

Jimin looks at Jeongguk and says, “Thank you. For burning the contract. It means a lot.”

Jeongguk lifts a shoulder. “Least I could do for being such an asshole for the past two years.”

“What changed?”

“Everything.”

Looking at their intertwined fingers, Jimin knows, too, that everything’s going to be different from this point on.

There are a lot of men after Jimin. Xiyue knows that Sungwoon’s trying to get him dead because Jimin knows about how he’d raped Kim Taehyung. Which is bad knowledge because Taehyung comes from a long line of wealthy socialites. His connections are extensive. They could ruin Sungwoon forever. So naturally, Sungwoon’s been sending man after man to get Jimin dead but they never arrive. Xiyue intercepts them in any way possible, torturing them, killing them. It’s his mode of catharsis and way to keep Jimin alive. It’s a win-win for him.

He sits in his hotel room, brandishing his butcher knife. The latest man sent is sat down in front of him. No restrictions, no gag, no anything. He’s just sitting, face blank. Xiyue inspects the blade, the shine underneath the yellow light. The man in front of him seems to be impatient, his leg bouncing. Or maybe he’s nervous. Either way, whatever happens, he’s not leaving this room alive. So XIyue’s going to take whatever amount of time he needs and wants to get this done.

“Just do it,” The man says, voice shaky but tone defiant.

Xiyue looks up and scoffs. “And if I don’t?”

Silence.

He sighs and drops the knife to the side. “I’m fucking bored out of my mind, actually. I don’t have much of a job to do at the moment. And I don’t have any friends. Could you at least be a little more interesting?”

The man scowls. “This is… This is stupid. You’re going to kill me anyway.”

“True, but might as well enjoy the last minutes of your life, right?” Xiyue stands up, leaving the knife on the ground. He walks to the counter, retrieving a bottle of vodka, pouring two shots. He waits for it. And he can hear the light footsteps. The swing. He dodges, rolling over so he can see the butcher knife lodged into the counter. The man is trying to pull it back but Xiyue’s bored and tired now. He grabs the vodka bottle and slams it against the man’s head. Blood and alcohol fly into the air, splattering against the counter, the ground. He steps back, avoiding the mess with a sigh. The man is dead. His entertainment is ruined. The counter is broken. And his butcher knife is slightly bent.

He watches the clear alcohol blend into the red blood that seeps from the cut on his forehead. “Poor alcohol, gone to waste,” he remarks before picking up the two shot glasses, downing them swiftly. He picks up his phone and dials for a number. They pick up.

“When are you coming back over here?”

Xiyue walks into the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror. “I don’t know. I have jobs to finish. Loose ends to tie on my end.”

“You’re running out of time, Wes. You have a job here . And you’re expected to finish it.”

“I know,” he huffs. He pushes his black hair back from his eyes.  He’ll have to pick up slack on doubling for Jeongguk soon. He drags a finger up and down his jaw pensively. “I have somebody I need to kill. Somebody big. RIght now, they’re in a weak spot and the easy way out would to kill him at the moment.”

“Why don’t you?”

“He’s important to somebody I know. Somebody important to me. It’s a fragile situation.” He parts his hair down the middle, just like Jeongguk does. He catches the similarity. The resemblance.

“Well hurry up. I’m tired of covering for you.”

“Alright.”

The line clicks. He’ll have to speed this up somehow, but it’s going to be difficult. With too many people, too many feelings involved, it’s important to let everything happen organically. Disrupting a natural flow could be dangerous. And if he risks it, he’ll never see his target dead.

Xiyue doesn’t want that.

Chapter Text

“YOU KNOW WHAT,” Jimin calls after him angrily.

“What, huh? What?” Jeongguk responds over his shoulder tauntingly. God, he’s so fucking tired of this. They always fight nowadays and it’s always over petty things.

Okay. Maybe they’re actual issues but it’s petty to Jeongguk. He doesn’t care whether or not Jimin feels respected. They’re bound by a contract that doesn’t state anywhere on it that respect is obligated. Jeongguk just doesn’t care. He walks away from Jimin towards the door.

Jimin pounds heavily after him, grabbing him by the coat and turning him around. Jimin is furious. The boy slams him against the door heavily and punches him right across. Jeongguk shrugs off his arms and spits the blood against his face. He turns them around so that he has Jimin pinned. The boy writhes, digging his nails into Jeongguk’s hands. Jeongguk releases him, repulsed. He grabs his knife and holds it against Jimin’s neck instead. “You’re fucking insane,” he hisses angrily.

“You’re insane. You nearly got me killed! You knew that I was being chased but you used me to misdirect the guards– you said you had a plan!”

“That was my plan, Jimin. Your job here is to fucking work for me. Protect me. And you did it. Why are you whining like a little–”

“Why are you so fucking terrible to me? All I do is protect you. You said it– I do my job. Would it kill you to be a little more respectful?” He looks like he’s about to cry all of a sudden. Fuck emotions. Fuck them so bad. Why the fuck are they so complicated?

“You weren’t HURT, Jimin. You’re safe. Sound. I was respecting you. Do you want me to coddle you and baby you when we go out and do jobs or do you want me to treat you like a fucking equal? Make up your mind already.”

“This is about reciprocity, Jeongguk.”

“Nowhere in the contract was the word ‘reciprocity’ printed on it. I don’t get why you don’t remember what’s on it, I told you to read it.”

Jimin wipes his face, pushing the blood away from his cheeks, his mouth. He shakes his head and sighs. His knuckles are bruising, red, blotching purple. “I can’t believe you. I can’t fucking believe you, you’re horrible. I don’t know why I ever agreed to that stupid contract.”

Jeongguk pulls the knife away and tucks it into his pocket. He pushes the hair from his eyes and shakes his head, too. The crime lord tips his head to the side. “If you don’t like the contract, tell me. I’ll cut you loose, set you free and maybe you’ll find somebody else who’ll treat you with the respect you crave so much. But I know this business inside out. I’ve been underneath people ten times worse than I am.” He slides his hands into his pockets, fingers curling against his lighter. “I thought I could have respect too from one of them. He burnt my hand after I’d complained, you know. It’s why I’m not afraid anymore. I ran my mouth a lot.”

Jimin doesn’t offer a response, only staring at his feet with hooded eyes. So Jeongguk continues, “Another one sent me on a fake job. I got locked into a room for forty-eight hours, with basically no food and water until I apologized for saying anything. And look at you,” he sneers. “You punched me. And what? What am I doing? I’m going to let it fucking slide because I have a lot more respect for you than you think. Respect doesn’t always come in the form of compliments and praise. It comes with trust. And frankly, I trust you with my life.”

Jimin wipes his hand over his eyes. He’s older than Jeongguk but smaller in height. He curls up on himself, shoulders shaking. “Don’t break the contract, please. I won’t do this again.”

“I’m not going to break the contract. And although that seems like a promise, I know it isn’t. Because we always end up back here.” He takes his lighter out and uses the butt of it to tilt Jimin’s head up. The boy’s teary eyes look back into his. “Now get out of my way. I’m going to clean up the mess you left behind.”

Jimin steps aside. Jeongguk leaves the apartment.

He closes the door shut behind him and leans against it. He can hear Jimin sobbing through the thick hardwood. He shakes his head and closes his eyes.

It’s so difficult, sometimes.

Jeongguk can feel all eyes on him. He’d purposefully allowed for the media to circulate, for the people to know what had happened to him because if he’s painted as the victim then he’s safe from any assumption, any doubt. It’s a terrible thing to play on but it’s the only thing that’ll ensure that his whole plan is carried out as he wants it. His grand scheme, the one he doesn’t plan on sharing with anybody. Not yet.

He trails down the sidewalk, trying to feign as much ease as possible but in his vision– in his head, everything is so unstable. The lack of vision is one thing. But having the eye gouged out physically is a whole other. It places him as vulnerable. And that’s the one thing he’s always tried to avoid. But now, after everything, he’s stripped of every layer of security he’s ever had and it makes him feel disoriented.

Walking, as simple as it is, is the most difficult thing ever. He has to place so much effort into making sure that his steps are balanced.

Jeongguk holds his head high, however, as he hustles down the street. People are talking about him, staring at him. But Seokjin is waiting at the restaurant and he really just wants to sit down right now. So he quickens his pace, despite how hard it is to fall into a steady one. He arrives as fast as possible.

He sits across Seokjin. The waitress who brings over the menus does a double take, losing her voice for a few moments. Jeongguk ignores it and reads the menu, picking out a plain pepperoni pizza. And when everything’s settled, Jeongguk feels like he can finally breathe, exhaling loudly. “People are too transparent. Walking down the street… I could hear all their thoughts. Poor victim of Itaewon. Poor little college prodigy student. Poor Jeon Jeongguk. It’s fucking terrible.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Gguk. It’s not going to be an easy ride from here on out,” Seokjin sighs too, shaking his head. “People are going to be cruel.”

“I expect nothing less,” he replies flatly. “I’ve braced myself for the worst of it.”

He thinks he has, but when the young child that sits on the table over begins to cry, at the sight of him, he feels his throat swell. The child’s mother turns his head away and apologizes, bowing her head repeatedly. Jeongguk doesn’t even respond, looking down. He closes his eye. Seokjin leans towards him and whispers, “We can just eat back at the hospital. Or my apartment. Or yours. You don’t have to do this.”

“I need to get over it. I’m not going to be able to hide forever,” Jeongguk murmurs, opening his eye and brushing it off. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s been clenching his fists until he loosens up. His palms are red with blood, small crescent-shaped indents dug into his skin. He’s been hurting himself like this a lot lately. Not on purpose, but it’s like he’s lost the ability to care. Dying doesn’t seem like a bad thing. Jeongguk doesn’t quite fear it as much as he’d used to.

“Alright. But if you feel anything… Bad, then we go. You don’t have to rush it. It’s a gradual progression.”

“I know.”

“Alright.”

They eat, mostly in silence. And when they’re done, Jeongguk stands up so quickly to leave. He’s fairly aware that it confirms Seokjin’s suspicions, that he’s self-conscious about it, but he doesn’t need to hide that fact because it’s true. He wanted eyes on him but not all eyes on him and now he’s paying the consequences of it. He’s trying to push ahead as much as possible, trying to remind himself that this is all a part of his plan but it’s difficult when he feels like he’s dragging his feet through quicksand. Everything is so heavy.

The crime lord– can he even call himself that right now? – briskly paces out of the restaurant, leaving Seokjin to scramble after him. “Hey, are you good?”

“No,” Jeongguk replies tiredly. He keeps his head ducked as he navigates the street. “I need to get out of here.”

“Let me bring my car around– please?”

“No. I need to go. Now.” He knows only one place that’s safe for him right now. Safe from judgement, from embarrassment.

Seokjin stops chasing after him.

Jeongguk walks far, far away.

Xiyue’s staying in a hotel room. Jeongguk has to sacrifice the last bits of his dignity, walking into the hotel lobby and receiving too many looks of surprise, disgust and pity. Jeon Jeongguk, the one-eyed law student. That’s what he is to their eyes. The victim of Itaewon’s crimes. A cautionary tale to be told, warning people about what could happen to them if they weren’t careful in the dark city. A poster child for reform. He’s merely a tool for publicity now and it’s not the attention he wants at all.

He doesn’t want attention, actually. Any kind of attention. He just wants to crawl into a hole and bury himself dead for a while. Away time would do him good but he needs to be around to make sure that everything is going according to plan. He needs to make sure that he steers everybody in the way he wants them, all to end up in a position for the grand finale. He knows his plan by heart but he won’t acknowledge it by mind– it needs to be perfectly discreet. Nobody, not even his consciousness can be aware of it or it would never work.

Jeongguk presses for the ninth floor, holding his fake key card against the scanner. He allows himself to be whisked away by the metal box.

He knocks on the door of Xiyue’s room, sniffing at the air. He can smell something distinctly… Sharp. He’s always had a sensitive nose and it only takes him three seconds to realize that it’s blood. He raps his fist harder against the man’s hotel room. “Xiyue. It’s Jeongguk.”

The door unlocks immediately. Xiyue pulls it open and Jeongguk is met with a sight. Xiyue’s hair is golden-brown now, a vibrant shade. The mercenary motions for him to step in. Jeongguk does, and is met with a pristine sight. It’s clean. But the smell of blood lingers. “Do I even want to know?” He asks, sulking over to the couch.

“Know about what? You have to be more specific,” Xiyue replies with a huff, trailing him.

“Your hair. The smell of blood.” Jeongguk has a faint clue on what his hair is about and if he’s right, then good. It means that his plan is falling into place.

“The hair, well. I finished causing a ruckus around here for the meantime. I have the cops dragged down halfway to Daegu. And I need to protect myself. So I dyed it. And the blood, well,” Xiyue sits in front of him. “I’m not sure you really want to know.”

“I do,” Jeongguk responds, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Right. Sungwoon’s been sending countless of men after Jimin to take him down and I’ve been intercepting them as much as possible. Hence why I’ve had my hands full for the past days. Juggling both of your tasks for me isn’t as easy as it sounded, I guess.” The mercenary rubs at his chin thoughtfully. “Along with that, I have a lot of loose ends back in China that are causing problems.”

Jeongguk looks away and grimaces. Jimin’s life is being threatened. He knows this, but if even Xiyue’s having problems with juggling everything around when killing is supposed to come easy to him… Then Sungwoon might be more of a problem than Jeongguk had expected. So he says, “Stop doubling for me right now and focus on keeping Jimin alive. I can’t intercept any of the attempts until I figure out what I have to do, what role I have to play right now. Especially when school’s starting back up.” Jeongguk’s plans are going to have to shift accordingly, too. It’s going to be a busy road for him and as much as he wants to be the one protecting Jimin, he can’t. He’s not in the right condition.

“Alright. You might want to clear out of here, by the way. I have somebody tied up in my closet.”

Of course Xiyue does. He has fun doing this and it’s the reason why Jeongguk hired him in the first place. “I’ll stay,” Jeongguk replies, feeling a surge of energy course through him.

“I can get very brutal.”

“You forget that I can, too.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you get your hands truly dirty. What’s the special occasion?” Xiyue eyes him amusedly as he opens the closet. Jeongguk watches as he carries the chair effortlessly, with the man bound to it with a bunch of ripped shreds of cloth. A hand towel is stuffed into his mouth and he’s unconscious. “I got the idea of using chloroform to play. From Jimin’s foster kid or whatever.”

“Minho?” Jeongguk asks, reaching into his back pocket for his knife. “I don’t think I need a special occasion to want to cause damage. It’s more of a cathartic thing. I never really got to see Doyoung dead after what he did to me, although he probably is, considering that I’d poisoned him.”

“Huh. Alright. You sure you want to play with your knife? I have a silencer. Not really in the mood to clean up. And it’s more difficult when the deed is messy. Limbs and fingers and everything scattered around. And I know you’re particular about touching and stuff.”

Jeongguk repockets the knife and shrugs. Xiyue walks over to hand him the gun. Jeongguk holds his gaze as he takes the gun from the mercenary, brushing his hand against Xiyue’s. The other man raises a brow at this. Jeongguk inspects the weapon before he easily shoots the man in the forehead. The blood splatters against the wall. “After the accident I haven’t been too particular about touch anymore. It’s either I’m numb to it or I’ve been reverse-traumatized. Either way, it’s getting less uncomfortable.”

“Good for Jimin, then.”

Jeongguk glances at him. “Perhaps so. Although you’ve been keeping him warm for a while now, haven’t you?” He knows that Jimin and Xiyue used to have sex. Now, he’s not sure. But he’s known since that one time he’d snuck into Jimin’s apartment to sift through his things. He’d found Xiyue’s jacket draped over the small couch in Jimin’s bedroom. And it was evident from that point on.

“Can’t figure out what tone you’re using. Are you jealous?” Xiyue questions, jokingly.

“Not really. Jimin deserves somebody who can give him what he wants, needs, etcetera. I’ve accepted that I’m not that person.”

“Are you saying I am?”

“I don’t know. Do you like him?”

Xiyue smiles and shakes his head. “Oh my fucking god, you’re in love with him.”

“Now where the hell did you get that idea from?” Jeongguk scoffs, turning away from the man. He walks over to the mirror that sits above a glass table, one holding a variety of alcohol-infused drinks. He looks at himself, at the way his face slacks on one side because of the lack of an eye. He’s terribly fucked.

“Alright. Deny it all you want but if you’re balls enough to admit that you can’t keep him safe, depending on a psycho-fuck like me to protect him. Then I’d say you care about him. A lot. Don’t worry, I’m asexual. I don’t really seek out sex, nor am I sexually attracted to him. He was just sad. Lonely. Hurt. And I was the only one around.”

Sad. Lonely. Hurt. Because of Jeongguk. Back when Jeongguk saw Jimin as nothing more than the other end of a lousy contract. Back when Jeongguk had no regard whatsoever for his feelings– a time where Jeongguk cared only about himself. He doesn’t know what point in time it had all changed but now it’s distinctly different. He doesn’t love Jimin. He can say that for sure, but there’s no denying that he cares about the boy a lot. One day, he’ll be brave enough– mature enough to say it.

But now he’s young and stupid. And his emotions are everywhere. He has to juggle his life as a crime lord, a life as a law student with one eye and a whole nation of people after him. His plan– the only way out of this with everybody he cares about alive requires so much sacrifice. Even if it means he doesn’t end up with Jimin.

All Jeongguk wants is for Jimin to be alive after everything is over.

So even though he’s putting his life on the line, he’s going to make sure that it happens. Maybe he does have the capacity to save Jimin but he’s not going to do it single-handedly. He’ll pull every string, use anybody as a stepping stone.

He looks at Xiyue, who’s cleaning up the bloodstains.

He has the perfect puppet in mind.

Jeongguk is released from the hospital a week after. He’s discharged with a golden star from the doctor for being so compliant. And in no time, he’s on his way back to his apartment.

He closes his eyes when they drive down the road he was taken from that night. He can’t quite deal with the trauma yet. His dreams are torn these days. It’s either he has nothingness or an onslaught of terror. Reliving the eye-gouging moment for hours on end, squirming, thrashing on the hospital bed. He’s grateful for Seokjin’s company. The man pulled him through, waking him up and stirring him when it got too bad. Seokjin’s always been family and only now has Jeongguk accepted it.

He should have. So much sooner.

The crime lord steps into his apartment to find Jimin and Taehyung there. The two are sitting at the dining table, eating from take out plastic containers. One is left sealed. For him.

He shrugs off his jacket and places it on the table by the door. He walks over. Jimin’s eyes light up considerably and he says, “You’re here. We got you food, the salmon dish you like from the café downtown.”

“Thanks,” he replies hoarsely. He sits down next to Taehyung, taking the container and pulling it apart. He has no appetite but the two of them look so happy that he forces himself to swallow it all down. He used to like salmon. Now it’s disgusting. Miles of bland, pink flesh.

Taehyung clears his throat. “Uh. So are you going back to school now?”

“I have to.”

“Are you adjusted?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I lost vision in the eye a long time ago, actually. After being beat to shit in my orphanage. So it’s normal. I just feel weirdly exposed, you know? It used to be a flaw I could hide easily. But now everybody knows.”

“You can turn it around,” Jimin offers. “People will think you’re weaker now. They’ll underestimate you. But if you’ve lived like this for most your life, you have the surprise attack on your end. You have the upper hand now.”

Jeongguk looks up from the food. Jimin’s looking at him as if he’s the same person. He doesn’t flinch at the sight. He nods once acknowledgingly. He’s right. He does have the upper hand now.

Taehyung claps his hands and clears the obvious tension in the air. “Well, I have to get going. I have to see Yoongi right now.”

“Alright. See you.”

That leaves him and Jimin in an awkward silence. They sit across opposite sides of the table, although not directly across. Jeongguk’s trying to hide his mauled eye and Jimin’s looking at him. The crime lord picks at the remnants of the food, stomach upset. He doesn’t want salmon. He wants anything else. But he doesn’t want to be a bother so he reaches forward for the water, pouring himself a tall glass. He washes the taste away.

Jimin, in his peripheral vision, links his fingers together and has a lot of false starts. It seems like he wants to say so much but he’s obviously watching it. Jeongguk finishes the glass and tells him, “Go ahead.”

“You don’t like the food. But you ate it. You didn’t have to,” Jimin says softly. “I would’ve gone out, gotten more.”

Jeongguk looks down. “Doesn’t matter now. I’ve finished.”

“I know I’m not bound by contract anymore. I don’t even need to be here, but… I’ll always be here, okay? Call my number, any time. And I’ll be there–”

“I don’t remember.”

“What?”

Jeongguk closes his eyes tightly and searches. He used to have pristine memory but now it’s all jumbled up. Through the darkness of his mind, he can’t seem to find a stem reaching back. So he grasps blindly at the emptiness and is met with disappointment. “I don’t remember your number.”

“Oh. It’s fine. I’ll write it down somewhere, I’ll help out–”

“Jimin. I broke the contract. I set you free. Why are you back here?” It comes out harsher than he expects. He looks up at Jimin now and he can feel anger, pent up anger and emotions pouring out of him. Jimin looks appalled, mostly confused, mouth hanging open. Jeongguk has to sacrifice the boy’s comfort right now. For his plan to work he needs to push Jimin away. Push him to the brink of doing what he wants to do– cancel out any doubt. The plan , Jeongguk thinks, taking in Jimin’s teary eyes, the plan . It’s all for the plan.

“I know what you’re doing,” Jimin replies, tone even. “Stop. You’re not going to give me shit for caring. Not anymore.”

“I didn’t ask for your help. I have Seokjin. He’s done more than you could. I survived without you then and I will without you for the meantime–”

“No, Jeongguk. No, you won’t because you can’t keep calling the shots about when, where, what we are anymore.” No. No, no, no. Jeongguk closes his eyes and everything comes drumming back on him, smacking him to the ground with immense force. And he’s back there, in the stupid fucking parking lot with Doyoung standing over him. His hand squeezes at his eyeball, gripping tightly, blood slinking down his arm. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. Leave me alone , he begs his mind. He wants it to go away forever.

“Please leave me alone!” Jeongguk yells, clutching at his head. He places his head down on the table and shuts his eye closed.

Jimin rounds the table in an instant. He can feel the boy’s arms wrap around his body and Jeongguk cries and flinches because it’s not fully okay yet. Brief, fleeting touches– he can deal with. But this, this makes him so terrified because he doesn’t know if he likes it or if he hates it. Jimin grips him tighter and says, “Jeongguk. Jeongguk stay with me.”

He’s been untruthful with himself. It’s been haunting him since the beginning and it’s only been getting worse. Slinks down onto himself and shakes his head. Jimin keeps rubbing his back. Over and over again but it’s not helping. Jeongguk cries.

He wakes up in a dark room. His own. And Jimin is lying down beside him, arm slung around his waist loosely. Jeongguk slides off the bed and lands on his feet. He places a hand over his mouth, thinking he’s about to throw up but he doesn’t. Because it doesn’t make him nauseous anymore. He just thinks it does.

The real source of his misery, his pain, his anxiety are the recurring images that float around his mind. Doyoung is dead now but the memory remains. The man holding his eye in his hand, tossing it around like a plaything. The terror doesn’t just haunt his dreams. It follows him into reality, coming in brief flashes. He doesn’t know when to expect it but when his panic, his fear jumps, it’s when it comes the most. He doesn’t know why it happens but he’ll need to do his research soon. Maybe he’ll talk to somebody at Seoul National University about it when he gets back.

But for now, he can’t find it in himself to stay with Jimin in bed. He takes a pillow and moves to the living room. He fluffs it up, presses it down against the leather and closes his eyes. Jeongguk can’t find sleep so he remains awake until the sun comes up. He hears Jimin’s sigh.

Once Jimin leaves the apartment, he stares darkly at himself through the reflection of a mirror. He drags his fingers over his missing eye, the empty slit it used to sit idly in. He’ll play the role of blind mice for now but when the time comes, he’ll have everybody where he wants them and he’ll reclaim what is his.

“How are you holding up, Jeongguk?” Professor Lee asks as they walk into campus together.

You mean, aside from all the looks of sympathy, pity and disgust? The constant nightmares that follow me into the day? The fact that I have the weight of the fucking world on me? “Good. As good as it’ll get, I think,” he responds, feigning timidness. “I just want to get back to normal. You know, school and working with Gi.”

“Don’t rush the healing process,” he advises, resting a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder. He stares at the hand for a while, feeling strangely okay with it. Until Lee squeezes a bit too tightly. Jeongguk squeezes his fist and looks into the man’s kind eyes. “A bird with a broken wing can’t fly. And if it tries, it falls. I don’t want to see you fall.”

He swallows. He doesn’t want to fall, either. “I know. I just… I know the physical pain will go away. But the trauma is eating me alive,” he confesses. He doesn’t know why but it’s purely cathartic. Lee’s always been there for him, supportive of him.

“It’s natural. But it’ll go away one day. Maybe not for the meantime, but it’s a process. Work towards it but don’t push yourself.” The man smiles. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow. Don’t overwork yourself and remember– live a little.”

Jeongguk watches as he walks away, papers in one hand and coffee in the other. He rubs at his shoulder before he makes a beeline for his dorm room.

It’s unfamiliar, the sight, but the feeling is welcoming. The faint scent of his diffuser, the papers neatly stacked on his desk. The crime lord walks over and runs a hand over the smooth surface. He sits down and reaches for his notebook, opening it to the last thing he’d written. Research on Tattoo.

He closes it and sets it aside. He stares up at the ceiling for a long while. Then he reaches forward for his laptop. They’d told him not to do it but he’s curious and it’s an ache that lingers. He types in his name into the search bar and waits. Countless of articles pop up. He grimaces and clicks on Twitter. He wonders what people have to say.

He’s met with a hashtag. #JusticeForJeongguk . Which is ridiculous because do these people really care about him? Or are they just pitifully bandwagoning along, hoping for likes and retweets? He scrolls down, feeling beat down by the way people speak about him. As if he’s merely a tragedy. People mention him being an intelligent college student, using it as a way to play on emotions, to garner sympathy. It makes him sick because in the end, in a few days, this will all blow over and nobody will care.

Jeongguk continues to scroll for a few more minutes before his phone buzzes, interrupting. He glances over at the screen.

SOL: hey are you free right now?

He picks it up to respond.

YOU: yeah

SOL: ok can i come over to your apartment?

YOU: i’m on campus. can you pick me up?

SOL: yeah i’ll be there in ten

YOU: okay.

Jeongguk closes his laptop and shoves it underneath the pile of papers. He stands up and walks over to the door. But he hears something. Voices. He doesn’t know if it’s some strange bodily reaction to his loss of an eye but it’s as if everything’s been drastically heightened, like his body is attempting to compensate for the physical trauma he’d experienced. He peers through the peephole and sees tall men walking through the hallway. He doesn’t recognize them. And he might be paranoid– he doesn’t know a lot of people at Seoul National– but it’s better to be safe than end up with his other eye gouged out.

He sucks in a breath and watches as they stop to the left of his door, pulling out a phone. He gives himself a good thirty seconds before they confirm that yes, this is his room. Whoever they are, they’re clearly looking for somebody. And the odds are all against him.

He rushes to his desktop, where he grabs his backpack and stuffs in his notebook containing notes on Tattoo. Then he grits his teeth. There’s nothing connecting him to Tattoo explicitly, it’ll look like he’s just interested in the case. He places the notebook in the drawer, with the rest of his case studies. He picks his laptop and stuffs it in. He reaches into the bottom drawer and unhinges the small compartment, withdrawing his gun and knife.

Jeongguk looks out the window. He’s pretty far up– if he falls down, he risks breaking more than a  few bones. But he can scale. He glances at the door. Ten seconds. He opens the window and jumps out, gripping tightly at the small ledge. He hauls himself up and closes the window shut before he allows himself to scale down the wall at an alarming pace.

His balance– it’s so terrible. He nearly falls a couple of times. He doesn’t look back once he makes it to the final ledge. He hops off, onto his feet and he calms himself, beginning at a casual walking pace towards the crowded part of campus. Nobody sees him. Cameras aren’t present. And when he glances back at his window, he sees the men– faint, but there. They rummage through his stuff but don’t look out the window. Whoever they are, they may be onto him.

He wonders if they’re Sungwoon’s men.

He hopes they are, because if they’re not, then more people must know.

Jeongguk sits down in front of campus. He watches as Sol’s car pulls into the small driveway. He runs over and slips into the front seat. “Drive,” he says.

Sol looks over. “You okay?”

“People busted into my dorm. Just now.”

They’re on the road. The businessman waits until they’re steadily on the way before he says, “Sungwoon?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’re Doyoung’s people– the guy who gouged me. Maybe they’re finishing the job off.”

“Fuck. Fuck. You shouldn’t be alone for the next few weeks. I can drive you to school and back. I can have bodyguards surround you if you want. Just don’t be alone,” the man says pensively, rubbing his chin, driving with the other hand. “Okay?”

Jeongguk laughs wryly. “Bodyguards not needed. I’ve proven that I can handle myself pretty fucking well on my own. But if it makes you sleep better at night, I’ll stay over at Seokjin’s or something.” Sol looks at him with narrowed eyes but doesn’t object. People know better than to argue with him. He’s stubborn. “Anyway, why did you want to talk?”

“Oh. I just realized I never got to apologize for what went down at Kim Taehyung’s party. With Koda and everything, I don’t know. Maybe I feel like shit because it feels like… If none of that happened, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“It’s done and over with. And it’s fine,” Jeongguk replies, leaning against the door lightly. “How’s Koda, by the way?”

“It’s over. I think. I really fucked up and I’m trying to fix it but I realized that I’m not exactly the best problem solver. For people like me, like us, it’s easy to solve things with money and that’s what she hates the most, I guess. We worked together to try and find you. But once we did, and once you got discharged from the hospital, she stopped talking to me.” The crime lord looks over. Through the mirror, he can see that Sol’s hard expression is forced. “But that’s the way it is. I’ve tried to repair it. I’m going to try again but I’m not going to chase forever. Maybe she’s better off without me. And I’m better off without her. Sorry, that was excessive,” Sol huffs and shakes his head.

Jeongguk looks out the window then. “It’s fine. I don’t know anything about this stuff so I really can’t say much.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not good at it either, clearly.”

Jeongguk hums. “Well. In the end, it doesn’t matter, does it? People like us, we’ll do what we have to do to get around, to survive. We’re realists. People who like to act always out of self-interest. People who don’t like sharing, cooperating. And in the end, we’re alone. People we may care about, they’ll leave us.” Jimin will see one day. Jimin’s going to realize that he’s not worth shit compared to other people in the world. “Itaewon’s just a small pool. Seoul’s small. South Korea, small. There’s a whole world out there that Koda, Jimin have. But for us, this is it.”

“That’s really fucking sad, Jeongguk,” Sol says with a shake of his head. “But I have an itching feeling that you’re right. Would you do anything to keep Jimin safe?”

“I’d do anything.” Go behind his back. Manipulate him, to an extent. Kill people. Torture people. Steal things. There’s an endless list of horrid things Jeongguk would do for Jimin and it’s kind of worrying. Admitting it to himself like this– Jeongguk feels his throat lump with difficulty.

“Even push him away forever?”

“That seems to be the plan.” One of the outcomes of his grand plan is Jimin leaving this place. Finding a life for himself outside of Itaewon. If Jimin was raised in a better family. If Jimin’s circus never burned down. If Jimin never met him, then maybe the boy would’ve been famous. Maybe he would’ve found great success in dance, acrobatics. He’s smart too, so he could’ve gone to a good school, a good college. There are so many maybes .

Then again, if Jeongguk was raised in a better environment, then everything would’ve been different too. Maybe he would’ve found Jimin in another universe, under different circumstances. A place where they’d have some sense of normality. An easier life. They’d meet in a good college. Hold hands, like couples do. Go to movies, like couples do. Grow up together, like couples do. Fight– although they do enough of that already– like couples do.

But this isn’t that universe. Jeongguk and Jimin do not go to the movies together. Jeongguk and Jimin do not hold hands. Jeongguk and Jimin won’t grow old together and get married and be together.

Jeongguk and Jimin kill together. Fight together. Survive together. And then what?

He shakes his head and looks out the window, at the passing buildings. “Hey, can you drive me to Jimin’s? I need to go over some things with him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

They arrive at Jimin’s apartment ten minutes later. Jeongguk takes his bag and steps out the car, waving once at Sol as the man drives away. He goes up the elevator, like usual. He knocks on the door and waits. Jimin answers in a matter of seconds, unlocking the door and raising his brows. “Hey.”

Jeongguk looks at his attire. A silk robe. “Are you busy?”

“Uh. No. Are you okay? You look kinda spooked.”

“I’m fine. Can I come in?”

Jimin shrugs and allows him inside. They sit together on the couch, Jeongguk on the left and Jimin on the right. The boy has his legs curled up to his side, his hand picking at the fabric of the robe restlessly. Jeongguk rubs his neck and says, “Some men broke into my dorm room on campus. Most likely Doyoung’s men. But I wouldn’t put it past Sungwoon, either.”

“How’d you get out?” Jimin’s lips curve into a frown.

“I jumped out the window and scaled. I’m kinda fucking annoyed. I have to get back to my old life, you know? School, included.”

“Gi offered bodyguards. I think you should consider–”

“That’s not the fucking problem, Jimin. I can take care of myself.” His tone comes out sharper than he intends. He presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose and exhales. Jeongguk is acting. He’s acting like this is all pissing him off, scaring him. It’s emotionally manipulative of him but he needs to pretend, to get the plan to execute as perfectly as possible. “I’m sorry. I just wish this was easier. It’s too much.”

Jimin rests his head against his knees and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I understand and I know it must be hard. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better. Come to think about it, I was a shit bodyguard.”

“You were a good bodyguard. I know you’ve done more for me than you’d admit.”

“I have done a lot. But I wasn’t there when you needed me the most and… I feel like I failed. Like I haven’t done my job correctly and god, sometimes I wish the contract was still there. Because now, I’m not sure where my obligations, my priorities are. The contract gave me a sense of direction after the circus burned down. It made everything so simple .”

Jeongguk furrows his brows. “Jimin. Jimin, I have to ask. Did you read the contract? Do you know what was on that contract?” He’d made the contract when he was shielded, isolated. A terrible person, worse than the one he is now. He was in a very, very dark place. He hated everything .

The former acrobat opens his mouth, then shuts it. “You know, don’t you? I mean– of course you do, you’re a fucking genius.” Jimin looks dejected as he fiddles with the fabric even more. “I didn’t read the contract– I couldn’t. I just assumed it was about me doing anything to keep you alive.”

“There was more to that contract than what you assumed. Article seven. Keep a professional relationship. Nothing more than work. No emotions. Strictly professional.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Jimin’s lips purse. “Wow. I should’ve actually read it before signing. That’s probably something I should… Start doing. Reading. Writing, more.”

“Well, you have been reading, haven’t you?” Jeongguk remembers him making some references to literature weeks back.

“Uh. No. I downloaded some audio books. It was kind of annoying, considering that the reader had this fucking annoying high-pitched nasally voice and all but I knew you liked reading a lot. And I wanted to read the same things you were reading, so at least… I don’t know. I was just curious.”

Jeongguk smiles at that. He smiles without even thinking about it and it’s a strange feeling. Jimin looks surprised but he’s smiling too. And it falters after a moment. The boy bites down on his lip and looks away, turning to the side, focusing anywhere else.

The silence stretches thin. Jeongguk swallows, hard. “I get a lot of those nightmares. During the day. Whenever I close my eyes or let myself drift. Whenever I feel stressed my mind always goes back to it, you know? And I always imagine it. Over and over. Doyoung holding… Holding my eye, standing over me with the most shit-eating grin anybody could ever muster up. Telling me that he’d be sending it to you. And all I could think of at that moment was no. No. No.” His voice is so quiet. Jimin’s looking at him again with sad eyes. “I really wanted anything else. Anything else but for him to scare you. But I couldn’t do anything. I was too scared.

“I felt really scared, and for the first time in my life, I was so willing to admit it. I was scared when I woke up, regaining consciousness and finding myself in a pool of my fucking blood. But I survived. I’ve been surviving for so long now that I realized that I’d kept my arm over my eye to stop myself from bleeding out. It was so strange. It’s like I’m wired, on and on and on to survive . It’s all I know.”

Jimin’s looking at him with a gentle gaze. “That makes me sad, Jeongguk. Surviving isn’t the same thing is living.”

“Then show me. Show me what living is,” Jeongguk murmurs.

Jimin inches closer until he lightly places his hand on Jeongguk’s face, caressing lightly. The boy looks him in the eyes, searching. “Is this okay?” He asks, in a quiet whisper.

Jeongguk nods. It’s okay. He tells himself this but he’s not entirely sure.

Jimin leans forward and he notices the way he swallows nervously before he presses his lips against Jeongguk’s. The crime lord hasn’t done this before. He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing. His eyes flutter shut, hands laying uselessly at his sides and he feels strange. There’s a weird tingle in his gut, something unfamiliar, something distinctly new and he wonders, maybe it is okay. Maybe this will work out.

And it’s good, for a while. It feels warm and nice. And Jimin running his fingers through Jeongguk’s hair, dragging them over his cheeks, cupping gently.

Then it grows… Distant. The feeling dissipates. It slowly slides down until Jeongguk has to open his eyes, because he knows that the memories are coming back. He pushes away, wiping his lips against his sleeve. Jimin’s voice is so small when he says, “Oh my god. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, was that too much?”

Jeongguk shakes his head immediately. “N–No. No, it wasn’t. Not at all. It was nice. Like, really nice. It’s just me.”

Jimin looks like he’s on the verge of crying. “I shouldn’t have. I know you’re still uncomfortable with it and all and I really shouldn’t have.”

“Jimin. It’s fine. It’s seriously fine. Don’t cry,” Jeongguk responds, taking Jimin’s hand in his own. It feels so strange. So strange.

“Jus’ feel like I took advantage of the moment. I’ve wanted this for so long, I should’ve been more considerate–”

Jeongguk hugs Jimin. He wraps the boy up in his arms, squeezing tightly, pressing his face against Jimin’s neck, resting his chin against his shoulder. The tension slips away from his body, calming him. He rubs a palm up and down Jimin’s back and he releases a shudder. It’s strangely cathartic. “I think I’ve wanted it for a while too. I thought I’d never be able to have you like this. I thought I’d lose you without ever getting to do this.”

“Why are you thinking about losing me?” Jimin mutters against his neck. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“People are coming for me. Lots of people. I don’t think I have a lot of time left.” Jeongguk closes his eyes and feels like absolute shit all of a sudden, for doing this. For playing with Jimin’s emotions, manipulating him for the sake of the plan. Pretending that he’s afraid so that Jimin will run to Xiyue.

Jeongguk knows. He knows that Xiyue’s in Sungwoon’s competition. He knows that Jimin’s swayed Xiyue’s loyalty. It’s why Xiyue’s hair is brown. Why Xiyue’s been overly busy. He’s known from the moment Koda brought it up during the Christmas dinner. Jimin had the look on his face, like he knew exactly what he had to do.

If Jeongguk continues to pretend like he’s afraid, Jimin’s desire to protect him will grow. Xiyue will rank up until he’s working for Sungwoon. And it’s the perfect infiltration plan. He’ll have a direct line to Sungwoon and he’ll be able to kill the man. He just has to wait it out. Allow things to happen the way they’re unfolding naturally.

Jimin pulls back and holds his face. His eyes are dark. “I’ll keep you safe, Jeongguk. Even if the contract is gone, I’ll keep you safe. We’ll make it through alive.”

Jeongguk, with a heavy heart, nods. “I know.”

I know .

Jeongguk follows Namjoon.

He finds the bounty hunter perched on top of a roof, peering through a heavy sniper rifle. Jeongguk takes his gun from his back pocket. It weighs absolutely nothing in his hand. It’s light and easy. Just like this job.

“I always thought you were a bit too naive for a genius college student,” Namjoon says without turning around. The man clicks his sniper, locking it down to the ground. “I looked you up, you know? There are no records of you from your childhood. Nothing extensive. It was kind of obvious, that you weren’t from the paperwork world.”

Jeongguk slips his free hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt. He’d figured somewhere along the way, too, that Namjoon knew. Or at least had some doubt about his identity. “When I found out I’d be working with a bounty hunter, especially you , I worried a bit. A person who was just as smart as me, maybe smarter. I wondered, on the other hand, how long it would take you to realize I wasn’t who I put myself out to be. Not fully.”

“I’m not entirely sure, to be honest. I didn’t connect the dots as far as I’d wanted. Especially after your accident.”

“You want to take a nice guess?” Jeongguk offers.

Namjoon turns around, rising to his feet. The tall bounty hunter looks him up and down, as if seeing him for the first time in his life. And it’s really the first time he’s seeing Namjoon, too. In the dark of night, everything changes. The shadows crawl out of hiding, slinking out of the cracks of the sidewalk and the windows of the buildings. And it’s the time when people are ugliest. The murderers, the killers, the criminals. They’ve come to life.

“You know, I thought so at one point but I didn’t want to assume. I had this irrational paradoxical fear. If you were who I thought you could be, I thought to myself: fuck. A police officer can’t sniff a criminal right under his nose. On the other hand, if you weren’t who I thought you could be, then I thought to myself: fuck. I’m afraid of a kid .” The bounty hunter lifts a shoulder. “I don’t want to guess. I don’t know which is worse.”

Jeongguk lifts his sweatshirt to reveal the curling dragon tattoo underneath. Namjoon’s eyes slit slightly but he doesn’t seem all-too surprised. He releases the hem and shrugs, too. “What now? I was coming to kill you but I think I have a better proposition.”

“We bounty hunters put on this illusion of togetherness . Like we’re some kind of impenetrable brotherhood. But it’s not true. All of us are selfish. What’s your proposition?”

“I happen to know that you hate Lee Sungwoon. Of course, after he killed your best friend. The other bounty hunter. I happen to know that you want him dead.”

Namjoon nods. His expression is slightly pained, probably at the memory. Jeongguk had poked around Namjoon's history too, via his bounty hunter allies. Namjoon had a close friend, a fellow bounty hunter that was captured by Sungwoon, tortured and killed. “You’re right.”

“Well, I have a way in. I have a way to get revenge for all of us. You. Me. A friend of mine… Sungwoon violated him. And I think that Sungwoon deserves to rot in hell, honestly. Of course, at the end of all of this, we’ll all be there with him, but before I do, I sure want to see Sungwoon writhing underneath me, begging for forgiveness.”

“Strangely enough, I’ve had the same strange fantasy. I want to ask, though: Why now? Why bother working with me? I’m sure you’re more than capable of doing this on your own, Tattoo .”

“Maybe not so much anymore. I’m starting to realize that I can’t carry it all on my own. And I need your help keeping my identity a secret from Officer Gi, a fucking complication in this whole situation.”

The bounty hunter purses his lips thoughtfully. And then he nods. “I get it. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that.”

“Couldn’t think of a better way to put it.”

“And your game plan?”

“Trust me. It’s working. We just need to ride along.”

“Perfect.” Namjoon turns around and kneels back where he was before, peering through the sniper rifle. “Now get the fuck out of here. I have a job to do.”

Jeongguk backs away.

He can’t wait.

Chapter Text

TAEHYUNG FEELS HIS PHONE BUZZ in his pocket just as he begins to unbutton Hoseok’s shirt. He ignores it for the first time it rings, but when it begins again, it’s Hoseok who pulls off, giving him a pointed look. He frowns at the crime lord but picks up anyway, not bothering to check who’s calling. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Jeongguk.”

He scrambles to sit up, running a hand through his messy hair. “Jeongguk. Hey, how are you?” He can see Hoseok’s annoyed expression from the side. Understandable, considering that this isn’t the first time Jeongguk’s interrupted one of their make-out sessions.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to… I guess, ask if we could all have some sort of… Dinner again? Minus all the drama from Christmas. I just have somebody I want to introduce.”

“Oh. Yeah, definitely. When are you free?”

“Anytime. Tomorrow night?”

“Sure. I’ll check with my side of things, you take care of the rest?”

“Alright. Thank you.”

“Anytime. Bye.”

The line clicks off and he tosses his phone aside. He doesn’t know why he feels unnecessarily overprotective of Jeongguk. He genuinely likes the younger boy and Taehyung’s scared for him, his life. A part of him wishes that Jeongguk would just leave it all behind. He's young, he's handsome, he's smart– he could achieve greater things than being some powerful crime lord. But he'll never say this to Jeongguk's face because he knows that Jeongguk would hold his ground, even if he was burnt to ashes himself.

Taehyung realizes that he must be staring because Hoseok cups his cheek, fingers gentle, drawing him back into reality. The man gives him a curious look, brows knitted slightly. “Are you good? What did he want?”

“Dinner with everyone. Are you free tomorrow night?”

He looks like he’s about to say no– Taehyung won't fault him for it–, but he relents and nods, once. “Yeah. I am.”

“Then please come. I think bad stuff is going to happen soon. If anybody gets hurt again…” He feels his eyes wet slightly. He feels partially responsible for what happened to Jeongguk, the loss of his eye. If he hadn’t been so adamant in getting everyone together last time… Maybe things would have been so much more different. Mixing people from different sides of the spectrum was a terrible idea. Especially when Taehyung doesn’t know much about everyone’s relations.

Hoseok sighs and rests his chin against Taehyung’s head, pulling him in for a loose hug. “You know that I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you. Right?”

“It’s not me I’m worried about. And I can take care of myself.”

The crime lord laughs. “I know you can. Just… I’m here too.”

Taehyung nods, gnawing on his lower lip thoughtfully. “Yeah, I know.”

“Okay, babe.” Hoseok kisses him on the forehead before he stands up. The man pulls on his blazer, taking it from the table beside the couch. “I have that meeting with some important clients outside Itaewon. I won’t be back until tomorrow morning, so if you need anything… Call.”

“Yeah. Take care.” Taehyung flashes him a smile, trying to reassure him that he’s fine but it falters. Hoseok looks distinctly aware about how worried and stressed he’s been in the past couple weeks but he doesn’t comment any further, only smiling too. He walks out, hovering by the door for a brief second before he shuts it close behind him. And Taehyung is left again.

Alone.

It’s not like he isn’t used to it. His parents are always elsewhere. And when they’re at home, they boss him around and drag him to their socialite parties. They’re the only family he has so he has to turn elsewhere for any sort of genuine human interaction. Which is why he tries to occupy himself with any people he can find. It just happens to be some strange coincidence that all of his current friends are very, very dangerous people.

He’d first met Hoseok when he was about sixteen? Two years ago, give or take. He wasn’t a big crime lord yet, he was just climbing his way up the ranks of Itaewon. He was doing some job that evening, showing up at one of the big socialite galas. Growing up in said environment, Taehyung practically knew everyone so when he showed up, Taehyung’s interest was piqued. Probably, too, because he was incredibly intoxicated.

He’d approached Hoseok, stumbling on his own two feet. The man wasn’t interested back then, too occupied with his job, so he’d rejected Taehyung’s advances. And Taehyung– hurt, drunk, neglected–, he’d cried on the spot. So Hoseok took him outside and calmed him down, sobering him up. Hoseok had missed his target that evening but he didn’t seem to care. But they didn’t really pursue anything until a year later, when they’d met again in the same gala, under different circumstances. Hoseok was high in power and Taehyung was positively sober.

It was Taehyung who had approached, tapping him on the shoulder. Hoseok turned around and smiled. And Taehyung was unbelievably whipped .

They’re not dating, though. They’re like… Best friends with benefits. Something of that sort. It’s not like Taehyung wouldn’t date Hoseok. And it’s not like Hoseok doesn’t reciprocate his hopeless feelings. It’s just that they both mutually acknowledge the fact that they can and never will be a normal couple. So they fuck it out and see each other when they can.

Then there’s Min Yoongi. Taehyung likes him but not in the heart-wrenching, longing-for way that he feels for Hoseok. He knows that Yoongi has a big crush on him but he can’t fully reciprocate because it’s wrong. So they fuck it out too, occasionally. And Taehyung flirts, but he’s established that it couldn’t be anything more. Yoongi agrees with him but he does with a dark, dull look in his eyes.

Taehyung’s terrible.

He thinks about all of this, lying down on the couch. He wishes he could have them both. But he can’t. He has everything – money, a beautiful home, people working for him– but at the same time, he has nothing . He always ends up alone and it’s beginning to swallow him whole.

“Hey!”

Seokjin’s walking into one of the cafés down his street when he’s stopped. He looks over his shoulder to find Kim Taehyung rushing after him. His bodyguards are eyeing him from where his car is parked in the small lot. Seokjin, in turn, looks at them warily before he focuses on the young socialite. “Hey. What are you doing here?”

“Buying cake,” Taehyung huffs out, following him inside. Seokjin treads over to the casing, displaying all of the cakes. Taehyung stops in front of it, placing his two hands on the cold glass, eyes twinkling in excitement. “I assume Jeongguk’s told you? He’s inviting everyone to my place. I mean, I’m inviting everyone for him. For a dinner redo.”

The mercenary blinks. “Last time we did this, things didn’t end well.”

“Those were under different circumstances, I think. Anyway, he said he wanted to introduce somebody to everyone so I think this is too important to fuck up.” Taehyung’s voice is insistent and Seokjin knows better than to argue. He doesn’t want to– he knows that Taehyung’s incredibly sensitive, especially after the Christmas fiasco. That he feels like it’s his fault, everything that had happened. So Seokjin keeps his mouth shut and agrees.

Taehyung ends up picking out three cakes. A chocolate one, a caramel one and a double-layered ice cream cake. Seokjin stands by him, having already ordered his own small cup of coffee. He finishes it by the time Taehyung’s decided and so his hands are free. He helps the boy carry the packages back to his range rover, placing them securely in the backseat.

Taehyung looks at him and gives him a bright smile. “I hope you can make it, Seokjin. Tomorrow night.”

He can’t refuse. He just smiles, a bit fainter. “Yeah, sure. I’ll drop by.”

The socialite hugs him loosely before he drives away. And Seokjin sighs, pulling out his phone.

YOU: who are you bringing to taehyung’s?

JEONGGUK: namjoon.

YOU: ????????

JEONGGUK: he knows.

Of course he does. It was just about time before the bounty hunter became fairly aware about what was really happening in front of his eyes. It was about time he’d realized that the person he was hunting for was the same person who’d come into work feigning cluelessness. Seokjin rubs his chin before he decides to call Namjoon, who picks up almost imminently.

“Seokjin,” the bounty hunter greets.

“So you know,” he responds, sliding into his own car. He checks himself in the rearview mirror while waiting for a response.

“About Jeongguk? Yeah, I do. You want to explain what the fuck is going on? How it all happened?”

“Are you free right now?”

“Now I am.”

“Okay, meet me at my place.”

The line clicks. Seokjin’s left to his own thoughts. He’s extremely worried about Jeongguk. About Jimin. About everything that’s going on and it’s unlike him to be. He’s always trusted the both of them to be careful but the word doesn’t apply, anymore, to this world they live in. There’s no being careful anywhere because even when you think you’re exercising some level of caution something’s going to bite you in the ass. And it’s terrifying, the uncertainty that accompanies their actions.

It used to be easier, to be able to see a bit into the future. To guess what actions have what consequences but it’s like looking through an impenetrable haze of smoke. He wonders how difficult it must be for Jeongguk, to be navigating through the world with only one eye. It’s hard to see alone– to be visually impaired, it must be so much worse. And it’s not pity then, that Seokjin feels. It’s admiration at how far Jeongguk’s come. But as somebody who’s been there since the start for him, he feels like he needs to protect the younger boy. It’s why he’s allocating some of his own bodyguards to Jeongguk. The crime lord isn’t aware but he’s posted men around his apartment to make sure that everything is clear. And so far, it hasn’t been.

There’s a strange onslaught of men coming for him. Seokjin doesn’t know from who yet but he’s bound to find out. They don’t seem to be coming for Jeongguk as Tattoo either. They’re going for Jeongguk as Jeongguk . But he can’t quite put his finger to who would do such a thing. He’s victimized in the media, portrayed as somebody who’s been subjected to the horrors of Itaewon’s crime– how could anybody possibly continue to target him now?

He sighs to himself, shaking his head. He’ll figure it out. He’ll try. But for now, he has to talk to Namjoon about everything.

The bounty hunter awaits him, sitting down at his dining table. Seokjin sits across him, spreading his hands out. “What do you want to know about him?” He asks.

“How’d he get himself into this business? He told me he didn’t have any parents so I assume it’s one of those stories. But he’s made it up the rankings. There’s little to no chance of that happening.”

“He’s smart,” Seokjin responds easily. “Smarter than average. It’s been good as leverage for him. He’s good at timing, at seeing ahead. Working through impairments, struggles, problems.”

“But why is he doing this?”

“Because it’s all he knows. He was… In some adoption homes when he was younger. He was hurt by people there so he fled, found himself in Itaewon. I met him in school, gave him money, a home to live in because I knew that he would be great one day. And he is.” Seokjin explains with a shrug. “He grew up trying so hard to survive, to self-preserve. You can’t just shift gears all of a sudden. Turn the other way and be good. You should know that, of all people.”

Namjoon’s expression grows dim at his words. The man lost his closest friend when he was much younger, and it’s why he was so adamant on joining the bounty hunters. He vied for a spot for the longest time and was only initiated into the group recently, about two years ago. Seokjin’s aware of what he wants– Sungwoon’s head on a stick. But once he gets that– if he ever avenges his friend, then what?

A lot of people in the business spend their whole lives trying to rise to the top. Then they spend years trying to maintain their position as prominent crime lords. Then after it shifts, bringing new people into the scene, they grow irrelevant. And it’s difficult to recuperate from being shoved into the shadows because you’ve driven yourself so far, to become the worst of them all. There’s no slinking back into the paperwork world at that point because your mind is hardwired – kill, survive, kill, survive, kill, survive.

Seokjin’s lucky to have one foot out of the deep end. He’s working a normal business with his family on one hand and is juggling the life of a mercenary on the other. He doesn’t have a complete obligation to either, he can shift wherever he wants. If he wants to stop being a mercenary, he can. He has income coming from the other side of things. But these people? People like Jeongguk? They can’t.

The bounty hunter sighs after a while. “I can’t believe a kid is running this town. He has the whole nation going for him. Or at least, his villainous alter-ego. How many people know his true identity?”

“You. Me. Park Jimin, his closest ally. Jung Hoseok. Min Yoongi. Sol Young. The socialite, Kim Taehyung…” Seokjin purses his lips. “Lee Sungwoon. Sungwoon knows his identity.”

A frown. “How is Jeongguk still alive if Sungwoon knows?”

“Sungwoon’s playing with him. He’s trying to crush Jeongguk himself, I think. And I hear that Park Jimin has something above his head– something that could kill his reputation, end his job as a crime lord. Sungwoon’s been trying to get rid of Jimin but there’s somebody intercepting his attempts. It’s all a big clusterfuck of people trying to protect each other at this point.”

“What could that Jimin kid possibly have over Sungwoon? His hands are as dirty as everyone else’s.”

“You know how this works. We play dirty with people within Itaewon,” Seokjin replies dully. “I have a feeling that Sungwoon did something. To somebody not within Itaewon’s system. Somebody with the power, the influence to take him down.”

“We need to find out who that is, then,” Namjoon murmurs.

“Right,” Seokjin nods. “Then we have the power to kill him, too.”

Namjoon spends the whole afternoon thinking about Sungwoon. About Jimin. About everything. Frankly, when he’d found out that Jeon Jeongguk was Tattoo, he’d been surprised. He’d been good at keeping his shock a secret but once the boy left him to be on the rooftop, he’d sucked in a deep breath.  Admittedly, he’d been taken aback by the revelation. And simultaneously, incredibly impressed with the fact that Jeongguk managed to weasel his way into the National Police Agency.

It’s a weird thought. Tattoo himself, working on the Tattoo case. Sitting in a room of officers who are looking for him. Navigating through the agency building, where most people are searching, scanning for him. And dealing with a bounty hunter who could very well have him dead in seconds. It’s impressive and at the same time, worrying, how Officer Gi let this slip.

Namjoon’s keeping his mouth shut mostly because he wants Sungwoon dead. But a part of him is curious to see how far Jeongguk can go with his scheme. He wants to see him deal with it, wants to see how his mind works. He’s brilliant– that’s established fact but it’s a whole other thing to see the behind-the-scenes process of everything. So he agrees to Jeongguk’s dinner. Where Namjoon will meet the rest of the people working with him, or allied with him.

Maybe he’ll get to talk to Park Jimin, the boy who knows Sungwoon’s weakness. Maybe he’ll get to exploit it for himself.

God, he just wants to see Sungwoon dead .

It’s one of those stories. Namjoon had a friend once. Somebody he loved so dearly that when Sungwoon murdered him, it had broken something in him. Namjoon is angry. He’s been angry for a while now and he has a feeling that the day he’ll be free of it is coming. Sooner than he thinks.

He walks into one of the bounty hunter bases, uptown Itaewon. It’s a shabby old building appearing on the outside, but the inside is polished, neat and secure. He passes by one of the meeting rooms, eyeing the other hunters that work. They’re all looking for Tattoo right now.

He’s surprised when he runs into Sol Young in base. The man’s a retired bounty hunter– he was the youngest to be initiated, at the ripe age of fifteen. But he’d quit early on too. Nonetheless, he was well-known. Namjoon approaches– they know each other on the outside but he’s not sure if Sol knows that he’s a bounty hunter. By the expression on his face, he’s aware. But he seems surprised nonetheless.

“Namjoon. I thought you worked downtown?”

“I do. I’m just floating around right now. Thinking. What are you doing here?”

Sol reveals his faded tattoo. The symbol of a bounty hunter. “Thinking about getting reinstated.”

“I thought you were working business now. Smuggling, last time I heard?”

“Smuggling… Is not the proper word for it… Though you could say so.” He grimaces slightly. “But yeah, no. I’ve been feeling lost. And bored lately. Figured I could use a little brotherhood.”

Namjoon inches closer, so he can say, “Are you here to protect him?”

A quirked brow. “Him?”

“Jeongguk.”

Sol’s eyes narrow momentarily. Like he’s trying to figure out if this is some ploy. If Namjoon’s being serious. But his shoulders slack. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. Should I be worried about you?”

“No. We’re surprisingly on the same side on this one.”

The man looks like he doesn’t trust him at all but he just nods, a bit detached. “Alright. I’d better get back to work, then. I may have a reputation with you bounty hunters but it’s not going to get me reinitiated into the group.”

“You’d be surprised how many people admire you,” Namjoon responds flatly.

He’s one of them.

Sol’s mission to get reinstated is simple. He has three targets. A day to get them all done. It’s simpler than the tasks he’d done the first time he’d tried to become a bounty hunter. He suspects that they’re being more lenient, considering his reputation as the youngest person to be initiated in the first place but at the same time, he gets the sense that they’re desperate for any type of saving grace. People are looking to them to be the ones to take Tattoo down. They’re bounty hunters, for fuck’s sake.

Unfortunately, he’ll put a stop to whatever they’re doing. He’ll have to divert them, buy enough time for Jeongguk to execute whatever plan he has in mind. All while he has to run his small animal smuggling business and keep an eye on Koda, who’s as distant as ever. The scrapper– he doesn’t like the taste of the word on his tongue– is nowhere to be seen. He’d be worried but he knows that she isn’t dead. He would have known.

He glances at his three targets. He has enough time to do it and too much to spare so he reroutes himself a bit. He visits one of his small shelters, where he keeps his animals. Not the expensive, exotic ones, but the ones that make for realistic pets. Dogs and cats, mostly.

He walks in, nodding at the person managing the counter. He looks at the recorded history– purchases, entrances. He quirks a brow at one of the names. Jeon Jeongguk . And he glances up at Yewon, the girl who absentmindedly scribbles at the notepad sitting in front of her. “The last customer. What time did he come in and what did he buy?”

She looks over. “Oh. Maybe last night? Early morning? He bought a dog, actually. The one with one blind eye–” it clicks in her mind. “ Oh . Yeah, isn’t he the kid that was mauled in Itaewon a few weeks ago? Such a shame. He looked so sad, too.”

Sol furrows a brow at that because he’s entirely confused as to why Jeongguk’s purchased a dog. A half-blind one, at that. “Huh. Okay.”

“Yeah. There’s someone in there now, checking out the pets.”

He has a tug gut feeling. He walks into the main shop area to find Park Jimin by the cats, sticking his finger into their cages, cooing at them. It’s not an unfamiliar sight– Jimin’s always visiting his shops, sometimes his large home, to play with the animals. Sol walks over and stands beside him. “Did you know that Jeongguk bought a dog?”

Jimin looks up at him before rising to his feet, although not before cooing once more at the small kitten. “Yeah, it’s why I’m here. I visited his apartment early this morning and it smelled like dog in there. Jeongguk’s very particular about scents so I scouted around a bit and traced it back here. I’m supposed to be investigating but I got carried away.”

Clearly.

Sol slides a hand into his pocket. “So you didn’t know?”

“No.”

“Strange.”

Jimin laughs a bit. “Isn’t it? Are you coming to dinner tonight?”

“Yeah. I just spoke to Namjoon, the special guest . I don’t suppose I can skip out? I have things to do. People to see.” And to kill.

“Are you joking or something? Namjoon’s not the special guest. It’s Xiyue.”

Silence falls between them. Jimin looks peeved out by it. Sol is slightly confused. Something is clearly going on and neither of them are fully aware of it. “Xiyue. As in, Xiyue .”

“Yeah. Something is definitely off here.” Jimin frowns. “I should go and talk to Jeongguk.”

“You should.”

Jimin continues playing with the cats for a few more minutes before he’s off. And Sol’s left to wonder what exactly Jeongguk has in store for everybody this evening.

Jimin sneaks into Jeongguk’s apartment before he arrives. He finds the dog sitting underneath the crime lord’s bed, asleep, but his arrival wakes the animal easily. The dog blinks at him warily. It’s then, when Jimin notices that one of the dog’s eyes is coloured white, indicating blindness. He feels his throat convulse at the sight, heart swelling with sadness. He strokes a hand over the dog’s back slowly, cautiously. It’s an Australian shepherd– extremely pretty. Jimin waits for the dog to fall back asleep before he rises to his feet, but by then, it’s too late.

Jeongguk stands at the doorway, watching him with a look that isn’t too happy. “I figured you’d snoop around after your last visit so I hung around the corner before you came in,” he explains with a grim tone, walking over to where he stands, guilty. “You could have asked.”

“I’m not used to this,” Jimin admits with utmost honesty. He’s not. He’s used to snooping around Jeongguk but he should know by know, that Jeongguk’s mind works in the strangest and most mesmerizing of ways.

“Neither am I,” the man replies with a sigh. “Anyway. I don’t want to explain why I got the dog. I don’t have an explanation myself.”

“It’s fine,” Jimin replies, offering a smile. He rests a hand on Jeongguk’s shoulder, stepping closer. He remains tense, Jimin notices quickly. And Jimin has to wonder what everything’s about. Why this dinner is happening. Why people are getting different messages about it. But he doesn’t ask because he trusts Jeongguk to explain everything when it happens. “Are you okay?”

“Just peachy.”

“Alright.” Jimin pulls back, noting that Jeongguk doesn’t seem to want to do anything relatively touchy today. He feels slightly hurt, hoping that they could progress, but it’s a selfish want. Jeongguk’s been so open, so willing with him for the past few days and he knows that it’s a good thing, all of this. He purses his lips and moves across the room, to the door. He crosses back into the living room, Jeongguk on his heel. “So. We’re having a dinner at Taehyung’s. This time, including Xiyue and Namjoon.”

“Right. Basically everybody that knows who I am but Sungwoon.”

“Which means…”

“I managed to rope in Koda, too. Which is going to be a pain for Sol, I think, but she’s willing to listen. I think she feels guilty about what happened to me, too.”

"Huh. Alright." Jimin looks around the room, noting that something's off. He trails over to the left wall, where a new photo hangs, bright and vibrant in comparison to the rest of his more minimalistic pictures. "Where is this?"

"My happy place."

Jimin turns to ask for clarification but he's met with the sight of Jeongguk pushing open the secret compartment in the wall, withdrawing his beloved custom-made mask. The intricate design is stunning. Jimin hasn’t seen it in a while but the fact that it’s being brought into daylight means one thing and one thing only.

A heist.

Of what, though? Jimin doesn’t know what could possibly one-up the Bangasayusang heist. And he doesn’t understand why now . It’s the most volatile, most dangerous situation for everyone and Jeongguk’s planning to rob a fucking museum or something? Maybe he’s an idiot for failing to see what Jeongguk’s intentions are but he’s racking his mind for any possible reason and it isn’t hitting.

Jimin’s silence must be a dead giveaway of his surprise because Jeongguk glances over at him, gaze softening but tone remaining hard. “I’m going to make a statement, Jimin. They reinforced the National Museum of Korea after the heist but they aren’t expecting this. If I steal the prized Gold Crown – if I pull it off flawlessly, then you know how fucked the NPA would appear? They couldn’t stop me the first time. They couldn’t do it the second. They’d sink under the weight of this.”

Oh .

Jimin understands. A bit. But he also just wonders why Jeongguk can’t just run. He has money. He has everything. And Jimin– Jimin would run with him. Far away, where they could live together happily. Away from this mess of a situation, away from the nation’s eyes on them. He clenches his fist and nods. “I’m with you,” he vows. “Every step of the way, I’m with you.”

The relief in Jeongguk’s eyes is overwhelming.

Maybe he’d been anticipating a different reaction.

Maybe Jeongguk knows that his promise is bound to be broken.

Jeongguk arrives at Taehyung’s separate from Jimin. The former acrobat had left him to his thoughts that afternoon after their brief conversation, to check up on some of the kids he’s been funding. Jeongguk has his plan solidified, set. So he has nothing else to do but to sit on the floor of his bedroom, running a hand through the dog’s hair slowly, thoughtfully.

He bought the dog for no particular reason. He went to the adoption center in search of Sol but he’d seen the poor, pitiful one-eyed dog and he had to buy it. He knows nothing about raising pets so it’s strange at first, to have a creature constantly padding around. Jeongguk fills up a bowl with dog food, placing it by the kitchen entrance. He watches mindlessly as the dog eats it all up, scarfing it down before lying down on its side, lulling into sleep.

He wonders how it can be so easy. To eat, to sleep so soundlessly.

Jeongguk envies a dog.

He shakes the feeling of wariness as he glances around the dining room. It’s mostly the same people from the original Christmas dinner but the dynamics have shifted drastically. Koda is sitting far away from Sol, eyes hard as she stares out the window. Namjoon is with Sol and Seokjin, the three of them speaking on their own. Jimin and Xiyue are sitting together on the couches– they’re the only ones that seem to exude any scrap of warmth, laughing about something on Jimin’s phone. As per usual, Yoongi, Taehyung and Jung sit together in some strange sandwich of repressed emotions.

Jeongguk doesn’t know how to begin at all so he simply walks over to Jimin, who greets him with his bright eyes. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jeongguk responds, glancing over at Xiyue. The mercenary leans back against the cushions, staring back at him with an eerie experession. “Let’s sit at the table.”

“Alright.”

And so they converge at the main dining table, a long stretch of empty wood. Jeongguk sets down his backpack, pulling out his huge stack of files. The sight must seem comical, he thinks. He’s dressed extremely casually– a sweatshirt, jeans. They all look at him with sligtly furrowed brows, like this is Tattoo? The Tattoo? Which he obviously ignores. He instead begins to circle the table, handing people their respective files.

Once he finishes, he says, hoarsely, “Read.”

The reactions are mixed throughout the stretch of time alloted to read. Namjoon is the quickest, finishing with an unreadable expression on his face. He opens the file and re-reads it, as if to make sure that what he’s seeing is correct. Seokjin nearly chokes when he browses the documents, like he’s in disbelief. Jimin’s eyes are narrowed slightly. Koda shakes her head a few times.

He waits a few more minutes before he tears through the silence. “Any questions?”

Hands fly up from either side of the table. He nods at Yoongi first because he seems to be the most frustrated with everything. The crime lord turns to Namjoon. Xiyue. “Who are they? ”

“Kim Namjoon, bounty hunter. Xiyue, mercenary. I was offered a job at the National Police Agency, to work on the Tattoo case alongside Gi. He hired a bounty hunter to help– hence, Namjoon. And as you all know, I’ve fucking lost my eye. So I’ve been recuperating for the past weeks. Xiyue filled in as Tattoo, causing all that havoc while I was resting.”

Koda, next. “I don’t get why I’m here.”

“Because I feel like I owe you. You didn’t rat me out when you found out and I know that must’ve been hard. So this is a chance. You work with me and you earn your share.” He holds her gaze. The scrapper looks around her before she goes silent. He takes it as a chance to move on, turning to Namjoon.

“How does this get us all to Sungwoon?”

All eyes are on him. It’s then, when he realizes that most people in the room have been screwed over by Sungwoon in the past. Indirectly. Directly. But his eyes flit over to Taehyung because out of all of them, he’s gone through the worst. His expression is blank, like he doesn’t understand why they hate Sungwoon so much and that’s what’s the worst of it– he doesn’t even know .

Jimin’s looking at his friend with sad, sad eyes. But his hands are gripping tightly on the file, like his heart is filled with vindication. From the looks of it, Hoseok is aware. Yoongi, too. And for some reason, Xiyue is staring right at Taehyung. Does he know?

Jeongguk clears his throat, gathering the attention. “This is a smokescreen act. It doesn't only fuck up the nation's perception of the National Police Agency, but it also shocks Sungwoon, don't you think?" He's spitting bullshit. "And I’m working on Sungwoon from a different angle. And I promise, when the time comes, we’ll all see him on his knees. Gun to head.”

When he means that he's working on Sungwoon from a different angle, he's referring to one thing only: his secret knowledge about Xiyue and Jimin's own plan. He allows it to continue because he trusts that it could work. 

“You promise . What is a promise from Jeon Jeongguk. Tattoo , even worth?” Yoongi says this, pushing the file away from him, like he wants absolutely nothing to do with this.

“I once promised myself that I would survive past fifteen. I would rank up in Itaewon’s ladder system. That I would steal that fucking Bangasayusang. That I would kill Lee Sungwoon. Everything’s happened so far, so I don’t see why you can’t trust me on this.”

“Okay then, so let's say it isn't a matter of trust,” he responds. Yoongi cocks his head. “It’s a matter of whether this is possible. You know how fucking strict the museum got after your heist. What if you lead us all to fail? What if you drag us down with you, in the case that we’re caught? Maybe you can steal the Bangasayusang but you did it, risking your own life. You’re placing this on the hands of everyone here. Including Taehyung, who isn’t a part of this system. A fucking psychopath–” Xiyue raises his brow at that. “– A bounty hunter. Two crime lords. A businessman. A smuggler. A scrapper. Your sidekick. And you . We could all get fucked over if this doesn’t work.”

He’s voicing the doubt that hangs in the air. So Jeongguk says it. “If something happens– if anything happens. You all run. I’ll stay behind, take the blame. That , I assure you, is truth.”

Jimin’s face pales at that. Jeongguk can’t meet his eyes, only pushing on forward. He looks around the room for the final time, daring anybody to object any further but they’re silent. Yoongi slowly reaches for his file, remaining as skeptical as ever but at least it’s less . He takes his own copy of the main file, pushing over to the first page. A clean layout of the museum.

“Let’s get started, then,” he mutters.

The plan is somewhat simple. Of course, excluding Jeongguk’s excessive and thorough mathematical investigation, including specific timings, measurements and guard shift intervals.

They’ve strictly reinforced the museum since the Bangasayusang heist so he expects more guards. He’s been doing interval checks in the past few weeks in his spare time. He’d put on plain clothes, pretending to be a student interested in the museum. But his eye strayed, darting around to catch sight of cameras, guards and anything he could manage to take in.

It takes him a long time to get everything measured to perfection, but once it’s finished, he prints files out for everyone to study. He thinks, for a prolonged time, about how it could work. So he has to pair people off based on their strengths, weaknesses, abilities.

Yoongi’s great with technology so he’s going to be breaking into the camera room with the help of Xiyue, whose primary job is to do all the dirty work– if needed. He’ll be knocking out guards, tying them up, paving a clear path to the camera room, where Yoongi can wire the cameras to malfunction.

Once that’s done, he signals to Koda, who’ll be inside the museum already with Sol. Jeongguk pairs them up because he knows that they care enough about each other to keep each other safe. Koda will be in the wing opposite the Gold Crown, where old artifacts and documents are. She’ll use a small, yet powerful pocket laser and a magnifying glass to set a document on fire. Sol, posing as a guard, will escort everyone out.

While the fire happens, Taehyung and Jimin will be at the Gold Crown exhibit. He’ll act, causing a commotion, telling the guards that he won’t leave. The guards, one being Hoseok, will argue with him, distracting them from seeing Jeongguk and Jimin slip back into the room, hiding in the bathroom by the back stairwell.

Hoseok’ll grab Taehyung, escorting him down a different stairwell, out to the back of the museum. Seokjin'll be there, acting as their eyes, updating them on the situation and hopefully quelling Officer Gi in the case that he arrives imminently. Once Hoseok and Taehyung are out, they drive away to safety.

Namjoon takes over next, dropping from an overhead panel in the cleared display room. He’ll hold for a moment, and when everything’s safe, he’ll signal Jimin and Jeongguk in. They have three designated exits: A, B and C. A is the main exit, where Jimin would go. B is through the overhead panels, back to one of the heavily-guarded hallways, where Namjoon would go. C is through the window, into the back alley, where Jeongguk would go. Depending on the actual scenario and circumstance, they’d have to decide who would take the crown.

They have a rendezvous point, far away. A small, abandoned house on the outskirts of Seoul, where they will all converge, crown in hand.

There are more intricacies to the plan of course, but it’s the overall jist of it. Everything has to be particular, even up to what each of them wear. They need to blend in. So Jeongguk takes photos of what people wear at the museum, averaging out the colours, the types of clothing so he can manufacture the perfect appearance. He also has back-up plans, in the case that something goes wrong in each step of the way. If Koda’s laser-magnifying glass trick doesn’t work then it’s on Namjoon, to create smoke in the ventilation system.

There’s always that 1% chance of failure. His planning should be impeccable but he prepares for the worst. If anybody else is caught, he’ll have to cause a grander scene.

He’ll have to reveal his identity to the waiting world.

He’ll be dragged to jail.

Put through trial.

He’ll end up dead.

So Jeongguk bets on that 99% chance of success and hopes– hopes that it works.

The dinner finishes early in the morning. Jimin stays over with him. They lie together in bed, not exactly pressed up against each other but touching, nonetheless. Jimin’s awake, he can feel the boy’s breaths, quaky, against his neck. Jeongguk doesn’t want to move, to give away that he’s awake, too, but he gets the sense that Jimin is aware.

Jimin laces their fingers together. Jeongguk reciprocates, squeezing tight.

“I can’t let you go. I couldn’t,” the older says, his voice holding fear. “I couldn’t leave you behind. Why would you… W-why would you say that?”

He sighs deeply against Jimin’s forehead, closing his eyes. “Because we need to be prepared.”

“I said I would protect you.”

“I said I would protect you ,” Jeongguk replies hoarsely. “Let me do something good. For once in my life.”

“You’re scaring me. You say this like it’s already ruined. Like we’ll fail.” Jimin’s crying now, shaking in his arms.

Jeongguk can’t stop himself from crying too, because he’s afraid. He’s so afraid of what could happen. And he’s so afraid of the world. His missing eye is an everyday reminder of how disgusting the world could be. The faint lingering strain whenever he holds Jimin is another.

He presses his lips together tightly, opening his eye. He stares his reflection in the mirror that sits across the room. Be strong. Be strong for him. Be strong for you.

He swallows it up. “Do you trust me?” He asks, pulling back to look Jimin in the eye.

Jimin blinks back at him, cheeks stained with tears. “What?”

“Do you trust me?” He repeats.

“Of course.”

“Okay. So remember. If anything goes wrong, think of my happy place.”

Jimin looks confused but he nods anyway.

He’ll figure it out. He’ll get there.  

UNKNOWN: you won the game. want to claim your prize?

YOU:  how'd you get my number?

UNKNOWN: you should know by now. i have a way of getting whatever i want.

YOU: terrifying.

YOU: let's meet up. and before you try to skin me like you do all winners, i have a proposition in mind.

UNKNOWN: enticing. i'll see you soon.

Chapter Text

February 2, 2019 – 11:22AM

THE DAY BEFORE THE HEIST, Jeongguk and Jimin go on a date.

Well, the closest they’d ever get to one, probably. 

Jimin explains that when people go out on dates, it’s usually eating at restaurants or cafes together.

Jeongguk replies quizzically, “What? So we’ve been going on dates?”

Jimin snorts but his face holds nothing but endearment. “No, we just ate out a lot together. I think for it to be classified as a date, both parties would have to agree.” The older boy fixes Jeongguk's collar, tugging on it. “You know, for someone as smart as you, you’re sure as hell clueless about these things.”

“It’s like a tradeoff. High IQ, low EQ. I just don’t get why . We could do something more productive. Since we have a big heist tomorrow,” he complains halfheartedly.

Jimin hits him on the chest, giving him a look. “Just give me one hour. Then we can go back to heist planning. Which, I do have a lot of questions about, by the way.”

“Fine. We’ll go on your date and then we talk serious stuff.”

“ Thank you .” Jimin sighs exasperatedly before he pulls back and picks up his wallet, stuffing it into his back pocket. They walk downtown together, settling for the newly opened Japanese restaurant. They pick the window seat, like they always do, and maybe it isn’t so different from what they’ve been doing for the past two years. But it is different, knowing that they both want this to be some sort of date . 

Well, Jeongguk’s still apprehensive about the whole labels thing but he’ll do anything to make Jimin happy. It’s the least he can do for all the times he’d been incredibly mean. Not particularly because he feels remorse, but more like he wants to balance out the bad and good he’s done. There’s a long way before he achieves some sort of equilibrium but he can start with this. 

With Jimin.

They both pick out chicken teriyaki bowls. Jimin orders himself a sushi platter on the side. Jeongguk doesn’t want sushi– he used to like salmon but after the incident with his eye, his taste has shifted. Salmon is bland.

While waiting for food, Jeongguk just stares at Jimin. Jimin’s attached to his phone, as usual, but this time it’s different. He’s not laughing at a meme or texting. He’s reading. Jeongguk finds it difficult to tear his gaze away from Jimin’s face. He’s trying to memorize it, in the case that things go wrong. He’ll need an image of Jimin, clear and powerful in his mind. The last time he needed it, writhing on that empty lot, he couldn’t conjure one up. He’d taken the past two years for granted.

“What are you reading?” He asks, peeking over at the phone curiously.

Jimin glances up. “Uhhhh. Not a book. The news. Or at least, I’m trying to. My reading is still spotty. Writing, however, is getting significantly better.”

“Oh. Were my case files easy to follow?”

“Mhm. Thanks for making me a special one, by the way. The diagrams really helped.”

Jeongguk nods. He gets the sense that Jimin wants to practice more so he settles back and stares out the window while waiting.

When the food arrives,  Jimin finally places his phone down, seemingly satisfied, reaching for his bowl. “So. After the heist and stuff. You’re going to be even bigger. Better than before, right? I feel like the bounty’s this small, insignificant thing now. It seems like less and less people are coming for you.”

“Does it?” He thinks back. After Doyoung, nothing huge has happened. And he’s been successfully steering Gi away from his path. Namjoon’s been helpful in that department, too. “Well. It’s only going to get more dangerous if we pull off the heist.”

“ If . You’ve been saying that word a lot recently. You used to be so sure,” Jimin remarks, tone light.

“They upped the security real good, Jimin. It was easy last time. In and out during the night. But they’ve taken extra steps for precaution. Guards closer to the more precious parts of the museum have little wire buttons on their palms,” he taps a finger against his own, “One click is all it will take to call the NPA over. To alert the authorities that something is wrong. The camera budgeting has been cut down, they’ve downgraded, but they’ve deployed more people. Especially during the night.”

Jimin’s brows furrow. “Seriously? I thought they’d cut everything down. That bounty was insane.”

“Yeah, well. Anyway, enough heist talk. We shouldn’t ruin this.”

“Look at you, being all sweet.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

The former acrobat smiles, this time less playful, more genuine. “I am. Not to tease you, but… I don’t know. I guess I never really imagined we’d do something like this . A date. A labelled one, I mean. Are you… Are you comfortable with it?”

He hasn’t really thought about that. Jeongguk shrugs, picking up a piece of chicken with his fork. “It’s not bad. It doesn’t make me feel strange or icky on the inside. But to be honest, I don’t see the point of labels. Like, personally, the distinction between this and all the times we’ve eaten food together before stems from the fact that neither of us are pissed off at the other.”

Jimin rests his head on a hand, leaning and smiling at him. “Was it that bad?”

“I think so. When we fought, we fought , didn’t we? Like, physically, too, sometimes.”

“Those were very… Shitty days for me. I began having feelings way before you did. It was strange because some days, I couldn’t tell whether this burning, bubbling emotion inside me was hate or… Something else. I just looked at you and felt my insides go…” His face scrunches with difficulty. “... Really wonky. Like I was trying to fight it.”

Jeongguk laughs at that, shaking his head. “You were always smart. If you were trying to fight off feelings for me back then, it was a good sign. I treated you like shit.”

“I was stubborn.”

“I was worse.”

“I guess we were just two very different people then,” Jimin chuckles, through a mouthful of food. He swallows it down before adding, “What are we now?”

Jeongguk frowns. “Uh. Friends?”

“Wow. You just friendzoned me. Harsh,” Jimin says it with humor but it’s obviously something wrong. When he notices Jeongguk’s confused expression, he relents. “Oh– No, don’t feel bad. Friends is okay. We don’t have to put any label, even. I was kidding.”

“I really… Am not good at this.”

“Small steps, Jeongguk. We’ll get somewhere .”

Jeongguk nods. He reaches out and holds Jimin’s hand. 

The boy gleams.

February 2, 2019 – 3:05PM

 "Jeongguk?"

"Hm?" He looks over at Jimin, who's eyeing the diagrams again, highlighting different things.

"Why does Koda have to do the whole laser-glass thing? Why does she have to burn the document?"

Jeongguk leans back against his chair, tapping his pen against the tabletop. "I mean. The museum uses this chemical to preserve the papers, I found out, and I did a little testing. It's very flammable, working best with the laser and magnifying glass."

"Yeah, but why can't Namjoon just drop matches down like in the backup plan?" Jimin looks confused.

"It'll look like an attack. Random matches falling from the vent. If the fire starts from an important historical document, the priority will be on one, safety. Two, the document. Then they might start asking why it caught on fire. But like I said, they're easily flammable, so they could think it's a coincidence," Jeongguk explains, nodding his head. 

"So how is it going to be subtle? Like, how is she going to pull it off?"

"Sol's going to be working on her side of the room. She'll be able to."

"Oh. Okay," Jimin nods too, eyes wide, a little bit perplexed, still, but he doesn't ask any more questions. Rather, he lies back down on the ground, skimming over the plan again and again.

Jeongguk's glad that he's asking. Explaining the plan to somebody helps him catch out the flaws in it. 

He knows that his mind works differently, and something that accompanies his strange way of thinking is a sense of superiority. Or, well, not quite. More like... The lack of the ability to acknowledge small holes in his plans. Jimin's always the one picking them out, asking questions. And Jeongguk answers, figuring them out as he goes.

He makes note of Jimin's doubt about the possibility of the laser-glass technique. Jimin's right. A laser and magnifying glass could be a little too obvious. 

Then again, maybe he wants it to be obvious.

Jeongguk closes his eyes, resting his head against the chair. He's tired.

He holds on for a few more seconds of consciousness before he drifts away.

Jeongguk sleeps.

February 2, 2019 – 10:13PM

They have one more thing to do before the day of the heist and it's simple. They track down one of Sungwoon's higher proxies, someone who gave his identity away in the depths of a bar. Jimin had heard and reported back to him.

They sit together then. Well.

Not exactly together.

More specifically, Jimin sits on him.

It's some sort of promiscuous club. Everyone's hooking up and it's just a disgusting tangle of limbs everywhere he looks and he feels sick. It's a dizzying, overwhelming sight.

Jimin holds Jeongguk's face in his hands, searching his eyes. Pleading, asking if this is all okay. But his expression doesn’t give it away– instead, it’s lustful. Eyes hooded, lips parted slightly. He’s playing a perfect role and Jeongguk’s slipping away. Get out of your head , he tells himself, smoothing a hand over Jimin’s waist, forcing himself to get over the consuming feelings that begin to surface. He focuses on the smooth skin underneath Jimin’s sheer top. How his fingers slot perfectly against the curve of his waist. It’s just Jimin , he thinks. He’s not going to hurt you .

It’s just Jimin. It’s just Jimin.

He can’t live this fear for the rest of his life, can he?

Surviving isn’t the same thing as living .

Jeongguk chokes down any sliver of repulsion, derived from the memory of his past. It’s done and over with, what had happened before. There’s no use in lingering on something that won’t grasp at him now. He’s Jeon Jeongguk, survivor. Jeon Jeongguk, prodigy.

He’s Tattoo . He has the police, all the crime lords, all the people in this godforsaken town latched onto puppet strings. He’s controlling the game. He owns the game and there’s no way anything can touch him now. No fear, no regret. No pain. Just Jimin.

He tugs on Jimin’s waist, pulling him closer. Jeongguk kisses him, eyes fluttering shut. Jimin’s hands lie against his chest, suddenly useless. And it’s Jeongguk pulling the strings on this now, too. It’s a strange war between them. Jeongguk likes to call most shots but he feels strangely comfortable when Jimin does, especially with what’s going on between them. So he allows himself to sink into the leather couch, forgetting about the crowded place they’re in, the smell of alcohol and sex in the air.

Jimin’s lips drag along his cheek, down to his jaw, peppering small kisses along his chin. Jeongguk opens his eyes, in a haze but still alert. They’re here for a reason– they’re here to catch that high-ranking proxy of Sungwoon’s. 

He feels his mouth go dry when Jimin nips at his neck. It feels so fucking good and all Jeongguk can do is let out a small, deranged noise. He presses his lips shut and grips at Jimin’s shirt tightly. Jimin pauses, breaths heavy. “Are you okay?” He murmurs softly. “Did I hurt you?”

Jeongguk shakes his head. “No. No, ‘s okay.”

“It’s okay. We’re taking this slow remember? Good ol’ normal relationship,” Jimin whispers, his eyes glinting playfully in the dark.

“Nothing about this is normal. Our relationship , especially.”

“True, I suppose. But that’s what makes it work. If we were normal, I don’t think we would’ve liked each other.”

Jeongguk nods his head. “You’re right.”

Jimin leans over to kiss him on the chin again, tracing his fingers down Jeongguk’s face lightly. Jeongguk relaxes slightly but he’s still tense, eyeing the crowd. He searches until he finds their target. A lithe-figured boy, muscular from all the running a proxy has to do. He’s standing by the bar, eyes darting around the place, like he’s waiting for someone. Jeongguk murmurs, “He’s here. Waiting for somebody, I think.”

Jimin pulls back, turning his head to look. “Huh. He’s kind of cute.”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Of course he is. What’s your plan?”

“What else? Seduce him. Get him into a backroom. And then we can play interrogation.”

“Fine. I’ll get a room. And I’ll text you the number.”

“Cool.” Jimin kisses him on the cheek before he hops off. Jeongguk stands immediately, slipping into the crowd. He keeps his eyes on Jimin momentarily, watching as the boy slides into the seat next to where the man is standing. He watches as the man focuses all his attention on Jimin, obviously drawn in. And he watches as Jimin places a hand on his shoulder, stroking.

He’s good at what he does.

Jeongguk books the third room down the hall and he texts this to Jimin, who sends him a thumbs-up emoji in response. Jimin’s working a lot on his reading so they’re texting a bit more now. It’s mostly Jimin sending him emojis– he’s not entirely confident in his writing yet, but he understands.

He wonders what’ll make for the best play in this scenario. He decides that he can wait in the bathroom, so he does, leaning against the wall, ear pressed against the door. He eyes himself in the mirror across where he stands. He walks over and runs his finger over his neck. There’s a dark bruise that begins to blossom– a hickey . He presses down on it. It doesn’t hurt at all but it’s there. Strange. But nice.

He moves to close the lights when he hears the door to the room open. He can’t see anything in the dark but he can hear fairly well. “Hold on, can I go to the bathroom first?” Jimin asks, tone sultry. He hears a hum of affirmation from the man. And in a matter of seconds, Jimin is in the bathroom, closing the door shut behind him and turning the lights on. Jeongguk looks at him and raises a brow. How do you want to play this?

Jimin lifts a shoulder, moving to turn on the faucet so it sounds like he’s doing something. I don’t know. Up to you .

Jeongguk moves to stand beside him. In a low whisper, he says, “Tie him down.”

“With what?”

Jeongguk tugs on his necktie, handing it over. “Get him on the bed. Tie him down.”

“Then what?” 

The crime lord tugs out a gun from his back pocket, holding it to Jimin’s face. The boy’s brows shoot up skeptically but he seems to understand immediately, what this implies. “Okay,” he murmurs. 

Jeongguk moves to stand against the wall beside the door again to remain hidden. Jimin turns the faucet off, brushing the hair from his eyes. He licks his lips, slipping the tie into his pocket before he walks back outside, leaving a slight crack in the door, allowing Jeongguk to peer through.

“You should relax a bit,” Jimin says, caressing the man’s face. “You’re so tense.”

“How much do I pay you to take care of that?” The man replies.

Jeongguk sees the disgust in Jimin’s expression. But it’s fleeting. “Call it a favor. I’ve been feeling really stressed lately, too. Lie down and let me tie you up, m’kay?”

“Okay.”

Jimin straddles the man, smiling. He ties the man to the bedpost first with Jeongguk’s red tie, looping it around with experience. Does he have experience? Jeongguk wonders with a grimace. Jimin then pulls off the man’s own tie and slides it over his eyes. He leans over for a brief kiss before he turns to face the bathroom door, giving a thumbs up.

Jeongguk walks out, gun in hand. He motions for Jimin to step off, and the boy does, pushing the hair from his eyes and wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. Jeongguk replaces him on top of the man and it’s a disgusting, nauseating feeling because it’s not the same. He trusts Jimin so he feels less freaked out about touch but this man is a bad man. Sungwoon’s proxy. And Jeongguk, he presses the tip of the pistol against the man’s mouth.

There’s a flinch. Then he begins to writhe, trying to pull away from the tight knot of the tie against the bedpost. Jeongguk pulls off his blindfold and tosses it to the side. He keeps squirming until Jeongguk uses the butt of the pistol to slap him into shock. “Stop moving.”

He’s disoriented for a while. Then he blinks and says, “I knew your little sidekick seemed familiar. One of Sungwoon’s primary targets. I tried to get assigned to his case but Sungwoon’s trying to use up all of his lower proxies to get him killed.” He motions to Jimin, jutting out his chin. “Is that what you want from me, Jeon Jeongguk?”

“No. I want to know everything. What Sungwoon’s up to.”

“He makes us keep these little cyanide pills in our mouths. In case this ever happens.”

Jeongguk digs the gun further against his cheek. “I don’t know much about dentistry but I’m a quick learner. Although I don’t have the proper tools and equipment for an extraction. A knife will have to do.”

“You don’t scare me.”

Jeongguk laughs at that because he feels the boy trembling underneath him. He looks up at the man’s hands, tied, turning blue from the lack of circulation. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

The man spits on his face. “Fuck you.”

Jeongguk has to take in a deep breath. He quickly wipes the glob of spit from his cheek, feeling himself physically shiver at it. It’s disgusting, drawing back immediate memories of the past. He uses the gun again, slamming it against the man’s crotch, causing him to let out a strangled yell. He stands up and dusts himself off, jumping from the bed.

He knows, now.

“Let’s go,” he tells Jimin.

The boy scrambles after him. It’s when they’ve left the club, when Jimin grabs him by the shoulder. “Why are we leaving? You got nothing out of him!”

“There’s nothing to get.”

“What? He’s a high proxy. Sungwoon’s high proxy.”

“No, he’s not. He’s lying . Sungwoon doesn’t do cyanide pills.”

Jimin looks so utterly lost. “What? How do you know?”

“I think we all forget sometimes, that I used to work for him.” He searches Jimin’s eyes calmly. “He’s trying to exploit us. He was going to ask for a price, knowing that I could afford it.”

“I’m so fucking dumb.”

Jeongguk cups his cheeks and shakes his head. “You’re not. It’s hard to tell unless you’ve been in their place before.”

Jimin just sighs. “Have you done that before?”

“More times than I would have liked to admit.”

“And have you ever been caught?”

Jeongguk just nods. 

He doesn't want to think about it.

February 03, 2019 – 09:57AM

The day of the heist finally comes around and there's not much to do before it. Jeongguk wakes up next to an empty spot. He searches around, blinking through the sleepy haze he's in. Jimin's nowhere to be found.

He stands up, running hands through his long hair. It's been a while since he's gotten a haircut. But he doesn't mind as much. Some of it falls over his empty eye socket anyway, so it at least serves a purpose.

He peeks into the kitchen to find Jimin sitting on the counter, digging into a plastic packet of strawberries, imported from Japan. He's smacking his lips obnoxiously, unaware that Jeongguk's watching him indulge himself. He watches in silence for a few more seconds, ignoring the fact that his eyes drift towards Jimin's lips every few seconds. 

When it gets too warm for him, he tugs on the collar of his sweatshirt, clearing his throat. "Good morning."

Jimin doesn't stop. He just turns, sucking away at the strawberry. "M'hello."

"You're getting strawberry juice all over the counter."

"I'll clean it up."

Jeongguk huffs, walking over. He motions for Jimin to move his legs, opening the drawer to retrieve a plate. He takes the plastic container, transferring the remaining strawberries. He reaches for the tissue behind the boy, using it to pat away at the little spots that stain the marble. He then looks at Jimin again, grimacing at himself before he pats a napkin against Jimin's mouth, chin and cheeks.

Jimin's looking at him with a pursed smile, like he wants to say something like awww, but he holds it in. Jeongguk's grateful for it.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Did you bring your clothes over?"

"Huh. No, I actually forgot them at my place. I should get back, by the way, it's almost time to go." Jimin places the plate down, hopping off. "See you later. Bye," Jimin says brightly, kissing him on the cheek before rushing out.

Jeongguk sighs again. 

He'd wanted to talk to Jimin about some things. Some things that probably could have ruined the lighthearted tone. 

He moves to his bathroom.

He showers.

When he gets out, he dries his hair, puts on his clothes.

The mask.

He takes out the mask and presses it onto his face, inspecting the way it looks on the mirror.

He needs it.

He needs to feel invincible today.

February 03, 2019 – 04:48PM

The heist begins and Yoongi doesn’t feel comfortable around Xiyue.

They walk together down the hallway, leading up to the camera room, and it’s obvious that there’s something incredibly off about him. He walks with so much confidence but at the same time, he looks like he’s lost. His eyes are always darting around and Yoongi doesn’t know if it’s because he’s trying to be attentive or he’s just daydreaming. 

He can handle himself. He doesn’t know why Jeongguk had assigned him a bodyguard– well, not until they turn the wrong corner and find a man staring back at them.

“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi mutters, reaching for his gun– a movement rendered useless when Xiyue holds up an arm, walking straight for the man with swagger to his step. Yoongi holds the gun in his hand, keeping it behind his body, brows knit in confusion. The guard seems just as confused. Xiyue speaks to the man calmly, like he’s explaining something.

Yoongi catches his gesture, although faint. Xiyue motions to the camera briefly, nodding his way. Yoongi raises the gun, shooting the camera and it explodes into shrapnels of metal. He looks in time to see Xiyue snapping the man’s head to the side with one quick, jarred movement. 

“I could’ve shot him. Then the camera,” Yoongi mutters, walking over.

Xiyue pulls the man’s hand from underneath his body. Corpse . He turns it over, revealing a strange wired button stuck to the side of his finger. “One tap. One tap of the finger and he would’ve alerted the whole building, the police.”

“And the camera? Won’t they know?”

“The cameras work on delay. For a high-end museum like this, you would expect quality cameras but they probably cut down costs to buy more physical security. Guards. And of course, they set aside that huge chunk of cash for the bounty,” Xiyue explains, casting him a strange look. “Did you not read the fucking case files? We have a few minutes before the cameras catch up so we need to get there. Quick.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. He’d skimmed over the file for a general look at what would go down but not the specifics. He turns, huffing out a tight breath, continuing along the hall. He’s not going to let himself be scolded by somebody like Xiyue. 

They get to the room in time, just when the guard seems to realize. By then, Xiyue’s snapping his neck to the side with a loud pop! and everything is well. Yoongi steps over the man’s body to get to the computer. He grimaces at the awkward angle the man’s head hangs from the side. “Why do you snap their necks like that?”

“I like the sound it makes.” 

Yoongi closes his eyes briefly. The mercenary irks him. Maybe it’s because Xiyue has the type of guts that he’ll never have. Or maybe it’s the sheer absurdity of his words– him , as a person. 

He moves to work. He easily maneuvers the cameras so that they’re looping– but in a way that’s less obvious. He weaves in footage from days past when possible so that it looks a little bit less suspicious. And when he’s done, he realizes that the door behind him is wide open.

He stands up and peeks around. Xiyue’s dragging three bodies down the opposite hallway, whistling away. 

“I’m done,” Yoongi says warily.

“Good. Help me get the rest to the closet.”

February 03, 2019 – 4:51PM

Koda looks around the room. She’s waiting for the time to strike. There’s still a few more minutes and she doesn’t know what else to do so she treads over to Sol, who stands by one of the exits, in a guard’s uniform. She eyes him. Then says, “Jeongguk said he’d sacrifice himself if we got caught. Is that true?”

Sol lifts a shoulder. “Probably. Which means that he has more to this plan than a case file distribution.”

“What do you mean?” She furrows her brows.

“I mean,” he lowers his voice, “If he gets caught, he’ll find a way out. Jeongguk is intelligent. I know people are aware but he’s a different type of intelligent. He thinks differently. He likes mapping out possibilities. So chances are, he’s got an escape route for every possible scenario.”

Koda’s fairly aware that Jeongguk’s that type of genius. But she doesn’t know what a high IQ entails. She nods a bit and steps back, checking her watch. She moves back to her position by the document exhibit, stuffing a hand into her pocket. Her eyes dart around, at the guards that line the edges of the room. She slips out her laser and glass, positioning it by her right side, where most of the coverage is from Sol. She takes out her phone with the other hand, pretending to check.

It’s relatively crowded but the plan could easily be foiled. The laser is vibrant red and not easy to miss at all and she wonders why Jeongguk gave her something so obvious– something so strange, but she does it. She prays to god that nobody notices. And as if magically, the universe is on her side, she manages to start the fire. 

She slips the laser back into her pocket and she looks up to see the paper quickly burn. The container is composed of glass and wood– so in a minute, the display catches, too. She’s through the crowd, right towards Sol, who opens the doors, calling for everyone to evacuate the room. The guards are all in a commotion, yelling at the visitors to use the exits. 

Sol grabs her by the arm loosely. “Get to the back exit of the museum. My car’s there. Sit and wait.”

“I know the plan,” she hisses, wringing away. 

He sighs. Koda runs out.

She bumps into Min Yoongi on the way out. “Where’s Xiyue?”

“I lost him,” the crime lord responds dully. 

“Should we be worried?”

“Yes.”

They walk down together. There are guards down the next hallway. He moves to get his gun but she's quicker, using her own pistol to shoot them both in the head. He rushes on, hearing him huff out a wow, okay as he trails behind her. She peers around the corner. The other one. "I don't remember this split section in the map. Do you have any clue which the way is? To the exit?"

Yoongi shrugs. "We can split up. Clear both sides."

"Okay, cool." She sprints down her side, quick enough to not have to use her gun. She grabs the man by the neck, slamming his head against the wall, knocking him out. She has the exit, right in front of her. "Over here!" She yells. 

Gunshots sound from the other hallway before Yoongi reappears with her, blood on his face. He wipes it away and motions for her to go. 

Koda runs.

February 03, 2019 – 4:55PM

Sol watches as everything unravels. He blinks one second and the fire is proportionally bigger than it was a few minutes ago. He doesn’t understand how a laser fire could spark something so huge until he sees the vent from above. He watches as a small lit match drops, causing another fire to spark. And he has to strain himself a bit, thinking about the whole ordeal. Jeongguk’s file did not mention anything about burning the place to the ground.

So he wonders if Jeongguk tailored each file to each person specifically, keeping things from others.

Knowing Jeongguk, the assumption wouldn’t be too far off.

He steps out of the room, shaking his head at the way things begin to collapse. Just like that, a historical exhibit is brought down by flames. 

He rushes downstairs, tossing his hat away. He’s about to make it out the exit when a guard asks for his identification. Sol takes out the card Jeongguk forged for him, handing it over with a sense of impatience. The man looks at the card, then at him. He refers to something— a clipboard—, and Sol knows that he’s caught.

He sighs, muttering an apology before grabbing the man by the collar, slamming his head against the wall. Blood stains the white, something he’s so used to that he doesn’t even flinch. He simply picks up his card and steps over the man’s body, leaving the building.

He finds his car. Koda’s in the driver’s seat, face stone. As he buckles in, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

“I have a bad feeling about this.” She shakes her head, reaching for her belt. “I don’t know. Do you know Xiyue?”

“Kind of? He was here a while back, right after the Bangasayusang was stolen, you know. To cover up for Jeongguk. Why?”

“He’s not where he’s supposed to be. He wasn’t with Yoongi when they were supposed to leave.” Koda’s expression is anxious. Sol should trust her. She’s always had a good sense about bad things coming. 

“Well, I just figured out that Jeongguk’s individual case files for each person were different. Varying. Most likely because he trusts some of us with more information than the rest. He probably asked Xiyue to hang back, to clear the way, I guess. Don’t worry too much.” He looks out the window, pressing a finger against his lips pensively. He can’t be sure right now. He can never be sure with Jeongguk these days and it’s… Terrifying. Anything could happen.

Koda doesn’t speak to him after that. She stares ahead with a serious expression, lips curved down like she sees it coming.

He surely doesn’t.

February 03, 2019 – 4:59PM

Taehyung raises his camera to take a photo of the Gold Crown. Some people recognize him, waving or smiling or even subtly taking photos of him like he’s the main attraction in the room. He ignores it because he has a job to do. And also, because he can’t find it in him to tell them, politely, to stop. His family is well-known, powerful in South Korea, so he can’t entirely fault them for being so nosy and intrusive.

So he continues snapping away, humming to himself. Hoseok’s doing his rounds, so he eventually walks over. Taehyung lowers his arms, placing his phone into his coat pocket. He looks at the man he knows the best. Hoseok bows politely. “Are the people bothering you, sir ?” He asks, brow flicking up. Are you okay?

“Kind of. But it’s okay.” I’m okay .

“Call me if you need anything. I’ll handle them.” His eyes are kind, familiar. Taehyung smiles at him. Before he can respond, and right on the dot, the alarm goes off. He jolts at the sound, feigning surprise as he whirls around. The guards open the door to the exhibit, herding everyone out. 

“Please follow the exit signs to the main courtyard. There’s a fire!” A guard yells harshly, pushing people a little too hard.

Taehyung inhales. Time to act. 

He turns to Hoseok, who tries to herd him to the side. “I don’t want to leave.” 

“Sir, you have to leave–” Hoseok plays his part well. The concerned guard.

“No. Is the fire here? Am I burning to death? No . I don’t see why I can’t enjoy the exhibit–”

“Is there a problem?” Another guard comes over, tapping his foot against the ground impatiently. “Mr. Kim, We need you to be safe, allow us to escort you outside–”

“Where is the fire?”

“What?”

“Where is the fire?” Taehyung repeats, sharper.

They exchange looks. Behind them, Taehyung catches sight of Jimin going opposite the crowd. Jeongguk’s with him. They slip behind the back of the exhibit, hiding away from plain sight. The other guard sighs, “It’s in the other wing, Mr. Kim. With the documents exhibit.”

“Then the documents are the ones in trouble. I am perfectly fine.”

The ruse is cut short when a third guard runs over, grabbing him by the arm. “We have to go. The fire has escalated beyond control and it could reach here at any moment.”

Hoseok steps in, slapping the man’s hands away. “I’ll bring him down the back exit. This is Kim Taehyung, his family is known. Don’t manhandle him like that.” His tone is pointed, like a dagger. The guards just sigh but nod, beginning towards the main exit. Hoseok slides an arm around him loosely, pulling him to the back.

They pass Jeongguk and Jimin. The crime lord has his mask on still. It’s supposed to be a pretty gold and white but it’s covered with blood. Taehyung wonders where it’s all from. He gulps, only nodding at them. Jimin smiles faintly before he’s whisked away.

Once they exit the building from the back, they spot Seokjin’s car immediately. “Get the car,” Taehyung tells Hoseok, who nods, rushing to his own vehicle. The socialite pauses by Seokjn, knocking on the window. The mercenary lowers it, flashing him a look of concern. “Did something go wrong?”

“No, no, it’s working. But they said that the fire’s getting crazy in there. I’m worried about Jeongguk and Jimin. And even Namjoon. Was this a part of the plan?”

Seokjin frowns. “It didn’t say anything about some wild fire in my case file. Maybe Koda got a  bit out of hand?”

“I doubt it. She was just supposed to cause a small ruckus. You can–” Taehyung searches. The smoke is quickly rising to the air, tainting the sky an ugly shade of grey. “–Shit. It is getting big.”

“I’ll stay here until Gi arrives. I was the one who called, just to erase suspicion and stuff. You should go.”

Taehyung nods, rubbing a hand over his neck worriedly, eyeing the building. “Stay safe, okay?”

“You too.”

He rushes to Hoseok’s car. The crime lord is changing out of his uniform, shaking his head as he quickly steps on the pedal, steering them away. “This whole plan was stupid. It was fucking stupid from the start.”

Taehyung watches from the rearview mirror, as one side of the museum seems to collapse slightly under the weight of the flame. “It’s not stupid. It’s brilliant,” he murmurs. “But Jeongguk kept things from each one of us. There’s something more to it and… I think that things are going to go very well. Or just downhill from here.”

Hoseok doesn’t argue. He just drives.

February 03, 2019 – 5:01PM

Namjoon is one of the two people that truly know what the Gold Crown heist is about. 

The two people being him and Jeongguk, of course.

He was surprised when Jeongguk told him that he was lying to everyone else. But at the same time, he wasn’t so shocked at the revelation.

He’s witnessed firsthand, the cunning nature of Tattoo , right in the headquarters of the National Police Agency. A small, introverted prodigy law student feigning innocence and cluelessness. He proposed good ideas and gave the right amount of skepticism towards others. He mastered expressions– confusion, sadness, sympathy. 

Namjoon has respect for him.

Everyone else in the plan, save for the two of them, think that Koda’s starting a small fire. Enough to evacuate the people but not enough to do permanent damage. What Namjoon knows is that he has to keep dropping matches down the vent. He’ll be up in the vents for a while, setting the whole opposite side of the museum on fire. Jeongguk tells him that he wants it to burn to the ground. So Namjoon complies, with the promise of Sungwoon hanging in the air.

Everyone thinks that Jeongguk wants the Gold Crown. What Namjoon knows is that Jeongguk doesn’t care about it. But Jeongguk doesn’t elaborate on why it has to be done. It just has to be.

Everyone thinks that they’ll have to decide, on the spot, who takes the crown. The plan says that each of them are going to be going different routes, one of them carrying the crown down the least susceptible route. But Namjoon, no matter what, will take it. What Namjoon knows is that Jeongguk doesn’t want Jimin to take it because it poses a risk to him. Jeongguk won’t take it either, but he doesn’t explain why. 

So the rest of the group are being lied to and Namjoon isn’t quite sure as to why he’s been singled out like this. But he does it because he believes that Jeongguk can get them all to Sungwoon. And nothing fuels him more than the image of Sungwoon dead in his mind.

When the heist happens, he’s already in the ventilation system, crawling on his knees. He watches as Koda strikes the laser, causing a decently-sized flame to erupt in the glass casing. While people are being evacuated and it’s all a blur of commotion and fear, he drops a small lit match. It catches on the wooden display, causing a larger fire to begin. More screams.

He sees Sol at the edge of the room, staring up at the vent, like he knows. The plan they’d all been given was that he’d only drop matches if Koda failed to start her fire. But he’s there, lighting up another match, tossing it down.

He drops two more before he rushes down to the left. Every opportunity he has while on the opposite wing, he drops a match. Once he gets to the Gold Crown exhibit, he sits, waiting. He watches as Taehyung acts. Hoseok escorts him out. And once the room is clear and secure, Jimin and Jeongguk meet by the Gold Crown. Jeongguk looks up at the vent, nodding. Namjoon can barely make out his eye from the mask– it’s terrifying. Bloodied and red,

Namjoon moves the vent to the side, dropping down, landing square on his feet. His ankles sting a bit from the impact– it’s a far jump–, but he moves along, rushing over to them.

Jeongguk takes out the casing with his gloved hands, setting it on the ground. He picks up the Gold Crown. “Go,” he says, voice dark.

Namjoon takes it, slipping it into his coat. He looks at Jeongguk, shaking his head slowly. “I don’t get why you’re so secretive about everything. There’s more to this.”

“Go. You too, Jimin. I’ll meet you both when I finish here.”

Jimin looks torn but he simply nods, rushing out his side of the exit. Jeongguk looks after his closest ally, something unreadable in his gaze. “Do I need to tell you again?” He asks, snippily.

Namjoon sighs. “No. I’ll go.”

He does.

He shouldn’t have.

February 03, 2019 – 5:03PM

Jeongguk tells Jimin to trust him.

So Jimin does, placing his full trust in the crime lord.

He runs away when Jeongguk tells him to, sprinting down to the other wing. But the fire is too big, too massive, and he’s confused as to how something as small as Koda’s laser and glass trick could bring down half the museum like this. He presses his sleeve to his face, drawing his cap over his eyes, turning around to run back. He can’t go this way. There’s no way out.

He stumbles through the empty hallways, the smoke stinging at his eyes, causing them to wet slightly. He coughs over and over from the inhalation of smoke. It’s too much. He has to run back to the exhibit room because it’s the furthest from the fire. He does, as fast as possible.

Something, however, is wrong when he gets back. He sees blood on the wall– blood that hadn’t been there the last time. He slowly inches towards the doorway, hiding behind the corner bend to stay out of sight. He dares to peek around and he’s met with a sight.

Jeongguk’s on his knees. Blood runs down the side of his head, dripping onto the marble floor. His eyes are downcast, expression defeated yet determined. His hands are tied behind his back with black string rope and Jimin knows it– he feels it. He knows that Jeongguk hates being constrained, held down by anything. He hates this .

Lee Sungwoon stands above him, gun in hand. The man’s face is blank, mouth set into a loose line. But Jimin knows that sick expression on his face. It’s the same expression he wore on that night. The night where Taehyung…

Jimin feels himself grow lightheaded. But that’s not the worst of it. Xiyue walks into the room, casually twirling a pistol around. At first, Jimin thinks that he’s there to save Jeongguk, to kill Sungwoon, but he doesn’t. Sungwoon barely spares him any attention, his predatory gaze solely kept for Jeongguk, who remains still on the ground. 

Xiyue.

Xiyue is in on this. 

Jimin presses his eyes shut but not for long. He needs to see– he has to. He has to figure out a way to get Jeongguk out of this situation. 

But for now, he can only listen.

Sungwoon laughs, breaking the trembling silence that hangs over them all. To him, they’re three. Jimin hides behind the doorway, rendered useless. It’s always been a heavy stalemate between Jeongguk and Sungwoon because Jimin’s always had the little piece of blackmail to string above him. So Sungwoon wouldn’t dare lay a finger on Jeongguk. But now that he has Jeongguk at his mercy, Jimin can’t be making any demands.

So he’s useless– watching from the sidelines as Lee Sungwoon stands above Jeon Jeongguk– Tattoo –, a gun in hand. Beside him, Xiyue is whistling a tune, which Jimin faintly makes out to be some sort of nursery rhyme. Like this is all child’s play to him– and it probably is. Xiyue’s no stranger to these types of things. He likes having fun.

Jimin watches as Sungwoon uses the barrel of the gun to tip Jeongguk’s head up. “This is less satisfying than I thought it would be,” the man sneers, tone light, yet face dark.

Jeongguk doesn’t respond, only staring straight ahead.

Sungwoon takes it in stride, only sighing out. “You were always dangerously stubborn. Even as a proxy. So headstrong,” he reminisces. “Isn’t that why you sold me out? Got my whole ring shut down? You wanted more . You always wanted more and you always got more. I’m kind of sick and tired, seeing you get it all.”

Jeongguk still doesn’t reply. Jimin knows that Jeongguk’s intelligence, grit and persistence has gotten him here. But silence is always a dangerous, dangerous weapon to have and Jeongguk’s mastered it. Years of oppression underneath the Itaewon system, even extending back to his childhood.

Some people don’t know when to be quiet and that’s what gets them in trouble, often.

But right now, Jimin knows that nothing can stop Sungwoon. And Jeongguk’s refusal to play along pisses him off. The man slams the gun against the side of his head, and there’s a loud cracking noise. Blood pours from Jeongguk’s nose, running down his mouth. He doesn’t flinch, only staring at the ground with a stern expression. “ Say something  , ” Sungwoon hisses, any hint of playfulness gone from his tone.

Nothing. Jeongguk doesn’t say anything.

So Sungwoon hits him again, to the other side. Jeongguk makes no sound, no movement but to spit out the blood gathering in his mouth. 

Jimin must’ve made a sound, because Xiyue’s eyes dart his way. Sungwoon’s too caught up in the act, glaring down at Jeongguk, but Xiyue makes eye contact with him and his lips curve into a knowing smile. Jimin shakes his head frantically. Why? He asks, trying to convey his fear, his disbelief with his eyes.

Xiyue just laughs to himself and turns away. He finds all of it amusing.

Before Sungwoon gets a third strike in, Jeongguk finally says, voice dull, “Just kill me.”

There’s a brief pause before Sungwoon starts laughing again, but this time, menacingly. “ Kill you? Why would I do that?”

“Do it,” Jeongguk prompts, allowing the blood to drip to the floor from his mouth.

“I’m turning you into the cops, Jeongguk. I’m taking the bounty. And you’ll face death penalty. I don’t have to kill you. Frankly, I don’t want to. You’re a fucking waste of my time.” Sungwoon speaks theatrically, waving his gun around as he does. “This is just me having good fun before I send you off. A little revenge, for past wrongdoings. But it’s not worth it. I mean, I respect you. The powerful Tattoo. It’s just a shame that you’re here right now, kneeling by my feet .”

“You’re not killing me because you’re scared.” Jimin wants to tell Jeongguk to shut up, to save himself from Sungwoon’s beating because he can see the fire rise in the other crime lord’s eyes. He’s growing angry.

“Maybe I’ll take the other eye. Finish what Doyoung couldn’t do.”

“ Do it .”

Sungwoon hits Jeongguk again, sending him to the ground. He’s heaving, blood pouring out from his nose, his mouth, the large gash running down the side of his cheek. Jimin bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from calling out. Xiyue turns his way again.

Don’t do this , Jimin begs him.

Xiyue’s eyes sharpen. He responds with a simple shake of his head. 

Jimin begins, taking a step. He has to stop this.

Xiyue makes the motion of cutting through his neck with two fingers. “ Go ,” he says silently, a final warning. In the distance, Jimin can hear the sound of sirens, blaring through the windows of the museum. He smells smoke in the air, threatening to breach the wing of the museum they’re on. He can see Jeongguk, twitching on the floor, fighting for consciousness as he loses more and more blood. 

Sungwoon’s expression is saturated with pleasure.

Jimin dares to peek a bit further. Jeongguk’s looking at him now, as Sungwoon’s back is turned. The crime lord blinks at him brightly, like he’s found something to hold onto. The words don’t leave his lips, but they’re as clear as day, sounding through the halls of the museum, echoing.

Run .

Jimin does, hating himself for not looking back.

February 03, 2019 – 5:24PM

The rendezvous point.

Jimin arrives, rushing in, barely keeping it together. They all turn to look at him. He has enough energy, enough strength to say, “ Xiyue .”

“Xiyue.” Koda asks this, like it clicks immediately. “Where is he?”

“H–He… He sold Jeongguk out. To Sungwoon. And… And now, Jeongguk’s going to jail. And I don’t know what to do.”

Seokjin wraps him up into a hug, pulling him close. Out of the group, they’re the closest two to Jeongguk and he knows that Seokjin needs the comfort more than he does– Seokjin watched him grow, helped him grow. And it’s clear– from the way the mercenary’s hand shakes– that he’s affected too. Jimin closes his eyes, regulating his breaths. He can’t cry now. He can’t buckle, because Jeongguk, somewhere, is being pressed up against a cop’s car. His hands are being bound.

“Did Gi say anything?” He murmurs into Seokjin’s ear.

“Not yet,” He responds, voice raspy. “You think they really got him?”

“I know they did. Sungwoon said so.”

They stay like that for a few more moments, before Jimin pulls away, wiping a hand over his wet eyes. The mood of the room is flat, sullen. The Gold Crown sits on the table, in the middle of the room. It’s beautiful under the light, glittering and shining. But nobody is paying attention to it. They’re all looking at him, like he’s in charge now. Like they don’t know what to do, either.

He straightens, steadying himself. “I don’t know what you guys want now. Jeongguk promised us Sungwoon but Sungwoon got him instead. So you’re all free to walk away. I’ll… I’ll compensate for your time, pay you guys whatever I have. You guys can walk away.” He looks at Seokjin, whose face is stony, lost. “I, on the other hand, am going to pull a heist of my own. I’m going to get Jeongguk out of there, no matter what happens.”

There’s silence. They all share looks.

It’s a strange kind of beautiful. People from different places, different ranks, coming together. Koda holds Hoseok’s gaze. A proxy and a crime lord, seeing each other eye-to-eye. With mutual respect. A strange sight, but a hopeful one. It’s Seokjin, of course, who says, “I’m with you.”

Then Sol. “Me too. He also promised that he’d take the fall if we fell. I think we owe him a little.”

Then Namjoon. "I'm in."

Then Taehyung. “I can’t really do much about anything, but I’m not giving up on Jeongguk.”

Then Hoseok. “I’m helping.” For Taehyung . He’s just helping Taehyung.

The only two that don’t seem to want in are Yoongi and Koda. Yoongi, he understands, but Koda? She’s silent, hands in pockets. When Sol looks at her, to ask, she simply shrugs. “I respect Jeongguk but not enough to come with you guys. You have to understand that out of all of us, I have the lowest position. I don’t have much but I have enough to go by and I hope it’s… Reasonable to say that I’m not going to wager it on some jailbreak attempt.”

“And I don’t owe Jeongguk anything. I just don’t.” Yoongi picks up his backpack, shaking his head. “I’m out.”

Taehyung frowns. “You’re giving up?”

“I wasn’t ever trying, Taehyung. I don’t even know why I’m here.” He looks between Taehyung and Hoseok. “I was in this for you . Not Jeongguk. Not Sungwoon, for fuck’s sake. I don’t have Sungwoon– fine. But it’s clear that I don’t have you, either.”

When he walks out, Koda hangs her head and trails out, too. Sol looks devastated but he hides it well. He simply clears his throat, lifting his hand to check his watch. “There’s nothing we can do for now. We have to get home, let this whole thing simmer down and assess Jeongguk’s situation. He’ll have to go through court trials before he can get any sort of sentence. I’ll get him a lawyer. It’s useless, but we need to buy enough time to act.”

“That’s a start, I guess,” Jimin mumbles. 

“Yeah.”

Silence pushes them all to finally disperse. Jimin wants to ask Seokjin for a ride back to his apartment but the man gets into his car and speeds away. Jimin watches the vehicle disappear around the corner, leaving him alone. Sol doesn’t seem eager to hang around, already on his phone, talking to people. Taehyung and Hoseok are gone.

He’s on his own.

Jimin looks at the sky. It’s dark, threatening to rain down on him. He can’t tell whether it’s a bad omen of what’s to come or it’s just the heavens mocking him for his new predicament. Either or, he doesn’t linger. He draws his cap on tighter and walks.

February 08, 2019

A lot of things happen in the following days.

The National Museum of Korea burns.

It burns to the ground.

Jimin doesn't recall anything about a fire that big enough to take down the whole building but he suspects that Jeongguk wanted to do it. He doesn't know why, but who knows anything at this point? He'd spoken to the others and they'd discovered that they all had different variants of the plan in their given case files. Jeongguk was clearly trying to hide information from certain people and trying to hide his true motive.

Jimin doesn't understand. He wishes he did.

Then the reports begin to come out about the capture of Tattoo . Jeon Jeongguk. The news reporters interview people. His professor, who expresses a multitude of emotions, mostly disappointed, slightly upset. Officer Gi, who faces backlash for his inability to tell that Tattoo was right in front of him. He expresses his own set of emotions, mostly practiced calm and a slew of embarrassing apologies to the public.

Lee Sungwoon is granted the bounty money. They ask him how he found out and he simply tells the news that he found an inside source, intercepted the information about the heist. He’d waited in the museum, caught Jeongguk out and got him to confess.

Jimin doesn’t finish that report. He slams his fist against the television screen, filled with rage. His hand bleeds and there’s a hole right through the screen, but it doesn’t matter. He washes the blood away, wrapping his hand up. And he goes back to working– thinking of ways to bust Jeongguk out isn’t as easy as he’d wished it could have been.

He’s not smart like Jeongguk. He can’t see the invisible pathways. He can’t make the connections. His brain doesn’t work like Jeongguk’s, so everything is too difficult for him, too overwhelming. He can’t read, either and it makes it so much worse.

He wants to ask Seokjin for help but he’s never there. Seokjin’s been in some reports too, feigning innocence. He gets a bit emotional when people ask about his relation to Jeongguk, and Jimin knows that he isn’t faking it.

Sol’s working on his side of things. He does get Jeongguk a lawyer– a good one, but the attempt is futile. Jeongguk’s killed people, stolen things– artifacts from museums. There’s no way out unless they break him out.

Jimin sits alone in his room, one of Jeongguk’s sweatshirts wrapped around him. 

He’s never felt so lonely in his life.

February 19, 2019

The lawyers don’t work out, as expected. So Jeongguk is placed in jail in between interviews with the police. 

Jimin shouldn’t be allowed in, to visit Jeongguk. But nobody knows how deep their ties go. How Jimin’s been his right hand man this whole time. But that’s useless now. Jimin failed.

He walks into the room, seeing Jeongguk across the glass pane. His hands are bound by handcuffs, a thick metal that ensures that he’s not going anywhere. He looks disheveled, hair tousled and tossed, eyes downcast. Jimin tentatively walks over to the chair, slipping into the seat.

Jeongguk looks up at him slowly, craning his neck like he’s been paralyzed in that one spot for years. And his eyes flicker with a recognition, like it’s all coming back to him. Like he’s forgotten.

Jimin’s heart twists. They reach for the phones at the same time– Jimin desperate and Jeongguk willing himself to move, like it physically pains him. 

“Hi,” Jimin says first, because he knows that Jeongguk doesn’t have the strength to.

The man behind the glass blinks at him. “Hey.”

“How… How is it? How are you?” A stupid question. But the only one he can offer.

“They put me in solitary for a while. I think,” Jeongguk laughs, but it’s so lifeless, “I think it was worse than what I thought otherwise. Being stuck in a room with other criminals. It reminded me of when… When Doyoung left me for dead. Except this time, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see my friends again. You , again.”

“I’m sorry. Jeongguk, I should have fought for you,” he says, in a whisper. He’s not going to cry today because Jeongguk needs him.

“No, no. You have to trust me now. Remember what I said to you–”

“I don’t understand , Jeongguk.” His voice grows strained. “What do you mean by happy place–”

Jeongguk quickly presses a finger to his mouth, to say be quiet . Jimin stops. He mouths Sungwoon. And Jimin shudders. He always forgets how deep Sungwoon’s influence stretches. He has people working in the government. And apparently now, in the police. 

“I don’t get it,” he repeats, defeated. “I’m not smart enough. I’m not like you.”

Jeongguk’s eyes are gentle. “You’ve always been smart, Jimin. You’re not like me at all and that’s a good thing. I trust you. You’ll figure this out. Now you just trust me. Don’t look too hard– don’t put yourself in danger and for god’s sake, don’t go for him . I know you’ll be tempted to go after him. Revenge. But me of all people should know what the phrase an eye for an eye means. It doesn’t make you better . It only makes you even.

Jeongguk presses his hand against the glass. “Jimin. Promise me, you’ll stay safe. I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

Jimin presses his own against the glass. And it’s the worst feeling ever. The first time Jeongguk has willingly reached out for touch, the only time they can’t. And maybe they’ll never. Never again. “I love you.” His voice cracks and he has to press his lips together tightly to stop himself from releasing a pathetic whine.

He doesn’t know what to expect. Jeongguk looks like he’s going to say something, but the alarm buzzes and a man brutally tugs Jeongguk from the phone. Jimin rises to his feet but it does nothing. Jeongguk is whisked away. 

Jeongguk’s mouth moves but it’s too fast, too small and too soon gone.

Jimin is left in silence.

February 19, 2019

Jimin walks into his apartment that evening feeling violated. Betrayed. Lost. Terrified.

Amongst a mass of many other emotions that threaten to spill over now that he’s in the privacy of his home.

But he’s not alone.

Xiyue sits down in his living room, hunched over slightly. He has a bottle of wine opened, two glasses– one full, one empty. And Jimin’s terrified. For the first time, he feels completely afraid of Xiyue. Mostly because he used to think that Jeongguk had him on a leash. But it wasn’t that way, not ever. Xiyue worked on his own and pretended to play puppy for fun.

He takes a step back, ready to run, but Xiyue says, voice light, “Why are you leaving?”

Jimin opens his mouth, shutting it immediately when he realizes that all that would come out would be a pathetic, fearful whine. He has to gather himself before he responds, in the most even tone he can muster, “I got the impression that we weren’t friends anymore. You know, after you sold…” His voice cracks. “... After you sold Jeongguk out.”

A laugh escapes the mercenary. “I told you. I pledged my allegiance to you , not him. And don’t talk about betrayal with that tone. You made me go behind Jeongguk’s back in the first place with your own plans. Your own intention, because you’re a bit selfish too, Jimin.” 

“Fuck you,” Jimin says, voice shaky.

“ Sit. ”

It’s so venomous, the playful tone seeping into nothing but black. Jimin closes the door behind him, shaky hands stilling on the door knob. He could run now. He could call Seokjin for help. But something tells him that if he presses the wrong nerve, he could end up dead. So he sucks in a breath and turns, walking over to the couch opposite Xiyue. 

The mercenary pushes the other glass of wine forward, expression dim. “Drink.”

“I… I can’t.” 

“You can. Drink .”

Jimin does, downing the glass with ease. Yet for the first time, it burns his throat, the aftertaste bitter. The more he tastes it on his tongue, the more dread begins to settle. He looks at Xiyue, who’s staring at him intently. “Did you drug this?” He questions, voice small.

Xiyue pours himself another glass, straight from the bottle. It’s white wine. And Jimin is utterly lost. He looks at his own glass. Then again, feeling for the aftertaste. It hits him, after he has a faint memory of a time he’d bit the inside of his cheek a little too hard. 

Blood .

“Xiyue. Whose blood is this?” Jimin stands up then, feeling sickness begin to consume him. Please, no. Please, no. Please, no .

“Jeongguk’s.”

He can’t stomach it. He rushes to the kitchen, throwing up into the sink, heaving everything out. As he does so, he starts crying. This can’t be happening. None of this can be real. 

But it is .

Like Jeongguk promised, he took the fall. They were caught but he sacrificed himself for every person involved and all of them got away scot-free, while Jeongguk, at this very moment, was suffering. He needs to get Jeongguk back. He will get Jeongguk back and once he does, he’s going to take them both far, far away from this place. 

Happy place. Happy place.

Jimin thinks about what Jeongguk had said to him. And at that moment, it clicks. The image of Tokyo hung up on his wall. My happy place . He’ll take Jeongguk there when he gets him back. They’ll leave Itaewon forever.

But for the meantime, he has to survive this. 

Xiyue walks up to him, leaning against the counter with a glass of water in hand. Jimin looks at it, still heaving slightly, then into Xiyue’s dark, dark eyes. He reaches out, his hand shaking visibly. He drinks the glass of water and sets it down. And out of nowhere, Xiyue grabs him by the chin tightly, pulling his face up. 

“I’m leaving for China tonight. You sit still and behave until I get back. Because we both know very well what I can do. Jeongguk’s in jail for now but I can slip in there anytime I want.” He pauses, lips curving into a sinister smile. “Actually, you don’t know what I can do. I’ve always been so nice to you. So let me be real with you now, baby –”

“When I came back, I just wanted to see Jeongguk dead. Not because of any grudge or anything, just because . Sungwoon was going to kill him but I got his ass into jail instead. There’ll be a trial, court hearings– all ways of stalling his eventual death penalty.” Jimin feels tears roll down his cheek. “So you better fucking do what I tell you or else I won’t pull strings and bust him out before it’s too late.”

“I don’t get it. I don’t get it, Xiyue, why? ”

“Don’t you get it? I’m fucking crazy , Jimin. Just because I can put up some facade, playing pretty weapon for Jeongguk. Playing friend for you , doesn’t mean it’s real.”

“So none of it was real?” He feels sick. So sick.

“Hm. I can’t tell myself.” Xiyue releases him, stepping back. “But I like you, Jimin. I think that you have potential. Potential Jeongguk wasn’t harnessing because he was scared that you would become independent and you would leave. So while I’m gone, pick up a book or two, would you?” 

Jimin watches as the man he once thought was his closest and only friend walk away.

And it’s sick. Because he should’ve known not to trust somebody like Xiyue. 

He recovers, swallowing the bitter aftertaste.

February 22, 2019

Jimin’s been meaning to do something for the longest time but he never knew when the right time was going to be. So he figures, that before he goes on to do something dangerous, he’d do it now.

He stands outside of Kim Taehyung’s home. He hasn’t spoken to anyone in a week, shutting himself out, cutting himself off from the others. Taehyung and Seokjin are nice enough to keep him updated– the rest of the heist group have been meeting, trying to find ways to break Jeongguk out. 

Jimin doesn’t want part of their plans. 

He has his own.

He enters the home, nodding politely to the same flurry of helpers that move around him, fretting every time he stops by. He’s quickly directed to Taehyung’s big room, where he enters– only to find it empty. He looks around for a moment, confused, until he hears the faint hum of the shower from behind the bathroom door. He takes a seat on a chair adjacent Taehyung’s big, illustrious couch.

He waits.

When Taehyung exits the bathroom, he looks surprised seeing Jimin there. Understandable, considering how Jimin literally hasn’t left Jeongguk’s apartment for days. He’d sat there, staring at the picture in Jeongguk’s living room. Happy place. Happy place. Happy place. He doesn’t understand. He needs to.

“Jimin. Hey, are you okay?”

“No,” JImin responds tiredly. “But I’m not here to talk about  him . There’s something I… I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

Taehyung stares at him confusedly but nods, walking over to sit on his couch. He tugs the robe tight over his body, leaning over to listen. And Jimin can’t find a way to segue out of this, to backtrack and talk about anything else. But he has to, because he’s been a terrible, terrible person for keeping it. And worse, for using it as blackmail to keep Sungwoon at bay.

“I… A while back, I was at a bar. I just got out of a big explosive fight with Jeongguk so I got a bit tipsy. Drunk. And I saw you there.” Taehyung’s expression is confused but his brow quirks at that, like really? Jimin squeezes his hands together tightly. “Um. I saw you with Lee Sungwoon.”

“No.” Taehyung says this sharply. Then he laughs, like it’s a joke. “No, that’s not possible, I’ve never been out with Sungwoon… I’ve… I don’t… I don’t remember that happening.”

“Taehyung–”

“Jimin. You were drunk, you didn’t see anything–”

“Taehyung, he assaulted you–” Jimin says, voice louder.

“I KNOW! ” The socialite yells. He places his head in his hands, sucking in erratic, fearful breaths. “I know. I know, I fucking know he did. I… I–I thought it was a nightmare. I thought it wasn’t real. I… I thought that I could fucking forget about it and I–” He’s crying. 

Jimin chokes up. He leans forward and wraps his arms around Taehyung tightly, pulling him as close as possible. He knows that Taehyung’s been hurting for the longest time but he wasn’t sure why. Whether he’d remembered what happened on that evening. Now that he knows, he regrets not doing this any sooner. He wishes that he could turn back the time, undo it. Or at least be there for his friend.

He’ll never understand the pain that Taehyung feels. He’ll never understand the pain that Jeongguk feels, either. Both of them, wronged and taken advantage of. Two people who never deserved what they went through. Two people amongst many more, in the streets, in Itaewon, in the world . Jimin wishes he could hug them all but he knows that he can’t. He wishes he could take their pain away but he can’t .

“I’m sorry Taehyung. I’m sorry for not coming to you sooner, and I’m so sorry– I’m so fucking sorry for–” Don’t cry . Don’t cry. He sucks it in. “I’m sorry for using it against Sungwoon. To keep Jeongguk safe.”

Taehyung stills. Jimin shuts his eyes momentarily, knowing. The boy pushes him away and Jimin watches his expression of pain morph into one of betrayal. Disbelief. “What?”

“Taehyung, I’m so fucking sorry–”

“Leave. Get out.” 

“I’m sorry, I’m so–”

“ GET OUT! ”

Jimin stands, pressing a hand to his mouth, suppressing a sob. “‘M sorry. I’m so fucking sorry I did this to you and… I… I don’t know how I can fix it and I–”

“You know how many nights I stayed up? Thinking about it? Wondering if it was just a nightmare, if it was my fears catching up to me? The day after it happened I felt so… I felt so fucking sore and violated. I felt like nothing fit on me. Nothing made me comfortable or happy and I didn’t know why. And you knew. You knew it happened and you kept it from me–” Taehyung’s standing now, too, crying, heaving in between words. “Even worse, you used it. You used it as fucking blackmail– ”

“Taehyung–”

The door opens. Hoseok enters, expression alarmed. “What’s going on here?”

“Jimin is leaving,” Taehyung says bitterly, wiping away his tears. “That’s all.”

Jimin turns to Hoseok, pleading, but the man’s eyes are sharp, dangerous. He stands aside, holding the door open, motioning for him. He hangs his head, walking out. 

In the hallway, Hoseok slams him against the wall. Jimin’s head spins violently from the impact– or just everything in general, he can’t tell. “You better pray to fucking god, Jimin, that Jeongguk gets out of that jail to protect you. Because the next time you fucking hurt Taehyung. You’re dead.”

“I can protect myself,” he wheezes. His vision is so blurry. He might just pass out.

“You can’t. You couldn’t protect Jeongguk. You can’t protect yourself. And I know this because from what I heard in your brief conversation, you used Taehyung’s pain asblackmail to save your ass.” Hoseok– No . Jung. This is Jung, not Hoseok. They are no longer friends– the man releases him. “Now go.”

Jimin does, rushing out. 

Once he gets to the street, he collapses, falling to his knees. He tugs at his hair, cursing himself.

Jimin screams.

February 22, 2019

“What now for you?” Sungwoon asks, looking at him. 

Xiyue’s packing his bags. He looks at the crime lord in the reflection of the hotel room window. “I didn’t get the impression that this temporary alliance meant buddy-buddy talk,” he responds lightly. He pulls a cap over his hair, slinging his duffel bags over his shoulder. “But. I’m going back to China. I have to finish jobs.”

“And then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll come back, maybe I won’t. Depends on my mood.”

“You say that often. Depends on my mood . What does that even mean?” Too many questions. Sungwoon asks too many questions and Xiyue’s not particularly in a good mood. Maybe he’ll turn around and kill Sungwoon, too. 

“It means that I’m a very impulsive, crazy person. We both know that,” Xiyue replies with a short laugh. “If something pisses me off in the slightest I will probably shoot that something.”

“So what did Jeongguk do to piss you off?”

The question of motive. Of course. Xiyue simply went to him, offering a temporary alliance to take Jeongguk down. Xiyue told him about the Gold Crown heist– not the specific details, but the fact that Jeongguk would be there. In exchange for his cooperation, Sungwoon gave him a hefty amount of money. A generous share of the bounty that Xiyue could add onto his shining stack of gold.

Xiyue doesn’t care about money. He just likes collecting it.

It’s all about fun .

The long answer would be: he was tired of being Jeongguk’s double. It was fun and games when he was high on a dangerous mixture of narcotics, but now? When he was sober? He felt like he was being tugged around like a dog. And often, Jeongguk did look at him like he was a dog. Jeongguk thought that he had a leash. But he never did. Xiyue played along because it was easy– he got to kill people and get paid.

But there’s something about imitation that’s… Boring . He’d heard once, somewhere, that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. By copying Jeongguk all the time, he was complimenting the man. And to an extent, it was true. Xiyue doesn’t want to compliment Jeongguk. He doesn’t want to be a copy of Jeongguk. Maybe . Maybe he wants to beJeongguk.

Knock him down a few pegs, back to the dirt. Clear the top of the Itaewon ladder. Have enough influence to rise. Xiyue could very well assume Jeongguk’s position on the ladder– it’s ripe for the taking. But there’s another aspect to this. Does he want to laze around all day, commanding proxies to do work for him? Crime lords rarely get their hands dirty unless completely necessary while Xiyue loves to make it rain blood. Maybe this life, this scene , isn’t for him.

The short answer: “I just got tired of being pushed around.”

Sungwoon doesn’t question him any further. Xiyue’s looking at his phone but he senses it. He looks up at the reflection again and Sungwoon’s retrieving his gun from the table by the door. Xiyue had seen it coming– he knows that he poses a threat to Sungwoon because Sungwoon is scared of him and his unpredictability. 

I suppose killing Lee Sungwoon would kick my reputation up a notch , he thinks, shrugging to himself, before slipping a knife from his sleeve. Xiyue’s not fucking stupid. While Sungwoon as at the bathroom, he’d emptied out the gun. So when he turns and Sungwoon fires, there’s nothing but a blank.

Xiyue eyes the gun, the tip barely an inch from his forehead. Sungwoon tries again. Another blank. He just sighs, using the butt of his knife to hit the gun away. And before Sungwoon can say anything, he stabs the man right in the heart. Once. Then twice. Thrice, holding him by the shoulder. Then he releases. 

Sungwoon falls to the ground, dead.

Xiyue slips his knife back up his sleeve, reaching to get his phone from his pocket. He’s made a few friends while he’d been in the competition. He dials for one of Sungwoon’s lower men. 

“Hello?”

“Hi. This is 127 speaking, you know. The one who won Sungwoon’s competition. I have a package for him in my hotel room– I’ll text you the details. But you might want to bring a mop. A broom. Probably bleach. Come quick before he gets stale.”

“What?” He sounds lost.

“I’ll text you an address. Clean this mess up. And I’ll reward you. Sungwoon is dead. I’m taking over. Spread the word.”

He clicks off his phone. 

He looks at himself in the mirror again. He doesn’t look like Jeongguk anymore because his hair is golden-brown. He has his eyes, both intact. He’s unshackled– free from jail, from a death sentence. The tattoo is permanent but he’ll learn to make it his own. 

He takes Jeongguk’s mask from his bag. He presses it over his face, inspecting the way it looks in the mirror. 

He understands now.

He feels invincible.

Chapter Text

The National Museum of Korea has burnt down. The fire department report that only some exhibits have been salvaged, although only barely.

– An excerpt from the Korea Herald on February 8, 2019 

Tattoo has been arrested. His identity has been revealed– Jeon Jeongguk, the same student who was found with his eye brutally gouged out just a month ago.

– An excerpt from The Korea Times on February 8, 2019

National Police Agency: "Jeon Jeongguk is now on death row."

– An excerpt from The Korea Times on February 23, 2019

Officer Gi, the man who had spearheaded the hunt for Tattoo, has been demoted from his position. He is currently under scrutiny for his inability to capture the criminal after two years of hunting and after working with him on the case.

– An excerpt from The JoonGang Ilbo on March 7, 2019 

Crime activity has lowered in Itaewon. Police speculate that Jeon Jeongguk’s arrest plays a huge role in lowering crime rates.

– An excerpt from the Korea Herald on March 12, 2019

Police report that Jeon Jeongguk has escaped prison. Security footage shows him killing a guard, assuming his identity to then escape the institution. A nation-wide search has commenced.

– An excerpt from The JoonGang Ilbo on March 18, 2019

CRIMEBOARDS.KR CHATROOM

March 18, 2019

[anonymous_830]: did u see? tattoo escaped 

[setfires]: ye they released the security footage. i’m impressed...

[anonymous5]: LOL ppl r still obsessed wid him… he should just go and never come back

[anonymous5]: the police r gna keep sending for him but theyre never gna catch him. waste of time

[setfires]: true they want to save face after officer gi was demoted 

[gunsxz]: hahahaha let’s see what happens… tattoo is impressive 

[she_ye]: you’re all wasting your time talking about him.

[she_ye]: the fires are starting again in itaewon. don’t you think it’s about time tattoo is dethroned?

[gunsxz]: ur crazy… get off this site.

[setfires]: tattoo is going to win. he gets out alive nd police r gonna go broke trying 2 catch him

[anonymous_830]: probably a troll. just report

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: please

Date: March 2, 2019

hey jeongguk. i’m sorry it took too long to send one of these. i’ve been studying hard and practicing my writing. it’s terrible here. everything has gone wrong. i can’t figure out what you meant when you said happy place. i need help. please.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: are you reading?

Date: March 24, 2019

he’s taking over itaewon quick. i can’t say much because i only have so much time before he comes back. i’m studying harder than ever. i miss you so much. please give me a sign. tell me that you’re safe.

To:  [email protected]

From:  [email protected]

Subject: bad weather

Date: March 31, 2019

it rained today. i stayed in and read some of the books you like. none of them make much sense and it's still difficult for me but i'm getting somewhere. i miss you a lot these days. i miss bickering with you especially. it's hard to fight with him because i know his gun is always loaded.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: another day

Date: April 8, 2019

he’s getting bored with me and he’ll kill me soon. i know it’s useless writing to you like this but it’s the only thing i can do these days. write, read. all our friends are gone. we don’t talk. i think i’m going to lose my mind.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: hurt

Date: May 14, 2019

i have to pretend. i know he likes me, he still does. he always has. so i pretend and like him back. it’s keeping me alive but there’s only so little time before he realizes that i don’t love him. 

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: busy, lately

Date: July 30, 2019

it’s been over two months since i sent you one of these. i’ve been busy helping him. as long as i’m compliant, he’ll keep me around. things are shifting a lot and itaewon is unstable. it’s like the whole system could topple over in a matter of seconds. but he’s rising. he’s on top. and i’m by his side.

i wish i was by yours.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: happy birthday

Date: September 1, 2019

happy birthday jeongguk. i’m sorry these emails are getting less frequent. but that doesn’t mean i care less. i’m trying, every day, to survive. i want to survive so i can continue, in any way i can, to search for you. i won’t stop. i said i’d protect you. but i keep thinking to myself, what if i wasn’t meant to? 

you could be safe right now, starting over a new life. i could be hanging onto something far gone and lost. but can you fault me? 

i’m coming over to your apartment today. it’s untouched and abandoned– it should be sold out by now but seokjin is protecting and paying for it. he hasn’t touched it. and honestly, i haven’t in a while. maybe happy place will make sense today.

Chapter Text

JIMIN FIDGETS WITH THE TRIGGER OF THE GUN underneath the table. He stares across at the man who files his fingers through the wads of cash. The men behind him who stand guard, guns held against their chests loosely, ready to aim on command. He turns to Seokjin beside him. The mercenary eyes him sideways, offering a look of encouragement. Jimin nods, mostly to himself, before asking, “Do we have a deal?”

The man glances up, leaning back against his chair. “Like I said– I can’t guarantee that my men will find him. I’ll give twenty for a span of one month, more than what I usually offer, especially for my best hunters. But after that, if he’s still not found–”

“What happens after is my concern, not yours,” Jimin says sharply in response, feeling the frustration seep into him. It’s been five damned months since he’d escaped prison and Jimin’s still tracking the same pathetic lead. Happy place . He’s thought about the words so much that they’re beginning to grow worn. But his determination is certainly not. “Your concern is sending these best men for the next month.”

“Some people don’t want to be found, Mr. Park. I’m giving you one last chance to drop out of this.” His eyes narrow warningly. “This is a lot of money. And you’ve been looking for what? Five months? With my best men and a week, we get results . Maybe this Jeongguk guy doesn’t want to be found–”

“Don’t fucking say his name. And stop telling me this as if it hasn’t crossed my mind.” Jimin stands up, gun in hand. The guards move to protect the suit but he only raises a hand, warding them away. Jimin slips the gun into his back pocket and shakes his head. “Take the money, Nakama. And the next time I want to hear from you is in a month . Unless you find him before the time is up.”

Seokjin stands up too, running a hand through his slicked back hair. “Thank you for your time, Nakama,” he says cautiously, probably an attempt to mend their relationship after Jimin’s snippy attitude. Jimin only catches the slight tip of Nakama’s head before he turns fully to leave the warehouse.

When they’re in the car, Seokjin finally speaks. “Once we get back to Seoul, I’ll be busy. I won’t be able to poke around as much, get more information.” The mercenary adjusts the rearview mirror, hand gripping onto it, eyes squinted. “But if things get bad again with Xiyue, I’ll be around to help you.”

Jimin settles into the seat, looking out the window. “It’s fine. I know that you and Taehyung have a busy schedule ahead.”

“He misses you, you know?”

“If he did, he’d talk to me. Or something. Does he even know what the fuck I have to live through these days? Xiyue’s been extremely unpredictable, more than usual. It’s like he’s a different person every day, Seokjin. One day he’s nice, one day he’s ready to kill me.” Jimin doesn’t realize how small his voice gets until it grows silent between them. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this, Jimin. You don’t deserve it at all but in terms of Taehyung, remember that he’s living in hell too. He now is certain about what happened to him and he’s been robbed of any sort of justice. Sungwoon is dead. And Sungwoon is still haunting him.” Seokjin sighs heavily. 

Jimin keeps staring out the window because he feels like shit. He feels like shit and he feels so alone . Seokjin’s there sometimes but he’s always by Taehyung’s side these days. Taehyung hasn’t spoken to him in months. And Jeongguk.

Jeongguk was nowhere to be found.

And Jimin misses him.

“I know Taehyung’s going through shit. I should be more considerate,” is his response. 

Seokjin doesn’t respond but Jimin can tell that he’s torn. Jimin’s glad he doesn’t say anything, either. 

He’s gotten used to the silence.

A lot has happened since Jeongguk’s disappearance. The bonds that the crime lord had forged between the people who’d gone on the Gold Crown heist had been severed. Alliances shifted, friendships were strained and relationships spawned from where least expected. And Jimin remains afloat in the ocean, tied down to the anchor that is Xiyue.

Taehyung and Hoseok grew apart. Taehyung returned back to his life as a socialite, appearing as the perfect, pretty boy for his parents on the newspapers and magazines. Hoseok went into hiding, his status as a crime lord declining quickly after that. And in his absence, Taehyung grew closer to Seokjin and the two, as far as Jimin knows, are currently together. 

Yoongi grew apart from Taehyung, too. Unlike Hoseok, his status as a crime lord elevated. Sungwoon was his main competitor in terms of the more technological side of the dirty business and once Sungwoon was proclaimed dead and disposed of, he grew. He doesn’t talk to anybody, not from their group. But Jimin has heard that he’s been working with a rising crime lord.

Koda. The rising crime lord. Because nobody else wanted to, she took partial credit for the Gold Crown heist and was given massive amount of street credit for doing so. She fought her way up and earned a spot on the top of the ladder. Jimin’s spoken to her a few times– she expresses her concern about Jeongguk although distantly. Jimin asks her about how her life has changed. And it’s some strange friendly conversation between them that never really lasts.

Koda and Sol never really get back together. Sol just returns to his job as a bounty hunter and from what Jimin has seen himself, he’s content. Jimin has bumped into him a couple of times on the job and in some of those times, he runs into Namjoon, too. Like with Koda, they exchange friendly words but once they pass, they forget.

Which leaves Xiyue.

Xiyue left for China right after Jeongguk’s arrest and arrived two weeks later. He’d been kind at first, offering Jimin a deal: Jimin would have the freedom to do whatever he wanted– as long as he accompanied Xiyue to business meetings, dinners and jobs whenever he’d asked. So Jimin took it up, figuring that there could be much worse. And at times, the worst manifested.

Xiyue could be a different person one day. He’d return with blood smeared all over his face and his gun emptied out. Jimin would be watching a movie in the living room when the newly-risen crime lord would drag himself in, eyes sharp and vicious. Jimin would offer to help him with his wounds but Xiyue would threaten to kill him. And then the man would lock himself in his room until early in the morning, when he was back to normal, calm and collected.

Jimin always keeps a gun or knife on him in the case that Xiyue does try to kill him. But so far, Xiyue’s never really done anything completely horrid towards him, so Jimin allows himself to relax a bit these days.

He focuses on himself when he’s not out looking for Jeongguk. He takes a few classes to learn how to read and write properly and he’s more or less perfected it. He reads a lot of books, mostly from Jeongguk’s shelf– although most of Jeongguk’s choices are mind-boggling and sometimes far too complex for Jimin to handle. But he tries anyway because he wishes that he could take the smallest peek into Jeongguk’s enigma of a mind. 

Jimin works out. He maintains his strength and frequently goes to the gymnasium to regain his fleet-footedness and agility. He spends a lot of time going over old routines engraved into his mind, not because he misses it, but because he wants to get his mind off the present sometimes. Between self-care, searching for Jeongguk and trying to survive living under the same roof as somebody like Xiyue, Jimin doesn’t have much room to breathe. But when he’s doing something he’s done thousands of times before, he lapses into a temporary yet comforting state. 

He thinks about getting a real job sometimes. He has a lot of money from working with Jeongguk for two years and taking up other small jobs in Itaewon but he wonders if there’ll be a time after this, where he’ll be able to transition back into the paperwork world. Jimin doesn’t see himself in an office environment– certainly not. But maybe he’ll work at a coffee shop or library or something. 

He shakes the thought from his mind as he inserts the key into the doorknob, slipping into the apartment. He focuses on the present, not the future. Xiyue’s sitting down in the living room, wearing casual clothing, staring at nothing in particular. So Jimin has to break the silence, saying, “Hello.”

Xiyue tears his gaze from the window. “You’re back,” is all he says.

“Yeah. Uh, you said that we had some important business thing this weekend?” Jimin places his bags down, toeing at them so they don’t block the door. 

“Business.” He says this like it doesn’t completely register. Xiyue’s in that mood, Jimin supposes. The one where he’s all floaty and detached, like nothing matters to him. “Yeah. It’s tomorrow afternoon. To discuss property ownership.” The crime lord straightens, bringing a hand to his chin.

“Property ownership?” Jimin frowns. 

“ Proxy ownership, to be exact. There’s been some kind of overlap. And the proxy has been leaking information to a third party, so we’re thinking about consequences. How to proceed. Amongst other things, of course.”

Jimin nods his head, sliding his hand into his pocket. “Oh. Do you want me to find anything out before that? Like the proxy’s name? His family? Friends? Any other connections or ties?”

“Yes. I want every detail on him.” Just like that, Xiyue’s eyes sharpen and he focuses his words. “As much information as possible but make it discreet because I have a feeling that he’s trying to do the same. If I get ahead, I can sell the information for a price. Allow him to take matters into his own hands if he wants.”

Jimin simply nods again, bending down to pick up his bags. He lugs them into his room after unlocking it. He closes the door shut behind him once he’s sure that Xiyue’s done giving instructions and he walks towards his own secret compartment, right behind his dresser. He pulls out a serrated knife, a pistol with a suppressor, setting them down on his bed. Then he pulls up his laptop, where he has a copy of a list of all of Xiyue’s proxies.

He scrolls through it a couple of times, thinking about who could have possibly double-crossed two crime lords. Jeongguk used to have the same type of spreadsheet but his was more organized, with notes and lots of personal information. Xiyue’s is simple. Only names, ages, an estimation of where they lived and undescriptive notes.

Jimin has seen the list enough to decipher what Xiyue’s notes mean so he filters it out and looks for the names with the ??? on them. There are eight names. And Jimin has the rest of the afternoon until the evening to get started. He looks to his weapons and grimaces. 

It’s going to be a long night.

Jimin’s hands are shaking. His fingers are coated with blood– so much blood that the knife slips from his grasp easily, landing on the floor. He tries not to panic, to cry about it because this is his life now. He should get used to it– death, loss. After all, it’s like he’s gone through it himself. Pulling himself from the collapsing tent as the fire consumed his troupe as a whole. He was lucky to have made it out alive but maybe that was supposed to be the end for him. And now, the universe was punishing him for cheating death.

He presses his sleeve against his mouth, stifling the sobs that begin to rise. Another death because of him, left in his wake. It’s not that it’s the first time– it isn’t. It’s the thought that this could be going on forever and ever until his own eventual death. Jimin can’t stomach the sight of the corpse in front of him but he can’t bring his eyes away either. He killed a man who had a family. Who had kids . Who had a life.

“You’re thinking about it too much,” Jeongguk says, coming to a stop in front of him. Jimin looks up. His face is covered with the mask he wears on the dirtiest of jobs, like this one. “He wasn’t a good person. You have to stop thinking that.”

“His kids are fatherless now,” Jimin whispers shakily. “I killed a father–”

“You killed a man who killed others. How different is he from you? From me?” Jeongguk’s expression is hard– Jimin can tell from the way his tone clips. “You have too much sympathy in you. Maybe this isn’t for you. If you’re going to keep crying, keep weeping for every person you kill even if they’ve done more heinous crimes–”

“Don’t you have sympathy?” Jimin frowns, cutting through. “Don’t you have sympathy at all?”

Jeongguk takes his gun and without looking back, he shoots a bullet through the man’s head, finishing him off entirely. “If I had sympathy I wouldn’t have gotten as far as I have. This place isn’t for people who act based on feelings. We think logically, not emotionally. Never,” Jeongguk emphasizes, shoving the gun into his hands, “let your emotions consume you. Feel if you want. Be kind. But never let them drive what you do.”

With that, Jeongguk walks away. Jimin holds the gun in his hand, feeling anger surge inside him. He shoots once, aiming right for the body again. Blood splatters everywhere and it’s so gruesome– Jimin can’t even recognize the man’s face.

He drops the gun then, realizing what Jeongguk had said. 

Emotions are dangerous.

It takes a long time to finally get things sorted out. A lot of walking, slipping in and out of bars. Slight interrogations– not too intense, just enough to get word about the different proxies, how they are, what they’re like. He spends a total of seven hours doing this, non-stop, until he narrows it down to one suspect– Kang Taeyon. In Xiyue’s file, he’s sixteen years old and he lives in Ilsan, on his own. Jimin doesn’t have any photos but he figures that if he asks around more, he’ll be pointed in a more specific direction to look. So he takes a break when his stomach grumbles. He walks into the nearest restaurant– a ramen one– and opts for a single table.

Jimin sits by the window as he usually does and he allows his mind to wander. A mistake, given the fact that his mind has been playing tricks on him for a while now. When he looks out the glass, across the dimly-lit street, he sees Jeongguk walking. His heart surges and his fist clenches from where it lays on his lap and for a moment, he believes it. But a car passes by and the figure is gone. And Jimin’s left to himself again.

The hallucinations began a month after Jeongguk escaped prison. They’d come to him mostly through nightmares where he’d be sat and forced to watch as his eye was ripped from him. Or in dreams where he and Jeongguk would be lying next to each other, speaking in hushed tones, holding hands. Jimin would wake up, the bed too big and everything too empty and he’d cry. At least, for the first few weeks.

Then he stopped being sad and became angry. Filled with a determination that drove him to search, far and vast for Jeongguk. He’d forged deals with foreign men, killed plenty, gone to places dirtier than Itaewon’s lowest nightclubs. And yet, to no avail. Jeongguk was nowhere to be found. And Jimin would return back to his shared apartment. If he was lucky, Xiyue would be in a good enough mood. If he wasn’t, he’d come back to blood on the floor or on the walls and Xiyue patching himself up from wounds, a sinister expression on his face.

He sighs, sipping from his glass of water. His thoughts are interrupted when a man stops by his table. Namjoon.

He straightens in his seat, placing the glass down. “Hey,” he greets.

“Jimin,” The bounty hunter responds, tipping his head in greeting. “It’s getting pretty late. What are you doing out? Especially in this part of the city?”

Jimin shrugs a shoulder. “Just another job from Xiyue. He and another crime lord have a proxy that’s double-crossing them, spreading information for money and stuff. I’m just trying to get information.”

“Oh. Do you need help?”

“Uh. I have a name, actually, but no other lead after that– other than he comes from Ilsan. I’m not really familiar with the place so it’s going to take me the whole night, I think–”

“I was actually born in Ilsan. And mostly raised there, before I was dumped out here. I can help.”

Jimin raises his brows, not quite understanding why Namjoon is offering to help when he probably has other things to do but grateful nonetheless. “That would be nice. Thank you– uh, do you want to sit…?”

Namjoon looks around at the empty store. Then he nods. “I guess.”
Once both of their orders arrive, they get into work. Jimin unfolds his piece of paper containing his notes. He slides it over between them and points at the name. “Kang Taeyon. He lives in Ilsan. He’s seventeen. I don’t have a face or anything more than that, unfortunately.”

“It’s fine, I’ve had worse leads,” Namjoon responds thoughtfully. “Some people come to us bounty hunters and they give us nothing but an age and some vague description of what they did. But within a week, we get it done. This is more than enough, actually.”

Jimin opens his mouth in genuine awe. “Wow. That’s… Pretty damn cool. I never really looked into stuff about bounty hunters. I just know you guys have that tattoo and that it’s difficult to get initiated. Most of what I know comes from Sol.”

“Sol was a prodigy, initiated when he was still a kid. From what I heard, they gave him this… Crazy, obscure case file that nobody else could work out and he managed to. Which I think came mostly from the fact that he was rich and had money– he probably had men work for him too–, but it was still a feat.” Namjoon looks away from the paper, focusing on him. “Bounty hunters are just what our names imply. We scout people with bounties on their heads. And if not, we do other things, like hunt people down if they have loans. Or have wronged a client– just like what Xiyue is asking.

“I would say that it’s some sort of brotherhood but we’re all pretty selfish deep inside. But we’re quite a force,” the man nods his head, eyes growing distant, as if remembering something. “We have people all around. Some in Japan. China. Singapore.”

“You know, at one point I considered. Trying to become one instead of working for Jeongguk, but I never pulled through. Mostly because I heard that you had to be literate . I couldn’t read or write until just a few months ago,” Jimin says, pulling on the noodles, winding them around his fork so he doesn’t eat sloppily. “I came from a circus before that so I was big on the whole brotherhood-type of thing. Then it burned down. So I came to Itaewon, looking for ways to earn money without having proper education prior. Jeongguk plucked me out before I ended up selling myself. And he gave me purpose.

“But back then, he wasn’t nice at all. He was self-serving, rude…” Jimin laughs softly. “I just wanted affection. Friends. A family . Of course, now I’m glad I stayed– I wouldn’t want it any other way but… I keep thinking. If not Jeongguk, then where would I be now?”

Namjoon looks at him with calculating eyes– he always has this look on his face, one that reminds him of Jeongguk. Always thinking, like every word is a puzzle to solve. But it washes away quickly, leaving a kind, understanding look that Jimin bathes in. It’s been a while since he’s spoken to somebody so freely, asides from Seokjin. “When I met Jeongguk I had my doubts about him. Not about his intelligence but I always knew there was something underneath his innocent college prodigy self. I never thought, however, that he would be Tattoo . He’s really something.”

“He is,” Jimin echoes, looking down into his bowl of food, nearly empty. 

“I know I said I stopped looking months ago but I lied. As somebody whose job is to find people who don’t necessarily want to be found, I thought it would be easier but… He’s just gone ,” Namjoon admits, tone growing sad. Jimin doesn’t know much about their relationship but it’s clear that Namjoon cares, even just a bit. “I know it’s a difficult thought to stomach, Jimin, but is there going to be a day where you stop looking? What if we don’t find him for another year? What then?”

He knows his answer. He’s known for the longest time now but he hasn’t brought himself to admit it. Not until now.

“I’ll drop it and move on,” Jimin replies quietly. “If he truly doesn’t want to be found, so be it. But I know that he cares about me, even just a little. And that’s what he would have wanted me to do. I always got the sense that he thought I was better than all of this. Maybe I am.”

The conversation dies after that. 

They finish their food in silence and head out together.

The first time Jeongguk really smiles in front of him is the first time it comes.

The betraying twitch of his heart. 

Jimin knows that Jeongguk’s just playing the role of a charming businessman in this party but he falls for it nonetheless. He grips at his drink a bit too hard, teeth gritting as he finds it difficult to really look away. Jeongguk continues to chat amongst a group of socialites, holding his own flute of champagne, hand nestled comfortably in the pocket of his black slacks. He laughs at their jokes and tries his best not to grimace or flinch when they touch him. 

He nearly jumps when a hand rests on his shoulder. Jimin turns to see Kim Taehyung standing beside him, eyeing Jeongguk curiously, too. “Who’s that?”

“Uh. A friend of Kim Seokjin. People call him Jeon,” Jimin responds. A lot of people see Jeongguk hanging around these galas so to minimize the connection to his life as a college student, he offers an identity– Jeon. And he hides under the guise of being distantly related to Kim Seokjin. Basically, a regular plus-one at parties. 

“Huh. I have seen him around a few times. You like him or something?”

Jimin chokes. “U–Uh. No. He’s just a… Friend of mine, I guess. Uh. How’s that one guy you like? The one you met at the party… That one time.”

“A friend of yours. Right,” Taehyung smirks a bit but doesn’t press any further. “Hoseok. Is the name of that guy. We’re seeing each other. Not dating, just sex I guess. I don’t think it can really get further than that.” Taehyung plays his worries off easily– he’s good at masking his emotions when he wants to.

Jimin feels his small smile dip when he thinks about Taehyung’s family. How they expect him to be the perfect kid, the pretty boy for the maganzines. He can relate. But Taehyung doesn’t have a way out, no– the public’s eyes are on him and they’ve always been since he was younger.

Jimin was glad he had met Taehyung. He was always kind and open about everything. A bit fiery when he wanted– it was a mistake to underestimate him. He held his ground like rock.

“Does it have to be like that?” He asks, trying to put as much optimism into his voice. 

“It does. He’s a crime lord, Jimin, they’re as slippery as it gets. And you know how they get about their emotions and stuff. It’s always about compartmentalizing; it’s always about tucking all of your feelings into a box so small that it eventually disappears.” In contrast, Taehyung sounds extremely pessimistic. Almost exhausted. “Actually, you don’t know what it’s like. And I hope you never have to. Because it’s difficult being in love with somebody who’ll have doubts about feeling the same, every step of the way.”

Taehyung’s called away after that, trailing after his parents as they make their final rounds before leaving. Jimin, on the other hand, stands awkwardly, watching as Jeongguk wraps up. He thinks about what Taehyung had said. And it’s true. Jimin doesn’t love Jeongguk, not yet at least, but he knows that he feels something for the crime lord. And there’s little to no chance of reciprocation, if he’s being generous. No chance at all, if he’s being honest.

Jeongguk looks his way and he’s reminded about how this is all an act. His eyes hold a certain impatience to them, like he’s just waiting for this to be over. It’s so unlike the persona he’s projecting at that moment, swiftly turning back to the others to converse again.

Even if Jeongguk did show anything, any sign one day– how would Jimin know it was real?

How could he tell if it wasn’t just another lie?

They drive down all the way to Ilsan. It’s a short thirty minute drive but the wait seems like an eternity. Once they get to one of Namjoon’s small properties, a one-room apartment mostly used as an office, they lay down a plan. Or at least Namjoon does, speculating to himself, thinking. Jimin hangs back, thinking about how they could possibly scout the whole area, tapping the butt of his pen against his lips.

He looks outside the window and sees the train moving in the distance. Then it clicks.

“What’s the legal driving age again?” He asks Namjoon, turning to the man who sits at his desk, eyes pointed at the ceiling.

“Eighteen,” He responds, snapping out of his thoughts. “Why?”

“Taeyon is seventeen. He can’t drive back. And he lives all the way here, which means he probably takes the train. There’s a possibility that he takes a cab or something but I doubt he would, they’re less reliable and more expensive.” He fleshes out his thoughts out loud. He likes to have somebody to talk to when he has ideas. Jimin glances over and feels a sense of relief when he sees Namjoon nodding along, brows furrowing.

“You’re pretty smart, Jimin,” is his response, and it’s not filled with surprise. It’s like he’s confirming something he suspected. And that makes Jimin feel good on the inside.  “Do you know what time proxies usually get off work and stuff? I know that changes, but if he works for Xiyue, there should be some range.”

Jimin nods his head, bringing his chair over, tapping on Namjoon’s laptop. “Yeah, bring up schedules for around one in the morning. Xiyue always pays off his proxies by midnight or so, so I think he’ll be taking a train around that time.” It’s a long shot but Namjoon brings up the schedules anyway.

There are two trains that stop by Ilsan within that time range and they’re on opposite sides– one in each district. So they agree to split up to check.

It’s only eleven in the evening so Jimin quickly calls up Xiyue to ask. It takes a few rings but the crime lord finally answers. “Yes?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Jimin taps a finger against the edge of Namjoon’s desk. “Just wondering,” he amends. He can’t ask Xiyue to trail Taeyon down because he knows it’ll interfere with his plans and there’s a slight chance he’d become irritated because of it. Jimin doesn’t want to put Xiyue in that mood because that Xiyue is beyond dangerous. “We have a lead on the proxy. I think it’s Kang Taeyon. I’m in Ilsan right now and I’m just waiting to catch him out at the train station. How does he look like?”

“ Kang Taeyon ,” Xiyue says thoughtfully. “He’s very tall. Maybe five-foot-eleven. He has pale brown hair. A defined nose.”

“Huh. Okay. I’ll see what I can find out.”

“Thank you.”

The line clicks and Jimin places his phone back in his bag before he looks up at Namjoon, who continues to type away at his laptop. “Xiyue gave a description. Very tall, pale brown hair and a defined nose. I’m not sure I can exactly see it but maybe when I see him, it’ll click.”

“Sounds pretty generic but yeah, we’ll know when we know, I guess,” Namjoon responds, half-mindedly.

Jimin doesn’t want to bother Namjoon any longer because from the way he’s furiously typing away, only pausing occasionally to rub his fingers against his chin, he’s doing his own work. So he stands up and pokes around the shelves. Namjoon doesn’t say anything after he’s glanced up so Jimin takes it as a sign to continue on. 

He crouches down to investigate the wide array of case files that are lined in alphabetical order. He skims along, wondering if he could find it. And there it is, under T . Jimin pulls out the file for Tattoo , as it’s labelled. “Can go through this?” He asks, holding it out for the bounty hunter to see.

Namjoon looks over, stilling momentarily. “If you want, I guess,” he responds cooly. But Jimin catches the apprehension.

He sits down, crossing his legs and placing it in front of him. He opens the folder and is met with a paperclipped stack of printed photos. He tugs the metal binder off and begins to go through each one. He’s skipping through most until he gets to the final photo. Because that photo is of him . And in red ink, there are two letters written on the top left corner of the picture. PJ . Park Jimin,

He goes back to the rest of the photos. KS . Kim Seokjin. KT . Kim Taehyung. SY . Sol Young.

One of the photos looks like Jeongguk but Jimin dismisses the thought immediately when he catches the sharp, pronounced cheekbones. It’s labelled with a question mark symbol and Tattoo? written on it with neat handwriting. “I assume that one’s Xiyue,” Namjoon speaks from where he sits by his desk, work forgotten for the meantime.

“It is. Jeongguk told me that they had a photo of me. You marked it as PJ . Did you write it before you met me or after?”

“Before. I knew who you were but I didn’t know what part you played in all of this. There was a proposed theory in the National Police Agency, that Tattoo was a network of people working together to pull off the heists and other underground crimes. So Gi spent a lot of time trying to find anybody he could that could be associated. Hence the photos.”

Jimin frowns slightly. “Isn’t it weird? All these photos are shit. Like, you can’t tell it’s us at all.”

"There were more photos but Jeongguk filtered them out one day. I thought he was being smart and helpful about it but it turns out, he was just trying to cover up for all of you guys,” Namjoon replies with a shrug. “He was really good at throwing us off his tracks. And yours.”

I won’t let them get to you . Jeongguk’s words echo in his mind, reminding him of the day Jeongguk told him about the photos. 

Jimin swallows the tight feeling in his throat, moving along the case file. There are a lot of filed reports about fires, bodies, heists– both big and small. It’s strange to think that he’s been around for most of these things. He’s been there since Jeongguk’s sudden rise to power. And he’s still around now, when Tattoo is fading and Jeongguk is missing.

He can’t stomach any of it at the moment. He closes the file up soon enough, standing so he can return it but before he does, Namjoon says, “Keep it if you want.”

“Am I allowed to?” He tries to place skepticism in his tone but he kind of wants it. He ignores the way it’s marked as the property of the National Police Agency and he focuses on Namjoon.

“Honestly, it doesn’t matter. I worked under Gi and he’s been demoted and fired from his position. He took a lot of hits from the whole thing,” the bounty hunter leans back against his chair. Then he repeats, “You can keep it if you want.”

“Okay.” He slips it into his bag. By then, it’s nearing midnight so the two of them get ready to go. 

When they part to go to the opposite stations, Jimin releases a quaky breath. 

He doesn’t realize how tense he’s been– not for the past hour, not for the past months.

Jimin plugs in his earphones and leans back against the bench. The train’s supposed to stop by in a few seconds and like scheduled, it does. He glances at his watch and then looks up. It’s a pretty empty train and only a handful of people exit the cart, all looking exhausted. His eyes skim over them all and it’s hard to miss a tall, pale-haired boy that emerges from the crowd. His eyes are downcast, on his phone. He’s listening to music too, shutting out the world. Jimin waits for him to pass before he stands up to follow.

Taeyon stops by the bathroom so Jimin quickly calls Namjoon.

“I’m on his trail. I can take it from here,” he says hushedly.

“Okay. Stay safe,” Namjoon replies.

“Thank you. So much, for everything. Identifying him was easier than I thought– there were about twenty people that came out of the train.”

“Huh. Better luck on your side, I guess.”

Jimin ends the call shortly after that, watching as Taeyon proceeds to the exit of the station. He’s quick on his feet, light on his toes, just like every other proxy should be. Mostly because they have to get from place to place really quickly but partly because if they manage to fuck up a job, their crime lord could hunt them down and make them pay for it. Jimin has to do a little maneuvering to keep up– he doesn’t want to be too obvious so he takes a different exit.

He hangs around the corner when Taeyon gives a cab driver the directions to his house. Jimin watches as the car drives away before he searches it up on google maps. It’s near the Ilsan Lake Park, just a few streets down, so he waves down a cab and directs to be dropped off there. He receives a look of confusion because it’s one in the morning and the park should definitely be closed but Jimin ignores it and stares out the window. But he remains in the present so he doesn’t hallucinate and see Jeongguk. He needs to focus on the now .

Once he’s dropped off, he opens up the map again and orients himself so that the pointing symbol is right ahead. And it’s all good until he crosses down to a barely-lit area. He’s too focused on the map so he doesn’t even notice or hear the footsteps behind him. A hand cuffs the side of his head and an arm slides around his neck, locking him down. 

Jimin chokes, dropping his phone. He grabs onto the man’s arm tightly, clawing at it and trying to slip away but it’s an iron grip– he’s left to struggle and writhe until enough oxygen is drained from him. He grows light-headed and soon he stops resisting. 

He goes slack.

Jimin wakes up to the sound of metal against wood. It’s piercing and irritating in the worst possible way. There’s a gag around his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes. He recognizes the smell immediately– chloroform. 

He knows not to struggle in these situations so he relaxes himself as best as possible. He focuses on the feeling of the bind around his hands. He’s not tied down by handcuffs– rather, it’s some sort of simple knot with a rope. He immediately knows what it is– a constrictor knot. Simple but effective. But Jimin’s been in enough situations like these before. He knows how to get out, as long as he has a blade with him.

His sleeve knife is always there. He can slip it out and cut himself loose by targeting the riding turn of the knot but he’s not sure where his assaulter is. So he remains still. He’ll get out of here.

There’s more scraping before the man finally tugs the blindfold off. It’s Kang Taeyon, looking at him with gleaming eyes. “Park Jimin. To what do I owe the pleasure?” With that, Taeyon pulls the gag off, too. Jimin wipes his mouth against his shoulder, pushing away the saliva and traces of chloroform. 

“How’d you know I was tracking you?” He questions, slipping on a dim expression. 

“I mean, I know who you are. When I saw you at the train station, I recognized you. Xiyue’s guy, right?” The metal that had been making the estranged noise is a chair. Taeyon sits on it, arms folded, chin tipped up defiantly. “Does he want me dead?”

Jimin remains ambiguous as he slips out his knife. “I don’t know. He just wanted to know where you lived.”

“Which often means that he wants me gone. I can’t let that happen, you know? It’s all about survival. I don’t want to die.” He shakes his head, shuddering. “Especially in his hands. I hear he can get sloppy when he wants. All gore. Dismembering people and stuff.”

He saws away at the riding turn, trying to remain as physically still as possible. “You should have been honest with him, at least. He would have been less determined to kill you,” Jimin offers with a sharp tone.

Taeyon’s eyes slit. “What do you mean honest?”

“You’re double-crossing him. And that other crime lord.”

He laughs incredulously, throwing his head back as he does so. “God– God, that’s ridiculous. You think all proxies are loyal? Of-fucking-course not ! I know plenty of guys and girls like me that are working more than one person. God, Park Jimin. Why do you even work with that guy?”

I don’t want to , Jimin thinks. But if I want to survive, I am going to. Just like you have to betray people for survival. It’s all survival. “He pays well.”

“Being a fuckin’ proxy pays well if you do good enough. If you were able to track me down here, you’re good enough to be working for some better, less crazy crime lord.”

“Why do you work for him, then?” Jimin replies bitterly. Taeyon is saying all of this, implying that Jimin has a choice. Jimin doesn’t. If he betrays Xiyue– if he thinks, for one second, about leaving Xiyue, it could end up with him on the run And Jimin’s not a proxy. Sure, he’s fleet-footed and athletic but he’s not used to running. He’s only done it once in his life with no intention of ever doing it again.

“Like you said, he pays well. And I am certainly not a genius like you. I’m not going to get any further up the ladder. But look at you , magically sawing your way through that constrictor knot.” 

Jimin stops, accidentally losing grip of the knife in his surprise. The metal falls to the ground. Taeyon just grins widely. “I’m not your fuckin’ enemy, Jimin. I don’t want to be but I suppose this whole Xiyue thing puts us on opposite sides of the court. Do I let you go?”

Before Jimin can respond, there’s loud footsteps that come from down the hallway. Taeyon stands, alarmed, but he’s immediately hushed into silence, slipping back down into his seat when Xiyue walks through the doorway. The crime lord looks between them, a sinister smile on his lips. “Well isn’t this nice.”

“Xiyue–” Taeyon begins, face turning pale. As Jimin had suspected, all his big talk was him trying to play off the evident fear in his eyes. 

“Shut the fuck up.” Xiyue crosses the room, bending down to pick the knife from the ground. He finishes the cut off, setting Jimin free. But before Jimin stands, Xiyue stops him. The crime lord holds his gaze. “Good job,” he murmurs.

Jimin nods stiffly, wringing his hands around to regain feeling in them. “Thanks. What are you going to do?”

“Just wait in my car.”

He knows better than to argue so he does, grabbing his bag by the door and hustling out of the room. Jimin takes his phone out. The screen is cracked from the fall earlier. He only grimaces at the sight and calls Namjoon. “Hey? What happened?”

“Xiyue’s here. I think he followed me or something. He’s dealing with Taeyon now. And fuck– Fuck, Namjoon, I’m so scared.” Jimin glances back at the house, feeling the anxiety build up inside him. “This is going to make him snap. His… H–His moods are unsteady. He’s going to get very fucking violent and I don’t… I–I don’t think I can handle that.”

“Jimin. If you’re not going to be safe, let me pick you up. I can come there, send me the address–”

Namjoon doesn’t get to finish because Jimin’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. The door swings open and Xiyue’s walking out casually. No blood, no grimace. Jimin lets out a loose sigh of relief before the man approaches, steadying himself. “What happened?” He asks.

“Nothing. I just wanted information, remember? I just made sure that he sits still a bit longer so I can sell the information.”
“Sits still a bit longer?”

Xiyue pats him on the head, laughing lightly. “I didn’t cut off his legs, Jimin, wipe that look off your face. I just told him that he’s still bound by contract, even though he’s broken it himself. And I threatened him, just a little. But no harm done.” Xiyue’s eyes searches his own, and it’s clear that he knows. “I know you’re scared of me. And you have every right to be so, but I’m on your side, Jimin.”

He can’t stop himself from blurting, “No. You’re not. You took away the one person who mattered to me.”

And it’s clear that he expected that, too. His smile deepens. “And look where you are now, Jimin. You’re reading, writing fluently. Travelling to different countries. You frequently go to the gym, you continued gymnastics. You’re applying to a college, soon.”

“I’m getting stronger. I’ll become stronger than you one day, and I’ll kill you.” It comes out, just like that. Jimin braces himself for the switch to flip. For Xiyue to kill him right then, but he doesn’t.

He only laughs lightly and slips into the driver’s seat. 

And that’s so much worse because Jimin doesn’t know where he stands now. He’s left feeling worse than ever. Because no matter what, he’ll always be tethered to Xiyue.

And there’s no breaking that tie.

The following morning, Jimin wakes up to a mess. There’s blood on the ground and glass swept to the corners of the living room, shards from a mirror. The blood is mostly washed away but it’s evident that it was once there. And that Xiyue got into a bit of a mess somewhere in the early hours of the morning.

Jimin steps over the blood, reaching for the mop. He spends half an hour cleaning up the rest of the mess and by the time he’s finished, it’s already eleven in the morning. It hits him then, that it’s the first of September. It’s Jeongguk’s birthday. So he pulls out his laptop to write a quick email despite knowing he won’t get anything return. 

He rushes to get showered and changed for the meeting. And by the time he’s done with that , Xiyue is still not back to pick him up.

And then he notices it, in the silence of the room.

Something feels different.

He looks at the other door, eyes zoning in on it. Could it be?

Jimin treads over to Xiyue’s door and he’s surprised when he finds it open. For the first time in the past six or so months, Xiyue has left the door open and it’s so strange, so unusual that Jimin has to pause in his tracks, glancing around to make sure that it isn’t some sort of test. But Xiyue doesn’t seem to be around at all. Jimin concludes as such after poking around the apartment a bit more so he lightly pushes the door back so he can step in.

There’s two sides to Xiyue’s portion of the apartment. One is his office and the other is his bedroom, with an attached bathroom. Jimin spares a glance for the main door, chewing on the inside of his cheek worriedly but it vanishes when he reminds himself that this is the only chance he’ll ever get. So he pushes on, light on his feet, towards the desk.

He sifts through files and contracts, handwritten post-it notes in that strange cursive font he uses. It’s all related to his position as a crime lord, Jimin notes as he continues on, turning to the shelves. There are books on one side– Jimin recognizes a few titles, a handful of them being a part of Jeongguk’s own bookshelf– and to the other, unlabelled notebooks.

There are three. Jimin reaches out for one with a green leather covering. He opens it and raises his brows at the list of names. It goes on and on and on until the very end of the notebook. Jimin notices along the way that the handwriting shifts every now and then but it’s often this strange, almost unreadable scrawl. An uneasy feeling settles deep in him as he returns the book to where it was and as he reaches for the next.

February 8, 2019

I did it. I don’t know why I did it but I did it. I sold Jeongguk out to Lee Sungwoon. It didn’t make me feel any better. It didn’t make me feel any sort of satisfaction at all. So I’m pissed. I could’ve killed him, I could’ve had him all to myself but I gave all the glory to Lee Sungwoon.

Jimin stops there, feeling a short breath escape him. He looks over his shoulder and Xiyue is still not present although he feels like the man is looming over him, ever-present like a shadow. He flips the page.

February 22, 2019

I killed Lee Sungwoon. It felt unsatisfactory. I know his reputation well– he’s disgusting. A man-whore who was only able to get this far up because of his money. He didn’t deserve his position as a crime lord so far up Itaewon’s ladder so I took him out. While working with him briefly, I realized that he doesn’t belong here. People are going to be mad that he’s dead at the hands of some outsider but they should be more appreciative. I took him out for them. For Jimin.

He feels his head spin. No, no, no . 

February 27,  2019

I keep thinking about Jimin. He’s miserable without Jeongguk, which I suppose is understandable considering that he’s in love. Jeongguk’s in jail right now and Jimin’s trying to get him out. Jimin thinks that I’m not watching but I am– I’m everywhere. I know he frequents the visiting rooms, speaking to Jeongguk of the predicament he’s in. How he’s being held captive by me. A strange view of the narrative but I’ll let it slide. 

March 21, 2019

God it’s getting worse. If I keep taking these medications my head will explode. I wish it would just explode so I wouldn’t be so fucking crazy all the time.

Medications? Jimin looks between the diary and the bathroom door. He decides to close the notebook, placing it back where it belongs, and he quickly rushes to the bathroom. He pulls open the medicine cabinet and he only has enough time to read one of the labels before he’s being dragged out of the room.

He feels his back slam against the couch and he’s staring up at Xiyue, who’s looking down at him with a manic expression. “What the fuck were you doing in my room?” He says, tone laced with venom.

“M–Medicine! I–I… I jus’ wanted medicine–”

“You could’ve gone to the fucking store. You could’ve asked me to get some. But you fucking invaded my privacy– Jimin I’ve never been to your room. Not once in these months and you–” He’s angry. He’s completely and utterly upset and Jimin is positively shaking from where he half-sits, half-lies.

“‘M sorry,” he chokes out, beginning to cry when the anxiety, the fear spills over. “I’m so fucking sorry–”

“Just… Just don’t .” Xiyue looks around like he’s crazy. Like he’s insane. And he simply makes a grab for his coat, not bothering to lock his door again. “Forget about the meeting, Jimin.”

Jimin keeps sobbing uncontrollably until he manages to get ahold of himself. He reminds himself that he’s strong and that this isn’t the first time Xiyue’s been terrifying. When he’s sure that he’s well enough, he stands up. He doesn’t dare walk back into Xiyue’s room because he’s afraid.

But not enough.

He pulls up his phone and googles the medication name.

Sertraline.

It’s Jeongguk’s birthday so Jimin goes to his apartment that evening. Xiyue doesn’t return and Jimin can’t bear the thought of being in the same room as the crime lord so he goes to the place that makes him happiest. 

He brings a cake with him and a stupid birthday party hat. He sits down on the floor of Jeongguk’s living room and he straps the hat on, feeling ridiculous but remembering his last birthday. Jimin had been in a shitty mood and Jeongguk, of course, wanted to make it even shittier. So he came over and gave Jimin the party hat. And Jimin wore it.

He wears it now as he leans forward, using one of Jeongguk’s lighters to set the candles aflame. Twenty candles. Jeongguk turns twenty today.

He sits there in silence for a while, basking in the comfort the place brings him. Strangely enough, it doesn’t bring him sadness. It makes him feel warm, a feeling that’s been missing for a while now. He doesn’t know what else to do after that so he leans forward again, blowing the candles out. He cuts himself a slice of cake, debating on whether he should cut another. Then he remembers that Jeongguk doesn’t like cake anyway, so it’s pointless.

And lonely.

Jimin’s lonely.

He leans back against the couch and he stares at the photo of Tokyo that’s hung in front of him. He shoves a piece of cake into his mouth, no longer trying to make sense of it but appreciating it as a whole. It’s a pretty sight, one he’s seen in person now. So he focuses on the photo itself. The frame. The small slip that sticks out from the side of it.

The small slip that sticks out from the side of it .

Jimin furrows his brows, setting the plate down. He stands up slowly and walks over. It’s like he’s underwater, fighting his way through a current to get there. And once he does, his hands fly up to dislodge the photo from the wall hook. He turns it over and inspects the small slip. He tugs on it hard enough to make the frame come loose. 

The paper is folded into quarters. Jimin opens it up to find a ticket. A ticket to an art museum opening in Seoul. Wednesday. Four days.

There’s a note attached. 

I’ll see you soon.

– Jeongguk

Chapter Text

“PARK JIMIN! GET UP!”

Jimin cradles his sprained ankle in his hands, tears springing out of his eyes. His breaths are jagged and he feels realization wash over him. He can’t be injured. It’s nearing the end of the season– they’ll be making cuts soon and if Jimin doesn’t make it… If Jimin doesn’t make it his parents will kill him. He's never failed before so he's never faced the consequences of it. But the obstacles he's overcome are nothing compared to a physical injury. This could set him back.

He stifles a sob, and he's not sure if it's because of the pain or because of what his mother might say. He tries to stand up but his body doesn’t cooperate. He keeps on sucking in uneven breaths, as if his body is trying to suck the strength back into him but it’s not working. He’s a heaping mess on the floor and he fucked up his routine. His coach is furious, waving at him as if Jimin will magically get better the louder he screams. But it doesn’t even sound in Jimin’s ears– he’s deafened to the noise.

He’s had minor injuries before but a sprained ankle would be detrimental to his performance. He's known for his perfectly-choreographed and executed floor routines and it's all about balance and momentum. And the only way to achieve either of those was with two fully functioning ankles. It would take at least two weeks to heal, depending on how severe the injury was and by the throbbing, pulsating pain, Jimin knows that it’s bad. 

His coach bends down, shaking his shoulders. “Jimin. Jimin, do you hear me?” He says, tone angry but it’s like he’s beginning to realize that something is very wrong. “What happened?”

“M–My ankle,” he whines.

“Walk it off.”

“I can’t.”

“You can. ” He responds, hardening. “Get up and walk it off.”

Jimin wants to bite back– he wants to tell his coach that he fucking quits but he can’t. Not when his father walks into the gymnasium in his sharp grey suit, searching the room for his son. Jimin uses a hand to push himself up and he balances on his other foot to compensate– something that he shouldn’t be doing but he does it, trying to hide his limp as he gets behind the other students who are lined up to do their floor routines.

He feels sick. Jaehwan looks over his shoulder, giving a condescending look. “Did you sprain your ankle? That looked like a bad landing.”

No shit, Jimin thinks. But he replies, in the nicest tone possible, “I didn’t stick it well enough but I’ll be fine.”

"Cool," Jaehwan says, not bothering to put any effort or ounce of sincerity into his tone. Instead, he folds his arms and turns back to the other student who has a bit of trouble springing up for another flip. 

Jaehwan's always been bitchy towards him. And now, more than usual, because the qualifiers were coming up for national championships. Jimin's been a shoo-in for years now and Jaehwan's always been the unlucky second, the shadow trailing after the light. Jimin doesn't really brag about being better because he's not the type to. And even if he's good at the sport, he's not in love with it. It's clear that Jaehwan's passion extends past his parents' wishes. He likes gymnastics.

Which is pretty unfair, Jimin supposes, because he probably deserves nationals more. But it's not like Jimin has a choice anyway. His mother is a hawk.

Jimin chews on his lip anxiously before his own. His ankle throbs profoundly but there’s no way he can disappoint. His coach is eyeing him warily. So Jimin gets in position, taking a quivering breath before he launches forward. 

He does better than he expects with the ankle being sprained and he probably looks a bit strange, leaning too much into his non-dominant leg for all the push, but he manages. But when he lands, his ankle twists in a more severe way than the last and his weight buckles underneath him, sending him to the ground. 

His father comes over to his side, propping his head up immediately. “Jimin. Jimin, deep breaths,” he says in his stern tone. 

Jimin nods frantically, calming himself down, focusing on his dad. His coach feigns concern this time, but he looks completely embarrassed, disappointed even. And Jaehwan is staring down at him smugly. 

He’s carried out by his dad, who takes him to the hospital after that. His father has always been caring, but in the most detached, estranged way possible– so much so that it was hard to tell, sometimes. But at least his father wasn’t like his mother. His mother was obsessive, too close and too attached for all the wrong reasons. She looked at him like an asset, wanted him to be a pretty boy to give away. His father looked at him like a father would a son, but without the warmth that should be there.

“Are you going to tell mom?” He asks quietly, once the doctor is finished wrapping his ankle with the bandage. It’s much worse than a sprain, the doctor says. Jimin should be wearing a cast and should be taking a long break from athletics. But his father asks for the most subtle treatment. The doctor is skeptical but he can’t argue so he gives Jimin a tight wrap that makes sure that his ankle stays put.

“I think she’ll notice on her own, Jimin,” his father responds, dialling a number on his phone. 

“But you won’t tell her directly, right?” Jimin frowns. “Dad, she can’t find out. She’s going to kill me.”

His father eyes him warily. “Just take it easy in practice. I’ll get you a physical therapist and good treatment. You’ll be better in no time.”

Jimin feels miserable after that. He sits down, lying against the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. He’s tired of being like this. Put in the spotlight, expected to be so perfect. To win every medal, to beat everybody. To pretend that he’s better when he’s really not. He wishes that he was like a normal kid. Going to school, learning how to read and write. Doing maths, sciences. 

But no. He’s stuck.

He closes his eyes and dreams of being free.

Jimin finishes up his training for the day, clearing his routine to perfection. He finds a strange type of solitude and calm when he's active so right after, he heads to the gym that's in an adjacent building. He does a lot of weight-lifting and core workouts that are beginning to lose difficulty the more he practices. He tries to put another weight in but he can't lift without straining so he settles for the lower. He's stuck.

Jimin finishes his workout with a jog around the neighbourhood his gymnasium is in. And when he’s finished with the slow run, he checks the time, grimacing at how only an hour has passed since. He decides to stop by one of Sol’s animal adoption centers, just around the block. It’s been a while since he’s visited Gureum.

Gureum was Jeongguk’s dog. After the crime lord disappeared, Jimin knew he couldn’t keep the dog around in the case that Xiyue found out and did something. So he took Gureum to one of Sol’s centers where Sol promised he would have somebody feed and take care of him. Jimin visited a lot at the beginning but less frequently in the past two months or so. So he makes it a point on that day to stop by.

He walks past the receptionist, who barely looks at him, already familiar. He makes his way to the large cage at the very back, where Gureum is lapping at the bowl of water placed in front of him. Jimin kneels by the cage, making a small clicking noise to get the dog’s attention. Gureum turns his way, tongue hanging out, panting excitedly.

Jimin feels himself smile as he dislodges the gate of the cage, welcoming the animal into his arms. He runs his fingers through the dog’s hair over and over again, scratching the underside of Gureum’s head. “Hey, buddy,” he murmurs. “I missed you.”

Gureum noses his way into the crook of his neck, tail wagging to express delight. Jimin has to step back to accommodate to Gureum’s weight– he’s bigger now and much stronger. Jimin hugs him tight.

Jimin laces the collar around the dog’s neck and waves at the receptionist to let her know that he’s leaving. She shoots him a look. “Bring him back.”

“It’s not like I can take him anywhere else,” he replies with a frown, tugging Gureum outside.

He enters the main street, airpods plugged in, blasting nonsensical heavy rap songs. He bobs his head along to the trap beats as he walks along the sidewalk, watching as Gureum sniffs around, poking at strangers legs with his nose. Jimin has to tug him back a few times, bowing his head in apology but the strangers seem pleased and fascinated by Gureum’s unusual appearance. The white, blind eye is prominent. And pretty to those who don’t know that Gureum is half-blind.

He’s about to cross the street when he spots Taehyung exiting a flower shop across the street, holding a bouquet in his hands. 

Jimin stares a bit too long. Taehyung looks his way and his eyes flash with something. Is it disdain? Or simply a distant kind of recognition? As if to say hey, we were friends once, but not anymore . Or maybe Taehyung’s just acknowledging him, not to be rude. Jimin can’t quite tell so he just dips his head slightly, tugging on the leash so he can keep walking ahead. But Taehyung’s coming over, crossing the street with brisk strides. So Jimin pauses, taking out an airpod in case Taehyung does speak to him.

Taehyung looks between him and Gureum. “You got a dog?” He asks, tone no longer holding menace. It’s more curious.

“It’s not mine.”

“Jeongguk’s?”

Jimin nods stiffly. “Yeah. I keep him at Sol’s center so Xiyue doesn’t… Do anything.”

“Xiyue.” The name is hard on Taehyung’s tongue. He looks vaguely upset but it disappears within milliseconds, so quick that Jimin could’ve just been imagining it. “Uh. Anyway. Are you free right now?”

Jimin looks at Gureum. “Uh. I guess. I just have to be somewhere by late in the afternoon.” He’s going to see Minho. He hasn’t seen the boy in a long time now and just this morning did the boy contact him, asking if he was free for an early dinner, to which Jimin responded eagerly to. “Why?”

“Seokjin’s kind of been this bridge between us for the past months. And he’s been nagging me to talk to you. And I kind of realize how unfair I’d been. What you did was shit, Jimin, but I’m not mad at you. Not anymore.” His voice grows tired and his eyes soften. “I’ve been feeling better too, these days. I’m getting over it and finding better ways to cope. But you’re stuck.”

Jimin is stuck. He nods his head, swallowing tightly. And Taehyung continues, “I hear that Xiyue’s doing pretty good with his job. Which usually means large body count. How are you holding up?”

“I’m… I’m doing okay. He’s not hurting me or anything.” Not physically.

“But you’re scared of him.”

He nods, looking down at his shoes. “There’s something really wrong with him. I found these… Journals in his room. One had a lot of names listed down in different handwritings. And another had all of these strange entries, including ones from when he betrayed Jeongguk. And it’s always changing. Like he’s one person one day and another the next.” He looks up, peeking at Taehyung’s reaction. The socialite’s brows are furrowed. “And he acts like that too. One day he’s giving me my freedom and some days, I get the sense that he wants to blast a hole through the back of my head.”

“Are you sure he’s not hurting you, Jimin?” Taehyung questions, clearly concerned.

“He’s not. He hasn’t. It’s just the possibility that scares me, since he’s been so unpredictable.” 

“I’m sorry you have to live like that. I’m sorry for not being there.”

Jimin shakes his head furiously. “No, don’t be. You need time to yourself, and you deserve time to yourself. He’s not hurting me and I can fend for myself.”

“When I said hurting, I didn’t mean just physically,” Taehyung responds pointedly. “You’re hurting on the inside. I’m hurting on the inside. And I think what we both need is a friend.”

The former acrobat nods his head, rubbing his arm over his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we do.”

Taehyung hugs him loosely. “Now let’s get some lunch. And catch up a bit.” He must see the surprise on Jimin’s face because a smile breaks on his face, like relief. “Seriously. I missed you.”

Jimin feels himself lighten up a bit. Things are finally getting somewhat better.

Today, Taehyung. Soon, Jeongguk.

Taehyung drags him all the way to some fancy restaurant after they walk Gureum back to the center. They save all the real talk for when they’re slowly nitpicking away at the small portion of food that’s served– just rich people things, Jimin supposes as he eyes the caviar that lines his meal.

“So you and Seokjin,” Jimin begins conversationally, dragging his gaze over to the socialite boy that happily picks up a piece of his dish.

His eyes light up and his cheeks tint slightly. “Yeah. A lot has changed in the past months, I guess,” he begins, chewing away thoughtfully before swallowing. He adds, “I dunno. It’s always been shelter with Hoseok. I love him a lot but I realized that I was hiding behind him all the time. So I broke it off and decided to stay out of your world for a bit. But of course, it followed me. Itaewon’s haunting like that, I guess–” he laughs lightly. “– I bumped into Seokjin because his parents are super rich business people. And we kept bumping into each other at those events until things happened, I guess.”

Jimin feels a smile grow on his face. “And how is he different from Hoseok?”

“He doesn’t treat me like a glass vase. Like I’m going to shatter. Like I’m some fragile thing. Y’know? He’s even teaching me how to shoot.”

“Shoot…?” Jimin furrows his brows.

“Shoot a gun. Not because I’m going to kill people,” he amends quickly, grimacing. “I just wanted to have something to reassure me that I can stand up for myself. Me. On my own. I’m getting pretty good.”

“Well, you’re probably better than me already. I’m good with knives. Guns are a bit iffy,” he admits in response, biting into his sashimi. It melts in his mouth and it’s incredible . He nearly moans out loud.

Taehyung nods in agreement, eyes widening theatrically. “They’re really fucking scary. The first time, he took me out to the woods in the middle of nowhere. And he shoved a pistol in my hands and was like, shoot . And I didn’t know how to hold it and everything and apparently, guns have this recoil . It hit me right in the nose and I broke it !” Jimin feels his heart swell when he hears Taehyung’s tone, seeing his childlike, glowing eyes again. He’s really moving on. He’s happier. 

“I think we all made that mistake once. Try using bigger guns. They’re crazy when you’re not used to the kickback,” Jimin replies with a chuckle, remembering his own time learning. He’d been so startled with the sound, too. He dropped the gun and it fired again, nearly killing Jeongguk. 

“Oh my god, I’m so fucking sorry–” Jimin had begun, his jaw hanging open in horror as he looks at Jeongguk. The boy’s expression is sour.

“You’re a danger hazard,” Jeongguk had responded with a flat tone, but he didn’t seem too angry. More… Shocked. Jimin had realized then, that Jeongguk didn’t want to die. And that he feared death.

“God, when did we come to this? Talking about guns and stuff?” The socialite shakes his head, shoving another piece of sushi into his mouth, munching it up delightedly. “Remember when we said no Itaewon talk allowed? It was so much more fun back then. Just us, beer and karaoke, sometimes. The best nights.”

“It was fun,” Jimin agrees with a bob of his head.

“But I don’t regret dipping my foot into the Itaewon world, you know? Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t met Hoseok. If I hadn’t come to Itaewon back then. If we hadn’t met at all.” He looks sentimental and Jimin knows that he’s imagining a life. But it’s not the life he wants. It’s the life that his parents set up for him. Magazines, photoshoots, socialite events and big prestigious galas. Jimin understands because his parents wanted that life for him, too. 

Jimin thinks about what would have happened if he had never left Busan. He would have continued with his training, he would have gone to the Olympics. Or some national championship competition. He would’ve been sent off to marry some rich socialite. He snorts at the thought. “You know, my parents wanted me to marry into the life you live. I mean, my family was wealthy, but they wanted me to become the pretty package for some rich socialite to pick up and pamper.”

“Huh. Imagine that. What if I had picked you up?” 

“Oh, my parents would love you,” Jimin’s not exaggerating when he says this. They would be so pleased with Taehyung. Handsome, young, filthy rich and influential. 

“You should take me to meet them then,” Taehyung jokes.

Jimin laughs along but it quickly fades. “Nah. My dad’s actually… He passed away. And my mom–” he sucks in a difficult breath, trying to turn it into a laugh, “–my mom thinks it’s my fault.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Why… If I can ask… Why does she think that?” His friend reaches forward, taking his hand.

Jimin shakes his head. “My dad had apparently found me at the circus. He was watching a performance on the night the tent burned to the ground and he didn’t make it out.”

Before Taehyung can look at him with those eyes– the kind, empathetic gaze that makes Jimin feel good and sad at the same time, Jimin shakes his head quickly, squeezing Taehyung’s hand. “Don’t worry about it. My dad and I weren’t close at all or anything. He was just like my mom. He just wanted to give me away and continue the line of wealth and everything.” It’s not convincing at all. Because even if his father didn’t object to his mother’s agenda, he actually cared about Jimin.

He showed up to his practice. He showed up to Jimin’s performances and competitions. He took every photo seen in every frame in the house where he wore a gold medal around his neck. And he died, watching Jimin at the circus. 

Jimin pushes back the thoughts and releases Taehyung’s hand so he can pick up his food to eat. And he’s grateful that Taehyung quickly changes the subject after that.

Minho’s waiting for him at their meeting spot, in a clear park in the middle of Seoul. Jimin grins, running up to hug him but the younger dodges it, shooting him a dark look. Jimin frowns. “I see boarding school hasn’t changed you.”

“Not at all. Except for the fact that I’m not allowed near any toxic substances during labs. Principal Yu put it on my record and now they think I’m a fucking psychopath,” Minho explains with a genuinely upset look on his face. “At least boarding school is more interesting. The kids are less boring. They’re always juuling and smoking. And drinking. And fucking–”

“Yeah, I don’t really want to know what you kids are getting up to these days.” Jimin wrinkles his nose and beckons for him to follow. They walk side-by-side down the trail, basking under the cloudy sky. It’s getting a bit colder as it approaches winter. “So. Seriously. How’s school going?”

“I’m the best in class, of course. And I’m doing homework now.” He sounds so smug about it.

“Wow! Basic decency. Doing what is expected from a student. You want me to stick a gold star on your chest?” Jimin replies with a huff.

“At least I am in school.”

Jimin frowns and looks over. “You didn’t have to go there.”

Minho’s gaze is challenging but he relents, shrugging. “Sorry. But you should really go to college. Don’t you want more?”

“I’ll have you know I’m applying to some small colleges. And what do you mean, more ?”

“Like, I dunno. A life after Itaewon? Please don’t tell me you’re going to be working for that Jeongguk guy until you’re seventy-two and old and wrinkly. How are you even going to outrun people? Old people aren’t flexible. Or fast.” 

He uses his elbow to hit Minho. “You’re making me sound like I have nothing outside of Jeongguk. Which isn’t true at all. I’m back in gymnastics. I work out, I run. I read. And like I said, I am applying for some colleges. I’m going to keep studying until I get into one, and I’m going to take my education seriously. I know I’m not going to be sitting around here for the rest of my life. I’m going to leave someday and I’m never going to look back.”

“Even without him?” Minho asks. Jimin hasn’t updated him on that situation. So Minho still thinks that Jimin is still under Jeongguk’s contract. 

He finds it easy then, for some strange reason, to reply, “Yeah. If he wants to stay, he can stay. If I want to leave, I’ll leave. It’s not like I’m going to die if I’m not by his side, right?”

Yeah. You’re still alive and thriving . 

He hit a lot of lows in the past months but he’s definitely reached highs. And thinking about it makes Jimin feel special. Lighter. Happier . Despite everything, he’s becoming happier. Just like Taehyung.

Before he moves on with the conversation, he stops Minho. “Wait. Do you really think I have no life?”

Minho grips his shoulder, shooting him a wide-eyed look filled with over-exaggerated admiration.  “I was joking. You’re the coolest person I know.”

Jimin gags. “Never mind. Let’s go back to bickering.”

“Yeah, I really can’t do this.”

Xiyue hasn’t come back to the apartment since he’d left that one evening. Jimin tries for his door only to find it locked. He holds the doorknob for a moment longer, wondering if the time he’d found it open was just a dream. The list of names, the strange journal entries. The medications. He wishes it was all a dream so it wouldn’t be such a mystery to him. But it’s not. He looks towards the couch and remembers his shoulders slam against it. And he feels a breeze pass through the still air, making him shudder.

Jimin walks into his room, locking the door shut behind him despite not expecting anyone to enter anyway. He opens his desk drawer and pulls out the note he’d found sitting, wedged in the corner of the frame. He wonders how he’d missed it before. Then he remembers that he really was so narrow-minded about the happy place hint. He was fantasizing. He was living in the dream world where he thought Jeongguk was telling him: Hey, meet me in Tokyo. Let’s live a new life together. Leave Itaewon forever .

It was never about leaving Seoul. It was never about quitting life in Itaewon. Jeongguk made it obvious but not enough. Jimin is appalled as to how Jeongguk had timed everything so perfectly– the ticket receipt states that Jeongguk purchased the ticket back in February. Meaning that he’d known that Jimin would find it before September 5. 

Jimin almost missed it. But he realizes that Jeongguk expected him to come over on the first to celebrate his birthday. Maybe he knew that the lonely feeling that would come out of celebrating alone would bring him to realize that maybe , he was looking at everything wrong. And Jimin did realize it then. 

He shakes his head, eyeing the ticket in his hands. Jeongguk is a genius.

He has so many questions to ask but he tucks them away for the date to come. He places the ticket back in his drawer and walks over to his bed where he collapses, feeling sleep beginning to take hold of him.

Just a whole day left to go. 

One more day .

On the day of the museum opening, Jimin fixes up nicely. And he does it, not for Jeongguk, but for himself. He wants to be strong and he wants to appear powerful. So he chooses a maroon button down tucked into slacks. He feels confidence radiate through him as he finishes tucking the shirt in. He doesn’t linger on his reflection because he feels pretty. And that’s all that matters.

There’s no preparation at all. He just takes a cab to the venue, holding the ticket in his hand. He stares out the window as the building fly past him. Within no time, they’re there, in the driveway. Jimin pays the driver and hustles out quickly.

He looks around at the people walking up the steps. Everyone’s dressed in semi-formal wear. There’s been a lot of talk about the gallery opening, for over a year now actually. The construction was delayed for a few months but it was standing in front of him now, tall and beautiful. He rolls back his shoulders and rushes up the stairs, taking his place at the back of the line to enter.

When he steps into the building, his eyes go wide. It’s massive. He has to double-take at everything because it’s an overwhelming sight. He doesn’t even know where to begin or what to do. Is Jeongguk inside already, looking for him? Is Jeongguk looking at him? Is he supposed to meet the man at a specific exhibit? 

He frowns to himself and decides against going on an active manhunt. Instead, he goes along with the crowd, starting from the bottom floor and going up. He figures that since he’s here already, he could appreciate the exhibits. And he does, immersing himself in the different art styles.

The museum is done in such a way that it makes you feel like you’re travelling along the timeline of art. It begins with ancient art, so he’s met with a lot of greek and roman pieces, which he enjoys a lot. Then the medieval ages, where he doesn’t linger for too long– there are too many sword fighting pieces that are too cluttered for his taste.

He spends the most time in The Renaissance period, admiring all the gorgeous portraits. He thinks a lot about how artists were so incredible back then. He wonders how they perfected proportions. Jimin’s terrible at drawing. If there was a kid’s art section in the museum, his work would be the center piece.

He keeps navigating through time, admiring some eras more than others. He doesn't like post-impressionism because he doesn't quite understand it. But he likes expressionism a lot– the way distortion is used is interesting.

When he steps into one of the final rooms, he feels something course through him. His heart begins to beat frantically against his chest. He reads the sign above.

Surrealism. 

It’s pretty crowded in the room and Jimin doesn’t try and look. He just walks around normally– or at least, he tries to. But his mind keeps on prodding at him, trying to tell him something. Jimin calms himself down, moving to the middle of the room, where a semi-translucent glass sculpture sits. The colors are beautiful– a perfect cocktail of the prettiest hues. The sculpture is massive, spanning quite a length. And it’s some strange surrealist concept that Jimin doesn’t fully understand but he appreciates anyway.

He’s staring at it when he sees somebody standing right across him. Jimin’s heart is beating. Hammering. And he feels a tremor run through him when he steps to the right and the person follows. Jimin stops again and wonders if it could be a coincidence. But the figure moves quickly, down to the very end of the sculpture. He rushes after it, pushing past people who seem to be as mesmerized as he is. When he reaches the tip of it, the person is gone.

Jimin stops in his tracks, cursing at his mind for playing silly tricks on him. He’s about to release a sigh of relief when he feels somebody lightly press against his back.

“It’s pretty, right?”

Jimin closes his eyes, and the breath that escapes him isn’t relief. It’s everything .

“Jeongguk,” he says, the name strange on his tongue. 

There’s a faint hum that sounds from behind him, right close by his ear. Jimin turns slightly but he doesn’t catch enough. Jeongguk stops him, saying, “Not now. Just enjoy.”

Jimin turns back to the sculpture and tries to get lost in it again but he can’t. Not when Jeongguk’s pressed against him. And certainly not when Jeongguk takes his hand. It’s brief, only to pass a slip of paper. And suddenly, the warmth is gone. When Jimin turns, Jeongguk is nowhere to be found.

Jimin unravels the paper. It’s an address, probably a forty-five minute drive from the museum. It’s far out from Seoul and from a very, very small and discreet neighbourhood. He reads it over and over until he memorizes it. Then he goes into the bathroom, dousing it with water until the ink is too blotted to read. He throws it into the trash. Then he finally looks at himself in the mirror.

He braces his hands against the edge of the sink and he laughs. This is real , he thinks. This is real .

Jimin splashes water on his face a few times and makes sure that he’s wide awake before he returns to the exhibit.

He finishes through, taking his time. Then he waves down a cab and gives the address.

Jimin leans back against the seat and tries his best to ignore how his heart is still pounding.

A plain house. In an old neighbourhood. Jimin knocks on the front door. And there’s no dramatic build-up to it. The door pulls open. Jimin steps in. The door is shut. And when Jimin turns, he sees Jeongguk.

He looks different. Aside from the clearly pale-blond hair, he’s wearing casual clothes. And he doesn’t seem tense. He looks calm, at ease with himself. Jimin looks him up and down and up and down and up and down because he cant find anything to say. 

Jeongguk is the one who steps forward, pulling him in for a hug. Jimin doesn’t cry. He rests his chin against Jeongguk’s shoulder, shutting his eyes tight. “This is still weird,” he says, to break the tension in the air, fostered by the months they’d been apart.

“It is,” Jeongguk echoes, voice a bit deeper than Jimin remembers.

“I don’t know what to say,” Jimin admits, when they let go of each other. He rubs a hand over the nape of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. “I… I just can’t believe you’re here. You’re… You’re really here.”

Jeongguk eyes him with unwavering confidence. “Then I can start. I’ll explain everything.”

Jimin nods. “Yeah. That would be nice.”

Jeongguk smiles . It’s not wide or anything, it’s just small and fleeting, like it strains him to do so. The crime lord– can Jimin still call him that? – leads the way to a small porch area by the back of the house, where they sit across each other. 

“So I guess I’ll start by explaining how I escaped. Which you probably know, given all the news reports and the footage, but… Yeah. I just grabbed hold of one of the guards and knocked them out. Took position. And escaped. Easier said than done– I assure you there was a lot of planning involved–, but… Yeah. I got out but the alarms were sounded relatively quickly. I was only two miles away when I found out they were sending the whole force to find me. So I hid out with Taehyung.” Jeongguk links his fingers together in front of him. “I was going to see you before I ran, but Hoseok was there. And he said that you guys had an argument?”

“Sungwoon,” Jimin says, a one-word explanation.

Jeongguk nods solemnly. “I wanted to see you but they were closing in on me pretty quick. So I had to run as far as possible. I couldn’t get out of the country because of my eye. So I used my step advantage to go all the way down to Busan. Nobody knows that I’m from there so I hid at the house for a few days. Then I went to one of Seokjin’s safehouses down south. He didn’t know I was using it but he had a lot of food left there so I was able to stay for a month.

“Then the manhunt got smaller. So as it did, I slowly made my way back north. Of course, I couldn’t step foot anywhere near you. Anybody could recognize me if I tried. So I got my hair dyed and used a glass eye for a while. I poked around the outskirts of Seoul until I found this place. It’s a quiet, small community of older people who i doubt know about me. So it’s easy to be around.” Jeongguk isn’t wearing his glass eye right now. “But one day, I did see you. You said, in one of your emails, that Xiyue was taking you to a dinner. I saw you both.”

“My emails. You got them?” He raises his brows. 

“Not since the start. I was too busy running away, but once I settled I found them. And I read through them. And I couldn’t send anything back because I knew that Xiyue was watching. He might be fucked up in the mind but he has tact. He’s not dumb.” Jeongguk is staring at him with an intensity that makes Jimin wonder how he looks in Jeongguk’s eyes. Jeongguk looks strong. Does he look weak?

Jimin says, then, “Those emails… I wrote a lot of them when I had bad days. At first, I was crying a lot. I was crying a lot because of you but I hope you know I stopped crying for you a long time ago.” It feels good to say it. At one point, he doesn’t know exactly when, his sadness was more than just Jeongguk. It was for everything. It was for himself. All the things he’d missed out on, all the things he could do. Jimin was crying for himself. For everyone else who was stuck.

Jeongguk nods at that. He thinks for a bit. Then he asks, quietly, “Xiyue. I always knew he had this strange obsession with you. Not obsession , but something like… He thought you were too good for me. How did… How did he treat you?”

“He never hurt me bad. Physically, no. But he played a lot of mental games. He likes to keep me on his feet. Like you said, he has tact. He’s smart. He knew what made me scared, what made me look over my shoulder. And I guess that was so much worse.” Jimin explains this as he folds his arms across the table. “Physically, I can defend myself. But mentally, I’m not as good.”

Before Jeongguk can say anything, Jimin has to ask. “Why did you burn the museum? And you could have escaped Sungwoon and Xiyue. Jeongguk, I… I’ve been thinking for a while about everything. And I can’t possibly believe that you slipped up that bad.” It comes out in a rush, in a tumble of tangled words but Jeongguk understands what he’s asking.

“You’re asking if there’s some overarching grand plan that’s still going.”

“I have to believe it,” Jimin replies. “I know that you wouldn’t let things get this back without reason.”

Jeongguk just nods his head, tipping down. “If I gave you an answer, Jimin, then things could change. You’d want in on the said plan. And that’s not how it’s supposed to go.”

Jimin leans forward. “Then tell me. How is it supposed to go?”

“I wish I could tell you, Jimin. But I can’t be straightforward. So just imagine this. A rooftop. Sunrise. Two people stand across each other but neither attack. One falls. One lives. But neither pull the trigger.”

It’s only so few words but Jimin sees it, clear as day. And if it’s what he imagines, then he’ll leave it to Jeongguk’s hand.

They lie down together for a bit in the living room, watching the television as it plays an old black-and-white film called Casablanca . Neither of them are paying attention. It’s really just there to fill in for the silence when the short bursts of conversation dwindle.

Jimin has his head against Jeongguk’s chest and their fingers are loosely linked. Jimin watches the film but he doesn’t understand english well. Jeongguk’s apparently proficient in it now because every once in a while, he translates what’s going on. Jimin looks up then. “You have to teach me how to speak English one day.”

“Mhm. I can do that,” he replies, blinking at the screen. “I can teach you Japanese, too.”

“Japanese? Why? Are we going to Tokyo?” Jimin jokes.

“Why not?”

Jimin looks up again and Jeongguk’s face is serious. His tone is casual too. “What happened to being in Itaewon forever?”

“Itaewon is too small. It’s just a small fraction of this big world and I know that now. We can travel. And we can do lots of things. And I can teach you a lot of things, too. I’m not saying that I’m leaving the world of… Crime and danger. However you want to call it. I think that I’ll always be in that world. But where I live it? Doesn’t seem to matter anymore.”

Jimin looks at their linked fingers. At the pretty, expensive gold watch around Jeongguk’s wrist. “You’d make a good suit, you know? You could be one of those cool suits, not the obnoxious ones. The one that everyone wants to work with.”

“Mhm.” Jeongguk’s drifting away. Jimin can tell by the way his body slacks. “‘N what about you? What do you want to do?”

“Kind of want to try college. And if it doesn’t work out, I want to be a bounty hunter.” 

“You’d make a fantastic college student. Or bounty hunter. Or both. You don’t have to choose,” Jeongguk murmurs. “I didn’t.”

Jimin nods at that. He could do everything. Travel. Join one of those online college courses. Join the bounty hunters.

He nestles against Jeongguk and closes his eyes, too. 

Finally. A future he can look forward to.

Jimin arrives back at the apartment the following day. Jeongguk gives him his number and Jimin memorizes it. Just a strange exchange of roles, Jimin thinks, as one upon a time, it was Jeongguk memorizing his number with all of those burner phone he used to use.

Jimin’s still in a strange daze from everything, so much so that it takes him too long to realize the dirty scent that fills the air. Something like blood. Something sickening. Something coming from his room.

He wonders if Xiyue is in the apartment but when he looks, the man is still nowhere to be found. And all that’s left is to check his own room. 

Uneasiness creeps into him as he pushes the door back. And he does his best not to let out a blood-curdling scream when he sees it. 

Gureum, lying dead on the floor.

Jimin feels incredibly nauseous. And he’s sobbing once again, despite promising himself that there would be no more tears. He crawls forward on all fours, stinging when his hands make contact with the blood. And he’s shaking Gureum like he can save him. Like he can still bring him back. But the animal lies limp, eyes shut, fur matted with red.

Jimin’s hands slip, fingers creating a mess on his screen as he dials for Jeongguk.

“Jimin?”

“G–Gureum. G–Gureum…. Xiyue…. X–Xiyue killed… Killed him,” Jimin splutters in between heavy intakes of breath. “Your dog. Jeongguk. Jeongguk, he... He killed Gureum.” No, no, no, no . Jimin is distraught. Beyond devastated. 

“Jimin–”

“I’m going to fucking kill him, Jeongguk. I’m going to fucking kill him–”

“ Jimin . Please, Jimin, calm down–”

Jimin ignores Jeongguk’s voice when he sees a new photo hung up on his wall. It’s the same frame from Jeongguk’s apartment. But the photo is different. It isn’t a photo– it’s another ticket. When Jimin nears, he reads that it’s for the abandoned theatre in the middle of the dark part of Itaewon. A revival, it says.

Jimin pulls out his knife and slams the end against the glass. It shatters and Jimin pulls the ticket from where it sits, mocking him. He flips it over. And in Xiyue’s signature handwriting, it says:

I’ll see you soon.

– Xiyue

Chapter Text

[11:02PM] jungkook: please calm down

[11:03PM] you: i’m sick of him

[11:03PM] jungkook: i know and i’m sorry for leaving for so long

[11:04PM] jungkook: but you need to calm down.

[11:10PM] jungkook: jimin?????

JIMIN’S JOLTED AWAKE by the sound of the door being busted open. He feels his heart leap out of his chest, landing on the floor with a thud, head spinning with both dizziness and sleep. He looks up, groaning as he rubs a hand over his lower back. Jeongguk’s opening the door, holding the doorknob in one hand and a knife in the other. “God,” Jimin says, exasperated, “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

“You didn’t respond to my texts,” Jeongguk says, closing the door behind him although it’s clearly pointless. “Plus, you’re not staying here aren’t you? Not anymore?”

Jimin rubs a hand over his face, tired. “I don’t plan on staying. But I want to bust Xiyue’s room first. It’s dead-bolted and everything and I really do not know how to get in there.”

Jeongguk hovers over him. He sets the doorknob down on the floor. “I think I got this.”

Jimin turns, rising to sit up. He watches as Jeongguk eyes the doorframe, hand running over the hinge. He seems to catch something that Jimin clearly doesn’t– just like always. The crime lord touches a space above the doorknob, taking his knife and turning it over so that he’s using the end of it. With a force that makes Jimin jump, he slams it against that part and there’s a click that gives way to one of the locks.

Jeongguk does the same for the space below. Then he feels again. Jimin sees no difference and he has to furrow his brows in confusion, wondering what’s happening. Then he sees Jeongguk step back a bit, rolling his shoulders before he delivers a swift, powerful kick to the spot right next to the knob. The door budges a bit, clearly still holding up against the weight but with the second kick, it cracks right open, swinging and revealing the rare sight.

Jimin’s mouth gapes. “Holy shit. How–”

“I don’t know. I’ve never tried it before,” Jeongguk admits, looking back at him. “But I’ve googled it once. Out of curiosity.”

“But how– never mind ,” Jimin huffs, standing, crossing over to where the other man stands.

They walk in together. Jimin goes straight for the diaries and is disappointed to find that the last one he’d left unopened was gone. He grimaces and reaches for the other two anyway, opening each of them up. “Here are two of his diaries. Notebooks. The first one has a list of names. The second has entries.”

Jeongguk moves to his side, picking the first one up. He skims over it until he reaches the very end. Jimin hadn’t really checked thoroughly last time so he feels a shudder pass through him at the sight of the name Lee Sungwoon at the very end of the list. The last name at the very bottom, written in a distinct handwriting– one Jimin’s never seen in the entries.

Jeongguk’s face contorts at the sight. “What is it?” Jimin asks quietly.

He flips back until he reaches another name. One Jimin recognizes quickly. “Donghwa. That’s the guy who came for you after the Bangasayusang heist.”

“Yeah. Do you see all of these names? Written in his handwriting?” Jeongguk asks, to which Jimin nods. “This is my handwriting. And Sungwoon’s name in the back, it’s written in my handwriting, too.”

Jimin frowns. “So…”

“I think he got too immersed in the role of Tattoo ,” Jeongguk replies, eyes darkening. “I think he thought he was me. Became me.”

“So when he kicked you out and replaced you…”

“He really replaced me.”

Jimin sighs. Jeongguk closes the notebook and places it back. “That’s a list of all the people he’s killed, Jimin.”

“That’s a… That’s a lot of people.” He thinks about how long that list had been, capped off with Lee Sungwoon . He links his fingers behind his head, sighing out. “God, this is all so crazy. I can’t help but think about everything that’s happened. Since you escaped. Since you got arrested. Since… Since they put that bounty on your head. Everything’s so different. And so scary, now.” 

Jeongguk just nods from where he stands, peeling back, face showing a bit of stress. He’s not all too worried– Jeongguk never is, but for the first time, Jimin really remembers how young he is. He’s nineteen, recently turned twenty. He missed out on childhood and was forced into this. He lost an eye but he’s still standing, proud and tall. 

“After this. After we take Xiyue down, I’m leaving. Itaewon. South Korea.” Jeongguk picks at one of the rips on his jeans. “While I was in hiding, I was just planning. Places to go, things to do. I got in touch with a lot of businesses abroad and they’re interested in working with me. Not me working for them, of course, I don’t think I could ever be put on a leash–” He laughs a bit. “– Yeah. I was thinking about you. Asking you to come with me, but when I poked around, I’d found out that you were applying to colleges. Studying.

“As much as I want you by my side,” Jeongguk admits with a shake of his head, “I don’t think I could hold you back. You were always too good for Itaewon."

Jimin looks down, shaking his head too. “You always say that. I’m too good for this place. Haven’t you considered that you’re too good for it too? If you hadn’t… If things had been different for you, you’d be achieving big, big things in the normal world. Just like if things had been different for me, I’d be doing something better.”

“I guess that’s true.”

“And you always say like I have some place to be. Like you’re sure that my talents lie elsewhere but I like what I do. Even if it makes me a shit person, this is what I want to do. Maybe not in the future, but for now, I’m sure.” Jimin doesn’t want to be mad but he feels mad. It’s like Jeongguk doesn’t trust him. It’s like Jeongguk’s telling him, hey, you’re a nice guy and you’d thrive in the normal world. Here? Not so much .

Jimin did not work his ass off for the past two, nearing three years under Jeongguk. He’s gone to incredible lengths to make sure that Jeongguk was safe including betraying and hurting one of his closest friends. He’d killed , cheated, slept with plenty people to get information. The more he thinks about it, the more upset he gets. 

Jeongguk’s looking at him with a confused expression. Jimin knows that he works differently with emotions so it’s clear that he’s trying to understand what’s wrong but he’s not getting it– not quite. So the man doesn’t reply, at a loss for words. And Jimin finds that the awkward silence that fills the air is too unbearable. He looks down at his phone to find a few texts.

[2:03AM] taehyung: i just got woken up by somebody at my door

[2:03AM] taehyung: they left a ticket to a show in some abandoned theatre???????

[2:04AM] taehyung: when i checked the surveillance cameras i couldn’t figure out who gave it

[2:30AM] taehyung: apparently seokjin got one too???? hello?

Jimin frowns then looks up at Jeongguk. He’s still standing there, unsure of what to say but Jimin pushes away the bad feelings, knowing that there’s something big about to come. “Taehyung said that he and Seokjin just got tickets to the theatre, too.”

“Tickets?”

“Oh. Yeah, I haven’t shown you. Uh,” Jimin slips out the ticket from his wallet. “Xiyue left me a ticket to a theatre thing in Itaewon. Next weekend.”

Jeongguk shakes his head, stepping forward. “No, I mean, I’m surprised. I got one too. I was going to tell you but I forgot, when I got here.” He pulls out his own, identical. “If those two got it, do you think the rest of the group did?”

“Huh. Yeah, probably. We should… We should round them up.” 

“We should probably see Seokjin and Taehyung first.” Something in Jeongguk’s tone is different. And his eyes gleam. Maybe he’s excited to see them. It’s been a while anyway, and Seokjin’s been the only familiar figure to him. He must miss Seokjin a lot.

“Yeah.” Just like that, Jimin can’t be too mad anymore. He takes Jeongguk’s hand and feels the other man squeeze back, like he’s apologizing, but not quite. “But we should do it later. It’s really late.”

They end up together on Jimin’s bed. Jeongguk’s fast asleep but his hold is strong, arms wrapping tightly around him.

It's then, when Jimin realizes that Jeongguk missed him a lot, too.

The next morning, they grab breakfast from a store and quickly make their way over to Taehyung’s house. Of course, they go separately because Jimin gets the sense that Xiyue is keeping an eye on him. So he has to do some maneuvering to make sure that nobody’s trailing him before he ends up at Taehyung’s house.

When he enters the dining room, he’s surprised to see everyone again. And by everyone, he means everyone from the Christmas fiasco last year. It’s almost been a full year since Jeongguk’s eye was gouged out. A year since everything had begun to spiral into what the present had become. He slows his pace as he searches the room for Jeongguk but he hasn’t arrived. So he settles for moving towards Taehyung, who offers him a glass to drink.

Jimin takes it gratefully, eyeing the semi-transparent liquid sitting inside the glass. It's champagne. Not too strong but enough to kill some of his anxiety. His eyes land on Koda, who’s sitting beside Yoongi. Her hands are laced on her lap and she's talking to him about something. Yoongi's nodding, lips pursed. She’s less rugged now. No bruises or scars visible, clearly having risen from the lower ranks, now a crime lord herself. “Have you talked to her?”

“Not really. I don’t think she likes a lot of us very much.”

“I think she just doesn’t know us.”

“Probably.” Taehyung glances over at Hoseok, who doesn’t seem like he wants to be here at all. His expression gives it away– his lips are pressed so tightly that Jimin wonders if he's breathing at all. But he can see the ticket Hoseok's holding in his other hand and it’s clear that he wants answers, too. “God, he hates me. I didn’t want him to hate me. I really don’t,” Taehyung mutters before taking a long sip. "I need something stronger than this."

“You guys dated or whatever for a pretty long time. I think it’s going to take a bit more time for him to get over it. You . You’re a pretty damn amazing guy.” 

“Stop buttering me up like that,” Taehyung replies, hitting him gently. “I already forgave you.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, smiling. “I wasn’t buttering you up, idiot. I was being serious.”

“Jeongguk’s here.” Taehyung says abruptly, pushing away from the bar area, making his way towards the door. Jimin looks over and finds Jeongguk slowly pushing the glass door to the side. He and Taehyung exchange a few words and hug loosely. Jimin smiles at the sight but sends a worried glance towards the rest of the people. And there are mixed reactions, of course.

Yoongi’s eyes narrow slightly. Koda looks surprised, eyes widening. Hoseok nearly chokes on his drink but he covers it up quickly. Namjoon’s gaze is ominous, as it is, always. Sol grins. And Seokjin, the one who should be most shocked, is calm. Jimin doesn’t have time to analyze the reaction because Jeongguk’s walking over to him.

“Hey,” Jeongguk greets.

“Hey,” He replies. “You should talk to Seokjin.”

“Right.” He doesn’t seem too eager to but he does anyway after a second of hesitation. Jimin watches as the two hug, too, a bit awkward but nice to see nonetheless. Seokjin’s eyes are brimming with tears and Jeongguk looks at ease. So maybe Jimin’s just imagining things, reading into things where there’s nothing more to it.

He relaxes a bit, finishing his glass and setting it down. He rubs the back of his neck nervously before he says, in a loud voice, “Okay. Now that everyone’s here…” He trails off, waiting for everyone to pay attention. They all look at him expectantly. “Yeah, uh. Now that everyone’s here, I assume we all got tickets? To this theatre event.” He holds out his own.

One by one, they all pull out their tickets, raising them. “Right,” he continues. “Well, Xiyue’s behind it. He left a note for me and it’s clear that he’s targeting us for a reason. We were all a part of the Gold Crown heist, including him. He wants something to happen but I’m not very sure about it. I was the one who had to live with him for the past months. And I’m the one who knows him best. He’s extremely unpredictable so it’ll be hard to tell what his grand plan is.

“He invited Jeongguk, too. Which means that he’s been spying on me. So out of all of us– if you do decide to help–, I’m the one who can’t poke around too much. I hope you’ll all help. Seriously. Xiyue took away something from all of us.” Sungwoon. He took away Sungwoon. Which means that he took away any sense of justice for those wronged by him. He looks at Taehyung, whose eyes grow sad. And at Namjoon, whose mouth presses into a hard line. “We have to take him down, guys. He… He’s done enough.”

There’s silence, as expected. Jimin fidgets with his ticket, looking towards Taehyung for support. Then Jeongguk, who nods and moves forward to stand beside him. “I know I’m not too credible at the moment, considering that I… I dragged a lot of you into my last plan. And I didn’t give you what I promised. But Xiyue’s a threat to all of us. He doesn’t have a goal, he doesn’t have a plan in mind. But right now, it’s clear that he’s targeting all of you–”

“And why are you here?” This is coming from Hoseok, who looks confused more than angry. “You’re wanted by more than just Xiyue. Even if the police are slowing down on your investigation, you’re still a criminal. And people are still going to want you dead, more than any of us.”

“I have nothing to lose at this point. I lost my job, I lost my education. I lost my eye . I’ve been around here for too long and it’s not right anymore. After this– after we take down Xiyue, I’m gone. And I’m not looking back,” Jeongguk replies sharply, casting a vicious look towards Hoseok. 

“I didn’t mean it as an attack,” Hoseok mutters, looking down.

Jeongguk lingers for a moment, shoulders slacking. But his tone remains pointed as he glances around the room. “You know Xiyue’s only getting more and more powerful. It’s only a matter of time before he’s kicking each and one of you out, too. He likes playing games. He doesn’t like it when things are fixed and predictable. So unless we fucking do something about it, he’s going to flip this system. And you all will be collateral damage.”

Koda nods, speaking first. “He’s right, guys. We should find out what the hell this thing is about. Last thing we want is to get completely blindsided by whatever he’s planning.”

Nobody else objects to this. So Jimin says, “Alright. The event is in three days, which means that we have those days to search anywhere we can to find out any bit of information about what he’s planning to do. But he has a lot of proxies, a lot of people working or allied with him. And nobody here should forget the fact that he’s more of a well-seasoned killer than any of us. That he does this for fun. None of us kill for fun.” They all silently agree with a few nods here and there. “I know it’s a given but any of us could wind up dead. So be careful.

“Yoongi, I need your help, actually. Xiyue left his laptop in his room back at the apartment so I took it with me. Could you get in?”

He expects an abrasive attitude but Yoongi only nods. “Sure.”

“Thanks. And the rest of you guys, I have a list of proxies that he has. I doubt we could get any information from them but it could be useful.”

When he gets the sense that they’re all on the same page, things move quickly. They all gather around the table like last time and Jimin’s the one handing out the list, spreading the papers in the middle. He hangs out with Yoongi the most, though, in the couch area. He watches as Yoongi hacks into the computer with ease. Jimin has a hard time following despite how he tries to understand. Yoongi does things quickly, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

All Jimin can catch is Yoongi typing a resetpassword command into some terminal application. And in a matter of minutes, he’s in. And Jimin says, “Wow.”

“Go ahead,” Yoongi slides the laptop down.

Jimin doesn’t know what he’s looking for so he frowns at the device. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Should I check his browsing history?”

“That could be a start.”

Jimin opens Safari and then clicks on the tab that shows Xiyue’s history. It’s cleared. “Huh.”

“He’s a crazy serial killer. He probably uses incognito or whatever. Let me try,” Yoongi takes the laptop back and opens up his files. There are a lot of folders to choose from, named ambiguously– just different letters and numbers. He clicks on the first one and it has a lot of scanned photos. Maybe about thirty or so. Yoongi clicks on the first one and they find that it’s a passport image.

Wesley Yang , the name says. It clicks immediately in his head. “Wes. That’s one of the names he went by when he was working in China.” 

Yoongi presses the right arrow key. Another passport image with another name. They keep going until Jimin reads Jeon Jeongguk as one of the names. And in the photo, he very much does look like Jeongguk. “That’s fucking weird,” Yoongi says, his lip curling. “Is this why he kicked Jeongguk out? He wanted to replace him or something?”

“That’s the theory,” Jimin responds uneasily. The image and the name… The birthday that says September 1. It’s all wrong. “God, he’s really messed up in the mind, isn’t he?”

“There’s a name for this, I think. I don’t know what it is, but I think that he thinks that he’s all of these identities. I think he sometimes truly believes that he’s Jeongguk,” Yoongi shakes his head, rubbing his chin pensively. “You said his actions were unpredictable right? And he acts like he doesn’t remember when he does bad things? Maybe he really doesn’t.”

Jimin raises his arm. “I have goosebumps thinking about it.”

“It makes him all the more dangerous, doesn’t it? Because we all have our own morals and ideals. But he’s shifting around from personality to personality. One day he could be good. Another, he could be a completely different person.”

“That’s how it was,” Jimin murmurs, thinking back to his time living with Xiyue. It had been terrifying for sure. Jimin didn’t want to be afraid of him but every time he came home from wherever he’d been, causing some form of destruction, Jimin had tensed up, waiting for the ball to drop. It was like a build-up of tension and what was happening now was the very peak of it. He could only imagine how disastrous the finale would be.

Yoongi casts him a sympathetic look before moving onto the next folder. It has photos of Jeongguk’s apartment. Every room, every small detail. And the last photo in the folder is of the framed picture of Tokyo. The small slip of paper that sticks out isn’t too obvious– Jimin can barely see it–, but now that he recognizes it, it winks at him, a mocking reminder of how long it had taken for him to figure it out. “Where is this?” Yoongi asks.

“Jeongguk’s apartment in Itaewon. This is creepy.”

“I feel like we’re only skimming the surface of it all.”

“Gee, I can’t wait to see the photos of dead bodies next,” Jimin jokes but it falls flat when they stumble upon a folder with pictures of dead people. “Oh, no. No, we are not looking at these.”

“I feel sick,” Yoongi mumbles.

“Xiyue’s sick.”

Yoongi nods, his face clearly expressing disgust as he clicks out of the tab. Out of all of them, his hands are the least dirty. He works more in the technological side of things so Jimin assumes that his body count isn’t as drastic as everybody else’s. “And I thought he couldn’t get any worse.”

“Right. I’m sorry for dragging you into all of this, by the way. I know you like to keep to yourself and your business.”

“I do. But my business wouldn’t exist if Xiyue does. So taking him out is the only way I’ll get security for myself.”

Jimin nods. They look through more folders, finding photos of newspapers and screenshots of articles. Jimin checks the dates on the photos and confirms his suspicions– most of them are from around the time of the Bangasayusang heist. Xiyue might be psychopathic but he took his job seriously. 

Halfway through the folders, Jimin asks, “So. What have you been up to in the past few months?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Nothing, really. Just expanded overseas. I got to travel around a bit. It was cool.”

“Oh. That’s fun.”

“You?”

“Aside from dealing with Xiyue? And finding Jeongguk. Uh, I travelled a bit too. And I got back into gymnastics. And applied to a few colleges. I’m not committed or anything. I just wanted to give it a go, you know. Keeping my options open and everything.” He watches Yoongi scroll down another folder filled with newspaper excerpts.

Yoongi smiles a bit. Jimin’s surprised at it but he smiles too. “That’s good. I mean, I think I’m too far down the line to change profession. If I was still on the shallow end of things, I’d probably look at college, too.”

“It’s never too late to get out of this place. Never too late to try something new.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

At one point, Yoongi waves him away and says that he should be talking to the others. Jimin thanks him for being helpful and he stands up, making his way to the table where everyone seems to be less tense, joking around even. It’s mostly on Sol’s side, where he sits with Seokjin, Taehyung and Namjoon. Hoseok sits on the opposite side, working quietly with Koda. And Jeongguk’s in the middle, scribbling things down on paper.

He comes up behind Jeongguk, hugging him and resting against his shoulder. “Hello.”

“Hi. What was on the laptop?”

Jimin reads along as Jeongguk writes down names, picking them from Xiyue’s list. “Hm. Lots of things. The weirdest being pictures of dead people.”

“As would be expected from Xiyue,” Jeongguk replies half-mindedly. He’s focused on his work. 

“What are you doing?”

“I remember some of these names. They’re in my own database of proxies. So it’ll be easy to find them.”

Jimin nods before pulling away, looking up to find Taehyung and Seokjin looking at them. He raises a brow. Then watches as Taehyung slides a bill towards Seokjin, trying to be subtle but not actually. He scoffs and walks over to them. “Funny,” he laments.

“You guys are cute,” Taehyung replies with a cheeky grin. 

“Don’t say that. It’s still weird,” Jimin replies, feeling his cheeks redden. He would sit with them because they seem to be having the most fun, but his attention is on the silent two on the other side of the table. Every once in a while, Koda would ask Hoseok something or Hoseok would show her something. But other than that, it’s obvious that neither of them are comfortable hanging around. So he makes his way to them, taking a seat beside Koda. “Anything?”

“Just trying to see if I remember any names. From when I was a proxy. I think I know a few of these people, so I’m going to try and find stuff out. One of my friends is on the list,” Koda replies, tapping on a highlighted name. 

“That’s good. Hoseok?”

“You know I haven’t been very active in the past few months.” Hoseok looks a bit troubled, not looking up from the paper. “I’ll try to find what I can, but I can’t promise anything.”

Jimin feels his expression soften. “It’s okay. I don’t know much, either, honestly.”

Hoseok doesn’t reply.

Jimin feels bad for Hoseok because he knows that some crime lords just naturally slink down the ladder. The thing about shifting power in Itaewon is that once a crime lord falls, it’s strange for them to get back up again. Which is why a lot of crime lords hold onto power and aim for gaining it as much as possible. Otherwise, they’re nothing.

He doesn’t know what else to say so he stands and thanks them for helping, too. 

He ends up on the bright side of the table, in between Jeongguk and Sol. 

“Sol’s a fucking idiot. After he got initiated back into the bounty hunters, he thought he could slack on his first case because he was some prodigy,” Namjoon explains with a grin. “He paid off one of the younger bounty hunters to the job for him and the kid just reported him. He was close to getting kicked.”

“Listen– I was trying to balance my own shit out, okay? I still had my business going and I couldn’t do that one assignment,” Sol protests, looking up from his paper. “Namjoon’s the idiot, here. He literally can’t climb walls for shit. We were chasing someone down and I got held back because this little bitch couldn’t even scale properly.”

“You should take lessons from Jimin. I’ve seen him climb really tall vertical places. How do you think he gets into Jeongguk’s apartment–”

“Literally shut the fuck up,” Jimin cuts through, embarassed. Beside him, Jeongguk looks up at the mention of his name but he doesn’t seem to know what the conversation is about. “What about you, huh? Letting Taehyung touch your precious rifle ?”

Taehyung gags, “ Yuck , that’s fucking gross.”

They all laugh again and Seokjin looks down at his notebook with an amused smile, shaking his head. “Get back to work.”

Namjoon does. But they continue bickering back and forth, all of them. Yoongi joins the table later on, adding in some remarks here and there. Then Koda eases up. And eventually, Hoseok, who comments a few times, making a few quippy remarks. When Jimin turns to the other side of the table, he sees Jeongguk and Hoseok talking, less tense with one another.

Jimin nearly cries looking around the table because he’d thought that he’d lost them all the moment Jeongguk was caught. But everyone’s here, and everyone’s safe.

He wishes he could put them all into a box, compartmentalize them all and keep them safe from the world, but he’s learned a long time ago, that he can’t do that.

It’s a pipe dream , his mind tells him. To be thinking of these people as his friends… His family . 

He dreads the day that it’d be all over.

After the meeting, he and Jeongguk go back to Jeongguk’s apartment. Seokjin gives him the keys before he takes off with Taehyung. And they find themselves sitting together in the living room eating out of packaged food cartons. Jimin holds up a hand, remembering. He pulls out candles from his bag and a small cupcake he’d bought earlier in the day. He places it down in the middle and slips the candle into the icing. “Do you have a lighter?”

Jeongguk nods, slipping one from his pocket. Jimin lights it up, grinning. “We didn’t get to celebrate your birthday this year. Not together. And to complete the tradition, I brought a little something.” He pulls out the party hat, leaning across the table to strap it over Jeongguk’s blonde hair. 

“Very festive,” Jeongguk remarks, obviously not too pleased with the hat but he doesn’t knock it off anyway. “But thank you. It was kind of weird celebrating alone. Even if I spent most of my childhood without celebrating.”

“Eh, birthdays are overrated anyway.” Jimin reaches into his bag and takes out two boxes, sliding it across the glass. “Two gifts. One is serious and the other is a joke. Which I hope you don’t kill me for.”

Jeongguk opens the joke one first, eyebrows shooting up when he sees it. He pulls out the eyepatch and for a moment, Jimin’s afraid that he offended him. But Jeongguk takes it in good spirit, placing it over his dead eye, his lips quirking up at the edge. “I guess this is payback for the cars.”

“It very much is. Open the better gift.”

Jeongguk does, his gaze softening as he sees it. He pulls out the necklace, turning it over in his hand. “Is this…?”

“Yeah. The one you lost two years ago.” The one that his birth parents left for him. The only thing he has of them. Jeongguk hadn’t explained much because it was among the first months they’d known each other. But one day, it went missing and Jeongguk seemed to be bothered by its loss. Jimin had spent an excessive amount of time in Jeongguk’s apartment, poking around and he’d found it tucked away into the depths of his closet. “It’s not technically a gift from me, but I honestly didn’t know what to buy or make you, either,” he admits.

“No, this is nice. Thank you. Seriously.”

Jimin smiles at him and Jeongguk leans over to kiss him. Jimin crosses over so he can be closer, cupping the boy’s cheeks in his hands, tugging him closer. He can feel things heating up between them. Jeongguk’s actions are less tentative but Jimin can still sense the smallest bit of apprehension in the way he runs a hand down Jimin’s side. Jimin pulls back, pushing the eyepatch off his face. Then the party hat. “Your eye,” he murmurs, thumbing over the side of it, “Does it bother you a lot?”

“It used to. People kept looking at me weird and kids kept crying whenever they saw me. I didn’t like that,” Jeongguk replies truthfully. “It made me feel exposed.”

“And now?”

“It’s not that bad. I remembered not to give a fuck.”

Jimin nods and leans in again. Their lips glide against one another, faintly brushing, not quite pushing like before. He whispers, “I’m so happy. I’m so happy right now.”

“Me too, I think. I don’t have much to compare it to, but I’m happy,” Jeongguk replies breathily.

Jimin feels his hand clench into a fist when Jeongguk pulls him up to sit on his lap. He places his arms around the man’s neck, fingers knotting into his blonde hair. “I like this. I like your hair a lot. ‘S so pretty.”

“You’re pretty. Always thought you were.” Jeongguk kisses his cheek, then his chin with a surge of confidence. His hands trail down, only stopping briefly before tightening against Jimin’s waist, pulling him much, much closer. “I liked your pink hair.”

“You said it was bad.”

“Because I thought you would get caught. Never said it was ugly,” Jeongguk protests, nipping against his neck a bit. Jimin suppresses the noise that threatens to spill from his mouth. He releases a shaky breath, hands gripping tighter. “Is this okay?” Jeongguk then asks, reminding Jimin that this is all new to him.

Jimin nods feverishly. “It’s really okay. What about you?”

“I’m… I’m trying. I don’t want to be scared of it forever.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” Jimin says, kissing him on the temple. “I’m so proud of you.”

Jeongguk hums against his neck, sucking a bit before pulling away. His lips are glossy with saliva and Jimin can feel a bit of it on his skin. He uses his hand, dragging his thumb over Jeongguk’s mouth to clean it up. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” Jeongguk admits then, eyes flitting over to Jimin’s neck. “Did it feel… Did it feel good?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jimin replies, with a laugh. “Of course it did. Here, move your head.”

Jeongguk tilts his head to the side, biting down on his lip. Jimin licks a stripe up his neck before sucking into the skin. And there’s a stifled groan that’s tugged from Jeongguk’s throat. “ Fuck .”

“That’s how it felt like.”

“Why didn’t you make a noise, then?” Jeongguk frowns.

“Because I didn’t want to sound like a needy bitch.”

“Do I sound like a needy bitch?” Jeongguk’s so new to all of it. Jimin can’t help but internally coo at his confused expression. 

“No. You sound hot.”

“You probably sound hot too,” he complains.

“If you want me to make a noise, then make me make a noise.” Jimin means it as a joke but Jeongguk is a bit too determined. He turns them over so that Jimin’s back is against the ground. He’s surprised by the aggressiveness although definitely not opposed to it. “Jeongguk–” He begins, but Jeongguk kisses him. And Jimin can’t really object at all.

He allows Jeongguk to experiment a bit, and lets himself sink into a state of bliss. He keeps running his hands through Jeongguk’s hair, trying his best to soothe him but Jeongguk’s fine. His moves are confident and sure and it’s not long before he moans, just a bit. Jeongguk pulls back then, wiping a hand over his mouth. “I was right. You sound nice.”

“Why’d you stop?” Jimin replies, opening his eyes wider.

Jeongguk grimaces. “It was getting a bit… Overwhelming. I know I said that I couldn’t be afraid of it forever but it’s still strange–”

“No, no, don’t worry.” Jimin sits up, too. “Baby steps, Jeongguk.”

“The fuck? I don’t want to be a baby.”

“This is a really different side to you,” Jimin comments when they return back to their seats, across the table. “Never thought I’d see you so… I dunno. You’re really cute.”

At that, Jeongguk seems to return back to his normal self. “I don’t want to be cute. Are you patronizing me?”

“No! No, not at all, I’m just kidding,” Jimin replies but he’s laughing now. Jeongguk looks so offended that it makes him relent. “I’m seriously kidding. Hey, I’m good with where we are right now. I respect your boundaries, okay? I’m never gonna force you to do anything. You take charge here.”

“I had a feeling you liked it that way.”

“ God , shut up and eat your cupcake.”

Jeongguk smiles and leans over to cut a piece for himself. Jimin’s phone buzzes and he checks under the table, not wanting to ruin the moment. But it is, anyway, when he sees that his mom’s calling. He shuts it off, feeling bitterness overwhelm him at the sight of her name. He should delete her number, cut her off forever. 

Jimin tries to be happy again when he slips back into the present but it’s hard to. Not when he’s suddenly thinking about his dad again.

Jimin spends the next day with Sol and Namjoon. Jeongguk can’t be outside much because he’s still a wanted man so he hides out in Seokjin’s apartment. They both agree that his own place isn’t too safe anymore, considering that Xiyue knew about the photo and the note. So Jeongguk unlocks his secret compartment, where he’d managed to hide all of his important files before being arrested. Seokjin helps him move everything over to his place so he could work from there.

Jimin would go on his own but after his conversation with Namjoon, he’s been interested in the whole bounty hunter thing so he’d texted, asking if he could come with them. They agree so they all end up together at Sol’s fancy garden house. Taehyung and Seokjin show up later, bringing lunch. Hoseok does, too, and by the looks of it, he’s made up with Taehyung. They’re speaking again. 

Yoongi says that he’d come much later– he has an issue with foreign affairs. Koda doesn’t reply. Jimin gets the feeling that she and Sol are still on the outs but just texts her, again, to come anyway because he wants everyone there.

“I’m going to check downtown tonight,” Sol says, pointing at the map of the city. “There’s a lot of underground clubs and places that are always filled with proxies.”

“I’ll come with you,” Namjoon replies. “I have an assignment around that area so might as well kill two birds with one stone.”

“Assignment? Like bounty hunter assignment?” Jimin asks, curiously.

“Mhm. I can’t say much but we basically are ranked from best to worst. I’m the best, obviously,” Sol says with a smug tone, jokingly of course. “So I get a lot of assignments. Fun ones. Namjoon is lower rank so he gets shitty downtown stuff.”

“I hate you,” Namjoon says annoyedly. Jimin can’t tell if he’s joking. “I don’t have a network of people working for me. I’m an authentic hunter. I do it myself.”

“And look where that’s getting you.”

Jimin raises his hands between them. “Whoa, chill guys. Is it that serious?”

“Not really.” Sol shrugs.

“Yes,” Namjoon replies flatly, at the same time.

“Maybe I don’t want to be a bounty hunter after all. If it’s that cutthroat,” Jimin looks down at his notes. He’s going to be going uptown, on the other hand. He used to hang around a place where many crime lords would meet with their proxies. He circles it on his own map diagram, drawing a big star. “Or maybe I’ll join a branch abroad. Maybe it’s less competitive in Japan.”

“Japan’s crazy competitive. There are way more targets there than over here because we’re so heavy on the whole crime lord-proxy dynamic. There? It’s all suits and things. I like their style better but I’d suck ass compared to their bounty hunters.” Sol shakes his head. “Crazy.”

“Maybe I’ll be better than you,” Jimin jokes.

“Maybe, actually,” Sol responds, leaning back in his chair. “God damn, this whole Xiyue thing is making my back ache.”

Jimin is about to agree but he sees the door swing open. Koda peeks her head in, releasing a long breath when she steps inside, shutting the door behind her. She looks completely beat, with blood on her hands, knuckles split open. “Whoa, are you okay?” He asks, looking her up and down. 

She takes a moment to catch a breath before she nods. “Mhm. I spent the whole night tracking this one kid down and I got him to talk. He said that his crime lord got a ticket too. So I–” she coughs, looking pained as she does so. “I talked to some other people and found out that a lot of higher-ups got tickets. God fuck , does anyone have a first aid kit?”

Sol stands up to get one. She sits down on the couch, holding her right side with a pained expression. Taehyung walks over to her, face concerned. “Are you seriously okay? You’re… You’re really bleeding there–”

“I got into a fight. Guy hit me with a crowbar. I’m sorry I didn’t answer texts sooner, I got back to my car and passed out. When I woke up, it was morning and I just rushed over here.”

So she wasn’t ignoring him on purpose. Jimin feels guilty for believing so. “We seriously should all be more careful when we go out and look for information.”

She laughs but she stops quickly when she winces from the pain.

“Who carries a crowbar with them?” Taehyung muses, trying to clear the mood.

“I know right?” She replies with a deep frown.

Sol pushes past them all, settling down in front of her. He looks around, telling them to look away with his eyes. They all disperse, going back to work. Jimin looks over briefly and they’re both talking as Sol cleans up the wound, dabbing a disinfectant after washing away the blood. She says something and he nods his head, his posture slacking a bit. Jimin turns away and back to Namjoon. “You’re much different than I thought, you know?”

“What did you think?” Namjoon replies, pinning something to the map. A paper with a name on it.

“I thought you were like. This super serious, stiff guy. I don’t know. You and Jeongguk are super smart and Jeongguk has a bit of a hard time with joking around and emotions and everything.”

“Oh. The whole low EQ, high IQ thing. I mean, I joke around. It’s not hard. But emotionally, I’m not the best, either. Does Jeongguk seriously not joke around?”

“He jokes but it’s not like a ‘ haha so funny ’ way. It’s more like a… I can’t describe it. But he’s definitely not going to joke about dicks or whatever.”

“I don’t joke about dicks.”

“It was an example.” Jimin snorts and takes his phone out.

[1:03PM] jungkook: i’m bored.

[1:04PM] you: then come over?

[1:04PM] jungkook: over??????

[1:05PM] you: oops i forgot to say. we ended up at sol’s place to get shit done

[1:05PM] jungkook: … 

[1:06PM] you: :D

[1:06PM] you: what are you doing?

[1:10PM] jungkook: working. what else?

[1:10PM] jungkook: btw i’m coming tonight.

[1:11PM] you: uh no ur not. 

[1:11PM] jungkook: why not?

[1:11PM] you: uhhhhh maybe because people want u dead

[1:12PM] jungkook: what’s your point?

[1:12PM] you: :|

Jimin shakes his head and smiles to himself.

Jeongguk is a piece of work.

Evening finally comes around and they all, one by one, leave Sol’s house to go to their respective areas. Jimin calls Jeongguk while he walks around Sol’s front yard, waiting for Namjoon. Jeongguk picks up. “Hello?” 

Loud music blares in the background.

Jimin groans. “Seriously? You’re out?”

“No, I’m sitting in Seokjin’s living room.” To prove his point, Jeongguk turns off the music. “I was just playing music.”

“Okay. Good. Namjoon’s going to drive me to the northern part of Itaewon and I’m going to hang around there for a bit. And before you tell me to be careful or whatever, Taehyung’s going to be with me. I’ll be totally fine.”

“I wasn’t going to tell you to be careful. I trust you.”

Jimin makes a gagging noise. “Please go back to asshole Jeongguk.”

“Fine. Bye.” The phone line cuts there and Jimin regrets it immediately but he doesn’t call back, only sending Jeongguk another flat-mouthed emoji. 

He’s wearing a nice plain dress shirt and black slacks, hair styled to the side for the evening. Taehyung comes out of Sol’s house wearing pretty clothes, hopping down the steps excitedly. “Can’t believe I’m finally gonna get to do some crazy shit,” he exclaims. Jimin pats Taehyung on the head even though the boy’s taller than him. He’s like a big puppy. 

“I can’t believe Seokjin’s permitting this.”

“Seokjin’s the one enocuraging me to kick ass.”

“We’re not going there to kick ass. We’re going there to talk to people, feel them up and take information. If we’re lucky, we get to break their dicks.”

“Perfect.” Taehyung gives him a thumbs up.

They pile into the back of Namjoon’s car. Jimin expects Taehyung to be loud on the way there but he’s silently staring out the window, hands tight around his phone. He can feel the anxiety radiating off him and it’s apparent that Namjoon does, too, because the man looks into the rearview mirror and says, “You know you don’t have to do this.”

Taehyung blinks out of his daze. “Huh? I can do this.”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to.”

“No, no, I really want to. I’ve been feeling like the useless one in the group project lately. I want to do this.” Taehyung looks at Jimin as he says this, mustering as much conviction into his tone as he can. 

Jimin reaches out and takes his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. “Just remember what to do.”

“Yep. Find out who’s invited to Xiyue’s theatre thing. Ask if they know anything about it.”

“And if you get into trouble…?”

“Order a dry martini– I know the protocol.”

“Good.”

Namjoon drops them off at one of the high-end clubs. Jimin takes out his phone to check himself out in the front-facing camera. He pushes the flying strands of his hair to the side until he’s satisfied. “Sometimes I forget how hot I am,” he murmurs.

“I never forget how hot I am.”

“Yeah, because you’re a socialite. People tell you that all the time. I barely receive any compliments. Other than from sleazy men.” He says this but then he remembers how Jeongguk called him pretty last night. It makes him feel fuzzy on the inside, his mind hazy as he remembers how heated everything got for a moment. 

“I hope we don’t get any sleazy men tonight,” Taehyung responds lightly but Jimin knows that he’s being serious. Sungwoon was as sleazy as they got. And he knows, then, that he can trust Taehyung wholeheartedly. Taehyung’s been getting stronger with the help of Seokjin. And there’s no doubt that he would kick ass if it came down to it.

They walk in separately but sit in the same square bar, just across each other. Jimin looks up a few times. Taehyung’s extremely attractive and there’s no doubt that people are enchanted by his presence. People are looking at him, wondering who this newcomer is. Some seem to know him. But there’s this circle around him that’s clearly preventing people from coming closer. Like he’s precious and nobody dares try their hand at talking to him.

Jimin smiles to himself. Taehyung deserves the respect he yields. Jimin usually has to have a few drinks before anyone approaches him so he orders three shots. His tolerance is pretty high but nobody needs to know that. He arranges them into a line, placing a chaser at the end of it. Then he downs all consecutively, slamming the glass down after each hit. He places the lemon slice into his mouth after, sucking into it as he looks around the room. He makes eye contact with a pretty man that sits by himself just a few stools down.

He pulls off from the lemon with a slurp. Then he places it down, focusing his attention to the front, not before casting a coy glance towards the man who’s clearly interested. He looks at Taehyung, who’s talking to somebody– a man who’s a little too old. Before Jimin can watch, there’s a cough from beside him.

Jimin turns to find that the man has crossed the gap and is now sitting there, eyeing him. He gives the man a once-over, feigning disinterest. Or, well, he isn’t interested anyway so it’s easier to act like it. “Three shots in one go,” the man remarks. “Tough day?”

Jimin huffs, hanging his head. “Wow. I’m disappointed. From the way you were looking at me, I thought you’d have a better opening line.”

“Yikes. Did I blow my chance?”

You don’t stand a chance at all , Jimin thinks, but says, “How about a do-over?”

“Fine. You’re very pretty.”

Jimin laughs then. “You’re walking on thin ice.”

“At least I made you laugh.”

God, just tell me you want to fuck already. So desperate . Jimin’s mind is really not having it. “Alright. I surrender.”

“Good. I don’t see you around here. Is this your first time here?”

“No, but I haven’t been here in a long time. I’m actually just bar hopping tonight, so I’ll head out soon.”

“Bar hopping on your own?”

“Nope. I’m seeing a few friends later tonight.”

“So you’re not going to hang around…?” The man looks a bit confused although he hides it well, with a flashy smile. “Am I wasting my time?”

Sleaze . “Not quite. I’m coming back on Saturday night, actually. If you want to come along…”

“I would love to, but there’s a theatre event happening on that night.” Bingo . “If I could bring you as a plus-one, I could, but it’s extremely exclusive and all.”

Jimin looks at him, raising his brows. “Ooh. Exclusive, huh? You must be important.”

“I’m friends with the host.”

“Any chance you could get me invited?” Jimin asks, tipping his head to the side, batting his eyelashes.

“Maybe. I’m seeing him soon. What’s your name?”

Jimin leans his chin on his hand, fishing for some random name in the depths of his mind. Quickly . “It’s Jang Eunwoo. What about you?”

“Lee Taemin.”

“Hmm. That’s nice.” Jimin looks up briefly at Taehyung, who seems to be doing well on his own. He’s laughing at what the man is saying, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Alright. I have to get going but if you could manage to show up on Saturday night… That would be really nice.” 

Taemin dips his head. “And if I can’t, how do I find you?”

“I’ll come back another day.”

“I’ll hold onto that as a promise.”

Jimin smiles and hops off his seat. He walks out of the club after that, searching the parking lot for Namjoon’s car. He rushes over, pulling the door open. “I got a name. Lee Taemin.”

Namjoon looks over. “That was quick.”

“Uh-huh.”

Taehyung exits the club next, skipping over with a gleam in his eyes. Once he’s in the car and they’re driving away, headed for Seokjin’s apartment, he claps his hands excitedly. “Kang Wooyoung. He was invited. He told me that he heard there was a special guest showing up. And that only very important people were invited.”

“Hey! Good job,” Jimin says, holding out his hand.

Taehyung slaps his own against it. “What now?”

“We ask Jeongguk about the names. He might know more.”

“Cool.”

Namjoon stops at Seokjin’s building, giving Taehyung a big thumbs up and a good job before he drives away to get his own work done. They both head up and enter Seokjin’s apartment. The mercenary isn’t home yet but Jeongguk’s in the living room, lying down on the couch, watching a video. He’s wearing grey sweatpants and a white shirt, hair mussed around. “You look so homely,” Jimin comments, standing over him.

Jeongguk looks up. He still looks good. Probably better than he’s ever looked because he looks so… Adorable . “You’re back early.”

“People are so horny nowadays. It was so easy to get information. Do you know a Lee Taemin?”

Jeongguk removes an airpod, setting it down on the space beside him. “Mhm. He’s a suit. Why?”

“He’s going on Saturday. Says he knows Xiyue personally. And that it’s a super exclusive event.”

Jeongguk reaches up to take him by the shirt and Jimin would’ve kissed him before that if it weren’t for Taehyung standing by the door. Jimin clears his throat, shooting a glance towards the socialite, who’s making an exaggerated expression. Jeongguk looks and sighs. “Hello, Taehyung.”

“Hello. Now, let’s forget that you tried to make out just then and be my human encyclopedia for a bit. Kang Wooyoung.”

Jeongguk thinks it over for a moment. “He used to be my proxy. Maybe a year ago. Is he the one with a scar on his chin?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah. Used to be my proxy. What did he say?”

“There’s a special guest coming. And like what the other guy said– it’s super exclusive.”

Jeongguk sits up, placing his laptop down and pulling out his other earbud. “I wonder how Xiyue got so many connections so fast. And I wonder who this special guest is.” He opens up a document and types in the search bar: Kang Wooyoung . There’s an address, a few notes, a description. “He’s from Gangnam. I remember following him last year. You think he has any more information on him?”

“Dunno. He was pretty desperate, though.”

“Huh.” Jeongguk opens up another spreadsheet and types: Lee Taemin . There’s one result that comes up. “Seokjin gave me this spreadsheet a while ago and we’ve been tracking down suits and business people. In the case we wanted any alliances or resources,” He explains as he reads it. “He’s in Jamsil.”

“I don’t think I can scout him out. He said he was meeting with Xiyue tonight.”

“Hm. Here’s a number, though. You should say something.”

Jimin copies it down and saves it for tomorrow. “I’ll call in the morning. It would be weird to call if Xiyue was with him, you know?”

“Right.” Jeongguk looks between them. “So. A special guest. A high-end event. What are we in for?”

Jimin and Taehyung exchange a look. 

“I have no fucking clue.”

The following day, they regroup at Taehyung’s. 

Koda reports nothing back because she doesn’t go out. She’s still a bit beat with the whole crowbar-to-the-ribs thing so she’d hung back. 

Yoongi finishes going through Xiyue’s gallery and there are a few documents that he wants Jimin to look over.

Hoseok finds that it’s a very low-key event and that ticket holders are expected to shut up about it.

Namjoon and Sol nearly bump into Xiyue– they see him talking to a few proxies downtown. He’s using them to send the tickets to people. 

All in all, their individual searches don’t amount to much and it brings down the spirit of the group. Jimin sighs when they collectively agree that they don’t have much to do but to wait for the event itself so they all talk about anything else. He sits beside Yoongi, though and they look at the aforementioned documents together.

“One of them has a table of names. It’s about eleven pages long, I didn’t look much into it.”

“Could I see it, please?”

Yoongi brings it up and passes the device over. Jimin types in the two names: Lee Taemin, Kang Wooyoung. And they both appear. So he checks the last date Xiyue edited the document. Just a few days before he blew up at the apartment and left. “Hey guys?” He calls, but he’s really only calling for Jeongguk. “Jeongguk!”

The man walks over. “Mhm?”

“Yoongi found the guest list. I’m sure it is. Look!” He types his own name. Then Taehyung’s. Sol’s. Koda’s. All of their names show up. “I’m sure this is it.”

“That’s a long list,” Jeongguk remarks, leaning over to scroll. “Good find, Yoongi.”

“Jimin’s the one who figured it out,” Yoongi replies.

“Good job, Jimin.”

Jimin nods and leans forward. “I honestly don’t know how this is going to help but it’s something.”

“I guess it doesn’t help at all, but it’s good to know numbers. There are about two hundred and… Fifteen people attending. Which is actually a pretty damn big amount. Could you bring up a photo of the theatre?”

Jimin googles it and they’re met with a grand sight. It’s small in size but it’s obviously going to warrant formal attire. He shakes his head, mesmerized by how grand it looks. “It’s so nice. I wonder why it shut down.”

“People gave up on theatre, I guess,” Jeongguk replies, pushing back. “The capacity of the theatre looks to be about two hundred and thirty people. If I counted and did the math for the rows and stuff correctly. Which means that it’s going to be a full-house. A full-house of suits, crime lords and everybody within reach of power. I wonder how that’s going to end.”

A rooftop. Sunrise. Two people stand across each other but neither attack. One falls. One lives. But neither pull the trigger.

Jimin thinks about Jeongguk’s plan. He wonders if any of this has thrown off the outcome he’d imagined. Then he thinks about all the times things have gone wrong for Jeongguk. He’s always managed to work his way through every obstacle thrown at him. And even when things seemed like they came to the ultimate end– Jeongguk being put on death row–, he found a way.

He looks back at the list of names and smiles at Yoongi before he stands, tugging on Jeongguk’s arm, pulling him to a quiet part of the room. “Be honest with me. Are we really the ones being blindsided here?”

Jeongguk lifts his shoulder. “In some ways, yes.”

“And I can’t ask you what that means. Right?”

“I told you, Jimin. There’s a plan. And this is a blip in that plan. But I’ll admit, I didn’t expect this.” There it is. A hint of doubt in Jeongguk’s plan– whatever that entailed. Jeongguk’s features harden, his jaw setting firmly. He adds, “I know it seems like we’re losing here, but we’re not. Just because we aren’t winning doesn’t mean that we’re losing.”

Jimin can’t argue with that because it’s true. They’re all left in some sort of grey area at the moment but it didn’t mean that they were playing a losing hand. So he calms himself down a bit and nods in agreement. “I guess you’re right. I think I’m just getting a bit dizzy with how ambiguous and secretive everything is. I’m not used to being kept in the dark.”

“Tell me about it. It’s weird not knowing something.” Jeongguk grimaces at the thought, like it’s the worst thing ever. To somebody who usually knows everything , it probably is.

“I guess all we can do is wait, right? It’s tomorrow anyway. And like you said, you have a grand plan. And we’ll improvise along the way.”

Jeongguk sucks in a breath. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Good. Now let’s just have fun.”

To calm everyone’s nerves, Taehyung takes everyone to another room where there’s an excessive amount of alcohol. There’s a ping pong table in the middle and they all set up for a game of beer pong. But by the looks of it, there’s more than just beer being thrown into each of the cups. He watches Seokjin pour in tequila into one cup and vodka into another.

Taehyung divides the teams. Namjoon and Jeongguk can’t be on the same one because they’re too smart. So they end up being the team captains .

NAMJOON’S TEAM:

Taehyung, Jimin, Koda

JEONGGUK’S TEAM

Sol, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok

They put the extra teammate on Jeongguk’s team because Jeongguk doesn’t drink. The game commences and they find out that Taehyung sucks at the game, failing his attempt, overshooting so much that the ball flies over Seokjin’s head. 

Seokjin sucks, too. Jimin’s decent, making one shot. Missing the next. Sol sucks. Koda is spectacular, making three shots before finally flunking out. Yoongi makes one shot. Namjoon makes one. Hoseok makes two. Jeongguk makes five . 

“So fucking unfair,” Taehyung whines as he splits the cups. Jimin volunteers to take two because he has the best tolerance. “Jeongguk’s calculating the trajectory of his shots and stuff.”

Jimin laughs into his cup, looking across the table at Jeongguk, who’s staring at the table with a focused gaze. Knowing Jeongguk, he certainly did do some calculations. And they were serving well. 

Late into the night, they’re all kind of half-drunk and knocked out from all the poking around. So Jimin ends up beside Jeongguk on the couch, head on the man’s lap, rambling drunkenly about everything. “I’m gonna learn how to drive. When we leave. I’m gonna drive. I’m gonna drive you and me. We’re going to drive together,” he says, looking up at a very sober Jeongguk. “You should learn how to drive.”

“Jimin. Like I said before, I’m like, legally blind.”

“In one eye. ‘S gonna be like driving while winking.” He laughs at that even though it’s not remotely funny. 

Jeongguk snorts. “Something I never thought I’d see. A very, very drunk Jimin.”

“I’m not fuckin’ drunk, stupid. You’re drunk.”

“Jimin. I’m really not.”

Jimin slaps him on the thigh. Jeongguk looks surprised but only lets out a laugh. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“Because you’re drunk.”

“I said I’m not fucking drunk.”

“God. You’re a handful.” Jeongguk looks up, head shaking amusedly. Jimin frowns at that and rolls off him. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Feel sick.” 

Jimin looks around the room. Taehyung’s still up and standing, playing pool with Hoseok and Seokjin. Koda’s passed out on the couch, which he suspects is more because of the exhaustion of the wound more than her being too drunk. Sol places a blanket on her before he sits with Yoongi and Namjoon. They’re just chatting together. “Anyone know where… W–Where the bathroom is?” He asks, and his voice is so tiny. 

“Behind the door,” Taehyung replies, leaning over to get a shot in. 

Jimin burps out a response, dragging his feet all the way to where Taehyung says the bathroom is. He leans over the toilet, grimacing at the way the toilet seat is golden. “Is this real gold?” He asks himself.

“Yeah.” Jeongguk’s beside him now, sitting on his haunches. “Jimin, are you going to throw up?”

“Mhm. Lots.”

“Gross,” Jeongguk mumbles but pushes his hair back from his face anyway. “Open your mouth.”

Jimin does. And he’s shocked by the fact that Jeongguk literally triggers his gag reflex for him, stuffing a finger down his throat. He pulls back quick enough to avoid the vomit. Jimin feel himself practically hurl out the past week’s worth of meals. It’s so bad that he starts crying once he’s done.

“No, no, don’t cry,” Jeongguk says quickly, looking panicked. “Why are you crying?”

Jimin keeps crying, lying down on the ground. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Jimin, don’t pass out. Jimin? Hey, c’mon, don’t go to sleep.”

Jimin has never been this drunk before. The last time was over a year ago, when he’d gone a little too hard with Taehyung. He thinks that he’s crying because of how terrible the feeling is. Or maybe it’s just everything hitting him at once, amplified by the alcohol in him. But he keeps crying and crying, heaving out unsteady, ragged breaths until everything goes black.

When he wakes up the following morning, he feels like he’s been run over by a car.

Run over then hit by a truck. Then stomped on by a fucking elephant or something. Jimin finds himself lying down on a couch with a pillow under his head and a blanket over is body. Across him, Koda is asleep, snoring softly. He peels himself from the cushion, groaning at how painful his head is throbbing. “ Ooooooooh fucking god,” he says, throat hoarse.

He places his hands to his eyes, finding them puffy. Did he cry?   He doesn’t remember too much. 

Jimin looks around enough to realize that he’s at Taehyung’s place. And he looks around well enough to see Jeongguk sleeping on the floor beside the couch.

He leans over and pokes Jeongguk on the side. He wakes up immediately, like he hadn’t been asleep at all. “You’re finally awake,” he says, sitting up.

“Please don’t tell me I did anything embarassing last night,” Jimin pleads, already knowing that it was bad from the way his ears are warm and his cheeks are, too. 

“Uh. You didn't. Not at all.”

“I feel like I cried.”

“No, no you didn’t. I think you’re just hungover. You drank a lot during beer pong and had your own bottle the whole night. Then you threw up once and went to sleep.”

Lies. Jimin sort of remembers being in the bathroom with Jeongguk. Jeongguk holding back his hair and helping him throw up. It’s sweet, though, that Jeongguk’s trying to soften the blow. “Yeah,” he decides to go along with it, pressing his fingers to his throbbing temples. “I don’t feel good at all.”

“I don’t know anything about hangovers so…”

“Could you please get me… Uh. I don’t remember the medicine name but Taehyung should. And coffee? And like, a really carb-heavy breakfast?” Jimin takes his pillow and he buries his head into it. He has so many regrets.

“Okay.” Jeongguk stands up to go. And Jimin goes back to sleep.

When he wakes up, Jeongguk’s prodding his side. It’s much brighter in the room and Koda’s awake. Sol’s beside her, handing her a bottle of painkillers and holding the first aid kit again. Namjoon’s in the room too, not looking good. Hoseok is lying his head down on the counter while Yoongi seems to be the only one, aside from Jeongguk, that is coherent enough to function.

Jimin looks at Jeongguk’s face. He looks red. “You good?” He asks as he opens the bag of food.

“I walked in on Taehyung and Seokjin.”

“Oh.” Jimin says. Then his eyes widen. “Oh. Yikes.”

“Yeah, don’t make me think about it. Are you feeling any better?”

“No. I still feel like I just got kicked by a horse.”

“Eat up, then.”

Jimin does, munching on the sandwich and taking sips from the cup of coffee. Taehyung comes downstairs at that time, followed by Seokjin. It’s the walk of shame and everybody knows it. Jeongguk makes a face and Taehyung looks his way, giving a half-apologetic, half-amused glance. Seokjin looks embarrassed, which Jimin understands completely. Because Seokjin and Jeongguk are practically brothers. And Jeongguk just walked in on him.

Jimin squeezes Jeongguk’s shoulder. “Thanks for buying me food.”

“You’re welcome.”

After that, Jeongguk goes to work again, with Yoongi. They’re both checking Xiyue’s laptop out still and are the only functioning people at the moment. Jimin’s on his phone. He brings out his glasses, placing them on the bridge of his nose so his head won’t hurt as much when he scrolls.

He remembers Lee Taemin and the number. He dials it.

“Hello?”

“Hey. It’s Eunwoo.”

“Eunwoo. Pretty guy at the bar. How’d you get my number?” He sounds pleasantly surprised.

“There aren’t many Lee Taemins. I asked around.”

“And why is that?”

“Don’t know.”

“Huh.”

Jimin fiddles with the string of his sweatpants. “What do you mean, huh?”

He starts laughing all of a sudden. Jimin’s stomach twists with unease. “This is hilarious. I was really wondering how long you could keep it up.” 

“Huh? Keep what up?” Jimin feels like his head is about to explode.

“I don’t know, Park Jimin. What could you possibly be hiding from me?”

Jimin closes his eyes, clenching a fist. He releases a long breath. “You knew.”

“Of course I knew. When Xiyue said he had a pretty friend coming to the theatre, I had to ask for a photo, you know? I didn’t know you’d show up at the bar though. That was just a happy little accident, I guess.” His voice is mocking. So condescending and pitiful. “I guess the rumors were right. You really do only know how to use your body to get shit done.”

The comment stings. He has to recover a bit before he replies, “I take it Xiyue knows? That I’m poking around?”

“Of course. He’s my boss, after all. Anyway, I have to go. Lots of things to plan, and a very special surprise for you to meet soon enough. I’ll see you tonight. As planned.” Taemin laughs again before he ends the call.

Jimin yells, “ Fuck !” 

They all look his way. “You good?” Namjoon asks, walking over to give him a tall glass of water.

“Lee Taemin knew it was me the whole fuckin’ time. And now Xiyue knows that we’re all sticking our noses where they shouldn’t be. And he told me that there’s some special surprise for me. Which probably means that I’m fucking screwed .” He’s angry. And upset that he’d been played so easily. And maybe he’s still smarting from the comment about him and using his body.

“Jimin, it’s fine. There’s nothing we can do about it at this point.” Taehyung sighs, rubbing at his head too. “Let’s all just sober up and get our shit together before tonight, okay?”

He nods, lying back down. Jeongguk catches his eye and mouths it’s okay .

Jimin shakes his head and closes his eyes. He wants to cry out of frustration but it doesn’t come. Rather, only the memory of exhausting all his tears last night surfaces. 

He falls asleep.

Throughout the day, they all periodically go back to their places to shower and get dressed for the evening’s events. Jimin doesn’t want to go back to his and Xiyue’s apartment but it’s not like he can borrow a suit from Seokjin or Jeongguk– they’re much taller. So he goes up by himself, picking out a plain black suit. 

He stops in the middle of the apartment before he leaves. Jimin’s always been a little too sentimental about everything so even if all the memories he’s had here were terrible, rigged with fear, he feels upset. It’s the last time he’ll see this place. Maybe after he finishes clearing out all his stuff but he feels like it’s already a goodbye in itself. He doesn’t know what’ll come out of tonight. So maybe it will be the last.

As much as this place had been the spawn of his nightmares, it had been the birthplace of a new, better version of himself. He’d survived Xiyue. And as ridiculous as that sounded, it was a big feat. Amongst other things, like learning how to read and write. Writing those emails to Jeongguk. Working out late into the night. All the nights spent crying on his own. 

Jimin closes the door behind him as he leaves, laughing at the way the doorknob hangs falsely from the door. Stupid doorknobs, stupid Jeongguk. He shakes his head before he makes his way back downstairs, into Seokjin’s car. He’s in a mellow mood. The more the headaches subside, the more his head clears. And the more his head clears, the more his thoughts begin to hit him.

Tonight could be the end of everything.

They get dressed up in silence. And Jimin’s no longer regretting getting batshit drunk last night because everything’s so serious now. Jeongguk’s expression is the hardest out of all of them. He’s wearing his glass eye and it looks so real that Jimin has to do a double-take in surprise. 

He’s tugging on his necktie, staring at himself in the mirror. Then he moves to Jeongguk’s side. Seokjin’s in the other room, taking a few calls, talking to his parents. Jimin places his hands on Jeongguk’s chest. “Why do I feel like I need to say goodbye or something?”

Jeongguk pushes a hand through his blonde hair, fixing up a bit. “You shouldn’t be nervous. Xiyue has only one bone to pick and it’s with me.”

“That’s why I am nervous, Jeongguk. He’s not going to hurt me. But he clearly has no problem with killing anybody else.”

“I really hope my plan works. And I get the outcome I want,” Jeongguk replies, leaning down.

“Why?” Jimin asks, startled by the straightforwardness of his movements. 

“I wouldn't be very attractive if it didn’t work, wouldn’t I?”

Jimin hits him on the chest. “Stop joking around. You’re supposed to be the serious one. I’m supposed to be the one joking.” His voice twists at the end, cracking slightly. Jeongguk wraps him up into a hug. “You’d be attractive to me regardless of the outcome.”

“Don’t cry.”

“I won’t. I’m just sad.”

“Don’t be sad. You never know what could happen.” There’s something about Jeongguk’s tone that’s so sure. Jimin can’t possibly relate to how confident Jeongguk is in this plan so he relies on Jeongguk to keep him upfloat. He just nods, trying to lift himself up a bit. 

There’s a knock on the door. “You guys ready?”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk replies, heading out first. When Jimin doesn’t follow, he peeks back inside. “Trust me?”

“Unfortunately.”

Jeongguk smiles faintly and Jimin just has to follow.

Despite how nervous he is, Jimin’s always been good at appearing otherwise. He holds his chin high as he follows Jeongguk and Seokjin into the theatre. They hand the man at the entrance their tickets in succession and they pile into their seats, right smack in the middle row. One by one, the seats slowly begin to fill up. Jimin keeps his shoulders back, head raised. He looks around the crowd and nobody seems to recognize Jeongguk, which is understandable because he has two eyes and is blonde.

Just as soon as he begins to relax, he meets a familiar pair of eyes three rows down. Lee Taemin is staring at him, a smirk on his lips. Jimin’s expression is stoic and he manages to spare a look of disgust towards the man before he looks away. Beside him, Jeongguk says, “There are lots of people.”

Jimin responds, “It’s scaring me.”

Jeongguk nods once, turning to look straight ahead. Jimin realizes that their whole row is filled with their small group. Koda, Sol, Hoseok and Yoongi to Jeongguk’s left. Then Seokjin, Taehyung and Namjoon to his right. Jeongguk is right smack in the middle of everything. Jimin feels unease prick inside him. He links his fingers with Jeongguk’s when the theatre goes dark.

There’s a few moments of silence. And then a single spotlight beams from the operating box above them. A man pushes through the front of the curtains. And Jimin thinks he’s going to hurl.

Xiyue steps onto the stage. “Good evening everyone!” He says with bravado.

The crowd erupts into cheers, all except for them in that row. Jimin could die on the spot. Xiyue’s looking right at him now and he smiles even wider than before. “To be honest, the show’s not going to take much time so I apologize to those who took time to dress up a bit.” Some people shout no worries from the crowd and it’s sickening how the whole theatre seems to be filled with the Xiyue fanclub. “But I do have a special guest of mine. The first out of two I’d like to introduce. Everybody give it up for Kang Wooyoung!”

The crowd goes wild. Jimin looks over at Taehyung, who blanches when the man enters the stage, waving at everyone. He has five knives in his hand. “Kang Wooyoung used to work for somebody we all know and used to respect. If you all still remember Tattoo.” There’s a lot of boos that arise from the crowd. Beside him, Jeongguk doesn’t flinch. But his grip tightens. “Now, he works for me. A prized discovery, I think. He’s an associate of mine, but he hasn’t forgotten his roots. He’s skilled with knives. And I’d like to showcase that skill with the help of an assistant or two.”

And that’s the moment. The show-stopping moment that makes Jimin want to jump up onto his feet and yell. But not to cheer. To protest.

The phone call from his  mother. God, Jimin should've taken the phone call from his mother.

Because the person dragged out from backstage, gagged and beaten, is his little brother.

Jaemin.

His brother. The little boy that he’d only met once but had fallen for. They’d spoken in the kitchen for quite a while and Jaemin had expressed how tired he’d been with all of the pressure their mother was putting on him. Jimin felt for him and promised that he would come back in the future to get him out. But he was on the stage at that very moment, disoriented and afraid. 

They set up a wooden board behind him. And Jimin is fighting every urge not to kill Xiyue, right then, right there. He has a knife in his pocket. He has perfect aim. He could end it all right then but he doesn’t. Because Wooyoung has knives too and he looks like he’s a bit too trigger happy. 

Jeongguk’s holding his hand so tight that he feels like he’s losing circulation. Then he realizes that he’s grasping onto Jeongguk’s hand. And he’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling with struggle. This can’t be real. This can’t be fucking real . Xiyue isn’t supposed to be after him. He’s supposed to be after Jeongguk. He’s supposed to… He’s not supposed to hurt Jimin.

“This boy is a scrapper. He stole from a shop the other day. Terrorized a poor shop owner. He hurt the poor lady, too.” Xiyue hangs his head, shaking it like he’s extremely disappointed. “We’re going to use him as an example. We’re going to shake him up a bit to make sure that he won’t do it again. Unless, of course, there are any objections.” Xiyue looks his way, a venomous grin spread across his once-handsome face. All Jimin sees now is the fucking devil.

Moments pass. Moments that feel like thousands of years. And Xiyue dips his head. “No objections. Wooyoung’s job is to aim a bit around his head. If he wants to win some money from me, he has to stay clean. If he accidentally hurts the boy, then he loses. Can we get another round of applause for Kang Wooyoung?”

Everyone’s clapping. Everyone’s crazy. 

Jaemin wriggles a bit, sobbing. Jimin can’t watch. But Xiyue’s smiling at him like it’s a threat. So he sits still and keeps his eyes open. Wooyoung throws the first knife and it misses by half an inch, right above Jaemin’s head. 

The next knife misses by half an inch. And so does the next. Then the next.

Xiyue leans over and whispers something to Wooyoung. The man smiles to himself before he aims. And throws. Jimin holds his breath, feeling bile rise in his throat when blood slowly trickles down Jaemin’s neck. It’s not a direct hit, just grazing the tip of Jaemin’s ear, but it’s enough to make Jimin begin to cry. This is not real. This is an absolute nightmare .

Wooyoung takes a bow and the crowd applauds, sending wolf whistles and other signs of appraisal. “Now. For the second and final surprise, which I’m sure will be worth all of your time and consideration, I have a very special guest. And he’s right here, in the room. Right now.”

Seokjin’s holding his other hand, soothing him although he doesn’t seem to understand why Jimin’s crying. But it dawns on them at that moment. The guest is Jeongguk, of course. Seated right in the middle of the theatre, right for everybody to see.

“Give your round of applause for Jeon Jeongguk! Or as we all know and love him by, Tattoo! ”

The light shifts from Xiyue to Jeongguk, who sits there, looking around slowly.

There’s no applause. Just dead silence.

He feels like everybody's eyes are on him even though they're looking at Jeongguk, who sits still underneath the spotlight. Jimin fights the urge to shield him, to shield all of them away from the prying, predatory eyes. And he feels pain swell in his stomach as he thinks about everything that's happening at this moment. Xiyue has Jaemin. And Xiyue has Jeongguk.

And from the way Xiyue's looking at him with that god damned smile, Jimin can't seem to shake the claws Xiyue has on him, too.

Jimin panics when Jeongguk releases his hand, slowly standing up.

And in the swiftest move possible, Jeongguk takes out a pistol, aims up at the ceiling.

His eyes zone in on something that Jimin can't quite see in the dark. 

He fires.

The lights go out.

And the audience erupts into screams.

He feels himself being pushed up. He feels Jeongguk’s hand around his, pulling him along. Their fingers are linked together so tightly that Jimin's not sure anymore about who's holding the other. All he's thinking about is Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin. It's too dark to see anything but he can see the silhouette of Xiyue rushing out the opposite door, followed by Wooyoung and other men. He tries to wring away from Jeongguk's grasp but the man is pulling him, urging him to run along.

They all rush out the exit, out the door and all the way down the street. A van is waiting for them in front. Jeongguk’s yelling at them to all get in and they do, all quickly but robotically, a bit stricken by what just happened. 

Jimin looks in the driver’s seat. Minho’s there, pressing on the pedal and pulling them all away from the theatre as quick as possible. He would say something but he’s in complete and total shock. “Jaemin,” he murmurs, and it hit him, right then and there. “Jaemin. No– No, we have to go back. Guys, we have to get Jaemin–”

Jeongguk cups his cheeks. “We’re going to get him back. Jimin, please. Please calm down.”

He’s crying so much that his stomach hurts. Everything hurts so much. Across him, Taehyung’s crying too. “It’s my fault. It’s my fault, everything was my fault,” he sobs out, unable to stomach the fact that his brother is being held captive at this very moment. He could be dead at this moment. All after Jimin promised to come back for him. “P–Please, please, we need to go back. Guys, please .”

Minho looks troubled from the front seat. “Jeongguk?”

“Keep going.”

Jimin slaps Jeongguk over and over, across his chest. “N–No. N–no, we have to go. You can’t… You can’t let him kill…”

“Jimin, please.” Jeongguk sounds like he’s breaking, too. “Please listen to me. We’re going to get him back. We’re going right to Seokjin’s warehouse right now. We’re going to get everything ready. Properly ready. And I won’t stop until we find Jaemin and kill Xiyue. Please, Jimin.”

Jimin’s shaking so much. He can feel all eyes on him. He just sinks deeper into the seat, unable to breathe, unable to see through the tears. But inside of him, there’s a fire coiling, burning so bright that it’s fighting back. He manages to steady himself, staring ahead, avoiding Taehyung’s sad gaze. Avoiding Jeongguk, who’s staring at him with distraught in his expression. 

Jimin is angry.

When they get to the warehouse, Jimin goes straight for the weapons rack. He takes two knives, slipping them up his sleeves. One down his shoe. Then a shotgun, slinging it over his back. He looks at the rest of the group. They’re at the map on the wall. Jeongguk’s pointing different spots out. Jimin waits for them to disperse, each having their own picks with weapons. Taehyung’s looking at the sniper rifles with Seokjin, who explains the pros and cons of each one.

He makes his way to Jeongguk briskly. “Where is he?” He asks, voice hoarse.

Jeongguk looks him up and down, worried. But he replies, “There are three places he could be. And I’m absolutely sure of it.” He points to three locations, forming some sort of triangle. “Each of these buildings is his. He doesn’t know I know. We just need to figure out which one he’s in.”

“Easy.” Jimin looks around. “Can somebody fucking drive me?”

“I’ll do it.” Jeongguk takes him by the arm, looking at him in the eyes. He says, quietly, “I know this is upsetting. And I can’t imagine how this must all be for you–”

“Then don’t.”

“Jimin.”

He feels his lip quiver slightly. “You said you could drive me. You can’t even drive.”

“I never said I couldn’t. I can drive, but I’m not supposed to. And I’m scared of it.” Jeongguk holds his gaze for a while longer before he walks over to Seokjin. They talk for a bit and Jeongguk disappears into another room into the warehouse. Jimin stands alone, watching as the group plans calmly. And out of the other room comes Jeongguk, in a motorcycle. “Come on,” he calls.

Jimin gets on the back of it, holding Jeongguk’s waist. “You better not fucking crash us,” he warns.

“I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jimin doesn’t feel comforted by his words but he digs his cheek into Jeongguk’s back nonetheless, holding him tight. 

Sol watches as Jeongguk drives Jimin away. They're taking building one, right at the top of the triangular formation of buildings that Xiyue's picked out for himself. He's taking number three and the rest of them are headed to number two, where they suspect Jaemin is– how Jeongguk knows this, nobody knows. But there's little time for explanation and they all trust in Jeongguk's genius. So they all disperse, picking out their weapons to arm themselves with before leaping into attack.

As he finishes loading up his guns, he looks at Koda. She’s picking out a lightweight semi-automatic rifle. “You sure you’re down for this?” He asks, giving her a side-eye.

She glances at him with furrowed brows. “You think I can’t do this?”

“No. I’m… Not saying that. I’m concerned. Am I not allowed to be?”

“I’m fine.” He nods, turning back to take his own gun. He’s never been particular about weapons so he settles for a pistol and heads to the same room that Jeongguk got the motorcycle from. There are three cars and four more motorcycles. He picks the car, fishing for the key on the wall. When he turns around, Koda’s looking at him expectantly. “Are you coming with me?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

They get into the car and begin at a fast pace down the route to the third building on the map. Koda says, breaking the silence, “Thanks for taking care of me again.”

“No problem.”

Sol grimaces. God, it’s so fucking awkward. 

“So you’re a bounty hunter again.”

“Yes. And you’re a crime lord.”

“Yeah.”

Why is it so fucking awkward? 

Sol swallows. She doesn’t try and converse past that so he keeps his mouth shut all the way until they stop in front of Xiyue’s building. He owns the whole thing, so the man that approaches them… Yeah . He has a suspicious expression on his face. “Roll down the window,” Koda says, opening the glove compartment to take out the pistol he keeps there. Sol does as she asks. And just as the man tries to peek through, she blows a hole straight through his head.

She weighs the gun in her hands. “Silencer. Nice. Let’s go.”

Sol nods, following after her as she leads the way into the building. They both cover for each other as they take corridor to corridor in a basic back-to-back stance. They continue for each floor. There are only seven so it doesn’t take long for them to clear the first six. Which means the seventh is the important one.

In the elevator, she looks over. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

The doors pull open and they’re met with two men staring at them, guns pointed. There’s a brief standstill that happens. Two guns pointed at two guns. Sol clears his throat. “I have an idea.”

She swallows. “What?”

“Fire exit.” 

She follows his gaze to a stairwell sign behind the men. She understands quickly, reaching forward to close the elevator doors. They fire but he grabs her and shoves her to the ground just in time. The bullets whir past him, nearly killing him but not. When the elevator moves, sending them back to the sixth floor, he breathes again. “Holy shit.”

“Holy fuck.” She stands up, pulling him up with her. “You’re fucking crazy.”

“I know.” He shakes out of it and they both make a dash for the stairs. They run upstairs and bust the door open from behind the two bodyguards, catching them off-guard. Sol shoots one while Koda takes the other. “Nice,” he says.

“You too.”

They both look at the door. Behind it could be Xiyue. 

“I got this,” she tells him. “You go and do what Jeongguk told you to do.”

“Koda–”

“We’ll talk about this after. Now go .” 

He does, hesitating but fully aware that she’s right. She does have it under control.

Sol runs.

Koda enters the room. 

“Hello," a voice greets in a sing-song tone.

She sighs when she doesn’t see Xiyue, but rather, Kang Wooyoung, sitting at the desk with his legs spread obnoxiously, a knife in hand. “This is a waste of time.”

“For you? Maybe. Do you remember me?” He cocks a brow, a smile on his lips.

“Yes. You wanted to work for me. I said no. Are you going to cry about it?” She turns her head a bit and considers running but she figures she could take Wooyoung. So she looks back at him. 

Wooyoung only lifts a shoulder nonchalantly. “Why would I when I’m higher up than you are? You may be a crime lord, but a small one, Koda . I work with Xiyue now.”

“You say that like it’s an achievement.”

“I assure you, it is.” Wooyoung’s expression goes dark and he stands up, crossing the room. “Let’s settle this.”

She takes out her knife and makes a direct jab for his face but he dodges, grabbing her hand and pushing her back. Koda bounces back quickly, ducking low so she can aim for his legs. He easily steps back before kicking her on the shoulder. She rolls back, taking a second to recover, before she hops up and throws her knife. He catches it before it impales in his neck. He tilts his head to the side and smiles. “I was trying to play fair.”

Koda feels slowly brings a hand to rest against her side, feigning pain. She releases a spluttering breath, hand grasping against the hidden gun in her sleeve, right under her jacket. “Last words?” He asks, aiming to get her.

“This world isn’t fair, Wooyoung. You should’ve learned that years ago.” She raises her gun and fires, shooting him through the heart once, then through the head the next. 

She feels pain in her shoulder, her ribs. But she stands up, picking up her knife and holding it tightly. She takes her phone out to call Sol.

“It was Wooyoung.”

“Fuck. Okay, I’ll tell Jeongguk. I guess he was right about the buildings."

“Yeah, I'm getting the sense here, that Jeongguk's always right. Where are you?”

“I waited and cleared the rest of the building.” 

She closes her eyes and releases a sigh of relief. “I don’t think I could’ve handled any more people. I feel like I’m about to bleed out.”

“I’m out front. We go to the meeting point and I’ll fix you up.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Hoseok’s pretty much left with Yoongi to take building two. He doesn’t like Yoongi but he’s been less moody these days. So he doesn’t object. Instead, he looks at the smaller crime lord. “I can drive.”

“Okay,” Yoongi agrees, giving him a nod.

They get into one of Sol’s cars. Hoseok steps on the pedal and they’re off, headed towards the second building. He tails Seokjin’s car, where Taehyung is, all the way there. He thinks about them momentarily and it’s strange when he doesn’t feel so bitter about it anymore. He hasn’t in a while, actually, and it’s relieving. 

“Did you expect that?” Hoseok asks Yoongi as he makes a right turn.

“Seokjin and Taehyung? Kind of. They were making eyes during last year’s Christmas party thing.”

“Huh. I thought I saw something there, too.”

“It’s good for him, I guess. He’s happier now. I thought I wouldn’t see him cheer up after he found out about Sungwoon.” Yoongi’s playing with his gun, clicking the safety on and off. 

Hoseok glances over. “You shouldn’t fidget with a gun. You could kill us both.”

Yoongi looks down at it. “I didn’t realize.”

“Are you nervous?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I feel like this shouldn’t be a thing I’m directly involved in. I want to sit back and do technical shit.”

“You should’ve. Nobody would get mad at you for it,” Hoseok replies pointedly, turning the car again. 

Yoongi just shrugs, sinking into the seat. And Hoseok wishes he could say anything comforting but it doesn’t come. He focuses on driving, weaving through slower cars and navigating towards the empty side of town so he can drive quicker. As they continue down the road, Yoongi looks outside. “People don’t usually come here. I think someone’s tailing us. People are tailing us.”

Hoseok checks the rearview mirror, cursing under his breath when he realizes that Yoongi’s right. There are two motorcycles speeding after them.

“I can get out the window and knock them out,” Yoongi offers, sitting up.

“I think I’m driving too fast. But I can’t slow down either.”

“Maybe we should stop and fight.”

“Maybe–” Hoseok begins, but there’s the sound of a crash. Then another. When he checks again, there’s a third motorcycle coming to a stop behind them. They’d knocked out the two other people. And he’s about to ask who it could be, slowing down the car, when the person removes their helmet. It’s Namjoon. The bounty hunter gives them a signal to keep going and Hoseok does, speeding up to make his way to the building quicker.

Jeongguk gave them specific instructions– to clear the building so that Seokjin and Taehyung could easily get to the rooftop. Hoseok doesn’t know why but he knows that he can trust Jeongguk now. So he does what’s asked of him. And Yoongi goes along with it, being cooperative every step of the way.

Once they clear out the building, stepping over the bodies left in their wake– even though Yoongi seems uncomfortable with the whole killing thing, he does it well– Taehyung and Seokjin enter the building, lugging a heavy case. “Is it safe?” Seokjin asks, looking between them.

“Yep.” Hoseok replies.

“Okay. Let’s get to the rooftop and watch the show.”

Hoseok feels like he doesn’t know what’s going on but he looks at Yoongi and the smaller boy shrugs, following. 

So he does, too.

It's very early into the morning but there are cars bustling down the main road already– a strange, mystical feature of Itaewon. The life never seems to die down, even during the ungodly hours. People finish working at eleven, go out to bars and continue to drink until the sun comes up. It's a sleepless town, which makes it desirable to people who want to live without rest. As they weave through the sparse amount of cars that slowly drive along, Jimin realizes how bland its become. The buildings aren't as daunting as they used to be– aren't as tall as they used to seem.

It all feels so small. So insignificant to him, now. 

He peels his face off Jeongguk's back so he can look around. He's surprised to find out that Jeongguk is a spectacular driver but at the same time, he's used to discovering that Jeongguk's good at this and that. Jimin can sense that he's at ease with how he moves the vehicle, though somewhere along the way, he says, “Could you watch my right?”

Jimin does, keeping his eyes out. He glances around the right side, where Jeongguk is blind. And then he sees it.

A motorcycle chasing after theirs.

“There’s someone after us,” he warns, holding on tighter against Jeongguk's blazer.

Jeongguk can’t see and Jimin can feel him tense up but he steers the vehicle down another road. They keep zigzagging down an empty part of town and Jimin can see the man still relentlessly chasing after them. “There are people up on the buildings,” Jeongguk says, bringing the motorcycle to a stop. They both get off. Jimin looks around and he can sense it too. He can hear the scuffle of feet against pavement. The soft whispers that echo through the ghost town.

Jeongguk pulls out his gun at the same time Jimin swings his shotgun around his body, gripping at the handle. Jeongguk raises his fingers, counting down.

Three.

Two.

One.

The man on the motorcycle turns the corner at the same time Jimin pulls on the trigger, blasting him right in the face. 

His body falls to the ground, the motorcycle skidding across the pavement, colliding with one of the buildings. Jimin looks up to the rooftops and says, “My gun doesn’t have reach.”

“Scale up and take that side. I’ll take the other.”

Jimin nods, using his knives to climb up the side of one building, putting every ounce of strength he has left into every swing upwards. When he lands on the roof, he sees three men. They all point their guns at him. He raises his hands, dropping his knives to the ground. “It’s Park Jimin,” he says flatly. “Before you think about touching me.”

They all seem to know what that means. They walk over, the one in the lead kicking his knives away from reach. Jimin has his hands behind his back now and he reaches, thanking the gods for his flexibility. He takes the third knife from his shoe and uses it to stab the man right in the head, forcing him to drop his gun. Jimin ducks and uses the man’s body as a shield to block out the other two men from shooting him. Then he shoots them both in the legs, causing them to collapse, falling to the ground with groans of pain.

Jimin finishes them both off by shooting them in the heads. He drops the gun, picking up his knives and slipping them back into his sleeves. He looks at the buildings across. Jeongguk’s taking on four men in hand-to-hand combat, easily doing so. Jimin feels relief settle when Jeongguk comes out triumphant, sending the last man unconscious with a drive of his heel to the man’s neck. “Jeongguk!” He calls.

Jeongguk turns his way. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

Jimin rushes down the building and meets Jeongguk at where they left the motorcycle. Before they get going, Jeongguk’s phone buzzes. He picks up, putting it on speaker. “Hey, we got Jaemin. He was in the second building with a few guards around but we took them out.” It’s Seokjin. “We’re in position.”

“Oh. Good. Could you… Is Jaemin with you right now?” Jeongguk looks at him.

“Yeah.”

“Jimin’s on speaker phone.”

There’s a little shuffling on the other end. Then a weak voice croaks, “Jimin?”

He feels his heart begin to beat again. He frowns although relief overwhelms him. “Jaemin. Jaemin, I’m so sorry, I– I know I said I was going to come back.”

“N–No. ‘S okay, Jimin. I’m fine.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll find a way to make it up to you, Jaemin. When this is over, I’ll talk to mom. We’ll talk to her together and we’ll tell her to get you into that school you want, okay?”

“Okay, Jimin. Thank you.”

Jimin nods and Jeongguk ends the call. “I’m sorry for not trusting you,” Jimin says then, feeling everything hit from every direction. Relief. Sadness. Anger. Fear. Everything is threatening to crush him at this very moment but he’s standing tall. 

“We’re almost there, Jimin. We just have to get to the building, okay?”

Jimin nods.

Jeongguk kisses him on the forehead before they hop on the motorcycle, headed for the building. 

Soon. It’ll all be over.

Jeongguk stops the motorcycle under the building. He looks at Jimin, whose face is filled with exhaustion. But his eyes are fiery, determined, just like they always are. He steps off the vehicle and gets his gun ready. He enters the lobby without hesitation and it’s clear that this is Xiyue’s main building. There are three men lined up in front of the elevator. He raises his gun, taking them all out with three well-aimed bullets. 

Jimin rushes forward, hitting the button. They both get inside the elevator. “There are only ten floors. Which one do you think he’s in?”

“Rooftop.”

Jimin looks around. “This place is familiar.”

“Have you been before?” Jeongguk doesn’t doubt it, especially since Xiyue had been extremely infatuated with Jimin at one point. In some sick way, he probably still was. 

“I don’t remember.”

Jeongguk wants to say something. He wants to tell Jimin everything. The plan. But he needed to keep it to himself. To anybody but Jimin because he didn’t want to limit Jimin’s actions for the past few months. He wanted Jimin to grow into himself and become his own person. No longer somebody bound by a contract. Limited by his scheming.

He checks his phone. It’s early in the morning now. The way time is moving is frightening– it’s going by too fast. Everything’s changing so rapidly. Jeongguk wishes he could slow it down for a bit, but for this plan, it’s just perfect. Because when they get to the top of the building and he steps out first, it’s exactly what he’d imagined.

A rooftop. Sunrise. Two standing across each other.

Xiyue smiles at him, a splitting image of himself. 

Jeongguk hopes that it works.

Jimin follows Jeongguk out to the rooftop and he understands now.

A rooftop. Sunrise. Two people stand across each other but neither attack. One falls. One lives. But neither pull the trigger.

He stands back, gun in hand but he doesn’t dare break line. He looks between the two of them and it’s like looking at a reflection of Jeongguk. Even if their physical appearances differ, the auras they both emit are similar. Tension is thick in the air. And Jimin knows that he’s not the one who gets to kill Xiyue today. And he’s glad, because he doesn’t think he could, as much as he wants to. Because when he looks at Xiyue, he sees Jeongguk. And that terrifies him.

He steps back even further. Xiyue looks at him. “Remember this place?” He asks, tone light. “Remember that night?”

Jimin looks around and he does remember. It’s the rooftop Xiyue nearly threw himself off. 

“You could kill me, Jimin. Why are you letting Jeongguk take the glory? Over and over again. Why is it always Jeongguk ?”

Jimin doesn’t reply. He looks away, focusing on the ground. There’s a mocking laugh that stretches across the distance between them. “C’mon, Jimin. This could be you. You could be the one across me. Why are you letting him play you like a pawn again?”

Trust me, Jeongguk had said so many times. Trust me.

Jimin holds onto that. He looks up at Xiyue and says, “I’m not going to kill you.”

“Why? Aren’t you upset with me?” His expression shifts completely, eyes growing wide and mouth going slack. “Are you really going to let him hurt me, Jimin? Are you going to let Jeongguk kill me like this?”

“Xiyue, you’re fucking sick in the head. You need help .”

“Then help me. Help me, Jimin. I don’t want to die.” He’s crying now and Jimin is disturbed by how he’d switched facades so quickly. His heart is pounding in his chest, sounding in his ears. He can’t look at Xiyue’s face because he’s too sympathetic. Too kind, despite all Xiyue’s done wrong to him. Jimin turns away, feeling tears prick at his own eyes– not because he’s sad, but because he’s afraid. 

“Jimin… J–Jimin, please .” No. No. Stop saying my name like that , Jimin pleads inwardly. He looks at Jeongguk, who he realizes is stood in between. Like he’s ready to take a bullet in the case that Xiyue fires. Jeongguk is staring straight at Xiyue, silent and tall. Xiyue’s staring at him in turn, face contorted into pain. “ P–Please… Jimin . Don’t let him hurt me.”

Stop. Stop. Stop.

Jimin shakes his head. And the switch flips. The tears are still present on his face but his features sharpen and his lip curls as he practically snarls, lunging forward. Xiyue runs towards Jeongguk with a knife. And Jeongguk keeps his arm at his side, still. “ Jeongguk, move! ” He screams, the sound tearing from his throat.

A gunshot is fired but not from either of them. Blood splatters in between the two and Jimin raises his shotgun, looking around to see who’d fired. He sees a distant figure on an opposite rooftop but he doesn’t have time to figure out who it is. Jimin watches as Xiyue grabs onto Jeongguk, slowly collapsing to the ground. Jeongguk continues to remain still, only following as Xiyue falls, dead.

Xiyue. Dead.

Jimin would ask what the hell just happened but the door slams open from the elevator. A man walks out with a gun and he’s aiming for Jeongguk. There's a vicious tone to his voice as he says something– something Jimin can't hear because his heart is thrumming in his chest for all the wrong reasons. 

Jimin doesn’t have to think twice when he finally realizes what's going on. He runs in front of Jeongguk and takes the bullet that fires from the gun. 

He feels the blood blossom from where the bullet hits, right in the crook of his shoulder. There’s a knife that flies past him, knocking the man out but he can’t fully register anything. All he can feel is the blood seeping out of him as he sinks to his knees. It only registers to him then, that he’s been shot.

He turns to Jeongguk, who’s staring at him with complete and utter fear in his eyes. Jimin collapses, scrambling to keep himself alive by applying pressure with his hands. Jeongguk takes over for him, peeling off his blazer to use it to stop the blood from flowing.

“Jimin. Jimin, no . No, no, no,” Jeongguk’s voice is shaking.

Or is he shaking?

Jimin feels himself begin to cry but it’s a silent form. Tears slip down his cheeks but he doesn’t make a sound. He just stares at Jeongguk.

One moment, he’s there.

The next, he’s gone.

It all comes in flashes. Memories of when he was younger. Growing up. Waking up every morning to be hustled to the nearest gymnasium to practice. He’d be alone most of the time because the other kids would be at school. They’d come later in the afternoon and they’d give him condescending looks. And he’d ignore it as best as he could, continuing to memorize a routine he’s done hundreds of times before.

He’d come back home and his mom would ask him for a video. Jimin would show her the video of him performing said routine and often, he’d be met with some sort of disappointment. Rarely did she praise him. So he stopped expecting praise and started bracing himself for her criticism. 

Jimin couldn’t take it at one point. So he packed up and ran away. Gone to the circus. It was dying, of course, but he liked it there because everyone else was like him. But he couldn’t help but wonder if that was the end. If he’d spend the rest of his life as a silly circus acrobat, doing flips for a dying audience. 

The circus burned down. Jimin ran again and nearly made the biggest mistake of his life. Jeongguk found him and gave him the job. 

He thinks about the last few months. About everyone. Seokjin. Sol. Koda. Namjoon. Hoseok. Yoongi. Taehyung. Jeongguk . And he understands now– he knows what he’d seen from across the rooftop. It had been Taehyung who’d pulled the trigger. 

Jimin can breathe a little easier knowing that Taehyung got to do it. Xiyue was the one that took Sungwoon away, prevented him from getting any form of justice. 

He considers it but he doesn’t think it’s his time yet. So he holds on as best as possible and hopes for the best.

He thinks about the photo hung in Jeongguk's apartment. He thinks about how free he'd felt, sitting on that same rooftop in Japan, staring at the same view. It was a promise to him. Photos were no longer photos but a reality.

He wants to see the world.

Don't let me die  yet, he thinks. Don't let me die yet.

He pulls his eyes open with difficulty. He looks around him and everything’s white. Light streaks through the curtains, illuminating the room. And for a moment, he thinks that he’s dead. But he sees Jeongguk sitting beside him, halfway to sleep, drifting away.

And he knows that he’s still alive.

Jimin sucks in a few breaths, trying to clear his vision. “Jeongguk,” he says, his voice sounding but not quite there. 

The man beside him blinks back awake. His eyes widen. Then he leans forward, looking relieved. “Jimin. Jimin, you’re awake.”

He nods. And he tries to move closer but there’s a sharp pain that courses through his side, down his shoulder all the way to his hand. He releases a whine, stopping. “D–Did I really get shot?” He asks, still unsure as to what happened.

“Yeah. Gi showed up. Officer Gi. He wanted to kill me but you launched yourself forward and took the bullet. Which was fucking stupid,” Jeongguk scolds half-heartedly. “How could you put your life on the line like that? You could’ve died.”

“Well I didn’t did I?”

Jeongguk shakes his head but he’s smiling. “Stubborn. So fucking stubborn.”

Jimin laughs but it hurts too much so he stops, settling for a tiny grin. The door pushes open and Taehyung peeks out from behind. His face is swollen and puffy from crying but he’s still pretty, Jimin thinks. His friend opens the door wider to reveal everyone standing there. “He’s not fuckin’ dead!” Taehyung exclaims, rushing over to his side.

Even if it hurts, he allows Taehyung to hug him tightly. He rests his chin against his best friend’s. And he murmurs, “You killed him.”

“I did. I feel like I can breathe again.”

“Good for you, Taehyung. But you’re kind of suffocating me.”

“Oops.” Taehyung pulls back, wiping at his eyes. “I’m so glad that you’re alive. But you were so stupid to do what you did. I hope you know that.”

“What?” Jimin frowns. “I saved Jeongguk. I wasn’t stupid.”

“Yes you were,” the whole room choruses, deadpan. 

“Fuck you guys.”

Jimin hears them laugh but he’s only turning back to Jeongguk, who’s smiling at him. He reaches out and Jeongguk takes his hand.

He’s happy.

When Jimin is finally cleared to get up, which happens in about a week, Jeongguk takes him to the rooftop of the hospital building. Jimin has his arm wrapped in a cast and he’s weak in the knees so he has to steady himself with a cane. But he manages to get up there with the help of Jeongguk, who holds him all the way to the edge.

"I have so many questions," Jimin says, looking at Jeongguk. "Taehyung killing Xiyue. The rooftop. Sunrise. How did you pull it off?"

Jeongguk brushes the hair from his eyes. "Ever since I found out about what happened to Taehyung, I knew I needed to give him the justice he deserved. I wanted him to be the one to decide what happened to Sungwoon but Xiyue took it away. Taehyung was broken. Like I said, I saw him before I left. And I'll... I'll be honest when I say I visited him once within the months I was hiding. I should've gone to see you but I felt like shit about the whole Sungwoon thing so I went to him and told him that I could get him to Xiyue.

"At first, he didn't want to. But he admitted that he was having nightmares. Imagining that it was Xiyue instead of Sungwoon and I couldn't just... I didn't want him to live like that forever, you know? So I told Seokjin to teach him how to shoot. I came up with the vision. The rooftop. Sunrise. Me and Xiyue facing off but not really. Taehyung would take him from the blindside." Jeongguk doesn't meet his gaze. "All of the things that happened in between were roadblocks, of course. I didn't know Xiyue would go for Jaemin. I didn't know he'd put me in the spotlight like that. I shot the light box and got us all out of there. And since I'd spoken to the others about the plan before, I told them that it was time. The sunrise was a complete coincidence, although it worked out, I guess. I don't look like a complete failure."

Jimin's nodding along as Jeongguk explains. He can't be mad at all. "So all of this was about getting Taehyung the justice he deserved?"

"I mean, I wanted to take Sungwoon and Xiyue out myself, so I was being selfish in that sense. But it became more about Taehyung as time went along. I think," Jeongguk turns to him, blinking warily. "I think I had a lot of empathy. For what happened to Taehyung. Because it happened to me, too. And I never got justice. So I figured, why couldn't he?"

Jimin edges forward and rests his chin against Jeongguk's shoulder, sighing. "I'm sorry you didn't get to do the same thing for yourself."

"It's all in the past. I was a kid, Jimin. I don't remember it anymore."

"You do, Jeongguk," Jimin says quietly. "You do, and it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Jimin feels wetness against his cheek. Jeongguk's crying.

“I’m so ready to leave this place behind,” Jeongguk says then, voice quivering but tone sure. I’m sick of it.”

Jimin laughs a bit and leans against his cane, cradling his arm against his chest. “Where are you going?”

“Japan. China. Singapore. Maybe America. Europe. Anywhere .” His eyes are bright and starry despite the tears. Jimin’s never seen this look on his face before. He’s surprised but glad. “I could go anywhere. What about you? What are your plans?”

“Japan. China. Singapore. Maybe America. Maybe Europe,” he echoes. 

“What happened to college?”

“I’m planning on doing that online course thing. I want to continue to study, of course. And I’ll always find a gymnasium wherever I go. But I know now. A huge part of me is tucked away and saved for this world. This life. I don’t want to give it up yet.”

Jeongguk nods. “Me neither. I mean, I know it seems like the end of something but it’s always just the beginning of something else, right?”

“Right. Look at you, being all positive.” Jimin turns so that he’s facing Jeongguk. “I would kiss you right now but my hands are full."

“We can kiss all we want. But I have one last thing to show you.” Jeongguk takes an envelope out from his sweatshirt pocket. 

Jimin opens it with a bit of difficulty. He looks inside and groans exasperatedly. “More tickets? I’m so sick of these things.”

“Just check.”

He does. And he furrows his brows confusedly. “Ten tickets. Why are there ten tickets?” He questions.

Jeongguk doesn't answer, only urging him on to read for himself. Jimin does, scanning over them briefly. Two of them are for a later date, the others are for a flight that happened just three days ago. He's still a bit confused as to what it means when he tugs out a piece of paper from behind all of the tickets.

And he can’t help but smile as he reads:

We’ll see you soon.

– Sol, Koda, Seokjin, Taehyung, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Minho

(From Japan)

Chapter Text

JEONGGUK RUNS DOWN THE SIDEWALK, shoving past people, shooting them apologetic glances but not quite meaning it. He has to keep going, has to keep moving or else he’s going to lose everything.

He rushes into an alleyway filled with vending machines. He looks around him and he stills for a moment, listening. His mind is quick to filter out the sounds of soft voices, the cars moving down the street, the distant wails of police sirens. He can’t hear footsteps after him anymore so he catches his breath, leaning an arm against the wall.

He pokes at his glass eye, uncomfortable with it, especially in tense situations, but he doesn’t take it out. He’s still a bit iffy with how others react to him. Jeongguk takes in a deep breath at the same time his phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. He rolls his eyes when he sees that it’s Jimin.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” He asks, peering around the alleyway corner, suspecting that the boy could be close.

“One last chance at an alliance, Jeongguk. Otherwise, I’ll kick your ass and win.” 

“Are you getting that desperate?” He replies, moving down the other way quickly. He looks around him, trying to figure out where he is. How to get to the point he needs to get to. 

“I don’t even want the money. Let’s just team up and you can get all of it. I just want to win.”

“Then play, fair and square, babe. Bye.”

Jeongguk places his phone back into his pocket and he climbs the wall, feeling his fingers sting with effort. Once he hops off onto the other side, he finally can get a sense of where he is. So he steps out into the street. He has to get to Shintomi, which is in Ginza. And he can tell that he’s in Ginza. But where the fuck is Shintomi?

He looks around a bit. There are too many rules preventing him from getting there easier. No maps. No asking. It’s all about navigation. So he follows the street signs, thinking that it’s not too bad, considering that he technically is the one with the advantage here. The others aren’t as good as him in Japanese and he kind of understands why Jimin was asking to team up. He knows for a fact that Jimin’s been slacking on Japanese.

He picks out his phone and calls Jimin then as he crosses the street, entering Shintomi. “Are you reconsidering my offer?” Jimin asks, attempting to sound cool about it but Jeongguk senses that he’s actually desperate.

“Nope. Just asking where you are right now.” 

“Uh… I don’t know. I’m kinda just walking around.”

Jeongguk has to laugh to himself because he knows that Jimin’s been following him the whole evening. “Huh. Okay. I’m about to win, just saying.”

“What? How did you even figure out Taehyung’s clue?” Jimin’s frowning. Jeongguk can hear it in the way he speaks.

“Because I’m smart?”

“Oh, boo-hoo , fuck you.”

“You know, I was checking on you to be nice. But since you’re so clearly mad at me, I guess I’ll go.”

“Fine. Bye .”

“ Bye .”

Jeongguk spots the building immediately. It’s just a block down, visible in the distance. He looks up at the windows– they’re all closed, empty and dark. But he can see the flag peeking through, and as promised, it’s a bit luminescent so it’s not too hidden at all. 

He keeps a steady pace, listening to the rooftops. Jimin’s to his left, hopping around. Jeongguk stops in front of the building, looking at it up and down as if he’s doubtful. From his left, he can hear scuffling down the side of the opposite building and he has to suppress the smile that threatens to break. 

He walks in.

He’d counted up the floors while looking at the building so he enters the elevator and presses for the ninth. When the doors pull open, he’s met with the sight of Jimin desperately trying to bust down one of the doors. Jimin looks his way, alarmed. “Hey, fuck off! I got here first.”

Jeongguk walks over, grabbing his hands, pushing him away. “No, I did. I solved the riddle and you followed me. I was nice enough to let you tag along but this is my win.”

Jimin shoves him away from the door, tackling him to the ground. “I was being resourceful .”

“No, you were cheating !”

“Well as my boyfriend, you should be more fucking supportive of me.” Jimin wrestles him and Jeongguk’s a bit too amused with everything to fight back. He does anyway, toppling them over so that he’s putting all his weight and strength on Jimin, who wriggles underneath him. “Ow! Ow! My shoulder!” He complains.

“Please, you told me your shoulder was fine!” Jeongguk rolls his eyes but he lessens his weight anyway.

“Nooooo,” Jimin whines. “Hurts so much.”

“Jimin, I swear, if you are using this to win the game–”

Jimin slams his body back and he’s scrambling to his feet with a laugh. “And you still fell for it anyway, dumbass.”

Jeongguk sits against the ground with a sigh. Jimin’s trying to get through the door again so he stands up and figures that he doesn’t really care about winning at all. So he pushes Jimin to the side and he kicks it down for him. “Go and get your prize.”

Jimin looks at him with a bright smile. He’s going to walk in but there’s somebody sitting at the desk, holding the flag in his hands. 

“Minho?”

The young boy waves it around triumphantly. “I won the game. I saw you guys diddling around so I climbed up the building and broke in through the window.”

Jimin looks defeated. Jeongguk feels vindicated. “This is a dumb game anyway,” he says, taking out his phone so he can tell everyone that fucking Minho won. 

The competition was something Taehyung put up to get everyone running and learning how to navigate Tokyo better. And also as some kind of bet between everyone because they were all arguing about who would be the best and smartest. So Taehyung hid a flag and gave them some riddles and watched them run around for a whole evening.

Jeongguk was probably set to win and everyone expected it but Minho did. Fucking Minho .

[9:11PM] you: minho won :|

[9:11PM] koda: …

[9:11PM] koda: i haven’t even solved the riddle

[9:11PM] namjoon: i got it but i suck at japanese so i couldn’t find the place

[9:11PM] taehyung: excuses. come back!!! 

They all meet up back at the big house. They don’t all live there– Jeongguk bought his own place and Jimin bought his own place and he’s sure that they all have their own apartments or houses, but Seokjin and Taehyung bought it anyway. Rich people things, Jeongguk supposes as he and Jimin enter the house, trailing after a too-boastful Minho.

Taehyung greets them with a smile. “I can’t believe that you actually lost, Jeongguk.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he mutters, picking at the rip on his jeans, eyeing the blood from a wound underneath it. Jimin roughed him up pretty good.

“Well, since Minho won, he gets the money. Yaaaaaaay .”

They all give half-hearted, bitter congratulations to Minho, who sits satisfied in the living room. Jeongguk goes upstairs to his room so he can clean the wound up. As he’s walking, he sees Jimin laughing and talking to Taehyung but he’s subtly holding his shoulder, his smile faltering slightly as he moves it around. Was his shoulder still painful?

Jeongguk quickly finishes up his knee and rushes back downstairs. They’re all sitting in the living room, talking, but Jimin isn’t around. So he walks over to Taehyung, who mouths room . Jeongguk runs up the stairs and makes his way to where Jimin should be.

Jimin’s sitting down on his bed, rolling his shoulder back and forth with an uncomfortable expression. Jeongguk moves in front of him, casting him a sharp look. “You told me that it was okay.”

“Thought it was.” Jimin looks up at him. “Sorry for making you lose.”

“It’s just a game.” He crouches down and looks to him for permission before he unbuttons Jimin’s shirt. He pulls back the sleeve, staring at the bandage that’s wrapped over the bullet wound. “I still think what you did was stupid, Jimin. You could’ve died. And before you say, oh, I didn’t , like you always do. I’m saying, you could’ve died. And what would I have done then?” 

Jimin’s gaze softens. “Move on.”

“I hope you don’t think I would’ve just moved on if you died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

He stands up to get the medical kit. He kneels down by Jimin’s side and peels off the old bandage, being careful not to stare too much at the still-open wound. He cleans it up with some disinfectant before pushing another bandage on. “You should take painkillers or something.”

“Probably will. But I promise, I’m getting better.” Jimin runs a hand through his hair, fingers tugging. “Your hair is getting pretty long.”

“I was thinking of cutting it soon. And dyeing it back to my normal colour.”

“No, don’t. I like it like this.”

Jeongguk sighs and can’t quite object. Not when Jimin’s running his fingers through his hair like that .

“Why don’t you guys just live together?” Seokjin asks when they’re alone in the kitchen. 

Jeongguk doesn’t even miss a beat when he shoots back, “Why don’t you guys live together?”

“We’ll get to that when we get to that. I’m asking about you. You and Jimin are attached at the hip, basically.” Seokjin gives him a serious look, turning off the faucet and drying his hands off as he finishes the last dish. “Why aren’t you moving in together?”

He leans against the counter, folding his arms and shrugging. “I don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“Things are moving kinda quick,” he mumbles, looking down at his shoes. “I mean, I like Jimin. A lot. But I don’t want everything to be just about him. I want to do what I do and I want him to do what he wants to do. We see each other all the time and we practically saw each other every day for the past three years. Why do we need to live together now?”

Seokjin looks skeptical but he nods. “I guess that’s true. Personal space and stuff.”

“I also don’t want it to get boring or whatever. Like that sounds so… Stupid of me to say, but what if things get too domestic?” He frowns slightly. “I don’t think I could do that.”

“You should talk to him. Tell him this before he gets the wrong idea.”

“I have a feeling he asked you to ask me.”

The mercenary shrugs and turns around to continue washing the dishes. “Just talk to him.”

“Fine.” Jeongguk pushes off from the counter at the same time Taehyung walks in, carrying another load of plates, balancing them on one arm. The boy flashes him a smile as he walks out and he does the same, although he can’t muster the same amount of authenticity into it.

When he walks back into the living room, he sees Jimin and Sol talking to each other. Jimin’s nodding along, picking up a hefty amount of noodles before stuffing it into his mouth. He sits close enough so he can eavesdrop, taking his phone out so he can scroll mindlessly.

“So you get assigned a mission. If you complete it within the given time frame, you get moved up. Then you get another mission. Complete that too, and you’re put into higher consideration,” Sol explains, which Jeongguk immediately recognizes to be the bounty hunter selection process. “The missions are usually pretty difficult. Some people bribe bounty hunters to get information on them, but they change quickly. I’ve been in touch with the Japanese branch and I hear that it’s way harder here.”

Jimin raises his brows. “Why?”

“Back in Itaewon, it was about crime lords, proxies. Japan is a different field. It’s more of a suit-oriented place, all businessmen and stuff. They don’t have proxies here to do work for them. It’s more of arrangements, contracts.” Jeongguk stops reading what’s on his screen. “So bounty hunters are more special and respected, I guess you could say. Because they’re the ones doing all the dirty things. Asides from the mafia groups, of course.”

“Mafia groups, huh? We didn’t have a lot of that back in Itaewon. I guess we had a pretty special system.”

“Mhm. I mean, it’s kind of the same concept but it’s more explicit here. I think the Japanese mafia is called Yakuza .”

“That’s pretty cool. Kinda worried about the missions, now. I should’ve taken learning Japanese more seriously in the past three weeks. You guys all have a leg ahead of me.”

Sol laughs. “Didn’t Jeongguk tell you to study?”

“He reminds me all the time but I’m too embarrassed to ask him for help.”

They talk for a while longer before Jimin finally crosses over to where he’s sitting alone, half-lying, half-sitting on the couch. The boy plops down beside him and rests his chin against Jeongguk’s shoulder, looking at his phone screen. “Hello.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing?”

“Thinking about how I’m gonna fit into this new scene.” Jeongguk shifts in position so that Jimin’s more comfortable, less pressure on his injury. “I have a few contacts from the months I was in hiding. I reached out to people from every order. I still don’t know where I want to go, what I want to be.”

Jimin hums. “Mafia?”

“It’s the closest I’ll get to I was before but they do more stuff than what crime lords in Itaewon did. We were in charge of proxies and used them to get dirty work done for us. And most of the time, we had to get our hands dirty too. Example , me and my heists. But here, it’s different.” Jeongguk scrolls down his list of contacts, thinking so hard that his head begins to ache. “It’s so much cleaner. Respect is a big thing.”

Back in Itaewon, the system was simple: Scrappers were newbies that had just been thrown into the scene. They fist-fight and try to gain a reputation for themselves in any way, shape or form until they’re taken in to become a proxy. Proxies run around and do most of the work. They pass messages, kill people, get information. And they feed it back to the crime lords, who use the information to take down other crime lords, forge bridges, start businesses. It was one ladder up and down.

Here, there seemed to be more than one ladder and the distinction was hard to make.

Jimin’s quiet for a while but he eventually says, “I think you’d do well as a suit, actually. You’re smart. You’re good with negotiating. You’re intimidating and kind of obnoxious. Cocky. You can tell when people are lying, which is pretty neat. And you’re also an asshole, sometimes. It’s like the whole suit package.”

Jeongguk laughs shortly. “You just wanted to say shit about me.”

“Kinda. But I’m being serious. The best thing about suits is that they can be super independent. They work on their own completely and I know you like that.”

“I do.” He turns to Jimin and looks him in the eye. “We have stuff to talk about.”

Jimin seems to understand completely, cheeks flushing. “Uh. Like what?” He questions anyway, acting as if he doesn’t know.

“People are asking why we aren’t living together.” By people, he means Seokjin. The others are appalled at the fact that they hold hands and kiss . 

“Oh. Really? What do you think about that?”

“That I have to be pretty honest. And that I’m being honest when I say that I’m not… Not ready, I guess?” He keeps staring at Jimin, trying to figure out what the other boy is feeling but emotions have always been such a blurry spot for him. He doesn’t get what other people are feeling quickly and it takes explicit statements for him to do so. When he’s sure that Jimin isn’t mad, he adds, “I know that I’m slow when it comes to this stuff, but I’m trying.” 

The hand-holding was getting much easier. He can say, with confidence, that it doesn’t bother him anymore. The kissing is fine but they’ve been experimenting lately and there were times that it would get a bit overwhelming. No– very overwhelming. And he’s been keeping it to himself because he doesn’t want Jimin to keep looking at him like he’s a child.

Jimin furrows his brows then. “I’m not mad. You look like you’re bracing yourself for a hit.” He reaches forward and pats him on the cheek. “I’m not too concerned about moving in at all. Let’s take it slow. Figure out where we stand here, as individuals.”

“As individuals? Are you breaking up with me?” Jeongguk’s joking but at the same time, he’s not.

“What the fuck? Of course not.” Jimin looks horrified. “Why would I ever break up with you?”

Jeongguk shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“God, don’t say shit like that. And thanks for being honest with me.” Jimin kisses him on the cheek and stands up, adjusting his jeans as he does. “I’m gonna get going. So I can study Japanese and stuff. Apparently that’s an important thing if I want to try to be a bounty hunter here.”

As Jimin picks up his bags, Jeongguk calls after him, “If you need help, tell me.”

Jimin gives him two thumbs ups. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Jeongguk rests back against the couch, turning to Taehyung, who’s lying down on the furthest part of the living room with Seokjin standing beside him. Whipped , Taehyung mouths.

He snorts and stands up to leave, too. 

“Seokjin, I need you to drive me.”

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

Jimin wakes up early the next day and takes out all of his books so he can study Japanese better. He sets them all out in front of him and heaves a sigh, placing his hands on his hips. He opens the first book and he feels himself grow less and less motivated, just staring at it. So he calls Jeongguk begrudgingly– he’s wanted to be more independent about everything but it’s not working out at all.

“Yeah?” Jeongguk’s voice is groggy, like he’s just woken up. Jimin grimaces, checking the wall clock in his small living room. It’s six in the morning.

“Oops, sorry for waking you. Do you happen to know if there’s like… A negative one level course book on Japanese?”

It takes a while before Jeongguk replies, voice still husky with sleep, “God, it’s six in the morning, Jimin.”

“Oh, should I call back later?”

“No, no, I’m coming over.” Jimin feels like shit but he gets the sense that Jeongguk’s been waiting for him to ask for weeks now. “I’m…” A yawn. “I’m going to get breakfast on the way there. Do you want anything?”

“Coffee.”

“M’kay.”

“Thanks. See you.”

“Bye.”

Jimin closes his phone and tosses it far off. He grabs tufts of his hair into his hands and tries his best not to scream out with frustration because it took him months to get any good at Korean. How is he going to perfect Japanese in a tenth of that time? 

Instead of giving it a go, figuring that the only way he’ll actually learn is when Jeongguk is around to help, he pulls up the website to some online colleges. He’s been done with applications for a while now and all he has to do is send them in. Which he does then, gnawing on his bottom lip anxiously. He applies to four and he hopes for the best because he’d written everything on his own, no help from anybody.

He turns the laptop away and lies down on the floor, waiting.

Jimin’s been in a thoughtful mood lately. He’s been thinking about everything and it’s all been moving pretty quickly. Just three weeks ago had he been on that rooftop in Itaewon where Xiyue had been prepared to kill Jeongguk. He thinks about that moment a lot because he understands now. Xiyue wanted Jimin to kill him so that he’d feel guilty for the rest of his life, haunted by it. Because Xiyue had been preying on his conscience. 

He thinks about how Taehyung was happier these days. He’s made an agreement with his parents, who were willing to let him go, seeing that his new boyfriend was some pretty businessman. He thinks about Minho, who’s adjusted to an international school here in Tokyo. He thinks about Namjoon, Sol, who’d been kind to him, offering any guidance they could with the whole bounty hunter thing. About Koda, who’d become one of his closer friends. Hoseok, who’d turned out to be a really nice guy. And Yoongi, his unexpected friend.

Of course he thinks most about Jeongguk. Not in the obsessive kind of way. More like… He’s excited for his boyfriend. Boyfriend. The word still tests on his tongue and it’s still strange to both of them, but it’s what they are. Boyfriends. The word is too domestic, Jimin thinks, but he can tell that Jeongguk’s grown to like it. So he’s not too opposed anymore.

He’s been excited for Jeongguk. He knows that Jeongguk has a lot of potential in him. He’s studied law and politics. Jimin really wants to see Jeongguk as a suit because he’s never met a suit who was a super-genius. They’re always born into it, rich and privileged. They work hard to maintain their businesses and status but they didn’t work hard to obtain it.

Jeongguk always works hard and that’s Jimin’s favorite thing about him.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears the doorbell ring. He stands up and runs over, pulling the door open. Jeongguk’s holding two bags of takeout, looking like he’d just woken up. His blonde hair is long, messy and spilling over his eyes in waves. Jeongguk moves the hair from his face and says, “I’m surprised you didn’t bust down the door.”

“I would’ve, but you answered quickly.”

They settle on the floor of the living room. Jeongguk takes the beginner’s book and skims over it while Jimin pokes through the bags of food. One has three cups of coffee. Jimin takes his out and raises his brows– but doesn’t comment– at the two large coffees Jeongguk ordered for himself. He opens the next bag. “Did you get me food?”

“Yeah.” Jeongguk sits in front of him, reading. “You always do that thing. You tell me to get you one thing but then you see what I’m eating then you want it but you don’t say. So you just stare at my food until I give you some.”

Jimin opens his mouth to object but it’s true. So he takes out his own paper packaging and says, “Fair.”

“So what are you having trouble with?” Jeongguk raises a brow at the book, genuinely confused, probably, as to why Jimin’s struggling. “Like… Writing? Or reading…?

Jimin frowns. “Everything. I’m struggling with everything.”

“Okay. That’s fine. Well, I have a meeting in two hours but we can get through this. Here, you’re learning hiragana, so start with these five vowels…”

Jimin nods along, feeling hope surge inside him. The two hours pass by pretty quick and Jeongguk’s unsurprisingly good at teaching. Jimin learns how to pronounce the letters and he can read, although slowly– it’s still progress. Jeongguk leans against the doorframe, getting ready to go change for his meeting. Jimin places a hand on his chest. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“No problem. Just next time, warn me before you wake me up at six.”

“Noted. Good luck at your meeting.”

“Good luck studying.” Jeongguk leans down and kisses him quickly before walking off. 

Jimin releases a sigh of relief, closing the door behind him. 

Everything is finally settling in the way it should.

Jeongguk follows Hana through the corridor of the building. He looks around at the people working, typing away at their computers. It’s an office environment for a while. Until they get into an elevator that brings them to the seventh floor, where he’s met with plenty of people dressed in suits. Suits . He tries not to make a face as he walks after the girl, eyes darting around. They look at him up and down, probably wondering who he was and how’d he get here. But he keeps his head high, jaw set and expression confident.

They look away moments later as if realizing that maybe he does belong here.

“Who’s the boss around here?” He asks as Hana dials a number into a lock, sealing one of the back offices shut. 

She cocks a brow at him. “I am.”

“Of course.” Now he gets why they were looking at him. Hana is the boss.

He takes a seat in front of her desk and she sits on the big chair, leaning forward, looking over a file. “When you contacted me, asking to talk, I wondered. I’m not all too sure as to why you’re here, Mr. Jeon. You’re from South Korea, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. I don’t understand why you’re all too confused, though. You have everything in that file, don’t you? You know exactly who I am.”

She narrows her eyes at him but nods. “Tattoo. It’s not too big of a news story here, or anywhere abroad, actually. But because I was curious, I dug a bit. You have a reputation over there.”

“A reputation that I want to kill. I’m not going back there.”

“I got the feeling. Are you here to become a suit? You want to get into business?”

He nods. “I studied politics. Got into law school, skipping two undergraduate years.”

“I see that,” she replies, reading off something. “So are you trying to get into the law side of things?”

“I’m trying to get into all sides of things.”

“You’re some sort of wildcard .”

“I guess you could say that.”

Hana looks at him with an expression that he interprets as begrudging respect. She closes the file and leans back, linking her fingers together. “Your Japanese is good. You have a high IQ. You pick things up very quickly, right?”

“Yes.”

“I assume that you’re here to use me as a way into the business, which I don’t have problems with. You seem like a good ally. A good asset, so I’ll help you. But if you really want to get into the law side of things, you go and take the bar exam and pass it– you won’t have problems with that.” He nods. “I’ll invite you to gatherings and events. You branch out as needed. Talk to Yakuza . Other suits. Get around. But in return, I need you to promise to be an ally. I get the sense that you’re self-serving, which I respect, but. A favor for a favor.”

Jeongguk nods, leaning back against his own chair. “I’m self-serving when I want to be. This is a good deal. If you need any help with anything, I’ll be here.”

“Good.” She opens her drawer, tugging out another file. She skims through it, picking out three individual pieces of paper. “One list of contacts for people in Yakuza . They’re very discreet despite being well-known here, but they get into legal problems sometimes, so they value people like you. The next list is a list of my personal contacts. People I trust in this business. A handful of them are in the drug business so they’d want an ally like you, too. And the last paper is a list of addresses. Safehouses. I won’t give you the codes until you need them, but they’re there.”

Jeongguk nods along, taking the papers from her. He looks through them before glancing up at her. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised at all of this. Why do you trust me so much?”

“Who gave you my contact number?”

“Seokjin.”

“He’s a good friend of mine. We grew up knowing each other because my parents sent me to South Korea to bridge allies and things when I was only fifteen. He helped me branch out there.” She folds up her files and slips them back into her desk. “He talked to me about you a few times. Said that you’d make a good suit. I figured that if he liked you so much, then I could trust you.”

He nods. “I see.”

Hana smiles a bit but it’s gone in a moment. “I have some people to attend to right now so you’ll have to leave. The first stage for the bar examination is next week, I think you’re aware of that. Then the second stage happens two weeks after. Get registered already. Seokjin can help you with all the legal stuff, probably pull a few strings.” She looks at him up and down. “There’s a very low rate of passing. And the average age for people to do so is twenty-eight . But I know you’ll do well.”

He nods again before dipping into a low bow. “Thank you.”

She waves him off. As he’s exiting her office, he passes by a few men in sharp suits, hair slicked back. He stops for a moment to see if his suspicions are correct and he can see it– tattoos peeking from under their sleeves. Some of them are missing full fingers, which he read was called Yubitsume . A form of punishment in Yakuza .

He walks off before they catch him staring. He calls up Seokjin as soon as he gets out, checking his watch as he does. “Yep?” Seokjin answers quickly.

“Help me get registered for the bar exam?”

“Got you.”

Jeongguk adjusts his sleeves and walks down the street, blending amongst the other businessmen and women that walk up and down the sidewalk. 

He feels oddly excited.

After his first meeting, Jeongguk comes less and less to the big house. And he only stays at Jimin’s to help him for three hours every day. And once he’s gone, he’s really gone. He doesn’t answer texts, he doesn’t take calls. Jimin’s proud of him because he knows that Jeongguk’s taking the exam seriously. So he waits patiently until after the first stage is complete. And of course, Jeongguk passes and everyone’s shocked at the news of him passing because he’s twenty years old. And Jimin’s extremely happy for him, too.

He shows up to the house that evening and they all congratulate him. Jimin’s surprised when he sees Jeongguk go towards the drinks that evening, looking at the bottles, reading labels. He hops away from the dining table so he can stand beside the man. “You’re drinking?” He asks, not bothering to hide the surprise in his tone.

Jeongguk shrugs. “I was only ever worried about slipping up back in Itaewon. Letting my guard down in front of everyone. But I trust you guys.”

Jimin grins and reaches for the bottles of tequila and vodka. “Follow me.”

Jeongguk trails after him into the kitchen. Jimin looks at him as he pulls out shot glasses. “How drunk are you going for?”

“Very fucking drunk.”

“Do I want to know why?”

“Just don’t feel like being the stiff person in the room tonight.” Understandable. They’re all celebrating and everyone’s a bit tipsy already. Minho, included– which Jimin doesn’t condone at all. He’d given the boy an earful but after seeing him have fun with everyone else, Jimin couldn’t really object. So he lays down six shot glasses. Three for him, three for Jeongguk. One vodka shot, two tequila.

He lines them up and says, “This isn’t enough to get me drunk but since you’ve never really drank before, it should do you pretty good.”

Jeongguk picks one up and smells it. His face contorts and he looks disgusted. “God, I’m going to regret this.”

“And I say again– are you sure ?”

Jeongguk knocks the first one back. Then the next. Then the next. And his expression is priceless. He looks like he’s about to hurl but he holds it back in well, pressing a hand to his chest, smacking his tongue a bit. “I don’t…” He pauses, gagging slightly. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’ll tell you right now, it doesn’t get any tastier.” Jimin knocks his own back, grimacing at the bitter taste. He walks to the fridge and takes out a whole lemon. He slices it in half and gives Jeongguk the other part. They both wash out the taste before they return to the dining room, where laughter echoes from vibrantly.

They go around telling funny stories again and it’s like they never seem to really run out. Mostly because only one person ever really gets to storytell every time they get together and the rest of the evening is spent laughing about every stupid detail.

The party shifts into the living room again, where they play cards. The winner gets to choose who has to drink a disgusting concoction of alcoholic drinks, which Jimin thinks is crazy. He tells Minho that he can’t drink it but it’s not like anybody would pick Minho anyway.

Jimin’s about to take a seat beside Taehyung when Jeongguk grabs him and plops him down right on his lap. They all look over but don’t comment, amused. Jimin wriggles a bit, trying to get away but Jeongguk’s holding him down tightly, reaching forward to get a stack of cards. They’re all playing Big Two right now. “Let me go,” he complains half-heartedly.

“No.” Jeongguk’s tone is firm.

Jimin takes his own stack of cards. He glances back and Jeongguk’s staring at them. Jimin slaps him on the arm. “Hey! Stop looking.”

“We both have to win,” Jeongguk replies, showing his own cards. “We both have to win so we can make Namjoon drink.”

“Why Namjoon?” Jimin can tell that Jeongguk’s borderline drunk. 

“Because he was… He was working with Gi. Who shot you. So fuck Namjoon.” 

Jimin wants to believe that it’s a joke but it’s not. Jeongguk takes both of their decks and merges them. And he begins to sort the cards out methodically. Beside him, Koda says, “Are you guys playing as one?”

“Uh. No,” he replies, but then mouths, he’s drunk .

Koda makes a yikes face before going back to sorting her own deck. Jimin leans back against Jeongguk. “Three shots. You’re already knocked out, baby.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Jeongguk stops to give him a sharp look.

“No, no– I’m not. I’m just saying.”

“If you’re making fun of me, I’ll have you know I–” he hiccups . “I took three more while you were in the bathroom.”