One Bullet Through

Sehun lives a treacherous life ignoring the consequences his actions entail,
while Luhan struggles every tragic second to face his. He points a gun at him
and aims at his head, unaware that the target was always doomed to be his
heart.

•••

"You ever play Russian roulette." Sehun asks, withholding the timbre of a
question mark. Then he plants the muzzle of the firearm right in Luhan's damp
forehead, just as expressionless. The freezing metal chills Luhan's blood, his
heart tightens, his chest strains. Sehun spins the cylinder of the revolver, then
cocks its hammer, knelling like the razor-edged tick of the clock striking
midnight.1

The gun should scare Luhan, dying should scare him, but it doesn't. It is the
billowing eyes of his captor that seem to spiral endlessly that devours him, the
ensnaring smile that Luhan feels guilty to be lured with, and the peculiar look
in them basked in depths of sin.

It is as if Sehun had done this before. It is as if he had killed somebody before.

Like a mass of hot needles, the glaring heat of July pierce Luhan's skin. He
wipes the pellets of sweat forming on his forehead. The heat is not helping,
the burly thug in his living room isn't either.

997.000.000 won, the demand letter clearly says.

It could be the hunger or the stress that made the zeros look too many, but no
matter how long he stares at it, they don't seem to disappear. With cold
hands, he reads the rest... demand is hereby made that this money paid.
Unless payment of this amount is received by the undersigned no later than
21st of July, a lawsuit will be brought against you in the court of...

The man moves closer to him. He is trying to muscle the money out of Luhan,
except there really is no money to squeeze from him, and even more so,
Luhan does not find him daunting in the least.

"We don't have the money." Luhan says, "not all of it. I can get maybe a
couple of thousands somewhere, but that's it. Can't they settle for something
reasonable? Like monthly payment at least?"
The tall man remains silent, slightly jerking his head to the right as he presses
the wireless earphone inserted on his ear, then slurs a few words that strikes
Luhan as some sort of Russian blabber.

"Is that supposed to intimidate me?" Luhan says. "Even if you jangle me up
and down, I really don't have a penny in me. So, you can stop that look and
call your boss, and tell him that the world is round - the guy who lives on a
hundred-square feet house can't possibly have a billion won buried
somewhere in a treasure box."

"'Tis a demand letter," the man speaks up, his dark deep voice slithering in
Luhan's cramped house, "If you can't pay up, 'em gonna take your house,
boss is serious with 'tis kinda stuff, you can't pay with money, you pay with
blood."

A spurge of dry laughter escapes Luhan's mouth, "You should try auditioning
for an action movie, you really have that Terminator vibe right down to the T."

"21st of July," the man repeats, turning his back as he headed to the door,
"can't pay up, pay with blood."

A loud slam shakes the door frame as the man closes it behind him,
staggering his way to a black sedan. Luhan settles onto the tattered divan,
slumping his face on his sweaty palms. He looks around with hopes of finding
something expensive enough to sell, though it didn't take much time - their
house had but two rooms extended from the main space, the sofas, the
kitchen and the dining table were all cramped up in a small patch of unpainted
cement. Even the divan he's sitting on seems like it will fall apart any second.
He thinks of the antique lamp in his mom's room that his Uncle bought a few
years ago, might cost a fortune, except of course not a billion-dollar
fortune. Might as well just sell the entire house, he figures, except even their
mortgage was left unpaid.

"They're gone?" Mei appears on the back doorway, carrying a carton of rice
flour and an anguished look.

Luhan nods and thinks back to the brute man, relieved that he deliberately
told his mom to refrain from coming back home early, "Uncle Lang's still not
picking up?"

"I can't reach him," she replies, motioning him to scoot over the ragged edge
of the sofa, "Maybe we should try contacting the police."

"What, and tell them he's missing?" he bites back, "He isn't missing mom, he
ran away. And left us with a mountain of debt."

She shakes her head fiercely, "He would never do that."

"I really don't understand the blind faith you have in him."

"Don't talk about him like that Luhan, he had done a lot for us."

Knowing it was an argument he will never win, he yields, "If we can't pay by
next week, they're taking the house," he clenches his teeth in frustration,
"they're suing us mom."

Mei's eyes begin to drench. She flickers them rapidly, like she always does in
edgy situations, and that makes Luhan even more enraged. "What do you
think we should do?" she asks, trembling.

"We run." He suggests. They have to face reality, and he knows that. For one,
the black sedan guys aren't the only loan sharks after them and second, the
pressure isn't something his mom can endure, especially without his uncle
who had been MIA since the demand notices were served. At some point,
both Mei and Luhan were aware of what were to happen. A week before they
found out they were indebted, a couple of shady guys came over the house
talking to Lang about a 'business arrangement,' as they called it.

"You pack your things ma, and go to nana till I fix all this," Luhan continues,
pulling his mom gently to her feet. "I'll try to find Uncle Lang before the 21st...
if I can't, I'll borrow money from somewhere, and we leave."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"I'm pretty sure it isn't." He admits, "But it's the only one I have."

Of course, Mei is left unconvinced by the least. But if anything, Luhan is never
one to succumb to fear or stress of any sort, and that's something that always
made her feel secure. "I'll wait till you contact your uncle," she says, "I'm not
leaving without you."

"Ma..." he persuades, "Just go to nana. I promise I'll be there as soon as I

can."

"I'll feel safer with you Luhan. Besides, I can help you look for Lang too while
we're here." Without waiting for a reply, Mei glides towards her son and wraps
her arms around him, "I'm so sorry..."

"Don't ma." Luhan says firmly, "It's not your fault."

The fact is that he partly blames himself for it. He wasn't as cautious as he
should have. When his uncle told him to sign some documents for the
restaurant that they wanted to built, Luhan took the pen in a heartbeat. He had
thought it was a way for him and Mei to live a better life, one that did not
include him slaving over two day jobs and nights on the road. It never once
crossed his mind that his Uncle, after supporting them for three years, would
just vanish completely after taking the startup money and leave him and Mei
completely broke. But now, as it always had been, Luhan is the only one left
to fix the problems.

"I'm gonna go to work," Luhan says, realizing he is already late for his shift at
the convenience store, "Keep the doors locked, I'll be back as soon as I can."

As Luhan closes the door, Mei sinks to the table looking hesitatingly at the
demand letter. She shakes her head and all the gloomy thoughts that come
with it, trying her best to convince herself that Lang will never do something
that will hurt Luhan and her.

It is as if the weather is conspiring with the universe to mirror what Luhan is

feeling. Each splatter of rain strikes the cement heavily as he looks at his
home. How long had they lived in it? He can no longer remember. The
memories had faded as well, but sometimes the feeling is much more
important than the memory - and though the tattered roof worsened the state
of the peeled walls, the front door seemed to be unhinged, the plasters of tape
barely covered the gaps of agedness - this is home for him. And he is about to
leave it, all because of a blot of ink in paper, a single mistake he made.

"You ever heard of that thing called 'sleep'?" Lay removes the cap that
bore FamilyMart in bold yellow.

"It's that bad?" Luhan asks as he pats his face quickly in hopes of waking up
from the nightmare.

"It's worse," he says, "Your eyebags had dropped down to your cheeks."

Luhan heaves a sigh before taking Lay's post. His lady co-worker on the
counter turns to them, wearing the same irritated look she does every day.
The shrieking sounds of plastic echo against the muddled conversation of the
shoppers as he bags the groceries. Beef, potatoes, lots of greens - he thinks
back as to how long it had been since he actually had a meal that could be
called a 'meal.'

"You wanna go for a beer after?" Lay deliberately ignores that Luhan had
already begun to work.

"Can't." He replies briskly, "I still have to work later."

"I'll help you sell the rice cakes, then we go for a beer."

"Fine, now will you let me work?"

With a pout plastered on his face, Lay walks out of the store signaling he will
come back later. Luhan smiles inwardly, at least he wasn't alone, at least he
has a mom and a friend - and just with that, he is sure he would pull through.

It isn't optimism. It is all just a matter of practicality. Poor people don't have the
privilege to feel bad about themselves, or be worried about the future. Not
because of positivity or faith. But because for them, for Luhan, pessimism is
no longer possible, not when things can't get worse than they already are.

The clock strikes four but although it is already the end of his shift, Luhan
stays for an hour more to make sure he'd get the bonus for overtime pay. After
a few bye's to his co-workers, he takes his bag from the locker and removes
his uniform. He sees Lay waiting by the umbrella-hovered table outside the
store. Before heading out to meet his friend, Luhan takes the calculator from
the counter. He earns 25.000 won a day from the store, if he wants to pay the
billion won, he will have to work for approximately 109 years.

Yay.

With Lay's help, all of the rice cakes Mei made were sold in three hours.
Luhan laughed here and there as Lay basically forced the people to buy the
rice cakes with his persuasive looks and ear-shattering bawls. Not that Luhan
wanted to complain though.

The noise of the cars, the horns of the cabs blasting past the orange tent is
deafening. The street restaurant is unusually crowded, some as if they had
started drowning in soju since lunchtime. Lay feasts on the pungent curry
amidst them. Luhan on the other hand, drops the soju glass inside the beer-
filled one, letting the somaek fizz in his throat in one quick gulp.

"And you said you didn't want to drink?" Sarcasm screams off of Lay's words.

"We're here anyway, might as well just make the most out of it." Luhan takes
another shot, "By the way, you're paying all this. I'm broke."

Lay nods and discreetly takes a brown envelope from his pocket. "Take it."

Inside, a stack of bills are carefully tied together. "What's this?"

"That's all I have." He pauses, "I know it's not much of it help but, take it."

"I can't Lay, this is too-"

"You swallow whatever stupid pride you have, that won't get you anywhere."
He interrupts fiercely, "Plus, you need it."

A gut-wrenching embarrassment coils Luhan's stomach, "I promise I'll pay you
back as soon as I can."

"No Lu, take this as if I'm paying you back for getting beaten up by those
thugs in high school."

Luhan's mind is flooded back to the past, the blood, the anger and the loyalty.
"You would've done the same, if you knew your bestfriend was being bullied."

"Exactly." He raises his glass, "This is me doing the same."

"You should know this," Luhan says, "we're planning to run away if we don't
get to talk to Uncle Lang."

"Still no word from him?"

"Called him a while ago, his phone's already off."

"If you're running away, do it right." Lay warns, "These people - they're not the
kind you want to mess up with."

Stung by his friend's enigmatic phrase, Luhan's curiosity heightens, "Who

are they exactly?"

"All I know is that they're not your normal loan sharks. They came by at the
store looking for you yesterday, I heard one of them say something about RV."

The bottle had been quickly depleted, Luhan calls for another set of liquor,
"RV? Who's that?"

"Not a who, but a what." The ahjumma comes carrying two more bottles of
soju and beer. Lay ceases talking for a long while, for he himself feared of
speaking about such suspicious rumors, "All I know is that it's some sort of
underground society. No one's sure 'bout what it is they really do, but you
don't mess with them - that's common knowledge."

"How come I've never heard of them?"

"I only found out about them because my dad met one of their members on
one of his construction jobs overseas."

Luhan laughs an ironic one, he hates more than anything gangsters who think
they own the world, who think they are more superior than everybody else,
"Please. I've met one of the guys they sent, he looked tough yeah but not
scary."
"I swear that over-bravery of yours would put you in danger." Lay argues,
"Just, if you need anything, you call me. And if you're serious about this
running away, make sure you're far enough to disappear."

•••

Luhan squeezes the plane tickets onto his pocket. After a week of saving up,
he finally had enough to buy both Mei and him a one-way ride to China, which
he was sure was more than far enough. The striking lime color of his luggage
remains vexation to his tired eyes as he places them near the door.

"Are you ready ma?" he turns to Mei who is still desperately trying to contact
Lang.

"I don't feel good about this Luhan..." she whispers.

Like on cue, a terrorizing blast of engine resonates from outside their house.
Luhan rushes to the window and peeps, quickly catching sight of the sturdy
man who had once come to their house with the demand letter. Behind him,
Mei starts taking leaps of breath, shaking in fear.

"It's okay Ma, get your bag, go through the back door and head to the airport."

Frightful tears crash down her cheeks, "No! What are you- I'm not leaving you
here Luhan."

"I'll tell them I can get the money by tomorrow, they'll leave and I'll follow you."
Luhan holds his mom by her arms, marks of red forming on her glassy skin.

"I won't. I'll wait for-"

"No ma!" he shouts, hearing hefty footsteps close in on their door. "You take
this." He hands her the ticket from his pocket, shoving it in her hand in fist, "If I
don't arrive in time, you leave for China. I'll call you as soon as I can."
"Luhan I-'

"There's no time ma!" he rages, "This will work, I promise. Now go!"

"I won't leave you. You're the only one I have left." She says, the loudest her
soft voice could possibly muster.

"If you don't leave, we will both get in trouble Ma, no one will get to contact
Uncle Lang. You have to find him. I promise I will be with you soon, please
go." He whispers, "for me."

After painful seconds, Mei clutches the handle of her luggage. She spares
another look at his son before finally leaving through the backdoor. Soft
pounding that quickly turns to angry hammering begin crashing on the frail
wooden panels.

"Open up." Luhan hears a cavernous voice say. He picks up his luggage and
forces it under the sofa. "Open up." The guy shouts once more.

Luhan swings the door open and four huge men appear before him. They let
themselves in without even a word, pushing Luhan to the side.

"It's not yet the 21st. Why are you here?"

"Just wanted to make sure you make no mess," answers the big guy he had
previously met. He is wearing a black shirt, his staunch arm exposed, bearing
a tattoo that resembled a roulette with spiked edges, englobing a craggy
flower at the center. Words are written in cursive within the lines of the blotted
ink, but Luhan could not make much of it, except for the word Rota.

"I'll get the money by tomorrow." Luhan tears his eyes away from the tattoo
and levels them with the brutal black depths of the man, "Where do you want
me to bring it?"
A slit of smile appears on the man's face, "'Em gonna get it from you tomorrow
night. Right here."

He stares at the debtor for strenuous minutes, before signaling the other thugs
out of the house. With but a mere single step out of Luhan's home, the man
turns to face Luhan once more, his eyes suspiciously wandering around the
tensed room. Luhan remains resolute, despite the bag of clothes that lay just
a few meters away from him. But in an instant, the man's gaze befalls onto the
divan, its ragged edges barely concealing the yellow luggage that is hidden
under it.

"What?" Luhan asks.

The man moves closer, and Luhan instinctively goes in front of the divan.

"Move." The man threatens. Luhan does not budge, the man pushes him to
the side and kneels down. A painful lump forms on Luhan's stomach as the
man pulls the luggage. He quickly rummages through the hidden bag. The
creaking sound of the zipper being pulled feels like stabs of knives in Luhan's
chest. The man snarls upon seeing the heaps of folded clothes inside. He
crumples them furiously and hurls them to the floor. He motions his men to
search the house, and Luhan starts thinking of ways to escape.

"Nothing's left hyung, all their things are gone." The younger thug says.

Instead of a lash of fury, Luhan sees a play of curiosity and excitement in the
man's macabre face. "Tis is interesting." He mutters, "You're coming with us."

Another form of panic surges through Luhan as he discreetly turns his head in
rapid motions to find a way to escape. The man laughs knowing what was
going on in his head, while two men block the only two exits in their house. He
has to come with them. I could just run when they try to get me to the car, if
that doesn't work, I could just jump off it, he thinks irrationally.
His captors are holding his arms fiercely on both sides, leading him out of the
house. As soon as they arrive at the black sedan, adrenaline rush takes over
and Luhan kicks the guy on his left, unshackling himself from his hold. In a
second, he frees himself from the thugs' grasps. He takes but a footstep away
from the vehicle when the big guy baulks his way. He tilts his head and
clamps his fist. Luhan holds up his hands in defense but abruptly, the man's
solid fist crashes onto his face. His thoughts are a churning tempest of anger
and dread, receding one hope at a time, until there is nothing left but raw
darkness.

Peaceful, Luhan's first thought is. He is being rocked sideways, too slow it is
almost unnoticeable. The lapping splashes of water can be heard at bay,
lulling his weak body to sleep. He is near the sea, he is certain. He struggles
to open his squinted eyes that were blinded by the streaks of light from the
bright bulb on the ceiling. Where is he? Flashes of what had happened come
blasting back in a jolt.

He feels metallic liquid trickle through his nostrils. He instinctively moves his
finger to wipe it, till he realizes, his arms are ramming the sides of his
stomach. Both are zip-tied behind him and coiled onto the steel chair. He lets
out a quiet whimper of torment, the bones on his nose feel as if it had been
turned to pulp. The whimper is muffled, he catches on, a soaking tear of cloth
is rammed onto his mouth, forcing it wide open.

The yacht is covered in bone white oak, there is a seemingly expensive

painting hanging by the panels beside a window where the sea can be
viewed. A blood red sofa lies on one corner, a liquor armoire behind a bar on
the other. Amidst the elegance, Luhan is shackled to a steel chair, smacked
right in the middle.Peaceful, it isn't.
He hears a pulsing tap followed by a smug smirk chillingly close. An
overweight man trudges in, carrying a wooden paddle being dragged against
the marble floor. But a meter away, the huge man is bald and tall, the shadow
of his height reaches past the low ceiling of the ship. Luhan sees the same
roulette tattoo plastered on his right arm. Just a few inches from it is a slit of a
scar that runs to his elbow, ghastly blackened by age. He's the boss, Luhan
believes.

The big man stares at Luhan as if he is enjoying every single moment of the
anticipation. Luhan is not afraid, he is sure, but he cannot breathe.

"Ya learn the lesson after hundred hits of 'tis." The man says blankly.

Luhan feels his skin crawling beneath the torment, he grasps the intensity of
the situation. He missed to notice that even his feet were tied to the chair, he
struggles desperately, while the man wickedly smirks at his futile attempt. The
man is now moving towards him, sliding the sides of the timber paddle against
the marble. He pauses for a second, then carries the paddle with both of his
hands, aiming at Luhan's head. Luhan's eyes fly open, though there is no
preparing for the fatal blow.

All of a sudden, click of footsteps echo from outside the room, then a creak of
a door.

"Stop it." A smooth raspy voice says in a manner that is too calm to be called
at the moment.

Luhan's ears are ringing in panic, but he cannot be mistaken. Someone is

trying to save him. "You'll dirty the floor." The unknown man adds, in the same
flat tone. The scarred thug quickly puts down the paddle and a look of fear
flashes in his sunken eyes. He bows a full ninety-degree towards the unknown
man, almost shaking uncontrollably.
Luhan blinks, his gaze befalling on the man whose voice had wreathed his
nerves and had subdued his torturer. The mere sight of him sends dangerous
shivers in him. The man's skin is pale, his coppery eyes surveying him
curiously, his lips quirking into a modest smile. He stands light on his feet,
muscles rigid, as if ready to attack - like a predator appraising its prey.

He places his hands on the sides of the chair, prisoning Luhan with his
presence, his face but an inch from his captive. The salty taste of blood
trickles down Luhan's lips as he watches velvety smoke form in the shy gap of
their faces, burning from the man's cigarette that is firmly placed into the
abyss of his fingers.

Like pieces of jarred puzzles, things become clear to Luhan. He watches his
captor intently, the black shirt hugging the muscles ripped underneath, its
neckline cut low on his chest, revealing the same roulette tattoo he had been
seeing all day. Rota Volvitur, it says. Streaks of red flash in Luhan's eyes.
Unlike the others, there is something inked vermillion in the man's tattoo, a six
pointed star where the veins of the flower slips in a helix.

"Get out." The man turns to his underling, his hands still firmly placed on the
sides of the chair.

"Nae, Sehun hyung." The bald man bows once more.

Alone now, calmness hurtles, in a silence so besetting that even the livid sea
stops whistling. Sehun pulls something from his behind. He tilts his head,
peering down the barrel of his gun, a revolver that fits perfectly in his brutal
hands.

"You ever play Russian roulette." Sehun asks, withholding the timbre of a
question mark. Then he plants the muzzle of the firearm right in Luhan's damp
forehead, just as expressionless. The freezing metal chills Luhan's blood, his
heart tightens, his chest strains. Sehun spins the cylinder of the revolver, then
cocks its hammer, knelling like the razor-edged tick of the clock striking
midnight.

The gun should scare Luhan, dying should scare him, but it doesn't. It is the
billowing eyes of his captor that seem to spiral endlessly that devours him, the
ensnaring smile that Luhan feels guilty to be lured with, and the peculiar look
in them basked in depths of sin.

It is as if Sehun had done this before. It is as if he had killed somebody before.

Never had Luhan once contemplated about death. He knows about how it
lingers aimlessly, in the damp streets, in the bleak corridors of a hospital, in
the shadowy bosom of a forest, hunting for its next victim. But never had he
imagined that he would be staring at death himself. And that it would have a
face uneasy to forget. Luhan finds himself etching every detail in his mind, the
camber of Sehun's brows, the darkness in his irises and the stealthy rose slits
of his smile. He is looking for a flaw, that will serve as a marker — a constant
reminder from six feet under what his killer looks like. But no such
imperfection exists.

In a sudden, a quick movement of Sehun's finger catches Luhan's glimpse.

He pulls the trigger. Luhan blinks.

The click of an empty chamber reverberates through the small cabin of the
yacht against the shattering tranquility of the sea. Sehun looks at the revolver,
then to his captive once more, looking almost amused. Luhan did not even
realize that he had been holding his breath until he struggles for a heavy
gasp. He struggles to stay awake, he needs to stay awake. But it is far from
over. Merely a second after, Sehun fires the gun again. Another empty
chamber chills Luhan's bones, making him shudder in surprise.
A faint wound of hope materializes in Luhan's head, as he desperately desires
that the man is solely trying to scare the wits out of him. But the violence in
the man's gaze is far from yielding, it bears a nothingness void of any feeling
or emotion. This man, Luhan decides, has the ability and the volition to kill
someone. And tonight, that someone is him.

Sehun moves back an inch and notices that the cigarette in between his
fingers had been put out. He takes another stick from his pocket and lights it
while his occupied hand covers the flame.

"Bad habit." He mutters blankly. Then, as if it were merely a toy he is holding,

he points the gun to the left side of Luhan's chest, and fires twice.

Luhan's breathing goes erratic. An earthquake lurches in his stomach, making

him want to throw up. The panic he had felt a minute ago clusters into a vortex
of rage. He retaliates once more, pulling his hand from the zip tie. The strips
of plastic begin to slice his wrists, but he had gone numb to the measly
burning pain such small cuts cause.

The light from the ceiling swallows the room as Sehun squints his eyes and
aims at his target, the bull's eye, the center of Luhan's forehead. There is no
more use, Luhan stops freeing himself from the restraints. There are only two
chambers left, one of which will be his grave. No emotion can be seen in his
killer's eyes, but Luhan knows well enough not to beg for his life.

Sehun pulls the trigger for the fifth time and Luhan instinctively rears back.
The ear-splitting shriek of the steel chair crashes with the rattle of the revolver
and for a second, Luhan is unaware if a bullet came through. Sehun moves
towards him until there was but a thread between their faces, snapping Luhan
back to the barbaric reality he was facing. Sehun stares at his captive intently,
as if searching for something in his eyes, fear perhaps. Then he takes out the
cloth shoved into Luhan's mouth and throws it to the far bin in perfect
precision.

"Say something." Sehun whispers, in a vacant tone.

Luhan grits his teeth, "Go straight to hell." His tied hands clutch into fists,
almost bursting the veins in them.

"Luhan." Sehun mouths, seemingly without any objective in mind but

pronouncing his name right. He pauses for a while, his eyes narrowing as he
takes a hit from his cigarette. The smoke carelessly escapes his mouth while
he continues, "Do you have a family," he asks, without a question mark.

His blood pounds on his ears against the words sounding like a threat, "I am
going to kill you." Luhan's voice slithers in the cabin.

But his captor remains unrelenting, he glances at the revolver as if to imply

that he has the upper hand. "A mom right," Sehun asserts.

Luhan feels a spurge of fire bind inside him, instantly engulfing him in rage.
The back-breaking heaviness of the steel chair is outstripped by the
adrenaline rushing through his veins as he carries it off the floor, pushing his
captor to the liquor cabinet with his wounded body. The sound of their bodies
hitting the wood echoed heavily in the room against their gasps for air.

Luhan's body clashes with the sturdy chest of his captor, sweat and blood
racing down his face, "Touch my mom, and I swear to god," his jaw tightens, "I
will kill you."

An uncalled for half-crescent appears on the lips of his captor - the first play of
emotion he displays.

In an instant, two men dart inside the room and rush towards Luhan, dragging
him away from their leader. One of the men pushes the feet of the chair back
on the floor, causing the steel to slice on the flesh of Luhan's ankle. The force
on the bend causes a crack on his kneecap, making Luhan scream in pain.

"Did I tell you to come in," Sehun asks his men, his stare more savage than
the gun he is holding.

The man hurries to answer, "Hyung, we heard noises and we thought you
were in-" Sehun raises his brows, and the rest of the man's words become a
whisper, "in- in trouble..."

The two men exchange looks, hoping one will know what needs to be said.
For a painful moment, Sehun merely fastens his eyes on them, as if it were a
form of torture.

"Untie him." he says in a sudden. But Luhan can barely see or hear what is
before him, the ground seems to be quaking in his sight. He shakes his head
to stay conscious. Wake up, he can hear himself shout. He looks up the bulb
in the ceiling, and slowly the sides fade into vignette as darkness once again
takes over.

•••

"You're awake." A deep voice says.

With eyes but partly opened, Luhan hopes everything had been nothing but a
terrible nightmare. But the burning pain of the cuts in his body and the
throbbing ache of a fractured knee do not deceive. Everything becomes clear,
he is in a different room, lying down on a cramped bed, a brooding man sitting
on his bedside. Impacted by the flash of danger, Luhan scurries to the far
corner of the bed in a defensive stance. The dislodged bone on his knee hits
his flesh, tearing a scream of agony from his mouth.
"It will take some time for the wounds to heal." The man says, "You dislocated
your knee, but no worries, popped it back already."

Luhan's sight darts to the table beside the bed and sees bandages soaked in
blood, the same white cloths covering the lacerations in his body. The man
beside him, Luhan realizes, have tended to his wounds. Like the others, the
man bear the same RV tattoo and the tough manner that seems to be
tethered to it.

"Is this what you do?" Luhan manages to speak, "You'll make me better then
you'll torture me again?"

The man laughs, "No one's torturing anyone."

"Then let me go."

"You should say, 'then let me swim.'" He says, "There's no out, not in land
anyway." He stands up, "If I were you, I would rest, get back my strength, then
try to talk my way out of this mess. "

Talk my way? Luhan wonders what the hell that meant. But as soon as the
man leaves, he realizes he barely has some time to find a way to escape.
Despite the inhumane pain that runs from his leg up to his body, he stands up,
holding the sides of the bed for support. He looks inside the small room that
contains almost nothing, except a bed, a small table and a tall mirror. He
rummages through the drawer and finds the last thing he expected to get his
hands on, a phone.

Without a second thought, Luhan dials his mom's number, his eyes glued to
the door cautious that someone might come in.

"Mom?" he mutters as soon as the dial tone stops.

"Luhan?" Mei answers just as quickly, "Is that you?"

"Where are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Luhan asks, clutching the
phone close to his mouth.

"I didn't go to China, I'm with Lay's parents." She says. "I have been waiting
for your call, are you safe? Did they hurt you?"

"No ma," He says, despite the ache of his mere standing up, "Listen. I'm
gonna call the police. Stay with them. I'm gonna go to you." He rushes, "Do
you understand ma?"

"Yes. Promise me you'll be safe."

"You too ma." He says.

As soon as her mom hangs up, he dials 119 frantically. Soft thumps of wound
sound from outside, but Luhan does not fear of risking it. We are currently
experiencing a high call volume. All circuits are busy. Please hold until a
dispatcher is available, a voice says.

The thumps turn louder, weighty footsteps from the corridor. "Come on,"
Luhan mutters anxiously.

"119, what's your emergency?" the operator answers.

"I was kidnapped- I'm- I'm in a ship- a yacht, I'm not sure. I don't know where,
I was in Guryong then I was taken here, they're a group called RV, I don't
know what it is they do. But-"

Someone jangles the door knob from the other side. Luhan's stomach turns
into mush.

"Sir, what is your name?"

The scarred man who had almost struck his head with a paddle comes in.
Luhan instinctively places his hands behind him, and presses the button to
end the call. But the scarred man moves to search him without a word.

"What do we have here?" he asks, eyeing Luhan's cautious position.

He sees the phone and nabs it away from Luhan, a jolt of vexation surging
through his eyes. "Where'd you get 'tis?" he asks, but doesn't wait for a reply.

He checks the phone and Luhan prays for him not to see the 119 call he had
just made.

"Ryu, that damn shithead." The man utters. "Still trying to escape are we?" a
strange smile plays on the man's cigar darkened mouth.

He turns to the door, "The boys got something prepared for you." He slams
the door behind him.

Luhan falls back on the hard bed, trying his best to rationalize despite the
enigmatic phrases the cruel men had been saying. His thoughts wander from
119's ability to track a cellphone to the mistake that he had just dialed his
mom's number. Panic engulfs him as he realizes that these men - who had
just tortured him - may have the means to get to his mom.

The waves begin to hit the deck of the ship, the gale-force winds and the deep
waters more dangerous as they near the West coast of Yeosu. Luhan is now
trudging inaudibly in the pitch-black corridor, dragging his wounded leg after
the other. If this continues, he thinks, It might take me a day to
escape.Desperate to reach his mom, he removes the bandage on his knee,
utterly disregarding the wrenching pain it caused, then ties it on the dislocated
part once more in its tightest. A scalding pain follows, then complete
numbness.
The pace of his walking becomes faster, albeit unpleasant. He does not know
where he is going, but decides to follow the path of the corridor. The rows of
portholes run on the outskirts of his sight - a storm is raging, the waves
looming - he feels the ice coldness of the sea even from inside. Suddenly, he
sees a shadow emerge in the curve of the corridor, and with it rowdy voices of
men.

His instincts dart to a door a few meters on his right. He runs to it stealthily as
the silhouette nears, then bolts the lock abruptly. He turns around and
breathes a gasp of relief for he had stumbled upon a ruffian-less room. A pin
board hangs across a document cramped office table. A photo catches
Luhan's eyes - that of the late Minister of Justice who had died under strange
circumstances. He examines the scraps of papers tacked to it, a research
about a poison called Tetrodotoxin, a detailed schedule of the minister, a red
mark on the exact date he died.

A feeling of bloat swells in his stomach as his clammy hands scour through
the other nailed papers, a photo of an opulent casino owner who was shot and
mugged, another of a police officer, a bank account statement of past a
hundred billion won, an autopsy report - he stops reading.

What have I gotten myself into?

Luhan lurches out of the room, scampers outside the corridor. The ship tilts to
the side, making Luhan almost fall in surprise. He rejects the seasickness that
washes over his body, he needs to get out of this forsaken vessel where
killers roam the halls.

He walks up a staircase and eventually reaches the upper deck. The furious
strike of cold air jerks him back, his measly clothing permeated by its freezing
blow. But a fire is blazing inside him, the need to protect the only family he
has from the bloodied hands of those killers.

Luhan moves towards the rails and sees a lifebuoy fastened to it with a
rope. This is insane, a voice inside him whispers.

"Very," he says aloud.

He hears a pulse-like rhythm of men's boots from his behind, a vigorous

sound that can only be yielded by a group of ten or twenty men. The waves of
the sea rise in colossal height, crashing against the hull in a rage, the night
sky as inky as the body of water, the ship he is on as if a mere white dot
amidst it.

"What the-" a man behind him shouts.

With nowhere else to run, Luhan jumps onto the interminable cavernous sea.+

An electric burst shudders his lower body, the bitterly cold sea swallowing him
in one gulp. Luhan moves as the wave rushes to the skeleton of the ship, his
fiery will to escape devoured by the wet blanket of the sea. More than twenty
men move to the railings of the ship and look down at the dunce wading
helplessly on the sea. As if it were a spectacle, the men hold their stomachs in
shattering laughter and curses as they watch Luhan struggle to stay afloat.

"You dimwit!" the scarred man shouts, wildly entertained. "You're in the middle
of nowhere, you idjit!" deep laughs escape his mouth.

"I bet you a hundred won, one hour." Another man says.

Another pats him on the back, "I bet you thirty minutes, kid won't last, I tell
you."
Luhan remains deaf, the coldness spreading through his body like a disease.
When panic seeps through a person, adrenaline rushes out, and all reason or
logic is sucked until there is nothing left but the will to survive.

He has to survive.

The next minute, everyone's voices come to a complete stop, until it is silent
except for the waves against wood, ropes tangling and tightening. Luhan
looks up and sees the horde of men split on the center as a man walks to the
metal rails and stares straight at him.

"That's gotta be cold." Sehun says blandly. He shoves his one hand onto his
pocket and grabs a cigarette, the creases of the sea reflecting on the ripples
of his shirt swayed by the winds. The man who had bandaged Luhan reaches
out to Sehun and lights the cigarette.

Sehun puffs a first hit, "Work for me." He says to Luhan inattentively.

Just seeing Sehun's face stir Luhan's blood into heated rage. "Go to hell." He
shouts the loudest his frozen lungs could.

"Your debt'll be paid," he says, "if you work for me."

"I'd rather leave in a body bag than work for a killer like you!"

"Do you know me," He smirks, "Have you seen me kill anybody,"

Luhan's eyes stab Sehun's repeatedly, he will not work - he will never work for
an inhuman, evil, emotionless murderer like him.

"If you stay there," the man beside Sehun interrupts, "You will eventually ice
up, you will struggle to breathe for a few minutes maybe, but then your mouth
will froth, your bones will go rigid, you'll go into convulsion. It'd be a slow,
painful death."
Luhan can already feel the harsh beginnings of what the man is describing.
Sehun bears a hole as he fixes his eyes on Luhan, waiting for a reply.

"If you die," Sehun says plainly, "how about your mom."

"You bastard."

"That's been said." Sehun answers. He turns to his men, "Are you waiting for
the sea to dry," no one seems to get what he is trying to say. "Pull him up." He
motions to Luhan.

"Nae hyung." They say in unison.

The next thing Luhan knows, he is being hauled with a rope into the spacious
wooden deck. Everything is still a daze, all he can see is the black ink of the
tattoo on all their shoulders, the ruthless look in their eyes, the narrow
corridors and low dark ceilings crushing him. He is viciously carried to the
same room he had stayed at and thrown into the bed like a slab of cattle. He
hurriedly pulls the blanket onto his drenched body, but the cold air coils him
like wrought iron melted in flame. The man who had helped with his wounds
then enter the room once more and hurls a thicker blanket to his direction.

"Well that's the most insane thing I've ever seen anyone do." The man laughs.

Luhan remains silent, treading the eggshells of the seemingly kind man's
personality.

"If you need to shower, you take the door on the left. Need to eat, you can go
to the kitchen on the lower deck," he goes on, "the rest will be explained by
Ga Yun, she'll come by tomorrow."

The door opens, both of them turning their heads to see Sehun's
expressionless bearing. "Ryu, leave us." Sehun orders the man.
"Nae hyung," Ryu bows and shuts the door behind him.

If it were possible for his blood to evaporate, Luhan would be nothing but
vapor as he watches in wrath and disgust the man before him. Sehun takes
the chair on the far end of the room and pulls it closest to his bedside. The
heat in their stare lasts for aeons, Sehun watching him intently against the
fumes coming from his mouth, and Luhan refusing to blink at his captor's
eyes.

"I have two conditions." Luhan hears himself say. But he scorns to believe he
really said it. He had really gone insane.

"Name it." Sehun mutters.

"First, you will not hurt or talk or even try and find my mom. I will be the one to
pay the debt." Luhan states, "Just me."

"Done." Sehun answers, in an almost whisper.

"Six months." He says determined, "I will only work for you for six months."

"A year." Sehun's face seems to move an inch closer to his.

"Six mo-"

"No." Sehun declares, "A year, or I throw you off deck myself."

Luhan clutches the blanket into fists, he no longer knows where the
conversation is going. "Six months," he insists, "or I'll jump off the ship again."

"What makes you think I care," Sehun's eyes narrows like thin slits.

"I don't know what goes on in that twisted head of yours, but what would you
rather have, a dead body or a debt payment?" Luhan strengthens his resolve,
despite the towering blacks in the deep brown depths of his captor.
A hint of a devious smile plays on Sehun's lips. "Okay then, six months." He
leans forwards, his cigarette-mangled breath sliding against Luhan's skin in a
whisper, "In that six months your undead body should damn please me then,
a billion-won worth."

Sehun walks out of the room, leaving the tangy smell of the sea and the rough
scent of menthol cigarette. The gray walls of the room seem to crush Luhan
bit by bit, he just agreed to work for a group of mercenaries, agreed to live
with them to save his skin in a gaping sea that can swallow him any second.
Luhan decides, that he'd rather have the boss of RV talk short sentences with
no punctuations, rather than a lengthy one that leaves too much to his
perturbed imagination.+

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, its the season to be jolly, the smooth
timbre of the singer wrapped the living room, the volume of the radio at its
highest. Luhan descended the stairs and saw his brother in the kitchen with
his mom, the smell of fresh flour and nutmeg permeating his nostrils. His
brother turned to face him, and an unexpected smile glistened his usually
stone cold face. Luhan's reply was a smile just as warm. Suddenly, Luhan
heard a loud bang like the shot of a gun, his eyes darting to the door that had
been kicked open. The wreath fell on the floor and the rest unfolded before
him in a hazy, slow motion. Men barged in and screams began to surge over
the carol, see the blazing Yule before us, strike the harp and join the chorus.

Luhan shoots up the bed, covered in sweat, his shoulders shivering in difficult
wheezes. 21st of May, seven years ago, was the last time he had that
nightmare. Why would he dream of it again now? His brows contract a quarter
an inch, his eyes taper though no light is peeking through the room that is
short if the size of a closet. Slowly, the nightmare fades a derail a time, until
Luhan no longer remembers what it was exactly that he dreamed about.
It is unbearable, he decided, to slumber with but steel and wood separating
him from the daunting ocean. He is unsure if the sun had already hovered the
blue curtains of the dull night. And thought his body clock tells him its already
morning, the silence outside the room refuse to agree. His mind begins to
wander to the menacing turn of last night's events. It is as fortunate as it could
get, he had ensured the safety of his mom, though he can't say the same
about himself. In fact, he is almost certain that he is not going to make it alive.
Worse he might make it alive though not in one piece.

Without warning, someone swings the door open and Luhan realizes the door
can only be locked outside. Suddenly, the room feels smaller than a closet.
The lady who looks slightly older than he is walks up right to the foot of his
bed. Her entangled hair hued in mahogany messily drops to her shoulders,
blending well with the color of her porcelain skin and the big ambers of her
eyes. Her red dress falls seamlessly on her legs, matching her same-colored
heels. The woman does not say a word but keeps her eyes glued to the stack
of papers she is holding, she jerks her shoulder a bit, the RV tattoo inked on it
manifesting.

"Sign." She says, handing out the papers to Luhan.

Luhan takes it, seeing as he had no choice, and reads each word carefully.
He is not to sign another contract that might put him to a tormenting situation
worse than he is in. "Non-disclosure agreement?" Luhan repeats the words in
bold.

The woman gives a shrug and a look of impatience instead of an answer.

Luhan continues to read each page, even the mere footnotes in them. And
though he is no lawyer, it is clear that all of the clauses written are in favor of
the company concealed in the name RV holdings. Right.
The woman seems to have given up on his pace of reading, "You are not to
disclose any information about the company or its associates. You'll work for
six months, no more no less, and doing so will acquit you from the entirety of
your debt. Everything you do from here on will be accounted as parrt of work,"
she goes on hurriedly, "Of course you won't be paid. Not that you thought that
of course?"

Luhan nods. He had thought she did not belong to such a place, but
apparently she is another beacon of what it means to be part of a crime
society, if that is even what RV is.

"My mom won't be hurt or bothred," Luhan follows, "is that written here?"

She nods, the look on her face saying there is something much more
important for her to do than debrief him. "You answer to Ryu. There's only one
thing you need to do for six months, and that's to do what you're told, no
questions asked. Are we clear?"

Her tone makes Luhan feel a little bit inferior, and though he is clueless as to
what he's really signing up for, the fact that his mom will be alright makes
everything else insignificant, "Yes." He says then signs his name on each
page, "What do I have to do today?"

"Stay here." She says and walks towards the door, "You can do something as
simple as that right?" she leaves with a snide remark.

Luhan sits on the edge of the bed and examines the copy of the contract the
woman gave him. She had said that he would answer to Ryu, the one who
bandaged him and the one who seems, so far, the least evil of them all. Given
what Ryu had said the previous night, Luhan concludes that the woman's
name is Ga Yun.
Luhan runs his fingers through his disheveled hair in frustration. The contract
that goes five pages long bears no suggestions as to what RV really is,
despite mentioning RV holdings a couple of times. It is evident that there is a
gap, as long as the Great Wall of China, between what these people know
about him and what he knows about them. And there is an undeniable need
for him to close that gap and uncover the secrets of who he will, or rather, is
now working for. It may be because of curiosity, but mostly its a symptom of
animosity. Luhan does not know it himself, but deep within the wounded and
shredded fragments of his body, he had just made finding RV's weakness and
bringing them down his life purpose.

After making sure that there is no massive thug on the other side of the door,
Luhan sneaks out of his place of confinement and does the exact opposite of
his first so-called 'task'. The sun had barely risen, it may be merely five in the
morning, though he can already hear boisterous laughters and deep voices
echo from the row of room. He slogs carefully in light footsteps and realizes
that the welt of the rushing waves against the wood panels can overpower
even the angriest stomps.

As the arc of the sun soars, rays of flaxen and red begin dancing together,
making the once daunting hall a normal-looking ship deck. Luhan feels
minuscule amidst the seemingly ceaseless corridor of oak doors and steel
outlined round windows, it is much longer than he thought, with the number of
rooms going past thirty. He continues to walk, wondering when he will reach
the staircase, and making certain to avoid any danger. And by danger, he
means, anyone breathing inside the boat.

Luhan is almost at the staircase when a double door catches his eyes, a
glister of light seeping out of the small gaps in its sides. In an instant,
overlapping voices sound from inside, making Luhan withdraw rapidly to the
nearest stone pillar of the corridor. His eyes unconsciously narrow as he
struggles to hear what they are saying.

"'Tis time around it's a message job." A raspy voice says, "of an outfit."

"Through the eye." A woman interrupts.

Luhan can hear the menacing slide of the chair over the wooden floor. "We're
gonna clip 'em here, proof we're not just shaking 'em down. The boss says 'tis
needs to be done. We took the first hit. So we're gonna do a piece of work,
chase 'em out and burn 'em like we're hitting the mattresses."

"It's gonna go down tonight. So you get all your gears up and coming, we're
gonna need everyone to come in once we land."

About ten men leave the room while Luhan tries his best to camouflage his
thin body against the column. His luck hasn't run out after all, as no one
catches him hanging around. He peeks a little and catches sight of Ryu, Ga
Yun and the paddle man huddled inside right before the door comes to a full
close. Luhan is desperate to piece the puzzles together, but no significant
meaning in their play of words seem to reach the neurons in his worn-out
brain.

The coast is clear, he figures, in the words that fits his clandestine and deadly
mission of hallowing out the secret of RV. It is evident that the three he had
met so far, Ryu, Ga Yun and the paddle man, are of high position in the
group. Perhaps, they might even come right under Sehun. Sehun- the mere
thought of his name heats his blood past boiling temperature. Luhan climbs
the steep staircase with one thought in mind: he hates the name Sehun, in
fact he hates the word Sehun, he hates the paltry arrangement of letters that
form the name Sehun. He cannot emphasize it any more than he does in his
head. He secretly chants as a mantra that Ryu and them are planning a coup
against Sehun, for if that were the case, he'd gladly give them a hand.

Every part of him refuses to stop by the second deck upon catching sight of
the steel chair and the red sofa through the sliding door. The russian roulette,
the broken bones, the anger come rushing back to his head, carrying the
same torture it had the night he first woke up in this purgatory. Constraining
himself from looking any longer, he goes straight to the highest peak of the
ship, sliding his palm over the rails, the biting coat of iron sending shivers to
his hand up to his fingertips.

He had not ridden a boat before, let alone a ship, so he wouldn't exactly know,
but this one strikes abnormally massive for the measly number of people he
had seen so far. The lower deck, where his room is in, is the least elegant of
all, with nothing but rows of wooden doors and round panels, boasting almost-
empty rooms. But the highest deck comes as if it were a surprise wrapped in a
tattered bow. The air from outside strikes Luhan, spreading the coldness
cruelly in every skin it could touch. Then the rest unfolds before his eyes like a
mirage.

Luhan stands in the middle of a spacious veranda, awestruck and utterly

blinded by the magnificent view that shrouds the nightmare he is going
through. He watches as the color of the sky changes from rays of flaxen-
orange sunlight to emerald-green waters. The waves of the sea all rush to the
edges of the ship as if it were its haven in its mundane, forlorn state. He
begins to wonder, when it is like this, does the consuming sea appear safer
than land to a shipwrecked man?

He shrugs the sentimental thoughts off, but the image of the sea stays with
him as he walks to the sliding door adjacent to the veranda. It feels as if he
had gone into a different dimension of the ship as he admires the beauty of
the colossal room. He across a beige-leather sofa encircling a gold-
embellished table, behind it a spiral staircase adorned with yellow lights on
each step. His feet move unconsciously, the room drawing him in, like the
waves to the ship. Each panel of the room makes him stop in fascination, an
intricately swiveled diamond chandelier on the ceiling, lofty windows that
illuminate the modern feel of the room that ran in shades of maroon and tan.

But when he reached the end of the hall, he realizes that the beautiful fortress
is nothing but a facade of the real, concrete inferno it is hiding.

Fuck, Luhan curses inwardly.

Sehun is sitting atop a huge desk, his back facing Luhan. A monumental cork
board have stolen Sehun's full attention as he spins a black pen in the bed of
his fingers, tapping it repetitively, while examining the muddle of pinned
papers and pictures. Luhan's inside turns to pulp, bad luck is too humane a
word for the situations he keeps finding himself in. He should've known
that rooms can be deceiving.

Repulsed by the idea of seeing Sehun, Luhan slowly turns his back in the
quietest way possible. He pivots his head to the left bit by bit then swivels his
upper body, all while holding his breath. He stealthily steps the heel of his foot
on the carpet then its tip, in a walking pace that a turtle could outrace. One
foot at a time, like treading on a tightrope. Left. Right. Left. Ri-

"If you're going to run around the yacht, might as well have the guts not to cop
out." Sehun utters in serious dullness.

Lehun unconsciously clicks his teeth upon getting caught, and turns to face
the last person he wants to be in the same room with. Sehun angles his face,
veilling it in almost pure white. He stops playing with his pen for a while, then
rhythmically continues in persistent thumps that irritates Luha.
"I was told I was going to work, not be locked up inside a room." Luhan moves
three steps forward and eyes the cork board intentionally. Photos of
anonymous people are inked in red strings with thumbtacks to form what
seems like a hierarchy of some sort of group. There are maps of Mokpo on
the side, with Japanese characters in bold. But no, he cannot read Japanese.

Sehun turns around to face Luhan, and plants both of his palms on the table,
his eyes spearing the furious rings in his. He sends Luhan a piercing stare
that begins to strike jolts in his frail body, in part rage and part anxiety. The
black in Sehun's iris appear to intensify, and though from afar the sharp
features of his face seem to be hollow, such is not the case when one stares
back, like Luhan does. It is a heavy stare, Luhan realizes, that inflicts a kind of
discomfort that sucks the coldness fromm one's body and replaces it with
scalding heat.

"So eager to work," Sehun asks.

Luhan mentally includes a question mark, and tries to find his small voice, "I
would like to do what is due, yes." He says rather strongly, "So you better
make sure you do what it is we agreed about."

"Watch your tone." Sehun bites back.

"I'm sorry?"

Sehun lingers his gaze at Luhan for a second more, then focuses his attention
on the papers lying on the table, "Not accepted." He says.

"I meant it as a pardon." Luhan says in grand emphasis and instinctively rolls
his eyes. He knows exactly what Sehun is - an expert torturer who had
mastered the skill of striking terror into people. But Luhan could give a damn
about terror, specially not when he is in the same room with it.
The keenly defined jaw of Sehun clenches. Then another long, torturous
stare. Luhan may not know "mob language," and may not be fluent with
Japanese, but he knows exactly what the evil boss is hinting. He gets that he
is no longer welcome, he just doesn't want to give him the benefit of tyranny.
And so, Luhan tries his best to muster up the most dangerous stare he can to
refute Sehun's. For if there is any chance he can beat the villain of his life, be
it in a staring contest, he would take it in a heartbeat.

Sehun raises his brows, "The door is still where you came in." He says.

The staring contest heightens at this point, both Luhan and Sehun unwilling to
let their daunting eyes leave the other. Luhan holds his breath unconsciously
as he roughens up his glare, though it doesn't amount to much. His soft
features don't match with the animosity he is displaying, his small nose
crinkled in annoyance, if not at all tragic, how arrogant such a small person is,
and in front of him to boot - he who had the means to turn anyone into nothing
but a fleck of dust.

"I'll be expecting my first task then," Luhan says through his clamped teeth.
"Today." He persists. After lingering a few seconds more, he walks out the
door, the once beauty of the room transforming to something atrocious. The
fact is he could've stayed just to piss Sehun off. But in the end, he figured, the
mutual hostility between them could have burst his veins in anger. And there
had been enough torture the past two days.

Hunger. His body tells him its time to eat, and though he doesn't want to leave
his room again, Luhan is forced to wonder around the ship once more,
cautiously avoiding the highest deck. He is certain that he had covered the
entire length of the corridor of the lowest deck, and given that it is the lowest
turf, in the peak, the kitchen has to be at the middle floor.
Luhan's lungs close in, the hair on the back of his neck rising like barbs as he
passes by the steel chair he had been strapped in hours ago. He pushes
himself to move forward, and after desperate seconds, sees a vacant kitchen
linked to an outdoor dining room. For a while, he hesitates to open the fridge,
afraid severed heads and limbs are dumped inside. But when he does, plastic
wrapped meat, lobsters and shrimps appear before him, almost filling his
hunger.

Unfortunately, though he can think of a number of sumptuous dishes of each,

the want to return to his room as quickly as possible trumps the need to eat.
He rummages the cupboards to look for bread or chips even, but as soon as
he does, a tiny inkling spurs in him that someone is standing behind his back.
He turns around, already mortified, and sees an old man wearing a chef's
uniform before him. The wide eyes and the pale color of the man is in polarity
with his gray hair and beard. He is not Korean. Luhan is certain, perhaps
someone from America. In his mind, he goes back to high school with Ms.Lee,
and decides that he had not learned a thing.

"I.am.just.loo-king.food." Luhan tells the man, stressing each English syllable

in horrid pronunciation, "Food? Need. Food?" he points to the fridge in a
desperate attempt to make the man understand.

But the man stays immobile and expressionless.

In an instant, a group of men come in, eyeing Luhan with a suspicious look.
Led by the paddle man, the group advances towards them. "Jun," the foreign
chef speaks up, "Who's this idiot?" he asks in perfect Korean.

Jun answers. "He's no one." He says flatly.

"Do you want to eat something?" the chef turns to Luhan.

"I'm-"
'No David," Jun says, "Don't give him nothing."

Pure rage simmers inside Luhan. But before he could shout a curse, so much
an English one, Ryu appears and for the weirdest reason, he suddenly feels
saved.

'There's bread and jam there," Ryu points to the topmost cupboard, "Get it
yourself." He tells Luhan. Then he turns to the group of bullies, "What are you
still doing? The boss will be down in a second." He says tersely, "Go prepare
the table."

"Yes, Ryu hyung." They answer, and immediately heads to the outdoor dine
hall.

Luhan scurries himself out of the scene, petrified of seeing his nemesis
Sehun. But when he reaches his room, a bloated feeling swells inside him as
he realizes he had completely lost his appetite.

•••

Luhan wakes up. Hunger, again. He immediately regrets not taking the entire
loaf og bread with him, since it is becoming clearer by the second that his
captors have no intention of feeding him. As he struggles whether to leave the
room or faint in hunger, Ryu enters his room, his face covered in evident
anxiety.

Perhaps longer than a second, Luhan battles with himself if he shouldd call
Ryu hyung. But eventually decides against it.

"We're heading out." Ryu saus and motions him to get out of bed.

Out? Like out to the sea?

"What-"
"You shouldn't have provoked him like that." He mutters.

"Him?" Luhan clarifies as he walks behind Ryu out the corridor, the shadows
of the night looming of each step. Ryu remains silent and when they reach the
end of the hallway, swings a double door open where a vast lifeless pavement
can be seen. The ship has landed, Luhan learns.

What does this mean? Luhan wonders, though there is no doubt that
wherever RV goes, bad things happen. He continues to follow Ryu, oddly
discovering that he feels no dread for him at all. Perhaps because so far, Ryu
is the only one in the ship who actually acts like a human. But what he had
just said... "Provoke? Him?" Luhan demands, "Who?"

No words escape Ryu's mouth. But when Luhan sets his sight forward, the fog
clears up and goes straight to muddle his head.

A cluster of men that could be easily numbered to a hundred stood

threateningly before him, all of whom dressed in a jet black suits that make
the night grittier than it seems. A gamut of light from the sky-high watch post
roams around the vacant pavement, brightening every inch of the dock, and
every person behind the group of a hundred that now manifests like a
thousand in Luhan's eyes.

Ryu continues walk towards them as Luhan hesitatingly follows him from
behind, every fiber in him wanting to just go back to the ship, be it in the
prison of a room. But in a flash, a loud "Hyung!" spurs from the mouth of the
thousand men as they bow a full ninety-degree in his direction, and he is left
dumbfounded.

What the-
Luhan turns to look behind him, and like on cue, the light from the watch post
direct its attention to the man coming out form the ship. The mist of the wintry
night shrouds Luhan's gaze for a second, the man moves closer in an indolent
pace, wearing a banal white shirt, with hand shoved into his pockets. Distaste
and eye-rolling annoyance curls in Luhan's stomach as he realizes that it is
Sehun, the ensuing bane of his existence.

Sehun moves towards the group of men, his shoulder brushing, almost
forcefully, against Luhan's as he passes by. The crowd of the hundred men
splits in the middle making way for the distant and cold demeanor of their
boss, a fissure executed like a perfectly timed and measured move. Jun
opens the door of a noir limousine for Sehun, so carefully, as if he will die from
a single course of action done by his own body.

What a pompous ass, Luhan mutters.

•••

A hundred men all wearing black should have induced a violent ambience
inside an elegant, traditional Japanese restaurant, but as it turns out, nothing
strikes the kimono-clad waitresses as out of ordinary. Luhan finds himself
surrounded by tattoo-bearing ruffians with faces in default anger, his survival
instincts telling him to stick to Ryu. He had once thought that RV was
composed of merely thirty or so people, those who were inside the ship. But
now that he has caught a glimpse of a mass of the RV society, perhaps not
even in its entirety, he realizes that their secret may not be one he would want
to uncover after all.

The waitress leads them to a private room in the deepest caverns of the
restaurant. Like trained soldiers, Sehun's underlings line up outside the room,
all facing towards the end of the narrow hallway. Luhan notices that right
across them are another group of mob bodyguards, though lesser in number,
just as outwardly dangerous.

He still has no clue as to what to do.

Should I fall in line too? He wonders densely , but figures that there is no
space left for him to plant himself into. Every inch of the hall is guarded by
brusque men two times larger than him.

Sehun enters the private room with Ga Yun and Ryu behind him. When Ryu
signals Luhan to come with, his mind begins to play tricks on him, whispering
to him that he is going to be safe. But after seeing the line of men like in a
battlefield across those from what seemed like a different crime group, Luhan
becomes certain that safe is nothing but a word written in lead, on a thin paper
inside a glass bottle dropped and forever buried in the middle of the Pacific
Ocean.

The room is covered in paper lattice on all sides, white squares patterned
against wooden frames. A rotund old man is already sitting on the black floor
pillow in between two bodyguards. Sehun sits right across the man while Ga
Yun and Ryu guard both of his sides. Alas, for Luhan, there is no floor pillow
left to sit on, so he sits behind Ryu hoping he looks everything but nervous.

"You've started without me." Sehun says as he flickers his glance to the
bottles of sake on the Kyoto coffee table.

"I thought we were going to meet an hour ago." The old man says, placing a
cup across Sehun, and courteously filling it with liquor. The accent of the old
man's words hint that he is not of the same country, but the way he carries his
wrist with one arm as he tilts the bottle implies that he had been in Korea long
enough to know how seniority worked.
"Satto." Sehun robs the man's attention, "I don't like not being waited for," he
declares blankly in a hostile voice that could crumple the delicate corners of
the room.

Sato swallows a difficult gulp. The bodyguards look at each other for a while,
then to their boss as if waiting for a command. The silence begins to crush
Luhan, making his chest heavy, ass he glances at Ryu and Ga Yun who have
both gone rigid.

After deafening seconds of silence, a deep laugh echoes in the small room.
Luhan looks at Sehun whose head is tilted back in laughter. Then and there,
Luhan affirms, there is something twisted in the mind of RV's boss. In a while,
everyone begins laughing, including Sato who is obviously faking it, in hopes
of pleasing Sehun.

"You have an odd sense of humor." Sato says and raises a glass to Sehun,
the latter willingly concurs.

"We wouldn't want to keep each other long now, do we." Sehun utters, still in
apparently a really good mood

Sato takes it as a signal and motions towards his bodyguard. A steel suitcase
is then placed in the middle of plates of sushi and liquor bottles. The man
presents it to Sehun while Luhan curiously peeps to see what is inside.

Packets of white powder are placed inside in careful order and estimated
weight.

That could be flour, Luhan's first though is, rather Luhan's first wish is. But the
people around him look nothing like bakers.

"Exactly like we talked about," Sehun asks and Sato nods too eagerly, and
just too much.
"I hope this fixes the conflict we had caused the past year."

Sehun links his arms atop the table, and gives Sato the stare. "Japan RV is
like a runaway child," he says, "But you're still part of RV. So let us say that for
the moment, you are spared."

That chills Luhan's blood though he is unsure how or why. Japan RV? It is
becoming more and more complicated by the second.

"I'm glad." Sato replies, nodding too much again. "I was told there is a job
you've been working on lately? If hire need be, you can use the men."

Sehun laughs once more, and Luhan finds it unusual. "Do you have any ideas
in mind?"

"We could do it like lthaca if you'd like... hotel, room service, beretta 92FS,
9mm suppressor." Sato smiles eerily, "Clean and brutal. Just how you like it."

"That could work." Sehun says in his usual mundane tone. "But," he adds,
"think more creative."

Sato's smile drops a centimeter, "You just have to tell us what to do. We
would follow it to detail."

"It;s really rather up to you." Sehun says, "think outside the box." He forwards
his body a bit, "You see, it's not just about brutality. It's the deception, the
shock." He slurs his words carefully, "It's the hunting that gives the
satisfaction, the thought that you have the upper hand because the target is
as clueless as he could get."

Sehun's smile turns to something vicious, "For instance, say someone is to

invite the target to dinner. Or maybe even a deal."

"A deal?" Sato asks, his jolly features now bagged down.
"Yes." Sehun's voice deepens, "Lure the bastard with a deal - a deal he would
think is in his odds. Tell him he's to bring powder in a traditional Japanese
restaurant in Mokpo, where he thinks he's safe coz he doesn't know what's to
come."

Luhan begins to feel uneasy, and the entire room seems to close in as the
atmosphere clearly changes. Something is bound to happen.

"Course the bastard would go, maybe with a hundred men even. So what do
you do then?" Sehun raises his brows.

Sato stutters, "What do I do?"

"Well you can bring a thousand men." Sehun says, "but then that'd just be
messy. And we don't want messy now, do we?"

The bodyguards of Sato move the hands to the sides of their waist, wary
about the direction of the conversation.

"You wanna know the trick," Sehun leans in, his cold whisper freezing Sato's
drunken state. "Hide a sniper behind the paper doors, then you," he presses
the tip of his finger to Sato's forehead, "You intentionally arrive an hour late to
let the sniper get the best, the perfect, clean but brutal shot."

Nervousness begins to conceal the faces of Sato and his men, while Luhan
feels as if every whiff of breath is being pulled out from his lungs.

Sehun shapes a gun with his fingers and points it an inch from Sato's left eye,
"The sniper will mark the bullseye right here. The message job, as you already
know, is I'm watching you." The slender fingers of Sehun remain midair, "You
only have one problem left."

By now, Sato becomes void of any word.

"The go signal... a phrase... or one word even." Sehun jerks his head to the
right, narrowing his eyes as if in deep thought,, "What could it be,"

Luhan watches as Ryu and Ga Yun take a gun from behind them, almost
unnoticeably and slowly, but ready to shoot anyone.

"I think I know." Sehun's raspy voice seems to crawl in each of Sato's vein
who is now shaking in fear. Then a strangling silence ensues, everyone
holding the last inch of breath in their frozen insides. Sehun tilts his head ever
slightly to his left and leans in to Sato's ear.

"Bang." Sehun whispers the go signal, in a soft and subtle tone that slithers
inside the room, abducting every sound until there is but the welt of murder.

A sharp crack impales the room as a bullet pierces through the paper lattice
from behind Sehun, launching straight to Sato's left eye. Alarm rumbles inside
Luhan as he glances at the paper mesh pierced with a hole girdled in burnt
edges. Then his eyes dart to Sato, whose left eye had exploded in savage
red, torn and gouging out of socket. Sato's head flops straight to the plate of
roe-sprinkled maki, the clank of his head over the ceramic making Luhan
shudder. He wants to look away, his hands trembling in desperation to turn his
head away, but he can't. Luhan ice up, unable to tear his sight away from
Sato, his blood trickling and spreading all over the plate until the sushi and
raw vegetables wrapped in seaweed begin to swim in rusty red.

Then everything happens in a quick haze of a nightmare. Luhan watches as

Ryu and Ga Yun move swiftly in a quick second, shooting the two bodyguards
in the head in perfect precision, both dropping to the floor loudly. Three
corpses lie in front of him, he wants to throw up until he retches even his
intestines.
A rumble erupts outside, the men of Sehun overpowering the few number
Sato had brought. Jun throws a man just as heavy as he is to the side,
demolishing the entrance of the private room, until Luhan can see everything
unfolding - the hundreds of men impaling each other in the merciless places,
in the throat, in the hip, in the mouth. The smell of blood permeates his
nostrils, the liquor with it, the crimson color invading his weakened cocoon.
Jun paddles the man unceasingly in the brain, as if he is liking it. Luhan
watches the face of the people he had begun to work with, all plastered with
ruthless satisfaction. His heart kicks into overdrive as he glances to Sehun
who is now sipping his sake, heaving a sigh, as if the mass murder uncoiling
before him is nothing but child's play.

Luhan's eyes widen in utter disbelief. This is not at all like his first day of work
at FamilyMart.
If only Sato were
more cautious and
less arrogant than
Akita Kei, he
would still
probably be at his
desk this balmy
morning, manning
the drug trade of
RV in the bustling
city of Tokyo. But
Akita knew
enough, he had
known yesterday
that he was sending
Sato to his death,
and though some
may think of it as a
loss of a great left-
hand, no one seems
to be smart enough
to realize that it
was a well-thought
of plan. The death
of Japan RV’s left-
hand only means
one thing — the
start of the fiercest
coup to fulminate
in the underworld
and the end of the
rule of Sehun, the
cruelest man to
ever step into the
criminal
battleground.
This was what Akita wanted all along, and he had not once thought of it as an
intelligent scheme. It had been written, and had been well overdue. It was
unequivocally coming to Sehun. At 25 years old, Sehun is too young to be leading an
organization as big as RV. And although all the members of the group seem to have
been fooled by his cold demeanour and ruthless attitude, Akita believes that he is still
lacking in experience and precision. But today, after this meeting, it will no longer
matter what he thinks. Because once the coup starts, it could no longer be
immobilized.
A small table had been set up at the terrace of Akita’s manor, atop it were two
champagne glasses and a box of Cuban cigars. Akita has yet to sit down when Nikolai
arrives with two armed men.
“Dobroe utro.” Akita greets the pencil-thin man before him, his Russian a bit rusty.
Nikolai eyes the table, “Champagne? I take it we are celebrating?”
Akita gestures him to take a seat, a smile crossing his mellow features. “No
celebration. You know me Nik, I always prepare the best for the people I
actuallylike.” He declares charmingly, filling Nikolai’s glass with Bollinger, then
handing him a Cuban.
Nikolai laughs. Ever since the first time they met, he had seen Akita’s charm, his
fancy way with his words. “Akita, always with the witty lines.”
“The limits of my language means the limits of my word.”
“Wittgenstein.” Nikolai acknowledges. Then silence ensues, both hasty to shrug the
formalities away, “I heard what happened to Sato. I deeply apologize for your loss.”
“Apologies are not necessary.” Akita swirls the fizzing liquor, “You know exactly
what it is you should do Nik, that is, if you dowant to help.”
And Akita speaks of the truth. Even before being called to talk, Nikolai had already
been aware that Akita would ask such of him. He had not thought twice, he had
decided to do whatever it takes to help Akita. The problem, however, lies with the
money. It always does.
“You are the closest thing I have to a friend Akita,” Nikolai says, “I have no intention
to be in your way.”
“That is good to hear my friend.” Akita says, “You know how I get with people who
disagree with me.”
“If only there is no risk…”
Akita’s brows draw closer, “I would not say there is no risk. Of course there is,” he
pauses, “There always is.”
“I believe you are knowledgeable about the money flow?” Nikolay continues, “If we
wage a war with Sehun, and I’m on your side, all will be lost to me. He won’t let me
get a single penny of what my men have worked for.”
“I’ll be honest with you Nik,” Akita plunges forward, “This won’t be an easy task. But
I assure you, when we win this war, and I know we will, it is Sehun who will lose
everything.” He shrugs his head convincingly, “Not me. Not you.”

•••

On the lowest deck of the yacht lies a spacious teak deck with sun beds and al fresco
dining tables. The open area extends to a partially covered hall. Unlike the rest of the
balconies in the yacht, the deck is not barred with series of wooden rails, but is instead
impressively decorated with folding stairs that lead directly to the open waters.
The first time Sehun saw the yacht, he had known right away that that part of the deck
would be the most marked one. The lowest deck brings him closest to the remorseless
sea, and the thought is a wild thrill _— one more step and he could drown, no safety
railings, no mesh to entrap him.
He stands carelessly at the edge, one hand tucked in the pocket of his jeans, the other
cradling a cigarette. The tumult of waves crash against the ship, splashing diamonds of
water onto his shoes.
“Hyung.” Ryu stands behind him, his body inclined.
Sehun pivots his head slightly and catches sight of Ga Yun and Jun with Ryu. Without
a word, he heads to the round brass-finish table filled with his usual five-star
breakfast, and motions his underlings to join him. He takes a piece of the brioche
french toast, lathers caviar butter on it and takes an ample bite.
“Did you three come to watch me eat,” Sehun asks blandly, lightly dabbing the napkin
to his lips.
All three bow slightly. “Hyung, Nikolay’s men have all been taken off of their posts.”
Jun rushes.
Stern-faced, Ga Yun presses her palms atop the table, “The money from the past
month’s deal did not process to our offshore account. Russia RV had completely
dissipated.”
Ryu breaks in, “There’s a possibility that the Circum Mensam will hear of it tod-“
Sehun openly smirks and the three dart a look at him, mouth parted with surprise. In a
second, Sehun’s smirk completely ruptures into a sly laugh. He carefully takes a
mouthful of lobster scrambled egg, evident satisfaction running through his sharp
features. Ryu, Ga Yun and Jun does not hide the uncertainty and hesitation in their
faces, as if they had told Sehun that a bomb was on the yacht and he had replied with
nothing but a thoughtless shrug.
“I expected this much from Akita.” Sehun takes a stupefied heave, “But Nikolai? I
was thinking he’d scheme better with China RV… with Guozhi.”
Sehun’s comment strike his men as some grim joke, but not one of them can gather a
laugh. While Sehun can act as if the whole thing is nothing but a form of crude
entertainment, his capo-regimes remain strung out. They know how it would play out.
It would all begin with small disappearances, unnoticeable traps and naive threats,
until one day when Korea RV isn’t overlooking everything, the enemies will strike
with missiles and dirty bombs. Then all of them, even Sehun, will be interred on the
ground with nameless gravestones..
“Hyung, with all due respect,” Jun barges, “it seems to us that the coup is already in
motion. Once Circum Mensam finds out about it, the war will breakout.” His fists
wreathe beneath the table, “All of us will be in danger.”
“Jun,” Sehun drops his knife atop the plate, causing a harsh clank, “The way you said
that, it sounded like, ‘hyung, I think you’re stupid enough not to know this, but this is
what will happen.’ – It sounded like that.”
Jun turns rigid, not even realizing that his breathing had taken a full stop. Sheer, black
fright sweeps through all three capo-regimes. “Hy-hyungnim. I- I’m only-“ Jun
mumbles, “Not. I didn’t mean. I-.“
Sehun clicks his teeth and waves a dismissing hand. “Ryu,” he calls out, “Tell the
crew to head to Seoul. Tonight, go to Sogdo and don’t come back until they pay us in
full.”
“Yes Hyung.” He answers.
“Bring some of the associates with you.” He orders then turns to the only woman in
the group, “Ga Yun, there is something-“ he forks the food dreadfully, “The food is
disgusting.”
Ga Yun rushes, “I’ll get right onto it.”
A dash of annoyance strikes Sehun’s face before he signals all of them to get out of
his sight. The three ponder if their meeting with Sehun had been productive when he
suddenly calls out.
“That kid.” Sehun mumbles, “Is he dead?”
Ryu faces him, wary if they are speaking of the same person. Instantly, he catches on,
“No hyung, he just had a panic attack. But he’s awa-”
“Give him something to do before you leave tonight.” Sehun says distantly.
The three ultimately disappears from his sight and Sehun is left alone once more. He
was almost certain that that kid who acted nothing but brave would be out of his wits
after what he had seen last night. He was half expecting for him to try to run away,
which would’ve been amusing. But now, as he thinks about it, that kid’s reaction turns
out to be much more interesting, much more baffling to his usually unyielding mind.

•••

Luhan does not dare to look around him, afraid of what his sight may fall into. Instead,
he stares at his trembling hands that had run out of color. He seizes both into fists the
same time his teeth clench, the distaste and frustration within him breaking out of his
control. It was another nightmare, worse than any he had ever experienced. In that
dark dream, he saw his brother again, but this time with the demised man from last
night — both ashen and lying still, as if every drop of blood had been wrung from
their bodies. It was that image that stayed for the seemingly long three hours of sleep
Luhan could get.
“You’re alright.” He whispers to himself, his words carrying a commanding tone
rather than a comforting one. “You’re alright.” He repeats.
How can someone take a life so easily? So indifferently? Like a switch being turne–
Luhan stops his train of thought. He does not care for he should not. He knows that to
survive, the damages done, all the casualties should not concern him. The only thing
that matters is that he gets out of this alive, that he saves what little he has left. In that
single second where everything unimaginable unfolded before him, everything
changed. He had been arrogant to even think that he can bring RV down. He can only
surrender, like others do, to remain alive.
The polished leather shoes that appear on the wooden floor catches his eyes, and with
it, his full attention. He looks up at the man standing before him and realizes that it is
Ryu. He breathes a sigh of relief till it hits him that he is back in the yacht once more
— the suffocating walls of the room, the towering mirror, the rigid bed.
“The panic attack,” Ryu asks, “It’s gone?”
Luhan takes a while to answer, “Panic attack?” he mimics in total confusion.
Ryu nods, pulling up a chair beside the bed. “Last night. You said you think you were
going to have a heart attack, and then you threw up.” He narrates distantly, “Then you
just fainted.”
“I… threw up?” Luhan’s eyes widen in horror, “And… fainted?”
Ryu nods once more, almost as if the events had been normal. But Luhan is adrift, he
had completely forgotten what had happened last night. The only thing he remembers
is the blood and the shouting and the— He shakes his head unconsciously in hopes
that he could physically shrug off the memory of Sato’s murder. Murder — the word
unwelcomely enters his mind. He had witnessed a murder.
“You look like you’re going to faint again.” Ryu notices and leans towards him. By
pure instinct, Luhan squeezes the bed sheet and moves away in a flash, his body in a
guarded position.
“It’s still there?”
“Wh-what?” Luhan stutters. For some reason, he can no longer make sense of the
conversation that is taking place.
“The fear.” Ryu says, “It’s still there.”
“N-no.” Luhan answers quickly. “I’m- I’m not. I’m just.” He pauses. He realizes he
has no explanation, nor the energy to muster up one.
“What you saw last night, you’ll see more.” Ryu warns, “You’ll see worse.”
There is a disturbing coil in Luhan’s stomach that he refuses to acknowledge, “I can
take it.” He declares.
As if he had just listened to the funniest pun, Ryu smiles, “So that’s what you decide
then? Keep your head down low and wait for hell to pass?”
“I… If I do that… I’ll get out alive, right?”
Silence seeps inside the room like smoke that escapes the vent. Luhan waits for a
confirmation of survival, any sign that he can make it back to his mom; while Ryu
wonders what it is a seemingly fearless person wants to hear.
“With all that’s happening, I doubt anyone can make it out alive.” Ryu reveals.
“What do you mean?”
Ryu stands up, “Clean the lowest deck tonight. Just go straight the hall. After the glass
bridge, there’s an open terrace. Make sure it’s spotless.”
Luhan nods but refuses to speak.
“I’ll be visiting a construction company tonight, so if you have any questions, ask
Jun.” Ryu says before taking a step out the door.
With all that’s happening, I doubt anyone can make it out alive,Ryu’s uneasy remark
replays over and over in Luhan’s head. Luhan is like a child struggling over a
thousand-piece puzzle, his mind full of ceaseless, inward questions.
“Sehun and Sato are both members of RV.” He mumbles to himself, “Sehun leads the
Korea division while Sato works for the Japanese one… There was a deal made
between them…” his eyes wander in deep contemplation, “But Sehun breaks it… And
murde- And takes Sato’s life.”
A petrifying realization washes over him.
“Japan and Korea RV…” all color vanishes from Luhan’s face, “are at war?” he holds
onto the sharp edge of the bed.

•••

It is merely past 7 but the darkness had already wolfed down the safe haven of
sunlight. The RV yacht had just dropped off Ryu and the men at the port nearest to
Sogdo and nothing strikes them as visibly different. After parking just right outside
the compound, Ryu and the men walk blindly in the dark alleyway that leads to
Sogdo’s construction site. It is then that Ryu begins to sense something vicious hiding
behind the shadows. Something is terribly wrong. The far end of the alley, chillingly
silent and lifeless, leads to a heavy steel gate where the construction stands. Apart
from the cracked walls of buildings in shambles, the toppled trash bins and the
flickering post light, nothing can be seen nor heard.
“Hyung, is something wrong?” one of the five associates ask.
‘We’ll be ambushed any second now.” Ryu’s response is quick and calculating. He
takes a defensive stance as all five associates circle around, guarded and alert. All of
them survey the scene quietly, for if anything, an RV member being ambushed is
nothing but common ground. But the new member from Guryeong-dong, who had
been initiated just a week before, can feel the blood in his veins rising to his head,
blowing it out of proportion. With both hands, he grips the metal rod, unable to stop
from trembling.
Then the worst uncoils. The light from the rusty post dies out. Ryu snaps his head to
his right in haste and the light flickers on once more, unmasking a group of thirteen
brusque men bolting towards them, armed with guthook and bowie knives aimed right
at their pounding chests.

•••

There is no way around the extreme weight loss and the darkness below Luhan’s
sunken eyes. Like a corpse still on the brink of death, he drags himself towards the
bridge deck with a heavy mop that almost hauls his body to the wooden floor. He had
lost his mind to RV, so significantly that he had already forgotten what date it was or
when he last ate. He glances upon the window and realizes that he spent the entire day
in confinement; the dark cloak had already swept over the sky, replacing the warmth
of the sun.
Nothing surprises him anymore, not even upon stepping foot on the lavish and
refinement of the lowest deck. It is the absence of boundaries between the deck and
the threatening sea that captures his heed. Like a magnetic field, the edge of the deck
lures him. He watches the rush of the water as the ship moves, his feet barely hanging
on the parquet. He turns to his right and is caught off guard; Sehun is lying down on
one of the sunbeds, sound asleep.
Luhan moves towards him and stands on his side, his body casting a shadow over the
sleeping sadist. A bitter taste lurks around Luhan’s mouth, rising from his throat and
brimming through his clenched teeth. Should I just throw him overboard? His hatred
incites wild visions of revenge.
All of a sudden, Sehun pivots towards his direction, still in a deep doze, and Luhan’s
insides sink. A strand of hair falls casually on Sehun’s face, its lines of toil smooth and
completely vanish. His eyes remain close against the soft light of the silent moon,
while no other movement unveils other than the rising and falling of his heavy chest.
What kind of mob leader sleeps so peacefully?
Luhan moves closer to gaze at Sehun’s sleeping face, and a smile forms on his lips, for
he knows exactly what it is that he wants to do. He squeezes his fists tightly and
begins punching the air, a centimeter right across Sehun’s face. Die!Luhan yammers
in his thoughts repeatedly, swinging his pretend strikes in an untamed speed. For the
first time since he has been kidnapped, he feels satisfaction and pleasure take over
him.
“Are you done.” Sehun’s smoky voice cuts the act, his eyes yet to open. With fists still
suspended in front of Sehun’s face, Luhan feels his guts knot, his eyes widen into
saucers. He swings his arms behind his back in a flash, and as if on cue, Sehun wakes
up completely and sits up. Luhan is forced to withdraw from his nemesis as far as he
can. His gaze falls on everywhere around the deck except on the line of sight of his
captor. But Sehun is as comfortable as a man is in his turf, he bends his left knee and
places his forearm atop it.
Luhan clears his throat awkwardly, “Ryu told me to come here to work.”
“So this is it,” Sehun asks.
“What?”
Sehun tosses his head back to the sunbed, tapping his fingers on the side,” This is a
billion dollar worth,” he rolls his eyes, “You’ll do whatever I ask you to do, it’s dull.”
Luhan feels his vein stricken as he grips the mop tighter. Dull?Cautious that his anger
might not be able to subside, he turns to leave and bows down partially against all his
will, “I’ll come back later.”
“Did I say you can leave,”
Luhan stops his trail, his eyes shut as tight as his jaw, hopelessly breathing in and out
to calm the billowing anger within him. Sehun’s phone rings and for a while, the
tension seems to escape the open air.
Sehun answers and rips out the words impatiently, “What is it,”
Still with his back turned, Luhan listens to every word. “You’re asking me what you
should do,” Sehun replies with heavy irony, “do you want me to just go there and do it
for you,”
A few seconds later, his voice hardens, “Get rid of him.”
Luhan thinks he have not heard it right, the fatigue and rage rolled up inside him
might have been playing games with his mind.
“Why are you even calling, just get rid of him.” Sehun adds with his usual
discontented air.
As much as Luhan refuses to believe what is unfolding, the words do not deceive.
Sehun had just taken out another order to kill, to murder someone — as if the death of
Sato last night had been but a memory from a long time ago. This is exactly the kind
of person Sehun is; people die at his wake, people suffer for no apparent reason but to
render him pleased. A deluge of adrenaline and desperation rushes through Luhan’s
veins, the mop slips off his hand making a solid noise. Without a second thought nor
that human instinct to save his skin, Luhan turns 180 degrees and snatches the phone
off of Sehun’s hands. It is as if all reason is once again forgotten as he hastily walks
near the edge of the deck and hurls the phone to the sea, as far out as he could.
“You sick, filthy good-for-nothing lowlife.” The words snakes out of his gnashed
teeth, in a low rumbling tone. He faces Sehun with no signs of relenting. With a sense
of heightened conviction, he throws his head back and meets Sehun’s calm gaze
straight on. But neither Sehun has the intention of backing off. He walks towards
Luhan, calm and collected.
Raising fine, curved eyebrows, Sehun counters, “You said something,” The distance
between them closes dangerously.
“You heard what I said,” Luhan stiffens at the challenge, “Do you want me to repeat it
for you?”
Sehun takes a cigarette from his pocket and lights it, taking his precious time. He
continues to walk steadily towards Luhan who sees nothing past the smoke and mistry
air. But the strong smell of the cigarette becomes fervent by the second, hinting to
Luhan the drastic diminishing of distance between them. All too quickly, Luhan
comes back to reality, something clicks on his mind as he recognizes what he had just
done.
You stupid- What the hell are you doing?
Apparently, adrenaline and confidence can only take Luhan so far. He swallows hard
as he feels the devil approach, pushing him towards the edge of the deck inch by inch,
until there is nowhere to run to.
Then the worst happens. The ship takes a forceful blow and staggers, the deck shaking
at the turbulence. Luhan’s left foot slips, his entire body out of balance as his back
plummets to the overcast sea. He waddle his arms in front helplessly, and takes hold
of something rigid. Immediately, all smoke and vapour vanish, and the view reveals
his hand clinging to Sehun’s shoulder. Everything happens in a fraction of a second.
Luhan’s hand slides from Sehun’s shoulder to his elbow down to his wrist, leaving red
nail scratches at its trail. Luhan readies himself for the heavy smack of his back
landing in the icy glass of the ocean. His eyes draw to a close.
In a flash, Sehun reaches out and grabs Luhan’s wrist, a current of electricity running
from their touch. Luhan’s eyes open in alarm as Sehun pulls him to safety in one
sweep, inevitably colliding their chests. Shocked by the tense proximity, Luhan’s lips
part open and inescapably draws his captor’s noir scent. For a tick of the clock that
seemed longer than a minute, they remain like that, the strong winds calming upon the
reluctant gap between their faces, the whistle of the sea drifting through Sehun’s
fingers that are mapped to fit the outline of Luhan’s wrist. Luhan can feel his pulse,
rapid beats of anxiety with a hint of hesitation, ramming against Sehun’s skin. Panic
ultimately melts away, replaced with a single thought. Escape, a voice rustles inside
Luhan.
Luhan did not know then what he meant. Although in a concealed part of him, the
answers rest. It was not until later, once the bridges had all been burnt and all possible
retreat have disappeared, that he would realize why he needed to escape, and what
danger — a danger greater than dying — Sehun posed.
“You made a mark,” Sehun says, releasing his hold of Luhan’s wrist.
Within Luhan’s line of sight, Sehun puts his arm slightly forward, the red scratches
revealing in the dusk’s bold light. Luhan is left in doubt until a slow, devastating smile
touches Sehun’s lips. Luhan blinks, feeling lightheaded.
“What did you say,” Amusement flickers in Sehun’s eyes, “sick, filthy good-for-
nothing lowlife,”
“I’m not taking it back.” Luhan swears, not because he is still as furious, but because
there is nothing left to do but go with the flow.
“Then kill me.” Sehun taunts, “If you think I’m that awful. Kill me.”
“Don’t test me.” He answers with a unique force.
Sehun pauses for a while, his compelling stare rivets Luhan to the spot. Then he bursts
into laughter. It is not even scary anymore, as Luhan sees it, the leader of RV laughing
at him is just purely disturbing.
“Why are you so interesting,” Sehun asks while Luhan struggles to think of an answer,
or if he should even give one.
Dull? Now interesting? Make up your mind.
Luhan is about to say something when Jun appears before them, his face an icy mask,
“Hyungnim.”
Sehun turns rigid as he watches Jun’s face. He can already tell just by glancing at him,
something had happened. “Tell me.” He says.
Jun tries to spit the words out, but they cling desperately inside his turned stomach.
“Tell me what the fuck happened.” Sehun orders. From the sidelines, Luhan regards
Jun’s agonized features and Sehun’s tensed face as chill black silence surrounds them.
“Ryu- he- They were ambushed,” Jun drops his stare from Sehun to the deck’s floor,
“Ryu was stabbed.”
“What?” Luhan retorts before Sehun could, shock causing the word to wedge in his
throat. Sehun glances at him for a second, his dark eyebrows arched. Once again, he
turns to Jun, finally giving out an order, “Tell control to head to Seoul,” he shouts,
“Now!”
Jun moves back an inch, the hair in his back prickling in sweat, “Hyungnim, I’m sorry
but…” He swallows, “Busan called. Someone blew up the lab.”

•••

It doesn’t feel right at all. Luhan finds himself in a car beside five of the associates of
RV. He looks over the clock in the dashboard, the blinding red numbers indicating it
was almost midnight. All the members of RV had split up, Sehun had ordered Jun to
head to Busan with twenty of the associates, Ga Yun was left in control in the yacht
with some others, while Luhan and the rest had set off for Itaewon. While it would
have been wiser to stay in the yacht, Luhan had decided to join Sehun and the others
to check up on Ryu. Maybe it was an out-of-time moment, he did not know what
exactly had brought him to such choice. But there he is now, cramped with Sehun’s
brawny underlings, heading to perhaps the most dangerous street in the country, once
again being in the front line of the war.
As they drive around Itaewon, a distance lightning struck, seemingly close enough to
reach them. The thunder grumbles into a low growl while Luhan watches from the
misty window of the car. All houses seemed abandoned, all signposts turned off, the
once rowdy night of Itaewon had become a land of the dead. A woman peeks through
a tattered window, then shuts it as hurriedly upon catching sight of the black limousine
that jets on the street. Everyone knows who they are, and everyone are shaking in their
shoes.
The car finally stops in a deserted parking lot. Luhan follows the ten associates behind
Sehun as they enter a dimly lit warehouse with steel ceiling bulbs that tower from a
high roof. The five associates inside, though bruised and beaten, are still on guard,
standing beside Ryu who lays on a narrow uncomfortable bed.
Sehun looks at the bandage soaked in rusty red, plastered on the left side of Ryu’s
abdomen. “Hyung,” Ryu struggles to sit up but fails. Luhan’s chest painfully heave as
he watches blood drip from Ryu’s body.
“Don’t sit up.” Sehun tells Ryu. Even from a meter away, Sehun can already sense the
reek of fear and guilt from the new member from Guryeong-dong. He need not ask
what had happened. He takes the metal bar lying on Ryu’s bedside.
“Kneel.” Sehun bears a hole into the member’s eyes.
Trembling, the new member drops to his knees. Without any indication, Sehun swings
the solid rod on the member’s back, a thunderous crack explodes in front of Luhan,
and he almost jumps, jolted. None of the associates take a single breath. Sehun strikes
the member once more, this time with more determination and force. A muffled
scream leaves the member’s pale mouth, his whole body collapses on the ground.
“Position.” Sehun says calmly, a hushed tone much more horrifying than the blows he
had been striking. The member kneels once more, battling against the battered bones
in his body.
Three more times, five more times — Luhan loses count of how many times the
member have been hit. In each blow, he turns away, terrorized and in cold sweat.
“If this happens again,” Sehun’s voice slithers into a whisper, “If you cause danger to
another member again, you’re out.”
The drop of the metal bar to the cement causes an unbearable clank. Luhan cannot
help but survey the faces of the associates beside him, nobody - not one of them seem
shaken up nor horror-struck.
“Ryu, stay put.” Sehun says as he heads out, “I’ll kill them all.”
Though it had been all too familiar to Luhan, the darkness in Sehun’s eyes at that
moment strikes him as different, tumultuous and unpredictable. It was no longer
hatred that overwhelmed Luhan, but panic — raw panic. He had ultimately seen a
glimpse of Oh Sehun. The mob leader. The devil.
Shaking off all unreasonable tension, Luhan goes straight to Ryu’s bedside as Sehun
and three associates disappear. A dozen of the associates have been left to guard Ryu,
once again dividing RV into a smaller fraction. It still does not feel right at all.
“Are you okay?” Luhan asks the most stupid question possible.
“Do I look okay?” he banters.
Luhan’s gaze travel to Ryu’s face, and he cannot prevent himself from wincing.
Although Ryu’s placid masculinity remained, there is a blemish of pain, screaming in
his deep hazel eyes. He never noticed it before but there is a small scar that runs from
his bristly eyebrows to the crease of his eyes. The stale smell of blood catches Luhan’s
attention and he sinks his gaze towards the swelling blot of sanguine on the frayed
gauze.
“Your bandages are falling off,” Luhan notices, “There’s some in the car, I’ll get it.”
He says. Before Ryu can protest, Luhan had already disappeared without another
glance.

Only a few meters separate the warehouse from the abandoned parking lot. A few
years back, that lot was a nightclub, a favourite nook of the American soldiers and a
regular arena for bar fights and nasty brawls. It was bought by RV, by Sehun himself,
after he had affirmed that he liked the “music.” Most of the associates thought Sehun
would continue the club business, but instead, he turned it into nothing but a patch of
cement — an adjacent parking space to one of his hundreds of exigency warehouses.
Now it stood desolate, apart from traces of cigarette butts and broken liquor bottles, no
 evidence of what had once stood remain.
Luhan’s mind is blank as he walks deeper into the parking space. It is chillingly silent,
he can hear his own feet scraping the cement at each step. He stops in his tracks upon
seeing Sehun and his three men just standing stiffly with their backs turned, a few
meters away from him. Luhan squints his eyes to get a better look, and abruptly,
Sehun turns to his direction. Like a fish on land, a kid on foreign grounds, Luhan is
left bewildered. Heavy footsteps begin reverberating from behind him and the
unforeseen peril becomes clear, the shock of discovery hitting him in full force. More
than twenty men, none of which he had ever seen, are running towards him in an
inhumane speed, their fists ready to land on his shuddering body.
Hyperventilating, Luhan steps back. His legs tremble at each movement, his stomach
persistently churning. He stumbles backwards from a shattered bottle and his body
fails him, driving him to the cold ground. In a matter of seconds, a robust man’s fist is
inches away from his face. It is the end. Luhan’s throat closes as he braces himself for
the severe blow.
But no punch lands. Luhan blazes his eyes open and sees Sehun blocking the man’s
concrete fist with his bare hand. Without delay, Sehun crumples the man’s fist and
twists his arm. He strikes the man’s jaw with his free hand and slams him cruelly into
the rock pavement. The man screams as blood begins to drench his face, oozing red in
his clothes. A shiver of alarm paralyzes Luhan the moment Sehun takes a steel hook
blade out, fastened to his knuckles with a guard in a lethal cast. He grabs the man’s
head and brings the knife up to his throat.
Sehun’s brutal gaze swings to Luhan, “Run.” He commands.
But Luhan cannot pull himself up, he cannot stand up. He cannot make a single joint
of his body move.
“Now!” Sehun lashes at him.
But Luhan does not hear a thing. His ears go numb, his body quivering with the height
of his horrified heartbeat. The three associates of Sehun are grappling with a dozen
men, and they are losing in number. Someone is choking, sweat and blood hurtling.
All Luhan can hear is the splintering of bones, the cracking of jaws, the rupturing of
skin.
“Together,” Luhan retorts hastily, “Let’s run together.” The words escape his mouth
before any sense could restrain them.
“Together,”
Luhan retorts
hastily, “Let’s run
together.” The
words escape his
mouth before any
sense could
restrain them.
Maybe Sehun heard nothing, maybe Luhan didn't really say it, maybe it rested merely
in his mind like a desperate measure too far-fetched to linger, yet too resolute to
disappear. Sehun's eyes slide down to Luhan's and flashes a familiar display of
blankness. Withholding any response, Sehun turns his back and slit the enemy's
throat, the brutal incision leaving an accurate line of wound.
Coppery thick red sputters from the body that soon turns into a well of blood. A
sickening tug rolls on Luhan's stomach before his palms drop to the cement, purge
gushing out of his mouth. Once more, it visits him, the intrusive desire to lose
conciousness. His vision swims into a blur as he throws his hands over his face. He
can faint all he wants later. But not yet. Not now. Luhan shakes his head violently and
blots of black begin to cloud his sight. Desperate to stay conscious, he digs his nails
deeper onto the flesh of his palm, the redness bit by bit turning into liquid.
Sehun had already gone a meter away with three bodies on his trail. Luhan faintly
sees a brawny man charge towards Sehun but in impeccable timing, Sehun throws a
bold kick that lands on the man’s neck and rams him into the floor, knocked out. He
moved fast, from one foe to another, so much so that a single blink had prevented
Luhan from seeing how they all ended up on the ground, bleeding and with no signs
of survival. But Sehun’s strength cannot be enough, not when his men aren’t even
half the fighter he is. As seconds of the struggle pass by, the odds of RV conquering
the ten folds of enemies before them diminish.
"Hyungnim!" One of the RV men calls out to Sehun, before striking down all enemies
within arm's length.
He drags Sehun away from the battlefield while their two comrades fend off the rest
of the enemies in the losing end of the combat. Sheer black fright sweeps through
Luhan. They're running away, leaving him to be fed to the blood-hungry men.
Then and there he succumbs to fading away, slowly. Slowly letting darkness take
hold of him. Is this a decent way to draw one's last breath? Will he be stabbed,
strangled, beaten to pulp? Will they take him, torture him then end him? On one final
note, he'd rather die this way — as if it it had been no one else's but his decision to
take his life.
"Get a hold of yourself!" a deep-timbred voice cuts through Luhan's thoughts.
In one sharp blow, icy palm strikes Luhan's cheek, the throbbing pain spreading like
wildfire in his flesh, "Wake up!" the voice bellows.
Luhan darts his gaze upwards, instantly wide awake, his umber eyes meeting Sehun's
dark ones. In a sudden, Luhan sees a razor-sharp knife accurately aimed at Sehun's
back.
"Watch out!" Luhan rips the words from his throat.
The rusty steel hits Sehun's shoulder, lacerating his skin. His defences fortify then as
he seizes the blade and overpowers the enemy's hold, his palm now dripping with
crimson red. He throws the enemy's weapon away, takes his own and without delay,
impales the man in the chest.
What happened next becomes unclear to Luhan. Sehun reaches out and clutches his
hand, hauling him at full speed towards the deeper end of the parking space. Luhan
finds himself inside a car, beside him, Sehun crushes the gas pedal with no
reservations, the car zooming like an arrow released from a bow.
Everything should feel calmer now, but Luhan is far from grasping any form of
security. A thread of hysteria keeps tugging on him, Sehun's hand that clutched the
brake is leaking red, the wound in his back staining his shirt vermillion. Luhan is
about to faint once again.
"...help the men in the parking lot. Call Ryu, you need to move to Shindo." Sehun is
talking to someone over the phone. His voice echoes in Luhan's ears, but the words
become hazy in his fatigue mind.
Luhan is on the brink of passing out, "... a shirt." he hears Sehun say.
"Luhan!" Sehun's temper flare and Luhan's eyes fly open, "I said get a shirt from the
back."
Sehun's fingers leisurely release the buttons of his shirt, one by one, until he arrives at
the final clasp. He lets the shirt slide to his arms and back, then finally removes it
altogether. More than the rich outlines of his shoulders, his chest broad and defined,
what is particularly arresting in his vigour is the nonchalant grace with which he
moved. The need to faint completely dissipates from Luhan's system as he sits there,
blank, shaken and caught off guard by his captor's actions.
"Do you want me to walk around shirtless," Sehun mocks.
Well that's a thought.
A few seconds and alas, Luhan is back to reality. He squeezes himself in the shy gap
of the seats and clumsily makes it to the back of the car. He sees a huge luggage bag
stacked with heaps of folded white shirts. He takes one and realizes that the struggle
earlier is nothing but a daily occupational hazard for RV.
Once again, he crams himself back to the front seat and by chance, glimpses upon the
RV leader's inked body. The black pigment of tattoo runs across Sehun's entire back
through the length of his spine. The intricately drawn patterns contrasting sharp and
soft edges. One who looks at it may think that the bits and pieces of design assemble
into a bigger picture, but at the center lies a distraction, an image of a compass, that
draws the onlooker in.

The car finally stops at a high-rise hotel in Sowol-ro. Strangely, the receptionist does
not ask for any form of information, and in fact does not dare speak a word. Odder
even is her indifference to Luhan's soiled clothes or Sehun's bloodied hands. She
quietly leads them to a suite at the topmost floor, gives the key and takes her leave.
Luhan remains standing in the doorway as he surveys the room, clinical white and
almost empty except for a bed and two bedside tables. Sehun turns to face him with
lethal calmness in his eyes. Momentarily confused, Luhan struggles to look at
something else. Why is it always like this in front of this man? Always a fight or
flight situation, a kill or be killed, a dire, dangerous twist of luck and disaster.
Sehun's tall figure strides towards Luhan who blindly retreats into the comfort of the
doorway. The RV leader moves past him blankly and approaches the bar a few inches
on his left. He pops open a bottle of bourbon and sits casually on the bed.
"In the drawer." Sehun says.
"What?" Luhan asks, realizing he had been holding his breath.
"The drawer," he drawls impatiently.
Inside the drawer is a compact sewing kit, with a set of small needles and a spool of
black thread. Luhan knows where things are leading and it is to a place he refuses to
go.
"Sit." Sehun instructs, before turning his back.
He then undresses, revealing the wound surrounded with red pellets in his back.
Without a second thought, Luhan shuts his eyes.
"I– I can't." Luhan says in a tone of a desperate plead.
"What now," Sehun demands in a casual, almost amused way.
"Do it yourself!" Luhan shouts and throws the sewing kit onto the bed.
Luhan turns his heel abruptly and heads for the door. But before he can take another
step, Sehun urges, "Sit down." his voice, steady and resolute, slithers like a threat.
"I can't– I really can't do it." Luhan admits, resigning to the fact that as much as he
wants to walk out, he is not in a position to. After all, he is his captive. Captive, the
word intrudes his head.
"Luhan," Sehun calls out rather calmly, "if I have to ask you one more time I might
stab you."
Luhan doesn't know what consequence it will bring about if he tells his captor about
his particular frailty. But in the days he had spent with him, he had learned that Sehun
never makes an empty threat.
"I can't because I'll faint." Luhan murmurs, his face flushed with humiliation.
Sehun's brows draw together, "Faint," he repeats, "You'll faint."
Vexation heightens out of nowhere, Luhan's face pale in anger, "Yes, faint!" he
seethes and the words slip carelessly, "I'm hemophobic, okay?"
Silence ensues. Does he know what hemophobia means?Luhan wonders as Sehun
merely gapes at him with his frigid gaze. But in the next instant, Luhan's inquiry is
answered. Sehun throws his head back and bursts out laughing.
"You're scared of blood?" Sehun exclaims as if it were the most amusing joke he had
ever heard, "You unlucky kid," he muses, half-laughing, half-jesting.
Luhan is not quite sure which to process first, the fact that Sehun now knows his
weakness or that he is actually capable of laughing. When Sehun laughs, his eyes
crinkle a bit, his brow knit for a moment — too gentle, too natural for a usually
uptight person.
An endless chokes of laughter after, Sehun finally gives it a rest. Luhan's hemophobia
is in fact not as grave as in a lot cases. Seeing his own blood doesn't affect him much.
However, when he sees an uncurbed amount of someone else's blood and the source
of the wound, all hell breaks loose.
"Sit down," Sehun orders once again.
Of course, as if he will let me off. Luhan does as his captor says, sits behind him, and
tries his hardest to look at anything except the slash of wound. His gaze focuses on
the compass tattoo at the center and realizes that the usual north, east, west, and south
symbols have been replaced with D, S, X, and I. Luhan begins to wonder what they
all mean.
A surge of bourbon trickles down Sehun's wound as he tilts the bottle on his shoulder.
"Give me the needle," he commands.
"I will faint." Luhan insists. But Sehun pretends to hear nothing. He takes the needle
forcibly and douses it inside the bottle.
He hands it over to Luhan, "Stitch it up. Zigzag to top."
"I'm telling you I will faint!" Luhan retorts in sarcasm.
"Better finish before you faint then."
The first look at the wound causes a raw chill to ram Luhan's twisted insides, a sick
feeling of his guts being turned over repeatedly. All he wants is for the agony to end.
He punctures the bottom part of the gash with the needle, fingers shaking and hands
clammy. By the time he reaches the middle part of the laceration, he begins to see
double. With his free hand, he unconsciously clings to Sehun's left shoulder, clasps it,
then grips it in discomfort.
Sehun can hear the quick uptakes of breath from his captive's mouth, his right hand
shaking as he pushes the needle to his flesh and out. The suture finally reaches the
top, "Knot it," he commands. But there's no response.
He turns to face Luhan whose hands slide off of his shoulder. Swiftly, Luhan's head
falls to Sehun's chest, his thin weak body leaning on his bare figure. Unsure of his
next move, Sehun raises his hands to avoid the seemingly excessive physical contact.
A flash of wonder outlines his face, "As if he was the one who was stabbed and
stitched up," he thinks aloud.

•••

Blinding light hits from the window to the hotel room. Luhan blankets his sight with
the back of his hands and begins to feel ache all over. Why had he slept on the floor?
Events of last night surface in his memory, gradually at first, then an eruption.
That son of a– He practically forced me to faint then threw me to the floor.
Luhan turns to the bed and sees the devil sleeping without a care in the world. For a
moment, Luhan's evil alter ego thinks of smothering him with the pillow. But another
thought takes over — Sehun is asleep and the door is a meter away. In the famous
words of Gibson : Freedom.
Without so much as a breath, Luhan sneaks to the door, then twists the knob ever so
lightly–
"This hotel," Sehun interrupts, "I own it."
The sarcasm in Sehun's remark grates on Luhan whose lips had thinned with
irritation. Sehun had said, put simply, that it doesn't matter if Luhan does make it out
of the door because in the first place, the hotel won't let him out.
"I was just going to get some air." Luhan mumbles, as if there's any point in lying.
"Right." A hint of sarcasm rings in Sehun's words. He sits up and dials the phone on
the bedside, "I'm going down now," he informs the person over the phone. He then
turns to Luhan, and gives him a once-over from the thread of hair sticking out of his
head to his feet, "Get out of my face, you look like–." he flings repulsively on Luhan's
form, "Go."
How can I get out of his face if I can't even leave the room?Luhan resorts to hiding
inside the bathroom. He locks the door muttering curses to himself then chances upon
the mirror.
Horror pales his face as he looks at his reflection, "Who are you?" He mouths a
hushed whisper as he ogles his corpse-like frame. His hair is rumpled like it had been
turned into a perm, patches of bruises covered in grime and soil plaster his face,
fatigue settling in pockets under her eyes. Even worse, his tattered clothes cling to his
body like seam tape to a frayed thatched roof. "Who are you?" His panic increases by
the minute.
At the far-end of the bathroom lies a tall wooden cabinet stocked with fresh sets of
clothes, towels and bath essentials. The water from the shower is hot as it runs
through his aching and chilled body. The cherry blossom scent permeates his nostrils
and washes away his tiredness. He wants to stay an hour longer in the shower but
when he hears the main door of the room shut, he decides it's time to get going.
Walking out of the bathroom, Luhan feels his mood suddenly buoyant. For the first
time in days, he feels blissfully and fully alive. Sehun is no longer inside the room
and he had left no clue as to where he had gone to either. Luhan sees the phone and
immediately thinks of calling his mom. Will they find out?he wonders momentarily
before settling that it doesn't matter if they do. He dials her number, eyes darting
cautiously to the door.
"Hello?" The gentle softness of Mei's voice lulls Luhan to a familiar place of peace.
"Mom," is all his tear-smothered voice can muster, "Mom." He swallows hard and
rigidly holds back the sobs but ultimately yields to weeping away the anguish that
sears his heart. He recalls the unbidden memories of the past days and the ache. He
just wants to go home.
"It's okay Luhan." Mei whispers.
"Six months... and all will finally be back to normal," he tells her, though in truth, it is
himself he is talking to, himself he is trying to comfort.
"Tell me where you are Luhan."
"I can't," he protests, "if I do anything against the deal, they won't let me go. They
won't let us go." he cradles the phone tightly, "You have to trust me."
"I do." she quickly replies. "I'm in China right now, I'm looking for your Uncle." she
says, "We'll find a way to get to you Luhan."
"Don't be stubborn Ma." Luhan forces a smile, "I'll see you soon." And against his
entirety, he hangs up.
When did things become so desperate, so helpless? Luhan pauses, too tired to even
wipe the tears. If he ever makes it out of this mess alive, will he still live after having
seen first-hand the cruelty of the world? Perhaps yes, perhaps because it is not the
first time he had seen such inhumanity. An invasive knock brings Luhan to the
present. He scrubs his face quickly to conceal all signs of despair.
The receptionist had informed Luhan that Sehun is in the building's balcony the same
floor as their room. Sehun has a thing for open spaces, Luhan concludes as he
watches him sitting amidst the veranda, scotch neat on one hand, cigarette on another.
All evidences point that he might be alcoholic too. Who drinks liquor at eight in the
morning?
Passing two motionless bodyguards in the entrance, Luhan reluctantly walks towards
Sehun. Sehun signals him to take a seat in front of a sumptuous plate of lemon seed
waffles and brussel sprouts. Too famished to argue, he disregards the thought that the
meal might not be for him and instead, digs in hastily. Sehun, who does not seem to
mind, watches as Luhan takes a bite after another, not giving himself even a second to
chew. How can a small person eat so much?
"If you ever try and escape from me again," Sehun says out of nowhere, "I won't think
twice of killing you."
Luhan thinks he had lost his appetite. "I want to eat in peace." he declares.
"We made a deal," Sehun reminds him, "I keep my word. In six months, you're out."
"Will I be out alive or out dead?" Luhan replies with heavy irony.
"Alive."
"Good to know."
"Unless you piss me off and I change my mind."
The misleading diplomacy of the moment turns sour when Sehun's phone rings. He
looks at the screen and a muscle flicks angrily at his jaw. He did not expect the call
from Circum Mensam to come so soon. They couldn't even give him a day to
convalesce his losses. People are too predictable, when one triumphs, idle talk spreads
in an unhurried pace, but when someone stumbles upon a demise, news sells like
drugs with discount.
“We heard what happened… we deeply apologize.” It is Nuri on the other end of the
line. His voice, as always, is oddly lenient but by no means uncompromising.
“Stop this bullshit Nuri and give me the word.” Sehun had always liked Nuri’s
pretentiousness, his infamous style of coaxing the enemy before spearing him behind
with a knife. Now that he is experiencing it though, it is no longer appealing, but
rather offending.
“Your meth cook had been circling around the slums, to the pit holes of Seoul, to
those wannabe juveniles and poor bums.” Nuri says, "You've broken the rule you
yourself made Sehun."
The RV leader finds himself in a defending stance, an inferior, degrading position,
“You know me Nuri. I don't sell drugs to children.”
“Well apparently you just did.”
His cynicism scrapes Sehun, “Stop this nonsense before I threaten you. You know
well enough what is happening. Akita is kicking off a war, trying to get RV Korea off
the table. He blew up my lab and sold my drugs to set me up. If you do not know this,
then I am the stupid one. Letting you idiotic bastards rule my organization. Watch me
destro-”
“Sehun,” Nuri cuts him off, “As a friend, I advise you to be cautious about your next
words.”
Control. Sehun’s weakest spot. The Circum Mensam is not a puppet nor a spectacle.
They are real — the six board members behind RV that controls all subordinates, RV
Korea, Japan, China, Russia, Europe and US. Their authority is as real as the threat
blinding Sehun’s eyes. And though Sehun is a good friend of Nuri, an esteemed
member of Circum Mensam, there's no saying what can happen once the war breaks
out. As far as Sehun knows, he can trust Nuri as far as he can throw him.
“What does Circum plan to do about this,” Sehun demands.
“We are cutting all your drug trade. And-“
“Give me a break!” Sehun slams his fist atop the table. Luhan, a mere spectator, drops
the spoon in surprise.
“For now Sehun. For now.” Nuri persists, “If we don’t do this, the rest of RV will
protest. When they do, and I assure you they will, the first plan in their agenda is to
remove RV Korea off the leading position.”
“And then what,” he sputters, bristling with contempt.
“Akita had just gotten Russia’s backing. You do know right? His next task is to gain
China’s. Once he does, that’d be half of RV against you. Who’s to say that once that
happens, Europe and US will still be by your side? I mean let’s face it, you’re not the
best tool in the shed when it comes to socializing.”
“What are you saying,”
“You need to get China under your wing, as quickly as you can. Get Guozhi on your
side.”
“Guozhi, that pervert maniac.” He makes a sound of disgust, “I'd rather jump off this
terrace.”
“Akita might push you himself if you don't.” Nuri says, “Listen. As of the moment,
Guozhi is the life jacket. Take it before you drown. I don't care how you get his
approval. Do what is necessa–”
Sehun hurls his phone to the ground, numb with surging rage. The handset hits the
marble then thunderously shatters into pieces of broken glass and frame. He wants to
break something else, beat up someone and release his pent-up wrath. Life jacket?
There's no way Guozhi would take his side. They had always hated each other from
the get-go and Sehun couldn't be any more thankful. He abhorred the idea of
associating himself to an obviously deranged person.
Surprised by Sehun's sudden outburst, Luhan almost chokes on the food. Questions
hammer at Luhan as to why Sehun is enraged. He believes, or at least hopes, that the
situation can't get any worse than last night. But RV seems to define worse as
synonymous to hell. Who knows what can happen next?
Sehun calls over one of the bodyguards, "Call Ryu, we need to leave for China
today."
China? Today?Panic riots within Luhan. Could it be that RV found out about his call
to his mom? Could it be that they found out that she is staying in China to look for his
uncle? In vain, Luhan attempts to steady his erratic pulse. RV has more pressing
matters to fix, he tells himself, even if they knew that I talked to my mom, they won't
prioritize coming after her over the coup.
But no words can calm him down, "I'm coming with." Luhan blurts.

•••

By nightfall, a small group of RV arrives at a port in Liaoning Province, northeastern

of China. There is something suffocating in the warehouse that they step into. It is
poorly lit and dusty, with hard and cold concrete floors that reverberates the
overlapping steps they make. The only light in the room is atop the stacked crates on
the center, across which a stout and grey-haired man in his forties sits. He is
surrounded by robust men in obsidians suits, all heavily armed and rightfully vigilant.
Cautiously, Sehun and his men walk forward, footsteps thundering, and stop in front
of him.
"Sehun," the man acknowledges, but makes no effort to stand up, "What could have
brought you this far?" he asks with amused wonder.
The RV leader takes the chair and sits without being invited, pulling out a stick from
his packet and lighting it. Luhan, who had been standing behind Ryu, peeks faintly,
mind reeled with confusion. He instantly regrets having gone with them to such place
where any movement can trigger an all-out combat.
"I see you even brought the entire family." the unknown man says, eyes fixated on
Ryu, Jun and Ga Yun, "And Ga Yun, of course, you are free to come anytime you
want." a provocative tone is carried in his remark.
Sehun rushes a smoke and finally replies, "Guozhi, I know you know why I'm here,"
he retorts in impatience, "Tell me what you want and let's get this over with."
"No pleasantries then," Guozhi's grin turns up a notch, "Busan and Incheon. Give me
those and my trust is yours."
Sehun chuckles with a dry, jaundiced sound, "You still haven't gone to the
psychiatrist like I told you," he jests. Guozhi's wide beam drops to a hostile glare.
"My drug operations are there," Sehun's laugh breaks off, "You're crazier than I
thought if you think I'd give those to you."
"You know I'm not the forcing type." Guozhi says.
Sehun puts off the cigarette butt on the crate between him and Guozhi, "I knew this
could only go two ways," he stands up and shoves his hands onto his pocket, "I'd have
to admit though, I was hoping you'd choose the one that gets you killed."
Those words were all it took for chill black silence to envelope the room. In the blink
of an eye, all of the men inside the warehouse have taken out their guns, propped in
assault position and pointed at their enemies' heads and chests.
"Get behind me," Ryu tells Luhan. With a pang, Luhan glances at Ryu who has
winced in pain. He has not yet recovered. All of the men of RV Korea has yet to
recover from last night's attack. The dangerous waters just get deeper and deeper each
second.
"Let's see," Sehun murmurs, "I know you've been having late nights with Araya." he
 turns to Guozhi, "How stupid can you be to sleep with a Circum member's wife?"
Guozhi's expression clouds in anger, "You won't have the chance to breathe a word,"
he lashes, "You want to know why you'll lose to Akita, Sehun?" a ripple of humor
twitches his mouth, "because you're too focused on your cause. You never see the
bigger picture."
Something clicks on Sehun's mind. He almost tumbles as he impatiently pulls his
thoughts together, "We have to go back," he stood frozen, "Now."
The RV men retreats warily, guns still pointed right at the last moment. All that can
be heard from the warehouse then is Guozhi's wretched laugh that eerily echoes
through the dilapitated walls.

Everything becomes clear when they reach the Shindo mansion. Sehun drags himself
to the door, and one can tell, he is expecting something, cringing from the grim
images in his mind. Behind him, his three premiers follow. Sehun pushes the door
open. A long, brittle silence looms over them, soon severed by shallow, quick and
breathless gasps.
Following Ryu, Luhan remains oblivious to the incident. He takes a few steps forward
and a strong odour pummels him, the smell of stale blood swamped in cauterized
flesh. His stomach turns inside out, the stink too strong it burns in his eyes. He pushes
himself forward through a number of people.
What is happening?
Focusing his gaze, Luhan recognizes outlines of corpses piled up in unswerving
precision. His body stiffens as he blinks uncontrollably. This can't be right. Too
surprised, too frightened to move or to even look away, Luhan hears a voice inside
him, shut your eyes!
In a fraction of a second, Sehun throws his arm around Luhan's head, placing his palm
on his eyes. Luhan enters a state of dull pain, there's no fighting back the tears that
begin to tremble on his eyelids.
The moment you
witness someone
die, a part of you
is locked away in a
prison of guilt,
confusion and
hopelessness. It
doesn't matter if
that person is an
acquaintance
you've talked to
for a few minutes,
a friend you've
known for years,
or a stranger
you've merely
bumped into —
there's always
something injust
about death, about
its cruel, cast-iron
finality. The worst
part is the time, no
matter how quick
death comes, the
grief that follows
inevitably stays
and holds on
longer.
It has been two weeks since the incident happened. To the inattentive eye, everything
might seem normal. But all of it is a facade, an attempt to camouflage the severity of
the catastrophe RV faced. In the length of a night, stakes were raised and tables were
turned. RV is treading new waters, Sehun and the men have decided to move back to
the yacht, they are on the run, and every minute that wears on escalates the possibility
of their utter destruction.
"It's Nuri." Sehun spits out the name contemptuously. At the round table, Ryu, Ga
Yun and Jun trade knowing looks. There is no need to spell things out, Nuri had sided
with Akita and had betrayed them. A surge of fury drills through Sehun's chest as he
stands up, flattens his palms on the rigid surface of the table, the muscles of his arm
hardening beneath his sleeve, "Guozhi. Nikolai. Nuri. Akita." For two weeks, he had
thought of nothing else, "We do it in this order."
Not one of the members across Sehun shows any signs of relenting.
"Tonight, we remove Guozhi off the board for good." Sehun avows. "Ryu and Jun,
you take care of the warehouse, bring at least half of our men. These are your entry
points," Sehun's finger connects to the map spread out atop the table, "They'll be
caught off guard so there won't be any problem. Unless extremely necessary, do not
open fire." he commands, "Is that clear,"
"Nae hyung." they answer quickly.
"Ga Yun, you and I will be heading to a hotel in Dalian. We won't be bringing any
men with us and there might be a struggle, but we need to get in and out as fast as we
can."
"I've already talked to the mole like you said. He'll be waiting for us once we get
there," Ga Yun says.
"Good. And one more thing," Sehun directs to all three of them, "once we get off in
Dalian, the yacht should continue sailing southeast. Tell the men who'll be left here to
come back only when we're done with the job. Do you understand,"
"Nae hyung," they bow before withdrawing from the room.
Sehun takes a hit from his cigarette and guzzles the whiskey. It is still ten hours away
from the operation, but he can already savour the fringe of gaining the upper
hand. Once Guozhi is dead, all that'd be left to do is procure his assets and steal all
that can be stolen, rendering the execution of the kill one of the best traps Sehun had
ever hatched.

Unaware of the meeting at the other side of the yacht, Luhan is inside his room, deep
in thought. An image of his brother invades and rests in his mind. Inner torment
begins to gnaw at him as he realizes that the past days, he had been repeatedly casting
his mind back to the ill-fated event of seven years ago. And then there comes the
demise of two weeks ago. He may loathe RV, may curse them, may covet their
misfortune, but he never sought for them to meet their end. While he may yammer
about them dying, not once did he sombrely mean it. Those men, no matter what
cruelty they've done, do not deserve to die.
He gets out of his room and walks towards the kitchen. He remembers the first time
he had step foot on the yacht, how he was ostracized by everyone. And yet in the past
two weeks, he had been feeling more and more out of harm's way. He passes by a
couple of men who look lost and confused, defeated by the loss of their comrades.
The yacht feels almost empty, in every sense of the word — empty in number, empty
in morale.
In the outdoor dining room, a huddle of men gathers round the table filled with
random things, from photos to clothes to small bowie knives and knuckle guards. All
stern and to the brink of seeming lifeless, the men talk over what to do with the
belongings of the members who passed away. Luhan moves to stand behind Ryu and
instantly feels like he too, is weighed down by the misery of vacantness. It is when
one sees what the departed has left that the realization comes — the realization that
they are no longer coming back.
"I think it's best we put them all in a crate then keep them here somewhere," one of
the members suggests.
"Wouldn't it be better to leave them on sea?" Another says.
Many nod decisively. "We'll drop the crate from the open deck."
"It'd be like honoring their memory."
"We can all be there." some one adds.
"Hyung," one of the men turns to Ryu, "is it okay if you say a few words too? Before
we release the crate?"
Ryu gives a brief nod and small smiles light up the men's faces. An odd spark of
warmth ignites in Luhan for he doesn't think he has ever experienced an emotion more
human than at that moment.
Sehun appears on the doorway and instantly, sympathy loses its momentum. The men
prudently study their leader's bland, unspeaking expression while crisp silence looms
over the room.
"Stop this nonsense," Sehun says, "start preparing for our operation." Then he walks
out effortlessly, indifferent to the sentiments he had trampled over and the honor of
the memories he had crushed.
Luhan's mood veers instantly to anger. Once again, he loses control, thoughts racing
violently as he allows the amber fire inside him to lead the way. His footsteps bellow
on the hall as he darts to Sehun's room. He shoves the door open and storms the space
without a moment of hesitation. Sehun, who was knocking back a glass of whiskey,
turns to him with a blank face.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Luhan lashes out, wrath rising in his eyes, "These
people trusted you! They believed you wouldn't let anything happen to them, and yet–
" his breath burned his throat, "And now you can't even respect them enough to let
them grieve?"
Jaw clenched and eyes narrowed, Sehun stares at Luhan. White noise stretches like
rubber pulled from two distant ends. Sehun throws the glass of liquor against the wall
an inch from where Luhan is standing. The splintering of the glass torpedoes in
Luhan's ears. Shock hits him at maximum force.
"Get out." Sehun orders in a quiet, chilling voice.
Shaking in part outrage and part fear, Luhan refuses to budge. Not this time. His
temper and raw emotions that are never in check always gets him into trouble, but he
isn't backing down. Not today.
"Luhan," Ryu calls out. Luhan did not notice him come in. "There's something I need
you to do." he says. Without another word, he drags Luhan out of the room.
Ryu closes the door behind him and sees Luhan clamping his fists continually to
recover his nerves. "Have you lived long enough you wanted to die?" he sputters,
"Come on."
Luhan is hushed, not calm, but shaken. He walks behind Ryu, not bothering to ask
where they're going, and soon finds himself in the yacht's spacious veranda, the cold
air witness to his diminishing anger.
"I think I'm finally getting to know you." Ryu takes a seat and gestures Luhan to do
the same.
"What do you mean?"
"You just really had to vent your thoughts, didn't you?" a glint of humor crosses Ryu's
face.
"I can't help it when he is such an ass–" Luhan blurts and quickly regrets his choice of
words. After all, Sehun is still Ryu's boss.
Ryu erupts into a laugh, "He isan ass." A gentle smile glints Luhan's face.
"To be honest, I hate all of you." Luhan confesses. Ryu merely nods as he continues,
"But what happened to those men... Even I can't accept that. That's why I don't get
why Sehun can act so unfeeling, so heartless."
Ryu takes a breath, "Even if Sehun is sorry, even if he regrets what happened, we
wouldn't want him to show any emotion."
"Why?"
"You have to understand that he is the leader of RV. If he does show any emotion
about anything, anything at all, he wouldn't be fit to be our leader."
Luhan pauses. He processes Ryu's words and assesses them. "But still..." Luhan
shakes his head slightly. It's hard to understand mostly because he can't imagine being
in Sehun's position. Someone like Sehun, who had reached a high-ranking position in
the brutal depths of a criminal organization like RV, the things he had to do, the
decisions he had to make, the people he had to kill, to lose — could he have survived
all those and still remained human? For the first time, he feels pity overwhelm him.
He is sorry to a man he hates intensely.
Ryu senses his bafflement, "Luhan, this isn't the first time we've had to bury friends,
families."
"It might not be. But it isn't the kind of thing you can get used to."
Ryu's shoulders drop down an inch.
"Ryu, can I ask you something?" Luhan cautions, "Why are you in RV? Why do you
believe so much in Sehun?"
Luhan fears he asked the wrong question when Ryu stands up. But he then directs him
to walk with him once more. As they go back inside the yacht, Ryu answers, "When
Sehun's dad died, he was next to the position. He was eighteen when he became RV's
leader. About the same time, I joined too. Back then, he was given a task, an
impossible task for a boy his age, a task to prove his worth. He set for the task, came
back, and it was done."
His dad died? A task?Luhan ponders and tries to picture an eighteen-year old Sehun.
"I think what made people loyal to Sehun, more than finishing the task, was how he
handled everything. He never showed a side of him that was afraid or hesitant... In
this kind of business, we need to choose sides, and people choose to be under Sehun
because he never thinks twice, never backs down." he pauses, "Two years passed and
under Sehun's rule, RV Korea got the leading position in the organization. Of all the
leaders of the six countries, he was most respected, most powerful. Nothing like this
ever happened. Till Akita appeared a year ago. He has had it with Sehun since then.
And well, you know the rest."
"Do you think we will win?" The words surprise Luhan, as if it were not his own, but
that of a stranger he'll never come to know.
Ryu merely glances at him then leads him to a room. Luhan has been here before, he
takes note. He inspects the conjested pin board that extends from one corner of the
wall to another. Stacks of documents and photos tacked onto the board occupy it
completely. Red strings thread one thumb tack to another, linking all of the pieces and
drawing them to the center, a photo of Guozhi.
"Nuri has been a close friend of Sehun for 7 years." Ryu says, "Two weeks ago, he
betrayed us. And this week, his picture will be up there," he points to Guozhi's photo,
"Anyone whose picture goes up there has his death decided. There's no way around
it... So you see why we will win. Because–"
"Because Sehun can kill a friend if he needs to." Luhan cuts in.
Ryu responds sharply, "Because he can kill anyone if he decides to."
A drop of fear courses through Luhan for although he had seen Sehun kill someone in
front of him, what really tears in his insides is the emotion in his face, or rather, the
lack thereof. But still there is a fragment in him, which he swears he won't let see the
light of day, that grieves for his captor.
•••

At exactly 6 pm, Sehun and the men set off for Dalian. An hour and fifty one minutes
later, they land. The timing is key. Sehun immediately dispatches Ryu, Jun and a
couple of their aides to Guozhi's warehouse, while he and Ga Yun proceed to a cloak-
and-dagger hotel at Wanquan street.
Inside the car, Sehun takes out his steel hook blade and tucks it away in one of the
compartments. Ga Yun hands him a heavy-duty armor case, he opens it and grabs a
.45 ACP pistol. He ejects the magazine, loads it with fifteen slugs then pushes it into
the hand grip, prompting a resolute, sharp click. Suppressor mounted and locked in
place. Safety disengaged.
"Bring another .45." he turns to Ga Yun, "Seven minutes then we're out. Stash the
syringe somewhere there." he points to her skimpy bodycon dress.
The car halts at an unfrequented place near the back exit of the hotel. A devastating
smile finds its way to Sehun's features, the anticipation and adrenaline fluxing onto
one objective. There's nothing more satisfying than revenge.
They walk to a shadowed area where one of the hotel's staff waits, carrying a rolled
masseuse's uniform and a room key. He hands them to Ga Yun, his hands trembling,
and darts a look at the overcast outline of the RV leader.
"We appreciate your cooperation," Ga Yun says.
"Six minutes." Sehun says before shooting the hotel staff twice in the head. Not
wasting any second, he and Ga Yun enter the hotel. While walking, Ga Yun slips the
uniform over her dress, places the matching pillbox hat atop her head, and stows the
syringe inside her pocket. They reach the elevator. Sehun presses the topmost floor,
the penthouse. Thirty-three seconds. Three guards are waiting outside the suite's door.
The elevator doors open. The three guards look up and meet's Sehun's narrow stare,
surprise stiffens their bodies as they quickly reach for their guns. But in five seconds,
they all hit the floor, a ring of red burning in their foreheads. "Five minutes." Sehun
says. He drags the bodies behind the door to the fire exit then takes Ga Yun's gun
from her, "You have one minute to get it done."
Ga Yun rings the doorbell and a melodic chime pulsates through the hall. One of the
five bodyguards inside the room peeps through the hole and scans the masseuse's
nametag. He lets her in and directs her to the master suite. There, Guozhi is plumped
on the bed, lying on his belly with arms under a pillow, head turned to the side.
"What took you so long?" Guozhi says sleepily, not bothering to glance at his escort.
"Sorry," Ga Yun moves towards him, "Had to kill someone on the way."
Guozhi looks up in shock, blood instantly siphoning his face pale. He struggles to
open his mouth and call on his men but before he can breathe a syllable, Ga Yun
drives two fingers onto the flesh of his neck where his collar sits, targeting the carotid
artery in brutal accuracy. Guozhi is completely paralyzed.
Outside, Sehun readies his guns as he counts down to one minute. He walks back to
the penthouse door with two guns, one clutched tightly on each hand, then punches in
the room's card key. Thirty three seconds. He shoves the door wide open then props
on the edge of the frame. One of the bodyguards goes out to investigate. Sehun prods
the tip of his pistol on the side of the man's head then pulls the trigger. He launches
into the room then fires at the two bodyguards directly across him, two shots on the
skull. The other two reach for their weapon but at warp speed, Sehun instinctively
takes them on, blazing away gunpowder and smoke.
Ga Yun opens the door to the master suite for Sehun, scanning the blood-spattered
room and the number of corpses that garland it. Sehun walks towards Guozhi who is
immobilized on the bed. He tilts his head to meet his gape head-on, "Hey," he says
coolly, lips curving in pride. He pushes the tip of the syringe's needle onto Guozhi's
neck. In five seconds, Guozhi blacks out.

Choking on the stale smell of the rag shoved in his mouth, Guozhi wakes up with a
piercing pain in his neck. He is tied to a chair, his vision is blurry and he can't feel his
legs. Soon, the hazy image in his sight clears up and he takes in the surroundings, the
familiarity of his own warehouse. He looks across him and sees a group of men in
line, bruised and wounded, staring at him, with their knees down on the concrete and
their hands tied behind their backs. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open as he
recognizes that all his men had been captured. He notices Sehun standing beside him,
the smug look on his face undeniable. "You motherfuc–"
"Jun, get on with it." Sehun orders.
Jun, who is standing behind the knelt men, starts with the first in line, aiming at the
back of the man's head. As if merely pressing a button, he opens fire, bullet dislodging
from the gun, rusty red soiling the concrete. The man falls front.
Maddened veins thicken in Guozhi's face as he attempts to release himself from the
rope that confines him. Sehun is watching him, carefully inspecting each frightened
and cornered reaction he shows. At each shot Jun takes, Guozhi jerks his head in
repulsion as fury builds up in his chest. He throws curses at Sehun who is delighting
at his demise. Five men down. Then ten. Then twelve. The smell of stagnant blood,
fumes and sour body fluids swamp the room.
"You will pay for this you bastard!" Guozhi chokes.
"Stop," Sehun orders Jun then flickers a finger towards one of Guozhi's men. Jun
drags the unwilling man to Sehun. Tremor shakes the man causing him to almost fall
midway, his knees failing him at each step.
"This is your nephew, right," Sehun taunts as he hauls the man right across Guozhi.
"You will pay Sehun." Guozhi repeats, seething in rage.
"No Guozhi." he leers, "You arepaying." he takes the hook blade from his pocket, his
perfectly fit, métier weapon. "You dared touch my own?" a chill hangs on the edge of
Sehun's words as the image of the stacked corpses of his men come back to him. He
stands behind Guozhi's nephew then slowly makes an incision with the blade, slashing
crosswise his throat. The flesh cuts open and from it spills globules of thick red.
Guozhi's breathing is suspended, bereft of speech.
Guozhi witnesses Jun finish off the rest of his men right before his eyes, and in the
end, loses the ability to speak. Sehun calls out to Ryu who hands him a five-gallon
container filled with Lye, a chemical formula Guozhi is no stranger to. A method of
execution needlessly brutal, a droplet of Lye can burn the skin, the flesh, sear the
bones and reduce a person to nothing but stew. No traces nor evidence left to unearth.
Guozhi delivers his last words, "Akita will kill you."
With quiet assurance, Sehun states, "I'll be waiting." Then he pours the Lye onto
Guozhi's body, emptying the contents of the canister. The job is done.
"Clean this up," Sehun orders Ryu, "And make sure to get a hold of his contacts like
we talked about." Sehun pulls out a white handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans,
rubs his hands clean, then leaves the warehouse with a strange sense of desensitized
comfort.

•••

Glasses turned over atop the table, bottles of liquor lined up in a row, the inviting
aroma of the distilled spirits invade Luhan's senses. With only a few men left in the
yacht, he tries to embrace the feeling of isolation. He wonders if it feels the same
when one passes away. When the yacht docked and most of the men set off, Luhan
instantly figured out what they were about to do. He tried to tell Ryu that it was a bad
idea. But can a person in his position really change anything? So instead, he waits for
them to come back, and approaches the possibility that they might not.
Nothing much has changed in the room, Luhan observes. He had decided to go back
there to recall his first day on the yacht, when he was tied up to a chair right at the
center, where he now stands alive. The memory almost seems imagined, make-
believe. He sits down on one of the stools and another wave of recollection slips
through his mind. How vivid it is in his thoughts, that night in Sogdo, when he was
caught in a bold, ruinous ambush and was going to die. And die he almost did. But
that person came back and he was saved, saved by someone he would've never
presumed to. His mind returns to his new insight on Sehun's beginnings in RV. He
can't seem to shrug his curiosity about that particular task that made Sehun into RV's
leader. Luhan hates this part of himself, that is torn between feeling pity for Sehun
and hating him, two very far-flung ends of a pole.
His musing is interrupted by dark, slow footsteps. He looks up and sees Sehun enter
the open sliding doors, shirt stained, face rugged and somber. He shoots Luhan a
quick glance before walking over to the bar and taking a glass of Grenadian rum.
"Get out of my face," he hisses.
Finally learning from Ryu's words, Luhan gets off the stool and takes his leave. Then
he freezes. He knows where Sehun had gone to, what he had done, who he had killed.
He wants to shout at him, hit him, curse him. And yet a feeble voice reminds him that
Sehun's father had died when he was young, that at the age of eighteen he had to kill
someone, that from then until now, he is trusted to always be emotionless, unfeeling.
"Are you okay?" Luhan ends up saying. The second the words leave his mouth, a
spear of detachment launches at him. What is he saying? With his back still turned, he
dreads for Sehun's answer.
"Did you take a bottle from my bar," Sehun questions.
"What?" Luhan gasps, "No, what are you– I'm not drunk."
Luhan hears a warm laugh in the room. He turns his head to chance on its source, but
refuses to believe such gentle sound can come from Sehun, from such cruel man.
Sehun's laugh then eases into a tentative smile, and Luhan is soon arrested by a
presence so light yet compelling. As Sehun stares back at him, he briefly feels
powerless. There are no possible sources of danger in the room, no guns brandished,
no knives pointed, no blood shed. But unusually, Luhan feels threatened.
Are you okay, Sehun repeats the words in his head. The question is too hilarious, it
bordered between ridiculous and peculiar. It is the first time those words were uttered
to him in a manner neither cynical nor sarcastic, but seemingly sincere. And unlike
what he was expecting, it didn't feel insulting or demeaning. It felt something else, he
just can't give the feeling a name. He was expecting Luhan to have another one of his
temper episodes. But are you okay, that he didn't expect. He pours a glass of rum,
filling it to the brim, and slides it atop the counter to Luhan's direction, "Drink," his
tone holds a challenge.
Surprised and utterly confused, Luhan merely gapes at the glass. Sehun is obviously
in a good mood, meaning the plan has turned out well, meaning Guozhi is gone.
Luhan grits his teeth and slams down the rum in one rapid gulp, the aftertaste more
arid and bitter than he had predicted. He hates Sehun then feels sorry for him. Hates
him then sorry for him. Hates him, hates him, hates him more. Feels sorry for him.
"In our six-month deal, you said you'd kill me if I pissed you off." Luhan scoffs.
Sehun remains taciturn as he continues, "I think you might soon. If you expected a
hostage who shuts up and hides inside a room, that's not me." Luhan states with
blinding determination, "I will tell you what I think."
"Hostage," Sehun remarks, "I don't think I remember you ever acting like a hostage."
"I know what you did tonight and I can't stand it. I don't think anyone deserves to die.
No matter what they've done. No one deserves to die. Even Guozhi, even your men..."
Luhan braces himself with resolve. He wants to convey to Sehun what he means, he
takes charge and meets the devil's stare blatantly, "Even you. You don't deserve to
die."
Sehun's mercurial eyes focuses on nothing else but Luhan's, zeroing in on his irises
that beg attention. He is taken aback by his statement, but is determined to remain
impassive. "Oh." he feigns indifference. He cannot fathom why his "hostage" felt the
need to explain his opinion on death and causality, and even more so, why after three
weeks of unjustified trauma, he still has the drive to say that he, a man who can count
with one hand the civilized things he has done, does not deserve death.
Oh?Luhan lets out a gasp of sarcasm. Before he can retort a counterattack, a strange,
abrupt gale of dizziness pounces on him and for a half of a second, his vision clouds
with double images that are overlapping. Heat permeates in his body, the alcohol was
much more fazing than he predicted. He pushes his fingers down onto the temples of
his forehead and draws a deep breath. He was going to say something back to Sehun,
but he had forgotten what it was.
Sehun observes Luhan's disoriented expression, almost grinning, "It's one-eighty
proof, ninety percent alcohol," he informs him.
 "You couldn't have said that earlier?" Luhan murmurs. He latches onto the frame of
the stool. Something intense flares beneath his skin as he tries to steady himself. He
wags his head violently and squeezes his eyes shut in hopes of regaining composure to
be able to at least walk back, or rather plod back, to his room. Embarrassed of his
obvious tipsiness, Luhan ponders if he should tell Sehun that he is usually quite good
at drinking and one glass of liquor causing an intoxicated stupor has never happened
to him. But then again, he'll probably just say ohin a lower octave.
Sehun fills his emptied glass with liqour on the rocks, tracing the outlines of the glass
before dipping in his finger to mix it. Then he chugs down all of it and leaves the ice
cubes jangling about. Entertained, he watches as Luhan struggles to stay standing and
conscious despite having consumed one of the strongest liquors ever brewed.
"Swallow the ice cube," he tells him.
"No, I'm fine I-" Luhan cradles his head in his flustered hands, "I'm going back to my-
" His pale skin had turned red and his mouth had gone dry. He bites onto his flushed
lips, his head plunging down as the movement of the yacht rocks him as if riding a
swing. He looks up once more and sees Sehun heading towards his direction.
Sehun stops just an inch from his chest, standing too close that he can almost taste his
strong scent of black suede stirred with tobacco and liquor. Luhan raises his hand to
push him away, but Sehun's hand seizes his wrist, his pulse pounding against the chill
of his captor's thumb. The delicate lashes of Luhan flicker while his gaze fixes on
Sehun's profile, dark against the moonlight, softness carved in the unforgiving lines of
his face.
"What are you-" Luhan's palms turns into fists as they press down on Sehun's chest.
Sehun cups Luhan's chin with his slender fingers then lifts his head upward, urging his
lips to part. Luhan's flesh prickles at Sehun's touch, the temperature of his skin surges
beyond normal. "Stop," Luhan breaks into a desperate whisper. He grapples to escape
Sehun's clutch, but to no avail. His senses are clouded by the swift turn of events, by
the inconsistency of his emotions and by the spinning impact of the liquor. What is he
trying to do? Luhan gets in a hysterical fluster.
Exuding an air of confidence verging on arrogance, Sehun cocks his head to the side
and aligns his mouth to Luhan's, too close, almost as if he is seeking to breathe in
Luhan's short and rapid gasps of air. Sehun opens his mouth and casually lets slide a
cube of ice onto his captive's tongue. Then with a half smile, he wipes off the trickle
of water on the edge of his carmine-stained lips. He lets Luhan go so tersely he causes
him to stagger back a step.
"Hostage huh," Sehun muses aloud. He walks out of the room and decides that the
word does have a nice ring to it.
What just happened, Luhan can't comprehend, except for the certainty that he needs to
hold onto something or his weakened knees will ram him to the floor. His fingers
buckle heavily on the rigid wood of the bar stool, he thinks that he is breaking out in
sweat but can feel his hands being bitten in cold. The ice gradually melts into his
palate, a rapture of water, alcohol and menthol filters and— Don't, he cuts his
thoughts short.
Luhan sees the
light — there can
be no other
conclusion other
than Sehun is a
perverse lunatic,
whose neurotic
fetish involves
something with
rum and ice cubes.
Either that or the,
he doesn't even
know what to call
it, from two nights
ago was nothing
but his drunken
imagination. But
that reasoning
disturbs Luhan
more. First,
because the
moment was too
graphic in the
sense that all of
his sensory
faculties were set
off, he can still
remember the
sight of the bar,
the touch of heat,
the taste of liquor,
the smell of
tobacco and the
sound of his pulse.
Second, because if
it really were an
imagination, then
it'd mean he
subconsciously
sought for what
happened to
happen. Thus,
Sehun's perversion
it is.
The morning after the ice-cube incident, Luhan decides to call it such, he resorted to
hiding inside his room, in contrary to what he had told Sehun about him being an
uncooperative "hostage." When Ryu called him out for lunch past noon, he went out
and finished his meal as fast as possible. The members were overtly appalled at his
superhuman speed of gobbling down one full meal. In less than five minutes, he had
gone back inside his foxhole, relieved that he did not come across the devil.
Dinnertime came and Luhan thought he could still get away, but then Jun ordered him
to bring a plate to Sehun and he was left with no choice but to attack the enemy's base.
Walking to Sehun's room, Luhan envisioned the likely scenarios and effective
reprisals. In the end however, Sehun's attitude couldn't be any more civil, he looked at
Luhan carrying a tray, then simply said, "Put it there."
And now, a day has gone by, the yacht has suddenly docked somewhere, and Luhan is
pissed. Pissed at himself for fearing Sehun's reaction when he should be the one
delivering terror, and pissed at Sehun too for daring to lay a finger on him. Finally, he
settles on a plan of action that'll put an end to his predicament. He will confront the
devil and put him through a worse hell.
Inside the yacht's conference room, Sehun sits comfortably, legs crossed, puffing a
cigarette. With Ryu, Jun and Ga Yun, he waits for his guests. First to arrive is Hong, a
major player of drug trade in China, who handles large-scale operations within the
Red Dragon's borders. He also owns a seafood restaurant in Fuzhou, a discreet drug
front, where Guozhi used to distribute his products. Wearing a leopard coat over a red
slim-fit shirt, Hong has a flashy way about him. He wears a grin that shows too much
teeth and speaks with a symphonic tone more fit for an entertainer than a drug
trafficker.
"The yacht," Hong says majestically. Awestruck, he studies every refined crevice of
the vessel while his two bodyguards stand behind him in heed. "Been dying to see this
legendary yacht,"
"We wouldn't want you to die now wouldn't we," Sehun quips with a straight face.
Hong drops his beam cautiously then remembers Sehun's reputation of pitching
unpleasant one-liners. He straightens his back and regains quiet posture. "It's an honor
to meet you," he inclines his body to Sehun's direction.
The door opens and enters Zemin, placid and austere as expected, with the vacant face
of a perceptive man and the solid built of a militant. He is with Bai, his right-hand, a
skillful and highly trained sniper. Unlike other arms dealers, Zemin is tactical, having
proved notoriety as the pioneer of the weapons industry the past ten years. He uses his
own export industry to smuggle high-powered guns and have had experience
trafficking internationally through an export company he owns in China.
Zemin executes a calculated bow to Sehun, then turns to Hong, dipping his head
slightly. Sehun motions both of them to take a seat and signals Ga Yun to serve them
liquor.
"Surely you heard what happened," Sehun's brows raise modestly.
"Guozhi was taken out," Hong says, "Heard rumors it was one of the RV leaders."
"It was me," Sehun answers before drinking from his glass. Hong breaks out in a
sweat while Zemin remains silent, without a trace of surpise in his stoic face.
"That said, you can guess why you're here," Sehun says.
"You want us to back you up." Hong says, "Take control of drugs and arms in the
Dragon."
Sehun nods, "You work for me like you worked for Guozhi. In return, I'll allow you to
distribute in Incheon."
Hong kneads his finger over his moustache, "With all due respect, why should we
work for someone who bumped off an RV leader?"
What an idiot, Sehun thinks.
"Precisely because of that reason." Zemin finally speaks, "We should work for him
precisely because he overturned an RV leader. He who kills the lion is the new king in
the wilds." He hoists his glass to Sehun.
Sehun lifts back his glass an inch, appeased that someone, like him, understands that
in their world nothing is certain except the inevitable turn of the wheel. Hong, after a
great deal of contemplation, hits a breakthrough, grinning at his own power of
reasoning.
"I only have one question," Zemin says, "If you killed Guozhi, that'd mean there's a
coup. How sure are you that no one's going to retaliate against you? If we do ally with
you, we'll have targets on our backs too."
"I'll put it another way then," Sehun says, "If you don't ally with me, I'll be that person
pointing the target on you."
Zemin splits into a grin of approval while Hong briefly solidifies in alarm.
"So we have a deal," Sehun asks.
Zemin and Hong nod decisively.
"Good," Sehun says, "Now, my premiers will talk you through the process. We'll
retain the system, no changes except I want a new plant set up in Incheon, my men
will guard the–"
Luhan barges in, shaking the door in its hinges, "Did you really think I would let you
get away with what you did? You per–" He goes into a state of shock when his eyes
meet the number of people staring back callously at him. His pale face burns up. "I-
This- Wrong room," he says quietly, "Please excuse me."
Sehun dips his head slightly, unable to control the smile that tugs on his mouth.
Jun immediately retorts, "That's my little brother, don't mind him, he has a few screws
loose, you see."
"Don't we all?" Zemin beams.
"Hyung," Ryu whispers to Sehun, "you're smiling."
Clearing his throat, Sehun's features return into its usual serious profile. "As I was
saying," He pauses for quite a while, "In any case, we'll end here. Ryu will discuss to
you all the details." He extends a hand to Zemin then to Hong before taking his leave.
As Sehun strides back to his room, a soft laughter floats up his throat, one that fades
just as quickly. He stands at his room's adjacent veranda and shrugs off all
unnecessary thoughts, he had been smiling too much lately. As he looks out into the
endless blue yonder, he thinks of tonight, RV's yearly celebration of his appointment
as the organization's leader. Though he would very much like to postpone it, he is
aware that it is demanded, especially after the consecutive blows RV had taken. He
pops open his pack of cigarettes and lights a stick. The time had come for him to give
a once-friend the bad news. He takes his phone and dials Nuri's number. It rings a
couple of times before Nuri finally answers.
Nuri doesn't speak but waits for Sehun to start. A tremor quivers the RV leader's
mouth, he cradles the cigarette and takes a long, heavy rush, "Tell Circum I've taken
over China," he simply says.
"You've broken the one law we make good no matter what. You killed an RV leader. I
don't need to tell you that the board voted to take you out," Nuri answers, "Even you
can't stop that."
"In two days, they'll be changing their minds."
There is a long pause on Nuri's end. For certain, both of them know that the secret is
already out. Nuri is smart enough to grasp that Sehun is aware of his betrayal and
astute enough not to breathe a word about it.
"You didn't really think you'd push me this far and not suffer the consequences,"
Sehun says derisively, "Of all the people, you should know best that I'm the last
person you want to be your enemy."
Nuri draws a dense gasp, "I would not have done it without a reason, Akita told me–"
"Nuri," Sehun interrupts with an unsympathetic tone, "I called to give you the courtesy
you didn't give me. I''m telling you right now, I'm coming after you."
Another long pause before Nuri decides to answer, "It's a dog-eat-dog world we live
in." he says, his voice steady and resigned.
"It is, isn't it," Sehun replies, "But you were wrong about the law of RV. There are two
rules we make good in our world. One, you don't get yourself killed." he stresses every
syllable, "And two, you. don't. screw. with. me."
Sehun hears Nuri say something before he hangs up and slides the phone into his
pocket. Tilting his head from side to side, he rubs down his strained neck then takes
another hit of the cigarette. A cloud of dark smoke overcasts the gleaming view of the
sea.

•••

"Are your bags packed?" Ryu enters Luhan's room without so much a knock.
Luhan rubs his eyes, how long had he slept, he doesn't know. He remembers the
humiliating intrusion earlier and how he had spent the hour that followed scolding
himself with variations of 'you're a pathetic loser.' He finally was able to sleep after a
while but now that he thinks about, he might have even dreamt of the cringe-worthy
moment. Still in a sluggish daze, he glances at Ryu and his huge luggage case. "My
what packed?" he asks.
"We're staying here for a few days," Ryu answers, "Get your things."
"Where's here?" Luhan stands up and almost stumbles. "What time is it?"
"We're back in Seoul, quarter to six p.m.."
Luhan opens his dresser to get a bag, then it hits him, he doesn't have a bag. His
belongings include a toothbrush, two white shirts, one tracksuit bottom and a pair of
underpants (all of which RV gave him) plus what he was wearing when he first came
here, a pair of Levi's and a red shirt.
"That's it?" Ryu asks, surveying the cabinet.
"I don't have a bag." Luhan says.
Ryu carries the luggage to the bed and opens it halfway, "Use mine." he says.
Luhan swallows nervously at the sight of the contents of Ryu's luggage, one rifle,
about ten pistols, a row of knives and only one stack of clothes. With Ryu's calm
bearing and uncomplicated words, Luhan nearly overlooked the fact that he still is an
RV member, "Please tell me we're not here to kill somebody," Luhan says.
"Calm down." he laughs, "This is the 'insurance' set, the 'attack' set is much larger."
Luhan gives back a laugh before squeezing in his clothes, wary that he will
accidentally click or fire a weapon. Unable to recognize any viable spot for his
toothbrush, he pushes it in his jeans' pocket.
"You can put it with mine," Ryu points to a small compartment.
Luhan finds it a bit unnatural to do so. He shakes his head and pats his pocket, "I
think it's good here."
Ryu sends him a blasé look then leads him out of the room. There is an uproar in the
hall, the members heading down the yacht in suits and leather shoes, chatting and
guffawing away. As if on a high, their faces light up with elation, to the point it begins
to trouble Luhan.
"What's happening?" Luhan turns to Ryu.
"We're having a party," he says.
A party? A mob party? Walking out of the yacht and riding the car, Luhan ruminates
if he should try running away. He refuses to see what a mob party is like. But with
Ryu and Jun on his either side at the limo, there's really no point of escaping. When
they finally reach RV's hotel in Sowol-ro, they head straight to the right wing of the
reception that leads to the building's extension. Luhan imagines the party's program, at
nine p.m. open fire, at ten p.m. wrestling challenge, main event is russian roulette, the
theme, survival of the fittest. Just thinking of the fearful images heighten his pulse
rate.
"You okay?" Ryu asks.
"Yes," he answers, "I'm just..." Luhan's words trail off as his gaze falls onto the
extension lot. Surrounded by lush greenery, the lot is an open space, at the center of
which lies a grand wood-and-stone clubhouse of three stories. With large windows
and an overlooking balcony running the full width of the clubhouse, the view is
panoramic, the ambience, awe-inspiring. As they enter, he holds his breath and
surveys the hall, the high ceilings and the elegant modern fixtures that look like they
cost more than his entire village. A low-level table with floor cushions stretches from
one end of the room to the other, plates and shot glasses exquisitely arranged
atop. Survival of the fittest is evidently not the theme.
Soon, the members of RV, about thirty people, come rushing in, disturbing the
stillness of the room. They are followed by a crew of servers carrying plates of
succulent dishes and towers of liquor. Luhan notices that Sehun is still nowhere to be
found. He fleetingly wonders if he stayed on the yacht.
"What's the party for?" Luhan asks. Noticing Ryu's lack of words, he turns to him and
instead, sees Jun. Cautiously, he takes a step away from the hefty man.
Jun draws a grunt that sounds like that made by a wild boar. "It's Hyungnim's
birthday."
It's Sehun's birthday? Luhan is fascinated at his own fascination. He realizes it never
once crossed his mind that Sehun, the bitterly cold person he is, celebrates his birthday
too. He asks, "Is there a program?"
"Ga Yun plans it." Jun says, still with an angry mien.
"So there will be gift-giving and games and all that?"
Jun releases another grunt, this time pairing it with a glare that says 'you talk too
much.'
"I guess I'll go do... something." Luhan says before walking away from Jun's death
trap.
As the party nears its outset, the men settle down. Sehun still hasn't arrived though his
seat, the far-end of the table, is left vacant. To his right, sit Ga Yun and Jun, while to
his left is Ryu. Luhan chooses the only place left to sit at, beside Ryu, and wonders
how things will all play out.
About ten minutes later, the door opens and the rowdy room comes to an absolute
stillness. Sehun enters, clad in a black tuxedo over a white button-down shirt befitting
his long, lean form. The clear-cut contours of his profile are magnified against his pale
skin, his expressionless grit, and his dignified veneer with which he draws instant
submission. All of the men stand up and face the leader's direction in a rigid ninety-
degree bow, "Hyung!" They hold their positions and wait for Sehun to reach his seat.
A tiny piece of the tamago sushi Luhan partook drops off of his mouth as he sees
everyone in respectful inclination, while he is still plonked on the floor cushion. Sehun
inspects the room before ordering his men to sit down. With unwavering focus, the
men fix their sights on their leader, determined to listen to his every word.
Sehun remains on his feet with a shot glass in hand. His keen gape surveys each
member's countenance, "Last year, in this room, we celebrated. Ninety-three of us." he
tugs his lips in thoughtfully, "Today, there are only thirty-seven of you here with me.
Next year, it's possible there won't be any. This room can even be empty. So, today,
I'm giving you the chance to walk out that door. If any of you no longer trusts my
judgement, you are free to leave. No one will shoot you on the way."
Noiseless calm seeps through every cavity of the room, laid thick until the blankness
itself becomes confining. Luhan glances at the members but not one of them stirs or
even raises his chest to breathe.
Sehun nods in approval, "Like I always say, in this business, death is unavoidable.
What I can give you is my word." his voice tolls with depth and authority, "If you get
shot, I will shoot your enemy twice. If you get strangled, I will cut his head off. If you
get stabbed, I will break all his bones. For every death in this family, there'll be ten
more in the side of the enemy. Up until the last moment... this is my loyalty to you."
With past sufferings and new hope etched together, the men stand up once more and
incline deeply, "Hyung!"
Luhan realizes that he too, though not in bent position, had risen upright. Something
invades him, a feeling he can't put his finger on, if it's benign or negative, he doesn't
want to know. Luhan stares at Sehun, his dark presence of cool reason and aflame
emotion, and then it crashes into him, like a clock striking midnight whose hour hand
strickens while the minute gets by, that he can no longer look away.

•••

The party turns out to be like any other party, diving in booze, stuffing endless plates
of canapés and exchanging chitter-chatter, much to Luhan's surprise. Come midnight,
the men had already scattered, some were passed out on the floor, some atop each
other. Jun, who had hoarded the breaded cod fillets (no one else was able to taste it), is
putting his moves on Ga Yun and is obviously failing. Ryu and a small group of his
underlings are on one end of the table, holding their own arm wrestling championship.
In the end, the only sober and perhaps sane person in the room is Luhan.
"Luhan!" Jun, who had moved to the championship table, calls him over.
This can't be good. Luhan makes his way to them, intentionally taking his time.
"Sit there." Jun says, pointing to the chair across him, his forearm already positioned
for the wrestle, "Gimme a fight!" he cheers, then peeps at Ga Yun, who explicitly rolls
her eyes.
Luhan curses inwardly as he takes note of Jun's ghostly enormous limb. There is no
doubt Jun will dislocate his bones or just break it into bits. In panic, Luhan puts on an
act and clutches his stomach, "Ah!" he groans, "I– I think– I'm gonna throw up!" He
runs to the back door exit of the clubhouse.
Luck is still on his side, Luhan decides, seeing no one followed him. Outside, he is
greeted by an oversized backyard pool, the most exquisite he had ever seen, outlining
a crystal patio at the center where a round table and a few lofty chairs stand. He
saunters through the glass bridge, bewildered at its transparency. He looks down and
sees the water rushing right at his feet, close to magical.
"Move," a silvery voice behind him says.
Caught off guard, Luhan turns around in an abrupt motion. His foot slips on the edge
and flies out under him. He grabs the first thing he sees, a black figure, but then
stumbles onto the water. He lands heavily with a forceful thump as his ears fill with
muffled noise, his body weightless and lagging. He kicks his feet and treads the water,
propelling his body upwards. Panting and shaking in cold, he reaches the side of the
pool and climbs up to the bridge. He collapses drenched on the glass patio, choking in
exhaustion and relief. He faintly hears incessant splashing sounds. His eyes fly open.
He looks at the pool and spots a person struggling underwater. Without delay, he
jumps back in and wades his way towards the unmoving figure. He recognizes Sehun,
who had gone unconscious, slowly sinking down the blue depths of pitch darkness.
Frigid and nearly losing breath, Luhan gathers Sehun into his arms. He locks his hands
against Sehun's spine, burying the captor's face against his throat. Reaching the edge,
Luhan climbs atop and with his back against the concrete, drags Sehun's body to dry
ground.
"Sehun!" Luhan strikes his gelid cheeks, "Wake up!" Fright like Luhan had never felt
before starts to well in his throat. If Sehun dies because of him, if he becomes the
cause of anyone's death... Luhan's heart thumps madly, his chest about to burst as he
swallows in difficulty and finds his voice, "Sehun!" he slaps him harder, the blow
causing biting pain in his palm. Luhan grips his hand into a trembling fist and
hammers Sehun's chest, "Wake up!" Relentlessly, he strikes again and again at Sehun
until his skin turns dusky red.
Spurts of water expel from Sehun's mouth and a wave of relief rushes through Luhan.
"Are you okay?" Luhan asks, brushing off the strands of hair that had cascaded to
Sehun's face. "Are you okay?" he repeats, his warm palm resting on his cheeks.
"What do you think," Sehun asks, still flat on the ground.
Taking in rapid, heavy doses of air, Luhan falls to the floor and lies down beside him,
both their feet still dangling on the pool.
"I'm about two seconds to killing you," Sehun says.
Luhan turns to him, "I'm sorry. But you didn't need to come save me."
"Save you?" Sehun looks back at him and gasps in disbelief, "You dragged me to the
pool."
Startled, Luhan swallows a difficult one, "I– I did? I'm really sorry. I didn't see."
Sehun waves his hand in dismissal. Fingers pressed down on his eyelids, he thinks of
the last time he had been engulfed by vast water, it's an enigma he didn't die just by
coming into contact with it. "Something bad always happens when I'm near you," he
sighs, eyes still shut.
Luhan laughs infectiously, bringing up his hand to supress his giggles.
Sehun surveys him in bewilderment, "You're laughing now?" he asks, oddly with the
rising end of a question mark.
"I just– I've been thinking the same thing." Luhan clamors, traces of laughter in his
voice, "When I met you everything turned out for the worse. Been kidnapped, beaten
up, food-deprived, sleep-deprived, witnessed an assasination, a mass murder, caught
in an ambush and now almost drowned. Can things be any unluckier?" He rocks with
laughter, his shoulders shaking in mirth while his one hand holds onto his tummy. The
beginning of a smile cambers the corners of Sehun's lips and soon deepens and bursts
into a roaring laughter.
Their smiling glances connect, Sehun's demanding gleam and Luhan's warm one.
Carried away by Sehun's response, Luhan fails to notice that the gap between them
can no longer be defined as casual. In a sudden, the deep laugh from Sehun comes to a
halt and silence overtakes. The warm giggles of Luhan fade away gingerly. Sehun's
gaze travels over Luhan's face and searches his eyes, seemingly expecting to find that
one thing everybody's been giving to him, that instant submission. But Luhan forcibly
turns away, face ablazed and pulse pounding. At the worst moment, the ice-cube
incident springs to Luhan's mind, there was something about it he couldn't shrug
despite the extreme, if not distressing, measures he had taken to get it done with. A
small voice tells him it has something to do with the ice, but what exactly is so special
about that ice?
"...ice." Sehun murmurs.
"Ice?" Luhan sits up flustered, "What ice? Which ice? No ice. There's no ice."
Sehun merely blinks, "I said, get that towel before I turn to ice."
Luhan catches sight of Sehun's doused body, frozen in cold. He mentally slaps himself
for getting all nervous about nothing then walks to the round table and grabs three
towels.
"Get the bottle too." Sehun says. He sits up as the chilly air penetrates through his
body. He takes off his wringing wet tuxedo and unbuttons his undershirt. Luhan
comes back and hands him a thick towel before swinging another over his broad
shoulders. He almost takes a defensive stance, surprised by the swift gesture.
Sehun takes out his pack of cigarettes, dripping wet, then throws it to the side.
Glancing to Luhan, he sees him take out a toothbrush from his pocket. "A toothbrush,"
Sehun wonders aloud.
"It didn't fit Ryu's bag so I put it here," Luhan sits beside him then throws the
toothbrush to the side. He'd have to buy a new one, bad luck keeps coming in. "By the
way," he remembers, "happy birthday."
"What," Sehun asks, rubbing the towel on his hair. The faint smell of cherry blossoms
breezes to Luhan.
"Happy birthday?" Luhan repeats, "It's uhm, it's basically an expression people say to
congratulate the one celeb–"
"I know what happy birthdaymeans," Sehun sends him a glare, "but why are you
saying it to me,"
"Well some people in this world are actually ethical."
About one second to killing him, Sehun propels the towel to Luhan's face,"It's not my
birthday."
"It isn't?" Luhan shrugs, "So what's the party for?"
"It's the day I became RV's leader." Sehun tips the whiskey bottle to his lips and gulps
down about a glass full. He wonders why Luhan hadn't asked him how he drowned or
why he did in the first place. He mulls over Luhan's eccentric nature, how he always
says the things no one expects him to say and yet holds back the things he is expected
to say.
"Your speech earlier," Luhan murmurs, "it really made you look like a leader." In my
eyes, for the first time,Luhan hesitates to add. He watches the blinking dots in the
moonless sky devour each other heartlessly until there aren't any left.
"Does it," Sehun says, "I sounded likeable, didn't I,"
As much as Luhan wanted to deny it, Sehun did. Sehun's speech should've disturbed
him, should've struck him like a revenge tale told of a gore movie. And yet. There
have been too many yet's lately, Luhan notices. "My brother always said 'even Hitler
was liked by some,'" he jests.
"You have a brother,"
"Had." A twinge of discomfort rips through Luhan out of nowhere as he harks back to
the moment he most wants to forget. "But... how can you talk about killing someone
just like that, like you're just snapping a finger. I'm-" he purses his lips.
"It's not difficult." Sehun says blankly then takes another shot of whiskey.
Luhan stares at his face bronzed by strength and dispassion, the light of dusk trapping
each absence of emotion. "I don't believe you."
"Then don't."
Luhan steals the bottle from him then swills the liquor down his throat. "Then explain
it to me," he crumples a fist, "I want you to tell me how killing can be so easy to you."
Sehun takes back the liquor. How can a hostage act so assertive? He heaves a sigh,
"Do I look like I like explaining things,"
"You can't explain it because it's not true. Even you don't believe what you said."
"You're starting to get on my nerves."
"Good because then maybe you'll tell me–"
"I'll throw you back there if you don't shut up."
"Then I'll swim back and ask you agai–"
Sehun swivels his body to Luhan's direction, clicks his teeth and sends a subdued
glance, "Ryu was stabbed near the spine once in Yeosu, Jun fell three floors down in a
high-rise roof, Ga Yun took a glass shard in the stomach. All of my people had put
everything they have, their own lives, to prevent even a damn paper cut from landing
in my body. This is the business. You decide where you put your loyalty, and you
leave it there with your life." He speaks rapidly and in monotony, "Now. Say,
someone kills one of them. Do I take revenge? Yes. Do I kill him? Yes. Do I hesitate?
No. Is it easy? Hell yes." he glances at Luhan, "Is that a good enough explanation for
you,"
When Sehun talks about loyalty, there is something mild about his voice, a twine of
fragility indescribably captivating. Luhan looks at Sehun as if he were photographing
him with his eyes. Sehun's silent stare clings to Luhan's, with those familiar dark eyes
that bear nothingness. Luhan starts to feel dizzy, as he gazes at Sehun’s beige irises
billowing in circles as if they were abysses of eternity, and each time his long
eyelashes cascade beneath it, the ticking of Luhan's inner clock stops, holds him in
place, engirdles him in a cocoon of solace. The clock that had once struck midnight
stops working altogether.
"I'm even more likeable now aren't I," Sehun smiles.
Luhan clears his throat, pretending not to be affected, "Even Hitler remember?" he
dodges his inquest.
"Then you," Sehun asks, "are you one of the 'some' who likes him,"
"I... I hate him," Luhan hesitates, tearing his glance away from Sehun, "But tonight is
different. Just for tonight, I think I almost like him."
Sehun doesn't say anything in response while Luhan hopes he won't try to bring to the
surface what those words, behind everything, can mean. Shivering in the cold, Luhan
tightens the towel around him. Sehun stands up and takes the towel he had been using
then tosses it over his captive's shoulder before walking away. The gesture stuns
Luhan and nearly shatters the shell he had been building so faithfully. Like clockwork,
 Luhan realizes that Sehun understood exactly what he meant.
The night that
passed, Sehun
woke up every
after three hours,
having dreamt of
a sole scene
where he drifted
like a paltry speck
amidst the South
sea, swimming
towards the
closest land but
never seeming to
reach it.
Everytime he'd
almost make it, he
would wake up,
sweltering and
short-winded.
And when he'd
fall asleep, he'd be
back where he
started, lost at the
pit of the sea.
When daybreak
came around, he
admitted defeat
and got out of
bed.
The topmost floor of the clubhouse stretches into a broad veranda and two palatial
rooms, one is his while the other built for meetings. Leaning at the edge of the
veranda, Sehun presses both hands over his eyes as if they ache with weariness. He
sips the scotch and lights a cigarette as his gaze sweeps over the view, the squares of
sage green gardens, the backside pool and its vanishing edge. His memories of last
night are as clear as the moment they unfolded, the iciness of the water and the
powerlessness of falling and ultimately sinking. He had taken enough caution to
prevent such trouble from happening, but still, the feeling of drowning overwhelmed
him more than he had imagined it to. Just then, Luhan walks to the pool, heedless of
Sehun's regard, and sits on the edge with feet plunged underwater. Sehun can see the
side of Luhan's profile, brows stiched together, lips tucked in. He observes Luhan with
somber curiosity and faintly wonders why he didn't lose his temper after the mess he
made, and then he remembers what Luhan had said. Just for tonight, I think I almost
like him, Luhan's voice freezes in Sehun's mind, and he can't help but simper in
disbelief.
"Hyung," Ryu breaks into Sehun's thoughts, "They're waiting for you at the other
room."
Before leaving, Sehun steals another glance at Luhan who begins to playfully paddle
the water with his feet. He turns on his heel then a toggle clicks inside him and his
light demeanor takes a one-eighty towards destructively austere.
"You have what I asked," he asks Ryu as they walk across the hall. Ryu hands him an
overfilled envelope. Sehun looks inside and skims through a bulk of sundry photos and
documents. They enter the meeting room where Jun and Ga Yun await, seated round
the table. Sehun surveys the room and tosses the envelope to the table, "Let's get down
to business," He takes out a photo of Nikolai from the envelope and points to it many
times over. "Our next target. This one won't be as easy as the first. This is Russia we're
talking about."
Ga Yun says quickly, "We can't use a hammer in Nikolai's case. We'd be better off
shooting our own heads."
Jun places a fist atop the table, "Those Ruskies don't joke with their sub-machine rifles
and shotguns. Us fighting them head-on would be like lugging a fist to a damn gun
fight."
Sehun nods, "It'd be suicide to engage them all. We need to take Nikolai out alone."
He hands out copies of a classified record of an illegal high-stake poker club in Russia.
"What you're seeing is a members-only poker club which Nikolai is part of. This is
where we'll do him in. But we have two problems here. First, like I said, it's a
members-only club, and their members are chosen through lineage, only those related
to the once and present Pakhans. Second, the location of the poker club changes every
month, picked out randomly from four cities — Rostov, Omsk, Ulan-ude and
Yakutsk."
Sehun's underlings study the document. Jun shrugs, "It's sticky alright." Ga Yun places
her elbows atop the table, hands locked together in deep thought.
"This game only happens every two months. Always on the 13th, never changes."
Sehun says grimly, "That's the day after tomorrow. So there's no room for mistakes.
We can't afford to wait another two months."
Ryu says, "Can't we pick out a known member and intercept the info once it gets to
him? For sure, there's a way the club talks to its members to tell them where the game
will be held. We can squeeze it out of him the day of the poker game itself."
Sehun says, "We can do that, but then we'd have to take on one member like you said.
The members of this club aren't your day to day hoods. It's hard enough to take
Nikolai, we can't risk messing with another member and make more enemies than
necessary. We have to do this one quietly. The only way I see it, we have to find out
the command post of the poker club and get into their database."
Ryu nods, "We can probably bribe our way around it. We get into the database, find
out the game's location then head there."
Ga Yun says, "The only problem left is how we get inside the game in the first place.
Can't we add a member through the database?"
"That ain't easy," Jun says, "we'd have to grab some Ruskie to play the part. And I
don't trust those vodka-boozers one bit."
"We don't need to be a member to get in," Sehun says impatiently, "It's a poker club in
Russia. There're bound to be lackeys. We need to get our own to pose as one. But first,
let's fix the location problem. Ga Yun, you talk to our contact in Russia and buy
anyone who might know the location of the club's office. We'll fly out to Moscow
tonight. Ryu, you talk to Zemin, I want guns waiting for us when we land. Jun, you
talk to Hong and get him to cook cyanide. The rest of the plan, we'll talk about when
we get there. Are we clear,"
"Yes hyung." They bow before leaving the room.
Sehun leans back into his arm chair and lights another cigarette, fidgeting impatiently
with the Zippo. Dispatching Nikolai is much harder than his premiers can comprehend.
More than the planning and the timing of the hit, what'd matter most in this mission is
Sehun's intuition, that is, whether or not he will be able to sense the best move to make
— to advance, to wait or to simply start firing away. There can't be an inch to spare
nor a detail to miss, more than any other time, it is in this mission that his focus is most
necessary.
After lunch, Sehun tries his best to get some sleep. Though it isn't quite usual for him
to nod off this hour, in fact he finds it difficult because of the daylight, this afternoon is
an exception, having nabbed only wisps of nap the previous night. He wakes up at four
p.m., still feeling restless and exhausted. With a long, fatigued sigh, he drags his body
to sit up. He takes the car keys from the bedside, he can still drive around before the
flight to Russia leaves at nine in the evening.

•••

Luhan can't remember the last time he went anywhere alone and in a tragic way, it
makes him feel edgy. Puffs of gray stream along the foggy sky, he notices as he walks
in a street near the hotel. The speeding cars breeze in his periphery, there are crowded
clothing stalls on the side with bright posters, suits for 70.000 won, pants for 20.000
and discounts on shoes. Luhan enters one of the stores and buys the ensemble on the
display, a green padded coat over a white cotton long sleeve and a pair of dark jeans.
Ryu said it won't be cold in Russia this time of the year and so, like he advised, Luhan
buys a great number of cotton shirts as well and lightweight slacks. Luhan comes by
an olive green sneakers with yellow streaks and wears them on the way out, complete
with the new set of clothes. Long steps towards the end of the street, he ends up at
Family mart and buys a new toothbrush. He intently studies the movement of the sales
lady in the counter who in turn, becomes unsettled by his actions.
Just outside the Mart is a crossing, Luhan moves to the edge of the lane and watches
the cars and motorcycles lined up on one corner at the red light while the pedestrians
rush their way to the other side of the road. Pensively, he spaces out in the far-end of
the view, closes his eyes and heaves a deep breath. Gone is the driven kid with more
part-time jobs than he can handle, who can drink his problems away in an orange tent
while wearing his Family mart uniform then go home with less money than when he
started. He is another person. A month ago, he would've been too busy to resist from
doing anything and just stop to fathom the world, but now, more than ever, it made
more sense to drive when the light strikes yellow than hasten before it turns red. It felt
as if it were the last chance he can be alive and alone. An even more frightening
realization washes over him. Tonight, once he leaves for Russia, there's an undeniable
possibility that he won't make it back.
The erratic and persistent honking of the car horns blasts in Luhan's ears. Opening his
eyes, he hurtles back to reality and looks at the commotion. Sehun's tall figure is
heading towards him. His car, with the door hanging open, is the only barricade
between the other vehicles and the green light. Some drivers bring down their
windows, bellowing on Sehun with curses. Luhan blinks and steps back unsteadily.
Sehun yanks Luhan towards him and throws him to the passenger's seat of the car.
Without a word nor a microexpression on his face, Sehun drives past the stoplight that
had already turned red. Inside the car, only two sounds fill the void atmosphere, the
roaring of the engine and louder, the irregular inhales and exhales of Luhan. With his
fingers squeezing the wheel, Sehun pushes the brake to fifth gear as if it were a lever
to eject Luhan from his seat. Sehun's jaw is tensed, his brows vexed, Luhan doesn't
dare say a word.
The car stops so abruptly Luhan has to bear down on the car's deck near the
windshield. Sehun parks in a small port, an extended patch of cement bordered by an
outlying sea with boulders that line its edge. This part of Sowol-ro is lifeless, with
nothing but rows of trees for miles that eventually lead to the high-way. Only a
handful of cars pass by, if any do at all. Sehun twists the key and turns off the engine
then goes out before shoving the door shut. He sits on the car hood and hesitatingly,
Luhan follows and sits beside him. If Sehun chooses to murder Luhan now, there won't
be any witness and there won't be any difficulty to throw the victim's corpse to the sea
either. Luhan shudders at the thought though oddly, a part of him knows Sehun won't
do it.
"I asked Ryu if I could go out and buy some things. He said yes. That's why I'm out."
Luhan blurts first.
Sehun turns to him with a hollow glare, "Did I die and make Ryu boss,"
Luhan's eyes dart nervously back and forth. He can't say anything back.
Sehun slams his fist against the steel hood in one brutal blow. Luhan's shoulder rise in
surprise as alarm mangles his insides.
"Without my permission," Sehun drags the words from his clenched teeth, "you can't
go anywhere. You can't do anything unless I tell you to." His expression darkens with
an ambiguous emotion.
"I-"
"Do you understand what I'm saying," Sehun's eyes bear a hole at Luhan's, "From the
moment you signed your name on that contract, you, all of youis not yours anymore.
It's mine."
Luhan becomes increasingly uncomfortable under the leader's scrutiny. The question
hammers at him, voice wavering he asks, "What exactly do you want from me?"
This time around, it is Sehun who refuses to answer. It feels so unjust how he can
choose which doubts to resolve while he throws Luhan's mind into disorder and his
entirety in confusion. Sehun wounds his hands over his forehead, shuts his eyes and
lets a gasp fall from his lips as if trying to subside the seething rage within him. Then
he presses his palms over his pockets, searching for something.
"Get my cigarettes in the car," Sehun says.
Luhan's mind is still somewhere else, between unrest and uncertainty. He rummages
inside the car's compartment and takes an opened pack of cigarettes. He pushes the car
door's lock before propelling it close. He hands it to Sehun who then takes it violently.
"Where's the lighter," Sehun asks.
Luhan is on the verge of having another of his angry fits when he goes back to the car
and realizes that he locked the door. He swallows a lump of agitation and glances
through the window. The car key is still inserted in the ignition. All kinds of panic
replace his bordering annoyance.
Inspecting the sudden dread in Luhan, Sehun says, "What now," Then he moves to the
driver's side of the car and tries to pull the car door open. It doesn't work. He jerks the
handle more harshly and repeatedly. There are a few clicks on the lock but still the
door doesn't dislodge. His temper flares, he gives Luhan a hostile scowl then kicks the
metal door.
"Is there anything you can do right!" he says.
His tone infuriates Luhan and the screws fall off the hinges, "Now it's my fault? What
kind of driver doesn't take the car keys with him?"
Sehun scoffs, "Are you telling me right now that it's my fault,"
"Damn right it's your fault!"
Sehun squeezes his fist across Luhan, clutching his lips and trying to stop himself from
beating the living daylights out of his hostage. He catapults the cigarette pack to the
ground. He doesn't even have a freaking lighter.
"Just call them to come get us," Luhan says, crossing his arms against his chest. What
right does he even have to get mad at Sehun and order him around? Luhan doesn't
even think that far.
"My phone is in the car!" Sehun says.
"Why do you keep shouting? Stop shouting!"
"Because you keep shouting back!"
"Because I'm mad!" Luhan's voice shrieks.
"I'm the one who should be mad!"
Running out of breath, Luhan rubs his palms over his wearied expression. "I'll try and
look for a cab." Sehun doesn't come after him to the side of the road, and for good
reason. After half an hour of waiting for anything yellow, only two vehicles pass by, a
ten-wheeler truck and a motorcycle. Luhan is about to raise a white flag when Sehun
goes behind him and drags him across the street.
"Where are we going?" Luhan grumbles, whirled by the leader's fast pace of steps.
"There's a phone booth just before the highway toll."
And so it ends up, the RV leader and his captive sauntering their way in the belt of
trees beside a dull paved road. Roughly an hour of walking down the lane, all the trees
still look the same and the road similarly surfaced with asphalt. It is as if they have not
moved an inch and the taciturn gap between them makes the flatness worse. The sun
ultimately bridles in the horizon as it sets, the scintilla of honey light glimmering
against the shade of the clouds. On the sign it says there is still one kilometer to the
highway's entry.
A truck dashes at breakneck speed on the sidelines, Luhan staggers at the strong
current of air that lashes at his drained body. Sehun calmly draws Luhan to his left side
while he stays closest to the hustling cars. Luhan lifts his head up and looks at his
captor, tall and rigid like a looming spruce, and all the stifled exasperation instantly
disappears.
"Thanks." Luhan whispers.
Sehun simply nods, "What did you buy earlier,"
"Some clothes and a toothbrush."
There is a delicate break before his next words, "Where'd you get the money," Sehun
asks.
"Ryu said the members were supposed to get an allowance every month, apparently I
was part of the cut too." Luhan pauses, "I didn't think it mattered... That's the only
reason why I didn't ask you."
Another curt nod from Sehun, "Did he tell you we're going to Russia tonight,"
"Yes. There's a new target... isn't there?"
Sehun turns away for a second.
Luhan says, "I still don't understand why you think you need to hunt these people
down. For once, can't you just talk to them?"
"Talk to them?" Sehun scorns a stern grin, "It's either we kill them or they kill us."
Luhan continues walking, there is no point in arguing with a man who has his bleak
principles set in stone.
"You lost someone, right," Sehun casually pushes his hands inside his pockets, "You
said you hada brother. Is it him, Is that why you're so bent on saving everyone,"
"Sehun..." Luhan's voice breaks miserably, "please don't mention anything about my
brother ever again." It may have been merely a past wound that ached only in stormy
days but his feelings for his brother's demise is still too raw to be out in the open, to be
discussed with someone who couldn't care less.
"Don't act like you're the only person in the world to ever lose someone,"
Stiffened and fists clasped, Luhan stops in his tracks, "Have you ever lost someone
you truly cared about?" He murmurs under his breath, "I saw them kill him in front of
me. And I couldn't even do anything! Do you know how helpless I felt? How
everytime I see someone die I come back to that room seven years ago where I just
stood there and watched... while Jin died. How dare you take my pain for nothing?" He
yields to the sobs that rakes his voice and begins to shake him. Then he takes a step
forward and marches the road in rapid strides. It's doomed to explain to Sehun
something he can't possibly comprehend. How can a person who takes the life of
someone so comfortably be able to discern his loss?
A slender hand catches Luhan's shoulder and swivels him around. Gaze clouded with
tears, Luhan drowns in the hazel rings around Sehun's irises and wonder if they ever
waver. Tears glint Luhan's small, heart-shaped face. Sehun doesn't touch him but
moves closer until there is only a breath's space between them. Biting his lips to
control his sobs, Luhan's head falls on Sehun's shoulder, wet droplets staining his
captor's shirt.
"Fine." Sehun stands motionless, "It's my fault for leaving the keys in the car."
Sheated in his captor's hold feels much safer than Luhan cares to admit. After what
seems like aeons later, he distances himself from Sehun and brushes his tears away his
reddened cheeks. No more comes out. Just then, the pale moon peeks at him in the rifts
of the lucent stars.
When they reach the phone booth, there are no more signs of daybreak, nighttime had
already fallen. Sehun dials the hotel's reception but no one is picking up. He calls Ryu
but after a few rings, the call goes straight to voicemail. Jun and Ga Yun's are turned
off. Caution gutters in Sehun's profile as he gets out of the narrow enclosure,
"Something's wrong." he says.
Sehun walks straight to the middle of the road and stands there, unflinching.
"What are you doing?" Luhan screams at the top of his lungs.
A black sedan appears from the void of the road, driven at full speed. Sehun doesn't
budge. Disturbing quakes wrings around Luhan's heart. The black sedan closes in on
Sehun, about to crash in a blink. Luhan instinctively fastens his eyes and covers it with
his juddering hands. There is a blaring car honk inflamed by the high-pitched screech
of the tire against the cement. Squeezing his hands until his nails enter his palm, Luhan
forces his eyes open. Sehun had already opened the car door on the driver's side. He
takes the stranger by the collar then tosses him to the road.
"Get in." he shouts at Luhan.
Luhan scampers to the car, the muscles in his thighs tightened while his veins pulsated
in half hysteria, half relief. "Why are you- What is happening?"
"Buckle up." Sehun says as he does the same. Then he strikes the pedal to the hilt and
the car flies in lethal speed. The horrendous mound of bodies in Shindo swarms over
Luhan's mind. No, this can't be happening, not again.

Still off-balance from the ride's speed, Luhan nearly pitches over when he gets down
from the car. Sehun hastens to enter the hotel and Luhan follows him in, struggling to
dissipate the thoughts of Shindo. From the hotel's lobby, everything seems calm.
Luhan darts to the reception where Sehun stands. The receptionist is on her knees,
gagged with a soiled rag and shackled in hands and feet with a sturdy rope.
Sehun unhitches the restraint from her mouth, "Time,"
"About thirty minutes ago Sir." she says, her black eyeliner smudged in the edges of
her watery eyes.
"Carrying what,"
"Knives."
A tremor touches Sehun's lips. He takes out his knife from his pocket and tucks his
fingers in the holes of the weapon's guard. "Pass the back door and go to your room,"
he says, "Go now Luhan,"
Knees shaking and insides burning, Luhan rushes outside and enters through the back
door. He tumbles. He reaches his room and with trembling hands, he locks the door.
He runs to the far end of the bed, every thread inside him clenches then burns as if it
erupts. Just beneath him, there is a savage attack happening. Catastrophic hush shrouds
the noise outside, the bright light at the end of a tunnel that's about to collapse. The
chill overcast silence from the battlefield abruptly breaks. Luhan hears the shouts and
cries of the men, the curses being thrown and bloody images begin to drill his
nightmare. He covers both his ears with his benumbed palms.
"Stop." He pleads aloud.
All of a sudden, an angry foot connects to the door, kicking it wide open. It sounds like
the crack of a fired gun. Luhan's heart thuds like the violent pennons of a feral raptor.
Three riled men break in carrying short katanas with curved steel blades dripping in
red. Luhan turns to stand up but his body cannot move, bones paralyzed, flesh taut in
cold. The men walk to his direction and grip their katanas securely. Luhan's breathing
comes to a halt, he wants to scream, but fear betrays him and electrocutes him until he
can no longer feel his own throat. One of the three men closes in and plies the knife
across Luhan, the sharp blade leveled at the line of his strained neck.
The man takes his time, bit by bit bringing the katana closer to Luhan's neck until the
raging burn of the blade sparingly cuts his skin. Blood trickles down from the flesh
wound. Luhan starts to shake more violently. One blink and he sees his brother in front
of him in a memory he is sure had never happened before. Not yet, it's too early. He
wants to live. Someone save me.
Suddenly, the man holding aloft the katana spurts bubbling blood. His weapon tumbles
to the ground. Luhan catches sight of a knife struck on the man's chest, quickly pulled
out before the corpse drops down to the floor. Luhan's terror-stricken eyes fall upon
Sehun, who in a second, meticulously slits the necks of the two enemies left in one
spin.
He's here, it repeats again and again in Luhan's addled mind. But still, no other word
flows from his mouth. As Sehun's gaze narrows down to him, quietly surveying his
face, Luhan slowly feels bare, vulnerable and safe all at the same time. Tearing his
gaze away from Luhan, Sehun takes a step towards the door. Luhan recklessly halts
him with a firm hand on his arm, "Don't." is all he can muster to say.
Sehun stops as standstill as a rock in the shore, if his heart continues beating, Luhan
can't tell. Then Sehun shrugs Luhan's hold, "Hide in the cabinet and don't come out."
And he vanishes as easily as he appeared.
Luhan feels fear betray him once again as it returns, its demand more consuming than
the first time. He wants to run out but he can't. He wants to hide but he can't. He feels
so futile because of a truth that reels him in, that no matter how hard the waves welt
the shore, no matter how many times it does, though the sand may stir, the rock will
always be left unmoved.
The next ten or fifty minutes, Luhan can't be sure, is a splintered record of pain and
torture. The sounds keep coming, overlapping until no other distinct voice can be made
but the howls of surrender. There are head-splitting groans, forceful cracks and
slashes, like the scream of a zip being pulled up. Then absolute quietness. No remnants
of bloodshed. Luhan freezes. Is it over? Is it finally over? But still, he doesn't dare to
even turn his head to the door's direction. The tunnel collapsed and he can't see a flare
of light, something heavy is trapping him.

•••

It makes it so hard to believe that in a span of one nightfall, everything can change.
Just a day ago, they were at that exact same place, having fun to their hearts' content,
eating and drinking away at the long table with no worry nor hatred clouding over
them. But now, as Luhan stands watching the bruised faces of the men who struggle to
hold up their bloodied bodies, he finally understands. In their world so distant in
Luhan's perspective, there is only one path to be taken — a path everybody dreads but
ultimately goes to, a dead-end that poses only question. When the tire starts streaking
the tarmac and the end comes near, for what is it all?
Fissures mar the table, wounded bodies piled atop the plates, there are severed limbs
dunked in rivers of running red. The members who survived gather the corpses and
clean them up as if in the butchery, methodically segregating the putrid meat from the
warm ones. Luhan shuts his eyes and his head droops down on its own. Pangs of regret
pushing him to faint gnaw at his conscience and he leaves. He walks to his room then
proceeds to open the door. But his fingers refuse to shift the knob. He turns back as his
feet leads the way, up the stairs then to the tip of the corridor. There's no excuse nor
any justification as to why he chose to go there. Ripped apart by conflicting emotions,
he knocks on Sehun's door and shrugs to hide the cobwebs of confusion. Luhan doesn't
have anything to say and yet there were so many things left unsaid.
Sehun swings the door open, stares for a quick moment, then leaves a gap for him to
get in. He strides to the bar counter in the corner of the room and pours himself a
drink. It was as if he had expected for Luhan to come and as if Luhan knew he did.
Luhan heads towards him, steps slowed as he pondered. From the side, he can see
Sehun's bare body, blotched with cuts and black-and-blue marks that stand out from
his washed out skin. And yet they don't look off-beat, in sooth, they all strike Luhan as
no more than additions to his tattoo marks. Sehun leisurely guzzles a glass of whiskey,
followed by another, then two more. Luhan still can't think of anything to say.
"Are you okay," Sehun says. Luhan freezes and looks up at him. Then Sehun
continues, "That's what you want to ask right,"
It is a bait. Luhan knows, and still he asks, "Are you?"
"What do you think,"
There is a long strenuous pause on Luhan's end. Then he mutters, "Earlier... If you
weren't there... If you didn't come, I- I don't think I could've–"
"Thank you for saving my life." Sehun says, "That's the next thing you want to say,"
"Do you know how difficult it is to talk to you?"
 "It was you who wanted to talk."
Luhan turns on his heel and aims for the door, "I shouldn't have come." Lifting up his
chin, he walks out without sending Sehun another second's glance. Then a thought
storms Luhan's mind, the bottomline in his tornado of rationalization, the final coil of
the spiral. He reaches the point where he can no longer deny it. He hears it in his ears,
a vibrant life chord threaded then cleaved. Just before Luhan can turn the knob, Sehun
yanks his elbow and spins his captive to face him. Luhan's back hits the door violently.
Hot ache grows in his throat as fervour surges from where Sehun's skin touch to every
inch of his own body. Luhan has to hold on to Sehun's arm to keep his balance. The
leader's unmoving eyes prolongs the moment.
"It's my fault," Luhan lets slip away words that were supposed to remain in his mind.
"It is," Sehun still doesn't take his hand off Luhan's elbow. His hold does not slacken
but it does not brace either.
"Can you let me go?" Luhan says. The right words always sing the wrong rhythm.
With both hands, Sehun cradles Luhan's flushed face then pulls him roughly towards
him. Sehun's lips capture Luhan's, hard and searching as it explores every depth, every
moist of his supple flesh. Luhan rams Sehun's chest with fists and tries to push him
away but he is powerless in the masterful persuasion of his captor. Each time Luhan
turns his head away, his mouth away from Sehun's brutal possession, Sehun forces his
chin towards his own, and his lips pushes for more, the kiss becomes more tantalizing,
more demanding than the last. Luhan writhes against him to break his hold, "Stop...
please." He slurs against his mouth. But Sehun only pounds him to the door, jails his
shoulders with both his hands and deepens the kiss with savage intensity.
Slowly, Sehun loosens his grip then lets his forehead rest on Luhan's. His lids slip
down over the other's eyes. "I give up," Sehun's fevered breath brushes his skin, "This
is what you really want to say."
Sehun's fingers rake through Luhan's hair then slide to caress his cheeks. His thumb
faintly touches Luhan's lips before parting it open. He gazes into his eyes before once
again reclaiming his mouth, this time in slow, drugging kisses as if lingering in every
heat it can touch. The potency of whiskey and cigarette immerses in Luhan's palate as
he recognizes Sehun's familiar taste in the ice and his smell of indulgent musk
interlaced with cherry. Pulse thuds in his veins, springs from his heart, and makes his
knees quiver. It is an obsessive kiss, desperate, lonely and adamant all at the same
time, that Luhan can- that he wants to melt into. Defencelessly, Luhan's eyes cast
downwards as he responds and gives himself fully to the passion of the devil's motion.
Sehun glides his tongue over Luhan's undone lips, traces all recesses and urges him to
reply. His demand grows stronger as he crushes his chest against Luhan's, tugs his
head down and plunges his tongue powerfully between Luhan's lips. Currents of desire
shake Luhan and short circuit his senses.
There's no more use fighting it. The bottomline resurfaces as Luhan thaws in Sehun's
warmth. He is there in this room, wrapped in the arms of his captor because at that
moment, when he was about to die and he saw Sehun save him, he knew deep inside
that all along, he was waiting for nobody else but him.
Sehun gathers Luhan in the
circle of his arms and their lips
that had met continue to
converse, as if they had been
there before, in a soft yet
reckless exchange.
Reluctantly, Luhan slips his
fingers beneath Sehun's bare
arms and moves to lock
himself in his captor's
embrace. But before his
hesitant hand can touch
Sehun's back, urgent knocks
vibrate through the door and
pulls him like gravity to the
logic and reason he had all too
quickly thrown away. Luhan
unwraps himself from Sehun's
hold, and without once again
looking at him, flees the room.
Ryu catches sight of Luhan's burned up face before he enters. He is close
to certain he had interrupted something very important. Sehun, standing
just a meter from the door frame, bears an irked expression like that of a
dozed man woken up by nail scratching on chalkboard. Ryu takes an
apologetic bow.
"How are the numbers," Sehun cushions a cigarette between his lips and
Ryu lights it on cue.
"There are no casualties... All survived but about ten are wounded. We
got lucky hyung, Jun was at the lobby with some of our guys when the
whole thing went down. They signaled the rest of us before those bastards
can attack us by surprise."
"It's time for me and Akita to have a talk," Sehun says, "Get the wounded
men back to the yacht. The rest of us will leave for the airport within the
hour."
Ryu moves to head out but Sehun's voice draws him to a stop, "By the
way Ryu," Sehun's timbre twists into a threat, "Any decision you make
when it comes to Luhan is not worth anything unless it goes through me.
You know how I hate being in the dark about certain things."
A shadow of disquiet grazes Ryu's face, "I understand hyung."
"And I heard you gave him money, which is funny because I don't
remember giving monthly allowances to anyone. Let alone my hostage."
"I gave him my own money hyung."
"Why would you that," a curious smile frisks on Sehun's mouth, "I know
you Ryu. I know that there's that moral compass of yours that is
extremely out of place in our business. But this, this is too nice, even for
you. Don't you think so,"
Though it is a question, Ryu knows better than to answer his boss.
Sehun drops the cigarette on his glass of whiskey, "In any case, we have
more pressing matters at hand." he signals to the door, "Go."
Sehun steps into the shower and wrings the water at its coldest. Drops of
water drip onto his wound and bruises, dulling the ache that tears at his
muscles. Luhan's name keeps slipping through Sehun's thoughts, and in
spite of the more pressing matters at hand, as he had phrased it, it is his
captor that lingers in his mind. What was he thinking? He doesn't know.
Being too close to his captive, there was a strange knot that formed in his
chest, like that feeling when he places down his feet underwater, only to
find out it no longer reaches the ground and he realizes he is already
drowning. And he hates it. He wants to go back and stand unmoved in dry
pavements.
Bandages on his open wounds and balm on his bruises, Sehun reeks of
determination. He puts on a black shirt and covers all signs of injury.
There is no time for foreplay. From a burner phone, he dials Akita and on
the first ring, his enemy answers.
"I should've called earlier. This talk have been pushed far too long,"
Sehun says.
"I agree," Akita says, collected and quiet, "Have you been too busy to
drop a dime?"
"You should know, what with the surprises you keep handing at my
doorstep."
Akita laughs, "I believe my men introduced themselves?"
"Unfortunately, I'm not the type to hang out with kids who can barely
hold a sword with one hand."
"Kids?" Akita's slack laughter turns glum, "Your words are harsh as
usual."
"Should we stop using words then?"
"Since we're talking now anyway, probably the last time too until I look
you in the eyes and kill you, I'll give you your last chance," Akita
enunciates slowly, "All I really want is for everyone around you to die.
You do that, let them die in your place... and maybe I can think about
sparing your life."
Sehun dips into a clamour of laughter, "Akita, you're a die-hard fan of
mine right, I know I'm a legend and all, but your strange excessive
interest in me... it's just disturbing."
"In Antigone, Tiresias said that the only crime is pride."
"Maybe you should've chosen literature as your career path. Your
overdone quotes won't do much from the fight I'm bringing to you. Once
I'm done Akita, you'll regret giving my men even a damn paper cut."
Akita sputters in disbelief, "I guess I should go run to my mother now."
"Try the strip clubs, heard she's quite the star there."
Sehun's jibe hits a nerve and shuns Akita from uttering another word. "Oh
and Akita," Sehun adds, "The king labeled Tiresias a traitor in Antigone.
You want to know why, Because Tiresias was too obsessed with the
ancient law of the Gods to see the law of man." he allows silence to leak
in the depths of his warning, "I am the law Akita and you," Sehun smirks
darkly, "you're nothing but a traitor."
Sehun cuts the call and can only imagine Akita's swarming anger. Once
Nikolai and Nuri are dispatched, he can finally see Akita to his end. It's
been quite long since he has found something thrilling to look forward to.

•••

For a reason Luhan refuses to know, there is no other passenger in the

midsize jet except the familiar faces of the RV men. Ryu calls him over to
sit beside him in the far end of the plane's cabin and Luhan takes it in an
instant. He still hasn't seen Sehun, just the devil's name drifting through
his thoughts makes his knees weaken and brings him back to the all-
consuming kiss from two hours ago. But the worst part, the fact that
makes him wince in desire to hide in the plane's baggage compartment, is
his response to his captor's kiss. He wants to go back in time and ask
himself why? Why did you do it? When Sehun's lips gently brushed his,
he couldn't help it, it was as if he had lost control of his own body as it
moved on its own and responded willingly. His kiss wasn't a kiss, it was
an order. It was a soft ultimatum that pushed Luhan to a corner and made
him see no other choice but to give up and kiss him back.
Luhan's fingers travel to his lips, he can still feel the burning velvet of
Sehun's kiss. He can still smell Sehun's fragrance, almost as if it clung to
his shirt and stayed there, unwilling to leave. All tangled thoughts of
Luhan evacuate when Sehun arrives. Luhan quickly drops his hands to the
seat's grip as a sense of uncertainty intrudes his expression. Sehun flickers
a glance to Luhan's direction, and Luhan's nervous system stops, but the
RV leader abruptly breaks their gaze as if all he saw was an empty,
insignificant seat. Sehun walks straight to the first class seating with his
constant disinterested face. Humiliation assails Luhan and unaccustomed
pain sears his chest. Why does it feel so amiss?
Soon, weariness begins to envelope him and he falls asleep, secretly
praying Sehun won't hold him captive until his dreams. Ryu wakes him
up at Moscow, a little bit after dawn, and from there, they move to
another plane and set off for a three-hour ride to Omsk. Luhan saw Sehun
once more, but this time, Sehun didn't even send him a second's glance.
Come nine in the morning, they arrive at the coast of Lake Baikal at the
Bereza hotel, an antiquated structure seiged with a ring of landscape
gardens colored in shades of brown and red.
It is evident that the members do not plan to take even a day's slumber.
Instead of comfy rooms with spacious balconies, RV pays for a
conference hall in the hotel's basement for one night and no more. Luhan
watches them warily as they take action, four members move to lock and
guard the only room's exit while the others arrange the tables. Ryu opens
a crate full of guns and Ga Yun with Jun sets up a complicated network of
laptops, audio devices and a wide projector.
Sehun is smoking at the far end of the hall's table, already with a glass of
whiskey at his fingertips. Everyone takes their seat round their leader's
proximity, Luhan settles beside Ryu and avoids even lifting his lids to his
captor. Because at the worst moment possible, no matter how hard he
dismisses it, all Luhan can think about is that kiss.
"The game will happen at eight tonight. Our source says about twenty
Bratva men of high standing will come. The place will be well-guarded
for sure," Ga Yun says. There is an image of a small, traditional Chinese
restaurant on the screen.
Jun says, "Like we talked about hyungnim, it'd be suicide to take them
all."
"We don't need to." Sehun says, "The location of the game is at our
advantage. It's at a chinese restaurant, at Dayuan. Other than the members
of the club, there'll be three outsiders, a chef, a waiter and a female
escort."
"Our problem now would be who to buy from those three," Ryu answers.
Ga Yun toggles the projector's control and a slide with the chef's picture
and profile comes into view, "Hong Le Yun, he's the brother of Dayuan's
owner. He has been the chef for twenty-three years, had been working
with Bratva for ten."
Sehun shakes his head, "He won't be swayed easily. If he had been
working that long for Bratva that means they have something over him,
his family maybe. Next."
The members nod while Ga Yun turns to the next slide, "The waiter," a
jumble of numerous pictures appear on the screen, "This one isn't as rigid
as the first. Any regular worker from the restaurant can be chosen to stay
for the overtime."
Ryu asks, "Who chooses?"
"The waiters do. If they want extra pay, they can work during the game.
Most of them don't know it's illegal but as a regular worker, it's part of the
contract they sign not to say a word about the restaurant's extra activities."
"Do we know who's the waiter tonight?"
The next slide shows a young, wide-eyed man on his twenties, "Shao Xun
Ang. He's been working in Dayuan only for a month."
"And the escort," Ryu asks.
"The escort comes from this agency," Ga Yun presents a logo of an escort
company called Zhelaniye and with it, a picture of women in scanty garb
lined up like models, "This one is the easiest to buy of all the three."
"True," Sehun says, "But it can't be the escort. She can't enter the kitchen
and we need someone to put the cyanide out of those Bratvas' sight. If she
tries to mix the cyanide with Nikolai's drink on the game table itself,
someone is bound to see. If not those bodyguards standing over Nikolai,
it'd be the other players. We can't risk that."
The members contemplate deeply on the matter, but not one has a
suggestion to put forward. Sehun asks, "The waiter, does he have any
family?"
"No immediate family." Ga Yun says.
Sehun's brows wrinkle in contemplation as he links his hands atop the
table. It would've worked if the waiter had a family member they can take
hostage. "Our best bet is the waiter."
"We can threaten him," Jun says, "And he can do the job for us."
"That's too risky," Ryu says, "He can as easily flip at the poker game
itself and the whole plan blows up."
"Ryu's right," Sehun gives a curt nod, "It has to be one of us. We kidnap
the waiter, get him to call in sick. He'll tell them his cousin will take over
for him. The cousin, will be of course, one of us. The waiter needs to act
desperate enough for money so they won't get someone else but his
cousin to do it. It has to be a convincing play."
Luhan's expression grows hard and resentful. He shouldn't have been
surprised, but for a second, he forgot how cruel Sehun really is.
"I'll take care of that hyungnim," Jun bows partially.
Ga Yun says, "There's one more thing. The one we send in place of the
waiter has to be able to speak Chinese."
"Gook is the only one who can speak Chinese fluently hyung," Ryu says,
"But he was wounded, he's back in the yacht."
Sehun clicks his teeth and turns to his members, "Not one of you can
speak a word of Chinese,"
The members drop their head down. Then Jun's eyes widen, plagued by a
sudden terrible idea. "Luhan," Jun turns to him, "You're half Chinese
right?"
Luhan flinches, his nerves tense as if the chair would collapse from his
frightened weight. He shakes his head urgently, "I'm not– I don't–"
"We have your profile. We know your mom's Chinese." Ga Yun says
rigidly.
Luhan freezes in his place, rendered wordless to defend himself.
"It can't be him," Ryu says and Luhan sighs in relief as he continues, "It's
too dangerous to send someone who hasn't even tried to hurt anyone
before."
"If it's not Luhan, we'd have to botch and change the whole plan. Can we
really find a plan better than this?" Jun says.
The members nod enthusiastically. Violent whispers begin to echo in the
room, and Luhan hears it, it has to be him, if it's not him how do we kill
Nikolai, it's just a simple job why can't he do it — their reaction stings
Luhan like needles in his seat's cushion. Anxiety contaminates him as he
meets the insistent stares of the members. Soon, they all turn to him.
"Isn't it part of your contract to do this?" One shouts at him.
Another attacks with a leer of disbelief, "You've seen what happened.
This isn't just a job for us!"
"It's not like your shooting someone. Don't be a coward!"
"All you have to do is put something on his drink for God's sake!"
Luhan feels as if a hand is closing around his throat, and tightening until it
strangles him dead.
"Stop it," Sehun's voice unclamps the hand that seized Luhan's neck —
Luhan didn't realize his breathing had stopped. Luhan takes a gasp and
snaps his head to Sehun's direction, his petrified gaze easing and clinging
into his captor's eyes in gratitude. Then Sehun blankly looks far ahead,
"It'll be you Luhan. That's final."
A different mixture of emotions deluges Luhan, fear for his life and
unyielding pain, from where or why, he doesn't know. He tries to catch
Sehun's gaze and communicate with him though he is miserably at loss
for words. But Sehun remains untroubled, everything then becomes a
confusion to Luhan, "Jun, you take the waiter, he has to make the call as
early as possible. Ga Yun, I want a warehouse near the restaurant, set up
the network. I want to be able to see what goes down when it does. And
prepare a new ID for Luhan in case he'd need it. Ryu, you take the
members to the warehouse and prepare for contingency. Clear,"
"Yes hyung!"
Gradually, the men dissipate from the room, it reminds Luhan of a
subway train about to close in an hour, slowly becoming desolate and
abandoned. Finally alone, Luhan and Sehun are firm on their places as if
they were mere chess pieces on a game long forgotten. Luhan hasn't
moved an inch while Sehun is still on the far end of the table, dragging on
a fresh stick of cigarette. Between the two of them, silence lengthens and
grows tight.
Somehow, Luhan manages to face Sehun, "Why?" a thread of hysteria
skids through his voice.
Sehun's gaze probes to Luhan's demented soul. And Luhan finally
understands where the pain is coming from. "Why what," Sehun asks and
puts out the cigarette.
Luhan bunches his hands into fists against his rough jeans, "I can't– I
won't kill anyone!"
The sullen figure of his captor stands up and walks to the door. Luhan
rushes to him and grips his arm with both his hands, "Sehun... Don't do
this." Hot tears begin to well in Luhan's eyes. Sehun unsnarls Luhan's
hold as if it were a fleck of dust he is brushing off.

•••

"I can't do it Ryu," Luhan says, his back against the dilapitated wall of the
warehouse. Shadowy blanket veils the sky, the darkest he has ever seen.
Everything is planned and in place for the distasteful murder except
Luhan's unswerving principle. In an hour, the crepuscule will turn even
drearer.
"I'm sorry I can't do anything," Ryu places a hand on Luhan's shoulder,
"But the truth is... I hope you can do it. I hope you kill him."
For a second, Luhan doesn't believe what he hears, "I hate hearing that.
Even from you."
"Luhan, if you don't do it, if you hesitate for even a moment, there's a big
possibility we'll all die here." he places both of his hands firmly on
Luhan's shoulders, "Listen to me. You have to do it. And you have to do it
right. Because if anything goes wrong... anything at all... no will come
and save you. Do you understand what I'm saying? After the deaths RV
suffered, the best, the decision that makes most sense is to leave you there
to die. Rather than risk losing more or even all of our men. Sehun won't
take a chance."
"How could he have pushed me to this? How could he have cornered me
like this? After I told him... When he knew..." Luhan trembles, "He
knew..."
Ryu's brows draw together, "What do you mean?"
Luhan buries his face against his cold palms, his tired eyes unable to
open, "Tell me Ryu. How did Sehun do it? That task you said he did
seven years ago... what was it?"
A gasp leaves Ryu's mouth, evidently hesitant to talk about it. Ryu
inspects the inside of the warehouse through the cracked window and sees
Sehun with the rest of the men busy preparing the assasination. "It wasn't
just one task," he finally says in a grave tone, "You see, it doesn't take one
day for someone to just become RV's leader, even if he's supposed to be
the heir. It was a series of tests. I can't tell you the details because
honestly, even I know nothing but rumours. I heard he was kept prisoner
for a month by Circum, he was tortured, the likes."
Repulsion creeps into Luhan and raises the bristles on the back of his
neck. Is that why Sehun has his entire back tattooed? To cover those
wounds? To forget them?
"And then there were five people he had to kill," Ryu continues, "one was
a cop, another was someone younger than him. The other three, no one
knows who they are. But just before Sehun became the leader, three of his
family members died. Some say he did it."
Luhan shakes his head without him knowing, "He wouldn't do something
like that..."
Ryu pats him in the head, "You may think you know him well enough
now, but there are times that even I can't believe the things Sehun does
right in front of my eyes." His fingers graze over Luhan's locks, shuffling
them in disarray, "You have to listen to me this once Luhan. Whatever
happens, you have to do it... Nikolai has to die."
Ryu's hands are warm, Luhan notices. But still, they don't feel safe
enough, but rather heavy, like the blocks of brick weighing down his
conscience. Footsteps echo from behind the warehouse's door before it
swings open. Sehun walks across the two of them, surveying their faces
before letting his cautious eyes travel to Ryu's hands warmly caressing
Luhan's hair. He squints until his eyes become watchful slits. Ryu bows,
aware his presence is no longer needed, and heads back inside the
warehouse.
Sehun hands Luhan a compact bottle of colorless liquid, "You'll put this
in Nikolai's glass, Ga Yun showed you his photo, right. Do it in the
kitchen, and use all of this."
Luhan is caught off guard by the aloofness with which his captor spoke.
How? How can he discuss it, instruct him to kill someone, as if stating the
methodical procedures to an experiment?
"Ga Yun will pin the camera and mic to your shirt. So we'll know
everything that happens."
"I won't do it." Luhan boldly meets Sehun's dark order.
Sehun turns his stare away from Luhan and focuses on the ink shadows of
the street. The tempest in his eyes reflect the same blackness and they
become glassy, almost statue-like, unreal.
Luhan clasps Sehun's wrist, his grip rigid though quavering. Sehun darts
his eyes back to him in surprise. "You're–" don't say it, Luhan struggles,
"You're asking me to die."
Once more, Sehun looks away. "Look at me!" Luhan screams desperately
and his free hand hovers to Sehun's other wrist, allowing his miserable
weight to lean on his captor's. He remembers the first time they met, how
Sehun pointed a gun right across his head then took the shot. That
moment no longer seems like a memory to Luhan, but just an unfortunate
nightmare. He feels betrayed and it is all too caustic. For Sehun is the last
person Luhan can trust, and yet, he is desperate to hold onto him tighter,
"You're asking me to die Sehun!" Luhan repeats.
"Stop it," In one heartless swing, Sehun peels off Luhan's grip, "You've
realized long ago what kind of person I am. Don't act like you didn't know
I can do something like this."
With those words, Sehun walks back to the door.
"Then why did you kiss me?" Luhan pulls the words out of his mouth,
fighting back the anger and tears.
But there's no breaking Sehun's walls. He pushes his hands in his pockets
and disappears from Luhan's sight.
"This isn't you... This can't possibly be you..." Luhan says. But there is no
one left to listen.

•••

Avoiding meeting anyone's alert gaze, Luhan spots the man in the picture,
Nikolai, the one who is supposed to die in his hands. He walks from the
warehouse till the restaurant and the cold gust of air made his edginess
worse, so much so that not once did his nerves ease nor stop quivering.
As he stands in the room, he perceives faces of ghosts surrounding him
and with them, the oppressive threat of danger. The lattice windows are
all covered with newspapers, the round tables crammed with stacks of
cards, chips in black and red, while female dealers overcast the chattering
players who speak in a sharp language Luhan can't fathom.
In the kitchen, Luhan meets the chef who stops a second too long to
inspect his face. "You tell Xun Ang, this is the last time he gets someone
else to do it for him." he says with a Fujian accent.
Luhan merely nods, afraid his voice might tremble if he spoke.
"Don't let anyone's glass go empty. And you just stand outside, wait for
orders. For now, serve these to the tables." The chef says and hands him a
list of table numbers and their preferred liquor.
Luhan picks out Nikolai's table, he is certain he saw a placard near the
pile of chips with the number four written on it. He hesitates, he might
have been too highly strung to remember the number correctly. The chef
leaves the room, and Luhan knows, it's time. It's now or never. He takes
the Beluga vodka, fingers barely holding and almost slipping in the mouth
of the bottle, and pours it onto a glass.
If you hesitate for even a moment, there's a big possibility we'll all die
here... After the deaths RV suffered...Ryu's words plunder Luhan's mind.
Then...
Up until the last moment... this is my loyalty to you. Sehun overtakes
everything, every bit of conscious and sense Luhan clings to. Eyes darting
to every shadowed corner of the room, Luhan takes the poison from his
pocket and twists the bottle open. He tips the rim of the bottle to the glass.
His burning eyes begin to blur, his breathing becomes faster than the
hurried pace of his pulse. Cold sweat spills from his neck down to the
blades of his shoulder.
But then the memory of his brother Jin dying haunts him in an instant, an
eyeopener that beseeches guilt. Luhan fastens the cap onto the bottle at
full tilt. No matter how many times he thinks about it, how many
deadends he reaches, this is something he cannot do. Damn the
consequences. He cannot take someone's life.
The chef walks in on Luhan with the cyanide. In panic, Luhan shoves the
bottle inside his pocket, face pallid as blood ultimately drains from his
brain down to the tip of his toes. Did he see anything?
"What are you still doing here?" The chef shouts, "Go serve the guests!"
Luhan no longer knows what he is doing or if he can even move an inch.
He holds on to the tray with the glasses and keeps his stare on it as he
walks to the table of Nikolai. Stop shaking! He shouts to himself
inwardly. But to no avail. He sets the liquor across each player, and
finally to his target. Though there is no trace of poison in the drink,
Luhan's hands judder as he sets the glass for Nikolai.
Nikolai scrutinizes him, from his pale face to the tremor of his body, "Is
something wrong?" he asks in crooked Chinese.
"N-no Sir." Luhan hugs the tray to his chest and he can feel it, the strike
of his heart battering against the metal. He needs to escape the crippling
situation. He swivels to head to the kitchen, and the bottle of poison from
his pocket accidentally drops to the floor in his movement. It shatters into
pieces like Luhan's entire existence and the cyanide liquid trickles like
veins in the ground.
The bodyguards of Nikolai immediately take in what happened. Nikolai
darts a look at Luhan then to the unmistakable threat to his life. Luhan
freezes. One of the bodyguards, a man of absurd height, kneels down and
dips a joint at the liquid. One sniff of the cyanide, its bitter almond odor,
is all it takes, and Luhan is caught red-handed. Without missing another
second, the bodyguard takes a gun and pushes its guzzle on the temple of
Luhan's forehead. The tray Luhan is clasping plummets to the ground and
the clank overpowers the rushing stomps of the people who had broken
loose in panic.
"Now now... Don't get ahead of yourself." Nikolai says before pressing
down the gun, away from Luhan's skull.
Luhan swings his head to all directions, everyone had scampered out of
the room except for his target and the terrorizing slaughterers with him. If
Luhan tries to escape, Nikolai's men will kill him in cold blood. The
camera! RV can see everything that's happening. They will surely come
and res– the decision that makes most sense is to leave you there to die –
Die. Death feels so close, Luhan can nearly taste its barbed venom.
The next thing Luhan knows, the bodyguard throws him to the wall, he
hears the crack of his own bones, followed by shooting pain near his
spine. His insides turn into a mush of panic and dread. Nikolai stands
across him and all Luhan can see is a slit of a scar that runs from the
enemy's hairline down to the fringes of his twitched mouth.
"Who is it?" Nikolai pulls a sour grin, "The Petrovs maybe... No? Or the
Utkins?" He laughs, "Not even theywould try something like this... Huh...
I can only think of one person... it's Sehun, isn't it?"
Luhan feels as if his throat had been cut off, causing him to choke on his
own blood.
"I did expect this anyway, he's not the type to leave any unfinished
business," Nikolai takes a swing at Luhan, his fist landing on Luhan's
face. Red fluid seeps from the side of Luhan's mouth, his head is
spinning, he can't be certain where the agonizing burn is coming from.
"I'll go make some calls," Nikolai says to his bodyguards, "Get him to tell
you where Sehun is. But don't kill him yet."
The two bodyguards take turns in their amusement. One punches Luhan
in the stomach, saliva, blood, and scream all come hurtling out of his
mouth. The other bodyguard follows him on a whim and smashes Luhan's
face with his hardened fist. The pop of knuckles drown Luhan in nausea,
sanguine drips from his nostrils and his lips. He grasps another fist about
to land on his head, he puts up his hands in adrenaline for shield. But the
clenched hand connects to his wrist then to his face. "Pl-please..." he
bursts in tears.
The horrifying snap of his nose being broken flies through the air and he
sinks to the floor. Luhan retches in his dizziness as he drops his head to
the side and wraps his arm around his damaged and bleeding body. He
can feel his lids shutting down on its own. Is he merely fainting? Or is
this... is this dying?
Soon, his entire body disintegrates to the floor. Black spots on his sight,
Luhan succumbs to the oblivion. Everything then darkens like the
extremities of a burning paper. He is being kicked on all sides, his guard
on himself unfastening as the pain enters his flesh and bones, at first in
piercing torture then hammering blows. The strikes to his limbs and
muscles are like electric shock, jolting his numb body back to agony.
"Sehun..." Luhan murmurs, keeping the raw emotion close to him,
"Sehun... sa-save me..." Luhan shudders through the blood gurgling out of
his mouth.
Suddenly, the beating stops. A man leans into Luhan, and as he opens his
eyes, the dark spots, then illuminated by the ceiling light, reveals the
familiar black eyes. His redemption.
"Sehun..." He had come for Luhan.
In an intense tempest of relief, Luhan reaches out to Sehun though his
arm is belaboured in torture. But Sehun is too far, too engaged in a fight
with the men of Nikolai. Sehun strikes one bodyguard with a single kick
on the neck, the other with a fatal strike on the stomach. Both fall
helplessly to the floor. Luhan almost mistakes Sehun for someone else,
his face seething with anger, his body trembling in pure wrath — Luhan
had never seen such a horrifying display of rage before. Unable to control
the temper that flares within him, Sehun goes atop one of the bodyguards
and knocks him around, jabs left and right. The man begs for his life, but
at each of his word, Sehun's fist hardens and his attacks worsen. With
every muscle and bone strung and broken, the bodyguard loses
consciousness. But Sehun doesn't stop, he pummels aimlessly until there
is no longer any part distinguishable in the man's figure.
"S-stop... Sehun..." Luhan says. But Sehun is in a trance of revenge and
his eyes, they scream one thing — death.
Luhan sees the other bodyguard take out a knife and aim for Sehun's
back. Without missing a beat, Luhan runs to protect Sehun with his own
body. The knife slashes through his longsleeves and a red line manifests
in his forearm. Sehun snaps out of his stupor and shakes into gasping
silence, eyes widened as he regards Luhan's wound. Like a bat out of hell,
Sehun rushes to the man who had hurt Luhan, takes out his clawed knife
then plunges it down the man's chest. Before blood can even ooze from
the lethal wound, Sehun twists the man's neck, and with a blaring snap,
breaks it.
"Sehun... St-stop." Luhan says.
Sehun hastens to Luhan's side and allows his frail body to melt into his,
"Don't you dare pass out on me." Sehun's cold hands cradle Luhan's
cheek, his thumb lightly rubbing against Luhan's bruised skin.
Every wound stops aching then, except Luhan's heart, stinging in Sehun's
possessive hold, "You're late," Luhan says and his lips twinge in sore.
Sehun swings one arm under Luhan's legs, the other seizing his maimed
back as he carries him, "Let's go home... wherever that is." he whispers
and his hot breath fans in Luhan's ears.
Sehun strides towards the door and Luhan feels as if he is floating atop
the waves, being lulled to sleep. Since when did Sehun become the safe
anchourage in his shipwreck? Luhan locks himself in Sehun's embrace,
his arms encircling his neck. Then he sinks in Sehun's steely chest and he
hears it — the racing of whose heart, if it's Sehun's or his own, he can't
tell. One more heavy step to the door and Sehun comes to a complete halt.
His grip on Luhan's frail figure becomes more urgent.
"I've been looking for you." Nikolai says from behind Sehun.
Sehun turns around and an army of men with pistols and rifles come
charging from the back door of the restaurant. They all stand viciously
behind Nikolai whose face is as smug as a victor. Luhan stiffens in terror
and his hand once gripping Sehun's neck falls to the RV leader's chest.
Luhan clusters in fist the shirt that clung to Sehun's body.
"It's okay," Sehun's depthless eyes caress Luhan's, "I'm not letting you
die."
Sehun turns to Nikolai and he becomes a different person once again. It
isn't anger that Sehun disgorges and yet, it's not vengeance either. Luhan
 explores every skin in Sehun's figure and every subduing darkness
beneath it, and he realizes what he sees, far from anything he has
imagined, Sehun is afraid — for when the waves strike, though the rock
never stirs, it is cocooned by the ripple of water for a moment quicker
than a second. And in that trifle contact, a speck of the rock is trimmed
off and brought to the deep, until one day, each fragment of the boulder
becomes one with the sea.
"Don't die... please," Luhan's mind is blanked but with one thought — this
person, damn what kind of person he is, cannot die.
"You have to do it
Luhan..." Ryu mutters to
himself, sight fixated on
the large projector's
screen that displays
Luhan's trembling hands
holding the cyanide over
the liquor glass. Inside
the warehouse, chairs
were set up for perfect
viewing of the video,
arranged like that of a
movie theater. And yet,
not one of the RV
members can coolly take
a seat while watching the
killing unfold. All of
them keep track of every
slight movement in the
feed, guards up and
breaths caught.
Sehun is standing at the dim corner of the room, propped on the wall with a
cigarette and a dour expression. He regretted it the moment he hauled the
words out of his mouth, and though he knew exactly what it was he was
agreeing to, he couldn't bring himself to overturn his comrades' decision and
solely do what he wanted. Because he knew somewhere in him that once he
lets his undisguised emotions take the lead, all of them will come to their end.
Luhan can't stop trembling and Sehun's chest feels as if it is about to burst in
unease. Calm down, Sehun hopes his thoughts can reach him.
Luhan tilts the cyanide to the drink, but then he hesitates and immobilizes.
Sehun's blood rises from his heart to his neck then solidifies in his throat. He
watches as Luhan takes the bottle away from the glass, not a drop fallen, and
shuts it close. Elbowing himself off the wall, Sehun unconsciously clamps his
hand into a grip and the cigarette that rests in his fingers fractures into half and
ultimately dies out in his bitter palm.
Luhan goes to Nikolai and it is as evident that the latter is already sensing
danger. Pushing the metal tray to his chest, Luhan obscures the camera and in
the screen, all Sehun can see is plaguing midnight black. Sehun rushes closer to
the video panel. What is happening? Besetting echoes of scrambling footsteps,
gasps and shrieks enshroud the warehouse. Bluntly, the metal tray hurtles to the
floor.
"Who is it?" Nikolai's voice rings, "The Petrovs maybe... No? Or the Utkins?"
He laughs grimly, "Not even they would try something like this... Huh... I can
only think of one person... it's Sehun, isn't it?"
Not missing a beat, Sehun slips out of the room in a haste. He runs in the
barren street, crosses it and almost gets thrashed by a bolting car. Each time the
freezing air skewers his skin, a biting burn would spread from the source to his
whole physique. But no pain can coerce him out of his resolve. He runs until
his legs feel like giving out, his gaze blinded by anxiety and wrath.
Not a single member of RV notices that their leader has disappeared. Too
involved in the downfall of the plan, all of them gawk at the screen while
struggling not to blink. Luhan is catapulted to the wall and the two bodyguards
tower across him, aiming to strike. Ryu swallows a gasp and his body vibrates
in pulse-pounding ire. He pivots to leave the room, but before he can execute a
step, Ga Yun grabs him by the wrist, "Sehun told us not to make a move. Are
you sure you're ready to defy his order?"
Ryu clenches his jaw in frustration and plucks one of the chair before
propelling it to the other side of the room. He goes into a state of shock,
resigned to come to Luhan's rescue. All of a sudden, Sehun appears on the
screen and the quandary turns into utter peril. All of the members are paralyzed
in their places while Ga Yun and Jun bustle near the screen. Ryu's irises widen
in terror. Are they seeing it right?
"Let's go," Ryu says before walking out of the warehouse. Arming themselves
with the guns from the crates, the members all follow his lead without a single
word.
The RV members reach the restaurant, blasts the door open and the tables turn
into an all-out war. The line of Sehun's men aim their guns across Nikolai's
men. A surge of barbarity lashes through the room. Sehun still hasn't released
Luhan from his clutches, while to Luhan, it is clear that RV is outnumbered.
Once the men from both sides take even one shot, each weapon will be fired,
and not one of them will leave the room alive.
"Sehun, your men will all be dead before they can even take a shot at half of
mine." Nikolai threatens.
Sehun blankly stares at Nikolai then to the figure he is protecting. He allows
himself to thaw in the comfort of Luhan's wide-eyed innocence. It would've
been nice if Sehun were able to explain to Luhan why he had kissed him, or
more idyllic, show it to him one more time. But all he can do is cling to
Luhan's eyes and smile — a smile that'll make Luhan understand who he is,
what he needs to do, and why he needs to do it.
Sehun puts Luhan down and entrusts him to Ryu's arms, "Get out Ryu."
"Hyungnim—" Ryu protests.
"Get out!" Sehun glares at him, "That's an order." He turns to Nikolai whose
mouth twists upward in mockery, "Nikolai, I'm the one you want. You
respected me enough before to listen to every word I say. Let my men go."
In delighted contemplation, Nikolai ogles at Sehun and his men. Then he
swings one arm and gestures to the restaurant's exit. The RV members refuse to
put down their guns and leave their leader alone. For the first time since they've
worked under Sehun, they raise their objections.
"I'm staying here, you all go ahead." Ryu says.
"To hell to that! You'd have to drag me out if you want me to leave." Jun
shouts.
"We're not leaving you here alone." Ga Yun says.
Soon, all of the members cry out their disagreement. Not one of them even
looks to the door. They decide that they'd rather clear off in body bags than
leave their leader on his own.
"Stop." Sehun presses his mouth in defeat and his lids drop down to a close,
"Go. All of you... Please."
The RV members freeze, their body withering in disbelief. Please, Sehun
couldn't have muttered such word. Wave after wave of anger and defeat belts
the men, their faces enshrouded with agony. No matter how harsh the
conditions were, Sehun never bowed down to anyone, he never thought of
himself as inferior, as the defeated. Not even once.
Lightly bearing down on Ryu's gun, Sehun says, "It's okay. Go."
A tear falls from Ga Yun's eyes, Jun shivers in exasperation and Ryu looks
down in discomposure. Cautiously falling back to the door, the men escape the
restaurant. Luhan is paralyzed by the cuts and lesions in his body, and all he
can do is catch one look. Just one last look at Sehun. Then the door closes, the
same time Luhan banishes to unconsciousness.
"How the mighty has fallen." Nikolai tells Sehun, almost as if he genuinely
feels sorry, "The wheel does turn after all."
Rota Volvitur — the wheel turns. When Sehun first heard the group's name and
learned its meaning, he laughed and sneered at it. But back then, what mattered
to him was that he had found his moral cause, that one thing he'd willingly die
for. You did great... and you did enough,a voice inside him urges. "Let's get
this over with," Sehun challenges Nikolai.
Nikolai takes a gun from his backside, a titanium gold-finished pistol in .440
Cor-Bon cartridge. Narrowing his eyes to get the faultless aim, Nikolai levels
the weapon's muzzle on Sehun's forehead. He then puts the safety off, his
thumb idling in the trigger.
Sehun exhales a long sigh of satisfaction and lets his eyes fall to sleep. He'll die
in the mercy of one of the best guns ever made. He begins to feel queasiness
settle on his chest down below. An odd humming pulses in his ear and soon
enough, the murmur starts to drown the feeble noises in the room. Though
Sehun's eyes are closed, he finally gets to see everything — his past, his present
and his future — all in one person's faulty perfection. Sehun had never thought
of it before, except now. And in the end, he realizes that this is the kind of man
he wants to become — he wants to linger as an unforgettable, haunting
memory to that one person... just that one person he most wants to protect.
In a flash, the explosion of the fired gunshot splinters in the room. Sehun sees
Nikolai's corpse sprawled in a stream of blood. The killer's name surges
through his mouth, "Nuri..."

•••

Luhan finds himself in a deep tunnel. Plat plat plat. The water drips on the rock
pavement but he can’t see where it is coming from. There is no light from
anywhere, not even from above. He runs frantically but aimlessly. Fear settles
in till he sees a hesitant light stream in a few miles ahead of him. He runs
towards it and then he sees Sehun standing on the far end. With a relieved
smile, he rushes towards him and the cloudy image clears up. An ablazed circle
of red forms on Sehun's forehead, blackening as Luhan gets close. Blood
gushes out of the wound and Sehun sinks to his knees, then falls head first on
the rutted ground. Luhan screams his name in excruciating pain while deep
sobs rack his shoulders.
Luhan's eyes shot open and he sits up as he claws his way back to reality. Cold
beads of sweat scurry after another in his forehead. He breathes with difficulty
and tries to piece back the situation. The thick linens graze against his skin and
he surveys the room, the wide majestic canopy bed on which he lays, the ornate
walls in white and mint green, the knotted brown curtains that reveal the leaden
night sky and the moon adorning it. He gasps in relief and braces his chest until
a hurricane of painful memories ambushes him.
"Sehun!" They left him alone. He had left him alone.
A quick flow of movement from the bedside catches Luhan's attention. Face
buried on his folded arms atop the bed, the figure is heaving steady breaths in a
doze.
"Sehun?" Luhan shakes the man awake.
"You're finally up," Ryu says in a hoarse voice and regards Luhan in concern.
Icy air spreads through Luhan's stomach and guilt stabs him in consecutive
blows. Where is Sehun? "Ryu, we have to go back... now!" Luhan stands up
but the needle stuck on his skin traps him. An IV fluid is connected to it, its
dripping liquid like the ticking of a time bomb.
Ryu pulls him gently, "Luhan calm do-"
"We can't leave Sehun there!" Luhan pulls out the needle that had pierced into
his flesh. Ryu hastens to his side and attempts to pin him with their bare hands
but Luhan retaliates, "What are you doing? He is going to die! I saw it Ryu! I
saw it!" Screaming in desperation, Luhan plunges forward and struggles to
push Ryu away. He dives his toes on the frozen floor but just as quickly, he
falls down and coils like a soul that had been drained of every breath. Pain
from his wounds come blasting in all directions and he is left crippled.
"Sehun is okay Luhan." Ryu says.
"How can he be okay?" Luhan yells against the sobs that had worked its way
into his words. He screams the same question again and again, louder each
time. With the bed's edge as his only cane, he forces himself upwards then falls
again. "He's there because of me!" Luhan crawls his way to the door and each
drag feels like a part of his limb being cut off. But he can't stop. Sehun needs
him. And he needs him now.
"Luhan!" Ryu calls out, "Are you listening? Sehun is oka—"
The wooden door is pushed open and a pair of coal leather shoes block Luhan's
drenched sight. He lifts his head and finally sees him, "Sehun..."
Luhan doesn't even notice Ryu had left. All he can see, all he wants to see are
the hypnotizing pair of eyes before him, the reddened temples beneath them
and the rhythmical rise and fall of breathing. He's alive. Or they're both
departed and in heaven. It no longer really matters.
Sehun crouches down, levels with Luhan and swings his arms atop his knees, "I
don't even want to ask why you're on the floor."
Luhan's tears that had stopped return in outrage. He gulps hard and the weeps
turn so heavy they rock his shoulders. With clenched hands, he strikes Sehun
repeatedly in the chest, "You are the worst person in the world!" He bites his
lips, "If you ever do that again, I will really kill you. I swear!"
Sehun disarms Luhan with the warmth of his laugh, "If you want to kill me,
you'd have to get in line."
"That's not funny." Luhan says with a grave expression. Then an abrupt agony
breaks in his spine and all the bruises in his body take their own share of
misery. Luhan groans and layers his palm over his forehead.
"What's wrong?" Sehun cups his chin and with brows pulled into a frown,
contemplates where Luhan's ache is coming from. "Be obedient for once and
stay in bed." He carries Luhan in one swivel and in a second, the soft cushion is
caressing Luhan, the cosy covers enveloping him.
"I'll get the doctor to put your IV back." Sehun says.
"Don't!" Luhan says.
Sehun blinks in confusion, "What, why,"
"Later..." Luhan curls under the blanket, "Can't we just talk?" Because of his
premonition, nothing feels safe enough to Luhan. He fears that if Sehun leaves,
there won't be any coming back.
"About what," Sehun sits on the chair near the bed.
"Is this a hospital? Are we still in Russia?"
"Does it look like a hospital," Sehun says, "We're back in Korea. At my house."
"House? You have a house?"
"Why, is that a crime,"
"No." Luhan grins, "It's just... You don't look like the domestic type."
"It's not exactly my house but I stayed here when I studied for college."
Luhan's grin transforms into a peal of laughter, "Co- college? You went to
college?"
"What exactly do you think I am. Of course I did." Sehun says, "It was
homeschool though. That's why I bought this house."
Luhan pauses. His glee slowly dies out and a glazed bearing of despair spreads
over him. Regret squeezes his heart as he thinks of how little he knows about
Sehun.
"Where does it hurt?" Sehun plunges forward but an inch from Luhan’s face.
He intently studies the shades of expression Luhan shows. Luhan wonders if
this is how solemn he looks like when reading a book.
Luhan gently pushes him back to the seat, "I'm okay... It's okay..."
For a minute that lengthens like an hour, there is no other noise in the room
except the flurry of air against the window. Luhan steals a glance at Sehun
whose stare is fixated on him alone. A blush shadows over Luhan's cheeks as
he drags his vision back to the window. He had lived long enough to know the
marks of a worried guise and difficult enough to intuit its sincerity. But with
Sehun, everything lies between the lines.
Luhan sifts back to what Sehun said, "Wait... we're in Korea? How long has it
been?"
"You've been asleep for an entire day," Sehun says and Luhan notices the
exhaustion that deepens under his captor's eyes, wondering if he had gotten any
nap at all.
"What happened? How were you able to get out?"
"Nuri came."
"Nuri... saved you?" Luhan halts, surprised.
"It's not out of concern," Sehun says, "That old friend has a motive, a truce. He
wants me to not try and kill him."
"And?" Luhan sits up, "What do you plan to do?"
Sehun flays his stare off of Luhan's then pulls out a cigarette. Shielding the
flame with his hands, he lights it. He narrows the lines in his eyes and inhales
the smoke before puffing it in a velvety cloud of apparition. He flickers it over
the ashtray on the bedside table, "I haven't decided."
Sehun is pondering if he should kill a friend after he himself was too close to
death, after nearly losing the people he cares about. It's all his fault, Luhan
believes. All the punishing decisions Sehun had to make in light of saving him,
all those cruel possibilities he had to think about, is all his fault. Luhan is sure
he had been in this same, eerily exact moment. And yet it feels so new, so
unbearably new, like a million of wounds at its first cut. He doesn't want any
kind of hurt to come to Sehun, even for a pulse beat's second. But why? Why
would Sehun sacrifice so much just for Luhan? For one breathing being who
doesn't even know him that well?
"Sehun..." Luhan speaks in a broken whisper, "Why did you save me? You
could've just as easily left me there to die. And all of what happened wouldn't
have happened."
"Why did you kiss me, why did you save me," Sehun jeers at him, "Why do
you keep asking questions like that,"
"Because I want to know what I should feel."
"Know what to feel?" Sehun pillows the cigarette on the half-moon dent of the
ashtray, "You feel what you feel when you feel it, you can't just make that sort
of thing up."
Because I hate reading between the lines.Biting his lip, Luhan looks away from
Sehun, afraid he might figure out how fast his heart is thumping beneath his
unrelenting look.
"I saved you because at that moment I felt like it." Sehun declares, "I kissed
you because at that moment I felt like it."
"Oh o- okay... So, it was just at the mo-"
"If it happens again... if you're in danger again, I'll still feel like it," Sehun's
gaze probes to Luhan's very soul, "And kissing you, even now... I still feel like
it."
A shiver of stupefaction and passion runs through Luhan's bloodstream as he
sits up, instantly wakeful. He stirs uneasily in the bed, speechless against
Sehun's impulsive mystery. He is praying Sehun doesn't notice just how
much... how frustratingly much, he affects him.
Wary of Luhan's uneasiness in his words, Sehun stands up and lightly taps
Luhan's shoulder before shifting to leave the room. They can always talk when
Luhan feels better. However, before Sehun can budge, Luhan confines his neck
in the fervour of his arms and drags him down so their faces meet each other, in
a gap only the rush of wind can glide through.
Sehun cuts his breathing short, lips parted in surprise as he lets his fascinated
gaze steady on Luhan. Luhan's thick honey hair curves his cheeks whipped in
rose and pearl. His skin is smooth as pale gold beneath whispers of flushed
pink, his fine eyebrows are creased in contemplation. His eyes are like large
bright quartz as they anxiously search his face. Every measure in Luhan's face
seems surreal, so flawlessly shaped, that any delicateness would have made
him too beautiful for a man. And yet, his lips, full and rounded, reflect the
pride and confidence in them. At the plinth of Sehun's throat, a pulse beats and
swells as though his heart, that throbs erratically, had soared out of its
accustomed setting. Sehun can't stop himself even if he tried. He deliberately
shuts down every awareness in him. All he can imagine is how he refuses to
breathe if it isn't through Luhan's lips.
"The– then..." Luhan clings to Sehun's neck tighter, "Is it okay for me to feel
the sa-"
Closing the gap between them, Sehun claims Luhan's lips in a kiss of forceful
domination that can devour any bit of sanity left amidst them. Luhan's lips find
their way to Sehun's and they respond eagerly in reckless immoderation at the
fiery joining of skin to skin. Sehun moves in a turbulent cadence, raking each
strand in Luhan's hair then seizing them in fists. Carried away by his own
passionate response, Luhan begins to slip his arms around Sehun's fervent body
while Sehun accedes to his growing desire.
As if burning in frenzied flames, Sehun forces Luhan's lips open with his
urging tongue. Then Sehun pushes Luhan to the bed, his weight crushing his
captive's feeble body shamelessly. Sehun's hands explore the curves of Luhan's
neck, his back and his waist, as though they know faithfully where to go.
Panting, chest heaving and thoughts spinning, Luhan lays and drowns into
inhibited ardour. The kiss becomes faster and faster at each second, and with it,
the aroma of Sehun, his sweet taste, all send the pit of Luhan's stomach into an
intense whirl of ecstasy.
Sehun sees red in his periphery and immediately breaks the contact. The wound
in Luhan's forearm had reoopened and is oozing vermillion. A muscle quivers
at Sehun's jaw, his brows furrowed in remorse. He turns his utter focus to
Luhan's wound, "I'll call the doctor to get you patched up."
Luhan murmurs, "Sehun... I-"
Sehun strides to the door and walks out the room, without even assuming a
fragment of responsibility for the yearning that had begun to overburden
Luhan. Because he felt like it, so he said... but what does that mean? Between
the lines. Can't such phrase be nothing but a metaphor?

•••

Luhan rams his feet on the pavement and the futon swing rocks him back and
forth, briskly at first before gradually stopping. The monsoon rain poured
earlier that day until it was swept off by the suffocating summer heat. Salty
droplets trickle down his body then splashes onto the patio where the swing
stands. He never got quite used to summer in Seoul, the swelter imprisons the
dwindling moisture of the rains, hot and humid, the very sense of
discomfort. But for a week now, every single day, Luhan would sit on the
swing like he is now, and look fixedly at the gate while waiting for Sehun to
come back. Many times, the heat would puncture his skin and burn the flesh
beneath it, and he would flinch, but he wouldn't leave.
The last time he saw Sehun was when they kissed, and after that, there had
been nothing. He had been alone in the house. Indeed, the doctor had been
coming faithfully but except for Ryu, Luhan hadn't seen another RV member.
He is partly glad that they don't visit him, for he doesn't know how to apologize
for what he has caused, and yet he is worried. Are they still alive? Are they
targeting someone? Will they be okay? Unanswerable questions pester him like
an itch that can't be mollified.
Without notice, the gate opens and Luhan is hopeful. But it is Ryu on the other
side, carrying a bag of groceries on one hand and a packet of medicines on the
other.
"You're here again?" Ryu says, sits down beside him and the swing staggers
once more.
Luhan sighs, "Should we go inside?"
Putting down the grocery bags on the counter, Ryu glances at Luhan and his
usually vivacious eyes that are deadened by tiredness. The doctor had informed
him that Luhan's surface wounds have healed well and with enough rest, he'll
be as good as he started. Momentarily, he wonders what it is that causes Luhan
to feel so dejected.
Ryu serves Luhan a bowl of smoking ramen with green onions, boiled egg and
two slices of spam. Luhan realizes he hadn't eaten anything since the day
before but the ramen doesn't entice his fatigued stomach one bit. He twists the
noodles with his fork then propels it towards his mouth. Twist and swallow.
Twist and swallow. Twist and swallow. At last, he finishes the bowl. Now, he
has the urge to throw up all he gulped down.
"Do you even eat when I'm not here?" Ryu asks, "And do you sleep? You look
so tired."
"Where are they Ryu? Are the other members okay? Are you planning another
attack again?"
"Luhan... I told you. Sehun ordered me not to say anything."
Just hearing Sehun's name snatches Luhan's heart out of its cage, "Sehun...
How is he? Is he okay?"
"There's no reason not to be." Ryu says, "The doctor is coming again
tomorrow, make sure you list down what he tells you to do. And don't forget to
drink your medicine after each meal."
Luhan rabidly drops the fork to the bowl, "I don't want to see the doctor! I want
to know what's happening to RV!"
"What gives you the right?" Ryu stands up in a trice, mood veered sharply to
anger, "I told you. I clearly told you what would happen if you didn't kill
Nikolai. We almost died! All of us!"
Tongue-tied, Luhan steadily stares as he had never seen Ryu furious ever
before. He had not taken into consideration how he must have felt. All Luhan
was thinking about was himself. "Ryu..." Luhan whispers, "I'm sor–"
"It's shameless to apologize. So don't." Ryu says harshly then walks to the door,
"Lock the door."
Luhan lets his head tumble to the table. Of course Sehun would leave. Of
course the RV members won't visit him. After what he has done, they are all
probably trying hard not to murder him. The thought of all of them hating him
is worse than his back being broken, than being beaten up to near-demise. He
deserved all of it. And more. But Sehun had kissed him, why would he do such
a thing? And Luhan had thought that things between them were alright. And
yet, he had left without any explanation. Crestfallen, Luhan feels as if he had
mistakenly read the hands of the clock and missed the last train home.

•••

Three more nights passed and Luhan stops waiting by the porch. The house
becomes more familiar to him than his own, the prairie ambience, the wooden
patio leading to a rainbow garden before the gate, the flat roofs atop the one-
storey stretch of tall walls, and Sehun's stirring bed. Each time night cascades,
Luhan would lie down in the bed and nestle beneath the covers, wondering if
Sehun had reposed there before, and if he had any intention of seeing him
again.
"I want you to come home." Luhan is surprised to hear his voice echo his
thoughts. Perhaps it is a sin to say it out loud, to even think it. But Luhan does.
Maybe because their lips meeting each other made too much sense it began to
hurt.
On the fourth night, Luhan loses hope. Another insipid dinner across him atop
the table, a couple spoonful of it, and he is done eating, feeling as hollow as
before. He looks out the window that reflects the gate and a torrent of despair
infringes on the caves of his lonely spirit. Head bowed and body slumped in
misery, he stays sitting, still as a carving, if it is an hour or four, he can't be
certain. The dead of the night seems endless, fearful of graying into dawn. For
someone like Luhan who is waiting for someone who isn't returning, an hour of
darkness is a day to forever.
Still staring out into the gate, Luhan perceives the shadow of a figure crossing
the threshold of his isolation. He stands up so rapidly the chair topples over its
back. The towering figure strides on the garden's path and all nervousness grips
Luhan. The sandy yellow light in the patio is vivid as it takes its time to clear
up Luhan's view.
Luhan blinks, then focuses his stare, "Sehun..." a cry of relief breaks from his
lips. His heart that sings in delight hums the same tune to his eyes. He runs out
the room like whirlwind. And in a flash, he is standing across Sehun, panting
heavily against the leader's calm demeanor.
Trying to hide the joy that shines his expression, Luhan purses his lips. For two
weeks, he had thought of what to say to get to this person, to understand him
and make him understand, to make him want to stay. But Luhan is unable to
give himself to any of the sentences he memorized, the expressions he
practiced across the foggy mirror. All is pointless and incoherent when
swimming in the onyx satin of Sehun's eyes.
Without any modification in his stoic expression, Sehun turns away and walks
straight to the end of the paved path. Luhan is clouded with uneasiness while
he follows behind Sehun. The harder Luhan tries to turn a blind eye to the fact,
the more it ploughs on. It is as though Sehun does not want to see him. The
past days, Luhan didn't think of that. He contemplated on how to act when
Sehun comes back, what to say, what to do. But not once did it cross his mind
that there's a possibility Sehun might loathe meeting him. Too quickly, Luhan
runs out of deflections and realizes that in the end, he'd rather plunge in an
inhumanely deep dark sea than a shallow yet lifeless one.
Treading his feet viciously on the patio, Sehun comes to a stop and pivots to
face Luhan. Luhan makes an effort to hide the shattering realization that had
washed over him though it is clearly written in Sehun's ashen face. Luhan
knows what he is about to say.
Sehun perches on the swing and drags on a cigarette, "Let's end the contract
here. You can go home."
Luhan's teeth chatter and his body begins to tremble, unaccustomed to the woe
leaking through his every pore. He tears at his lips to conceal his shock.
"You've paid in full." Sehun takes out crumpled papers from his pocket, "You
sign this and you can go."
Looking at Sehun takes so much toil from Luhan. While Luhan was sitting
there at the exact same swing every night with eyes burning from staring too
much at the gate, waiting for Sehun to come back; Sehun was writing that
contract to end everything between them.
"What are you still standing there for, "
Halted by the tone of Sehun's words, Luhan goads every fiber in him to calm
down. He feels as if he is confined in four adjoining walls and he can't move.
Why are you saying this? We were okay weren't we? When- How- What
changed?Luhan wants to say. Instead, he extorts a congested smile on his face,
"So we're good then?" He squares his shoulders and a forced laugh bolts from
his pale lips, "Good. That's good. That's- That's really good."
"I was thinking you'd leave on your own. But after a week, I figured you
needed to see a contract," Sehun says.
His indifference bruises Luhan's pride. It was you I needed to see! Not a piece
of paper! Luhan screams inside. "You're right." Luhan smiles again, wider this
time. Struggling to stop his hands from shaking, he takes the contract from
Sehun. The pen crashes to the ground and Luhan picks it up while his knees
long to falter and collapse in anguish. Through his blurred regard of the
document, he signs his name on the dotted line.
Luhan's throat seems to close up, "I'll go get my things." Imprisoned by his
own lie, Luhan notices his voice falter. He rushes out of Sehun's sight and into
the house. He shuts the door then loses his balance and stumbles, his back
pinned on the wooden frame. The walls detaining him cracks, breaks into
pieces before crushing his dim future. He had never felt a pain so raw — a
scrape that inevitably becomes an imperishable scar, carved in his chest, inked
with his own blood.
Hauling his miniscule luggage bag out the door, Luhan's damp eyes fall upon
Sehun and his calmness weighs him down to a worse abyss. Luhan doesn't
speak, for he knows just what he wants to say, and it is himself he is scared of
more than anything else. He walks forward in a slow pace, he doesn't want
Sehun to see the throes in his face, and yet he wants him to say something. But
Sehun doesn't. Trudging the path of the dreary garden, Luhan releases a choked
laughter. He had hurried packing his things because he was so worried, so
afraid that Sehun might leave without waiting for him.
Luhan pushes the gate open and allows his concealed thoughts to surface. He
continues to walk though he is aimless, unaware of the people passing by him,
the lit shops playing jaunty music in the sidewalk, the cars scrambling in both
directions. Sehun didn't come back earlier because he had thought Luhan would
escape. But such freedom didn't even set foot in Luhan's awareness. He was too
distraught that Sehun had left and too hopeful that he would come back that he
had forgotten about his own interest. On a moonless alley near his home,
Luhan hugs his knees to him and yields to the tears that begin to stream down
his lids.

A fleeting nostalgia pervades Luhan as he stands across his house. Grabbing

the bronze key from its usual place beneath the withered plant pot, he stares at
it pressed on his palm. With icy, quavering hands, he lodges the key inside the
hole and the sound of metal writhing against metal echoes in the empty home.
The key he holds will vanquish all the traumatic memories, all the sufferings he
had gone through with RV. All he has to do is open the door. He will be happy
once he goes back to his old life and everything that had unfolded will be but
an old photograph he can tuck away with the rest. He will be happy... won't he?
As though pulling him to the unknown, Luhan's blood soars with unbidden
recollection and his hands keel over his sides. He is brought back to the
moments Sehun saved him, and he is certain in his heart, that his captor cares.
The truth is Luhan can see it, how hard Sehun tries to conceal his emotion
beneath his rigid expression. The other, more persistent truth, is that Sehun has
a certain way of torturing Luhan, of keeping his image in his mind. Despite all
sense clamouring in Luhan's head, Sehun always manages to seep in, as easily
as a child believes a lie, with no scepticism, with all the glory of an unwavering
and devious form of conviction. It is an enigma, how drastic the difference is
between seeing someone and wanting to be seen. Luhan's greedy disposition
have now risen for he no longer just yearns to see Sehun. He no longer just
wants Sehun to come back. This is the mayhap, the point of no return, where
Luhan wants Sehun to set his eyes on him too, where he wants Sehun to need
him too. This atrocious demand of reciprocity is perhaps a greater sin than the
obsession that had begun to overwhelm his harrowing deprivation of his captor.
He runs in a haste and the surge of bitter wind numbs his entire body. Luhan's
heart pounds to the beat of his feet trampling over the misty ground. He turns at
the gloomy alley, one foot after another crushing the frozen asphalt. The
silhouette against the dullness of the alley does not scare Luhan as he irrupts
into the pathway leading to pitch-dark nothingness. There is no light waiting
for him in his destination, like a tunnel closed on both ends. But it doesn't
really matter to Luhan anymore. Because the thing one wants most is usually
invisible — a secret between the heart that pines and the twilight that hinders
the view.
And finally Luhan glimpses a streak of light— something... someone who'd
stay with him in the starless dark. Sehun is standing in the middle of the
alleyway, heaving rushed breaths, glistening in beads of water. They don't wait.
They don't say a word. They meet halfway in the shadows and fly to each
other's arms, their lips molding into a cruel ravishment of burning need.
Sehun savagely pushes Luhan to the rundown brick wall. A moan leaves
Luhan's lips as his back hits the hard concrete, the pain overtaken by the wet
pleasure of Sehun's kiss. Luhan drinks in the sweetness of Sehun's tongue
circling and sweeping inside his mouth. Evanescent gleam wanes from the
pavement to Sehun's face and Luhan glimpses the hunger in his captor's eyes.
Knees weakened by the sharp lines in Sehun's provocative face, Luhan slides
down the wall and almost to the ground. Sehun pulls him up with his fevered
hands and cradles his neck without breaking the kiss.
Sehun buries his body deeper to Luhan's as if the wild contact is no longer
enough. He groans and his lips travel to Luhan's earlobes, nibbling them, his
hot breath burning against Luhan's skin. The wetness of Sehun's lips leaves a
trail down to Luhan's inflamed neck. Sehun suckles his skin in demanding
passion while his hands glide up and down Luhan's back. Desire rockets
through Luhan's body and a gasp is forced out of his lungs.
Without warning, Luhan feels his shirt slide up to his chest. Sehun slips one
hand under it, brushing Luhan's bare skin before roaming to circle his sensitive
peaks. Eyes widened in surprise, Luhan lurches and stiffens. "Sehu- Wa- wait."
Luhan struggles beneath him.
But Sehun doesn't stop. A group of people come passing by the lamppost at the
end of the alley, chatting loudly. A blush stains Luhan's ivory skin and he turns
away in revulsion, ramming Sehun's chest off him, "Sehun, ple-please.."
Sehun viciously yanks Luhan's shirt off. His gaze roams over Luhan's thin
bodice and slim waist and he is instantly aroused. Delirious by the carnal
appetite that takes over him, Sehun gathers Luhan's wrists with one hand and
pins them to the wall. Then he sensually reclaims Luhan's swollen mouth
before stroking them to lust with his drenched tongue while his free hand flicks
and rolls his nipples gently. Sehun rubs his naked back and shoulder
relentlessly, squeezing then raking at them.
Electric shock surges through his body just by Sehun's touch. Frightened and
embarrassed by his own arousal, he struggles and braces his hands on either
side of Sehun and shoves him hard, trying to escape his paralyzing kiss.
"Sehun, stop!" Luhan's words smothers against Sehun's lips but he is powerless
from his earnest control.
Sehun's grip on Luhan's wrists tightens, ablazing them in ropes of scarlet. He
darts his tongue repeatedly inside Luhan's mouth while Luhan squirms beneath
his arms. He halts the kiss, but doesn't remove his chains off of Luhan's hands,
"Luhan..." Sehun fights for his breath, "Look at me..."
Luhan swallows at the sight of Sehun's disheveled hair that frames the fire in
his eyes, the quavering of his lips, the droplets racing down his skin's red flush
of thirst. Sehun's arresting gaze is riveted on Luhan's face, and Luhan can tell
that Sehun wants to own all of him. No, Sehun is desperate to own all of him.
Explosive currents shoot through Luhan and he is left drugged by his captor's
dominance. Something deep within Luhan senses the loneliness and the need
buried in Sehun's strength and soon, all the noises from the alley, all the voices
of the passersby and the roar of the speeding cars fade out and drowns in the
vigour of Luhan's heartbeat and the soft demand of Sehun's voice.
"I always get what I want." Sehun says then takes off his own shirt before
hungrily devouring Luhan's mouth. The darkness cannot hide the muscles of
Sehun's chest, the tightness of his abdomen. Luhan's lips soften and melt
against Sehun as he cups his captor's steely face. The mere touch of their bare
bodies sends a jolt running through Luhan's spine.
Out of control, Sehun plunges his scalding hand inside Luhan's jeans and
strokes his hard, pulsing erection. A hot tide of passion rages through Luhan
and a tremor heats his thighs and groin.
"Ah!" Luhan closes his eyes, his hands clawing against Sehun's back.
Sehun's palms rub harder against Luhan's manhood, fondling it erratically. His
stroke increases its pace as his penetrating gaze bear a hole in Luhan's. "Open
your eyes Luhan," Sehun insists.
Tears of pleasure dampening Luhan's gaze, he opens his eyes partly and looks
away in crimson fluster. Sehun tugs Luhan's chin to meet his, "Show me your
face," he says then pulls down Luhan's jeans, his abashed hard-on completely
exposed. The nakedness release all hindrance and frees Luhan's molten
member. Sehun molds it to his smouldering palms.
"Se- Ah!" Luhan moans in pleasure as Sehun's hands go into a wild frenzy.
"I'm going to-"
"Not yet." Sehun says. He rams his finger in the entrance between Luhan's
thighs. Luhan's body arches and a breathless gasp leaves his lips as he tries to
choke back a moan of lust. Sehun takes his drenched finger out then pushes
two more inside Luhan's taut, wet core. Luhan bites on his lips harder to stifle
his scream of pleasure and his bodice concaves in the fullness of Sehun's hard
fingers inside him. Sehun doesn't blink, he wants to see more, he wants to see
his captive helpless to his lure. "You can make a sound Luhan. Show me
everything," Sehun's other hand roams to Luhan's soaked mouth where he
plunges his thumb. Both of his fingers move in a frantic pace, in the resolute
need to watch Luhan's blatant hysteria. Harsh and uneven gasps begin to
shudder Luhan and he sets loose a series of wild, loud groans.
Blood pounding in the warm contours of his flesh, Sehun takes Luhan's hands
and presses them against his own bulging shaft. Luhan loses all reluctance and
shapes Sehun's aggressive erection, following his tempo. Sehun thrusts his
fingers, three and then four, inside Luhan's core over and over until it is
dousing wet.
Luhan pants heavily, eager to soothe Sehun's flesh. He unbuttons Sehun and
caresses the rigid flesh that hangs between the strength of his legs.
"Luhan..." Sehun shudders in waves of arousal. He recaptures Luhan's lips and
pinches the hard little tips in his delicate chest. Then he takes Luhan's hardened
peaks into his mouth, between his teeth, before licking and shaping them moist.
Luhan's hand glides and tightens on Sehun's aching length and a low, deep
groan leaves his captor's lips.
"I'm taking all Luhan," Sehun warns before carrying Luhan, his steely arms
carrying his thighs while Luhan clings to his neck.
Sehun thrusts Luhan deep, filling him with his throbbing erection in one swift.
Terrible pain overwhelms Luhan like sharp nails impaling him, "Se- sehun, it
hur-"
In a fever of erotic yearning, Sehun doesn't disarm and instead, rams his
manhood inside Luhan's, faster and more frantic, deeper at each push. He
smothers Luhan's mouth with his own and suckles his tongue, warming and
lapping it, while his erection, long and hard, pounds on his wet flesh. Luhan
sinks his teeth into Sehun's lower lip in anguish and blood gushes out the sides
of his captor's supple mouth. Sehun drives his throbbing shaft inside again and
again until Luhan's pain turns into wet, sweltering pleasure.
"Sehun!" Luhan scream and arches to meet Sehun's violent thrust. He wraps his
arms tighter around Sehun's neck while Sehun crushes his nude fevered body
harder against him, forging them into one as he grinds him fiercely. Bucking
and colliding in lustful harmony, Luhan rocks against him urgently, capturing
Sehun's lips while clenching his hair, and a turbulence of painful and
pleasurable sensation come darting in his euphoria.
Increasing the tempo of his penetration, Sehun slides his tongue in the fringes
of Luhan's ears then into its soft curving entrance. He wants to taste every soft
inch of Luhan's flamed flesh. He licks the line of Luhan's throat then slams his
hips against him, surging his shaft upwards until Luhan can feel his sharp rod
in the abyss of his stomach. The slap of skin against skin rings in their ears and
they abandon themselves to their untamed appetite.
"Sehun, I-I'm gonna-"
Bending his head, Sehun gives Luhan one last ravenous kiss. A shudder shakes
Sehun's frame as he reaches his jarring, pulsing climax. His hot release spills
inside Luhan's soaked, taut opening while Luhan shivers in chain of spasms
into his own final explosion, joining them together in sweet oblivion.
Sehun refuses to release Luhan nor loosen his hold. He grabs on to Luhan's
quavering body, like warm blue to the waves, and lets their foreheads meet,
their ragged breaths unite and whisk in the same intense current. Never in his
precarious life had Sehun wanted so much, finally had it, and still want more.
Breathing in Sehun's obsession, Luhan burns beneath his captor's possessive
touch. He realizes that there is no breaking free. Hiding in safer grounds makes
no difference, he can sense the chains binding his wrists and the iron lock
arresting him to which only Sehun has the key. No matter where Luhan goes,
 no matter how long time passes, though the steel may rust while the concrete
rings break, he is and always will be Sehun's captive.
Luhan's round
hazel browns
flutter, shining
like bits of
porcelain as
sunlight glimmers
through the
crystalline
window. Nestled
in Sehun's arms,
he deepens the
way his head
rests on his
captor's chest and
revels at his whiff
of caramel and
honeyed liquor.
Luhan smiles at
the warmth of the
thick linens
draping over his
body like silk
petals of a rose
that sheathes a
delicate bare bud,
then he
remembers the
aflame touch of
Sehun the night
before and his
feverish breath
from which he
whispered
Luhan's name.
Feeling as though
he can never get
jaded from such
morning, Luhan
beseeches to the
heavens that time
surrenders and
comes to a
standstill.
He sits up and gazes at the reflection of flaxen rays glowing the handsome curves in
Sehun's face. With lips partly opened, Luhan traces his fingers across Sehun's thick
brows, the bridge of his aquiline nose and the ridges of his cherry-tinted cheekbones.
He cradles the strong, sharp lines of Sehun's contour and the pale gold skin that kindles
it. Luhan can't stop himself even if he tried. Recalling how sweet they tasted, he glides
his thumb against Sehun's thin, marblelike lips and the acquainted flight of butterflies
visit him once again.
Sehun stirs and his eyes fly open. Through his foggy regard, he sees Luhan's flushed
face and perceives the smoothness of his finger pressed against his lips. Luhan freezes
in a state of confusion and the sunset redness from his fragile profile spreads to the tip
of his ears down to his tensed neck. Sehun's expression is blank as always and his eyes,
that obscures the day's brightness, darker than ever.
Luhan drops his hands to the sides, looks away and restrains himself from burying his
colored face beneath the cotton covers. As though the events from last night weren't
awkward enough, he just had to go and get caught in his highschool-like rhapsody. He
gulps hard and lets himself fall back to the bed, beside but far enough from Sehun, and
his unease heightens. Through his periphery, Luhan can see the lack of movement from
Sehun and briefly wonders if he is even breathing. His heart swells with a new,
difficult feeling and little by little, fearful anguish seeps into his pores. Luhan is
trapped by the memory of Sehun's coldness, how each time he believes he had gotten
through Sehun's complicated walls, he realizes he had barely grazed a scratch on it. He
begins to fear that Sehun, with his haunting, icy stare, will tell him he should go. And
though he is oblivious to what his true feelings are for his captor, all he knows is he
doesn't want such emotion to simply end or even change.
Without a word, Sehun swiftly pulls Luhan to his side and buries his face against the
corded muscles of his neck. Luhan carols a surprised gasp and his hand falls to Sehun's
sturdy chest. Just the warmth of Sehun's fingers combing his ruffled hair shatters the
fears he is concealing and when Sehun brushes his lips across his forehead, every
shade of doubt ultimately disappears. Luhan closes his eyes and he feels Sehun cup his
chin before planting a subtle kiss, this time on his lips. Every sensation feels like the
first touch. Pulse hammering beneath his skin, Luhan decides that though it's true
Sehun will never be the type to say good morning or murmur sweet-sounding
promises, the reality of waking up beside him is enough.
Giving Luhan a last tender peck in the nose, Sehun stands up, still silent as he takes a
towel from the cabinet and heads to the bathroom. He comes out a few minutes later,
rubbing his hair dry, covered with nothing but the fluff of the textile hampering the
sight of his waist down. Luhan does not want to blatantly stare except he has no control
over his body as he follows with his gaze the water trickling down Sehun's wide
shoulders and virile chest. Luhan swallows hard. Upon grasping that he is caught red-
handed by Sehun's inquisitive glance, he quickly looks away.
"You stay here." Sehun's voice rings with command. He puts on a dark pair of jeans
then swings a black polo before coming into the bed then settling on the mattress on
his knees. He signals Luhan to his shirt's buttons with a significant lift of his brows.
Luhan sits up hesitatingly and his fingers travel to the lowest button in Sehun's
garment. He fastens it and slowly works his way up.
"I have to go somewhere," Sehun says.
Shaken up by his captor's words, Luhan's finger slides against one of the buttons and
fails to affix it to the open slit. He vacantly stares at the thread of Sehun's shirt and tries
his best to tuck away his constant fear.
"Luhan," Sehun whispers to Luhan's uncertainty, "We'll talk when I get back."
When I get back, Sehun's assurance is mirrored in Luhan's thoughts.
From the bedside table, Sehun takes his knife and a pistol then eases one into his
pocket, the other on the girdle of his jeans. Luhan struggles inwardly, whether or not
he should ask Sehun where he is about to go, but ultimately resolves not to. And he
wants to stop him, but does he even have the right to?
"Don't leave the house," Sehun hands him a cellphone, "Unless I call, don't use this
phone for anything else."
Luhan walks him to the door, and there it goes again, the surge of an acute sense of
loss. With Sehun, nothing will ever be tangled out of complication. It's even more
arduous for Luhan, not knowing where he stands in Sehun's life, or if he had even set
foot there in the first place. Even so, the possibility of Sehun dying seems to be always
greater than the guarantees he is capable of making. Perhaps that is why he doesn't say
much. Because for a person like Sehun who spends his life with one foot hanging over
the edge of the cliff, a vow is as empty as a broken promise.
Sehun pushes the door open and the blinding glare of light pierces through the other
side of the frame where Luhan stands. He swivels his gaze towards Luhan and he
clings to it for a brief eternity before walking down the path to the steel gate. Luhan
can only watch Sehun's back, the image of his insouciant figure walking away
gradually turns hazy. His mind veers to anxiety. Is there a limit to how much a person
can worry about someone? When one knows that the present can always change to past
and the first words can always be the last, will worrying ever be enough?

The twenty-storey building from five years ago still stands and appears exactly the
same, its pebbled walls that soar to the blues still as bland as the greyish blinds of the
wide windows. Sehun stands at the brink of the rooftop and nearly finishes his cigarette
while the vociferous breeze gushes sparks of orange from the stick's flame.
After two weeks of mulling things over, Sehun fathoms that there had been clearly no
point in his deliberate contemplation. First, because it had been too long since he
pondered about a problem not directly implicating RV and second, because as it
happened, he ended up doing the exact opposite of what he decided to. He presented
the facts to himself, confirmed them, and pledged to let Luhan go. His intuition, his
sense, his logic, and everything else in him that had something to do with sound
reason, implored that freeing his captive would be for the best, not just for RV, but to
them both. And yet, when he blinked his eyes and saw that Luhan had vanished, he
couldn't think. All the same, he couldn't just stand and let it be. He had to do
something. That's when he knew inside him, in a part of him he will never tell anyone,
that he is already in too deep. If his captive escapes his eyesight for a second, he'll
probably perish before he dies.
"Sehun," Nuri cuts through his thoughts. He stands beside him, feet easily dangled on
the rooftop's edge.
Turning to his back, Sehun surveys Nuri's bodyguard, one of his most faithful fighters,
rigorous on the side with a handgun ready. "It seems like seven years ago, doesn't it,"
Sehun says.
A reminiscent laugh echoes from Nuri and Sehun notices that his friend hadn't changed
much from before. He still looks like a diligent salesman, happily married with a
family of two kids, all because of his oval, feeble face and the light features that soften
it.
"We really looked like gangsters back then."
"Not really," Sehun beams, "You always wore suits, I always wore designer. We didn't
look like gangsters, we just acted more like it back then."
Nuri gives a brief nod, "I'm glad we can put all of our problems behind us. I've been
wanting to explain this to you. That night, when you were at Guozhi..." Nuri treads the
subject and Sehun stiffens while he continues, "Akita was going to make a move on
you. I had to give up your men in Shindo. It was either them or you, and I had to
choose."
Sehun isn't surprised for he knew Nuri couldn't have done such a thing if it weren't
unavoidable. Be that as it may, the wheel had been long spun, "I guess I have to thank
you for saving me back in Russia. It would have been really ill-fated if I died," Sehun
says.
"I heard you were going after Nikolai. It's just perfect timing is all," Nuri shrugs in
resignation, "And seven years of friendship... it's just too long to simply do away."
"You're right," Sehun says, "I really think that if this kind of setback happened to us
earlier, I wouldn't have decided to do this."
"Decided to do what?"
Sehun pulls another cigarette and lights it, "I met someone," he says.
Nuri raises his brows a fraction, "Well that's the last thing I thought I'd hear you say."
"I can't be in danger..." Sehun looks at the view below solemnly, "If any danger comes
to me... any at all... that person won't be safe either. And no matter how I look at it, I
can't bear to let that happen. I'd finish off anyone if it means that person can live."
Nuri's eyes shot open and something clicks inside him, he almost laughs to himself at
his stupidity, "Look at that twist," he smirks, "You still decided to kill me af–"
Without delay, Sehun tosses his cigarette, takes his concealed gun and expertly snipes
at the bodyguard's forehead whose corpse instantly plummets to the concrete. A spill of
blood percolates and sleeves the smoky pavement.
"It's too bad it was him who accompanied me," Nuri looks at his comrade's sanguine-
drenched body, "He was really loyal."
"I know," Sehun says before aiming his gun at Nuri, "I'm glad you trusted me enough
to bring him alone."
Nuri looks faraway in the open and tucks a hand in one pocket, "I thought you could
forgive me if I explained. I thought we could get past this."
Sehun nods slightly, "If I didn't meet that person, I would have probably let you live.
And we'll take on Akita together, like old times."
There is a trace of laughter in Nuri's answer, "You make sure to end that bastard."
"If it's the last thing I do," Sehun comforts Nuri through a smile. Then he pulls the
trigger. The crack of the gunshot sifts through the rush of the wind and a flock of birds
within view flies away in panic. Nuri tumbles to his side and falls to the concrete.
Sehun takes a rag from his backside pocket and begins to clean the weapon's handgrip
before hurling it to the ground. Then he kneels down beside Nuri's body and closes his
lifeless eyelids. In death, no sin exists and no punishment ploughs on. Every mistake is
forthwith forgiven. Standing up woodenly, Sehun executes a deep, respectful bow
before his departed friend.

•••

When Sehun got back home past lunchtime, there was no hiding Luhan's relief. A
throng of horrible visions would come to Luhan's mind in the three hours that Sehun
was gone and as much as he struggled to brush them away, they crept up like a small
voice telling him that unbridled happiness never really lasts. And so, when he saw
Sehun, safe and sound as he stood by the doorway, he couldn't stop himself from
breathing a grateful smile.
Luhan sets a bowl of ramen in front of Sehun then goes to sit across him. He still hasn't
said a word about where he's been and Luhan resolves to tread cautiously.
"It's too salty," Sehun says upon taking his first bite.
Luhan carries on eating. It is a cup of ready-to-eat ramen, he has no control whatsoever
for its taste, "Did you go meet RV?"
Sehun shakes his head, "They're back at the yacht."
Luhan begins to stare at his bowl, playing with his food by twirling the noodles around
his fork, "Is it uhm- is it okay for you to be going around without any bodyguard or
something?"
Sehun looks up at Luhan's face and a smile finds its way through his mask of coldness,
"You worry about me that much?"
Eyes darting nervously back and forth, Luhan confirms to himself that he hates when
Sehun's questions reveal a rising intonation, "I- No- Worry... isn't really the word for
it."
Sehun leisurely rests his chin on his hand, stroking it as if in grave thought, "Then what
is it,"
Luhan bites his lip. His hands, concealed from Sehun's sight, twiddle meekly in his lap,
"Worry... other than worry... I'd– I'd say it's– it's compassion for a uhm... fellow human
being." Luhan says, though he no longer knows what exactly he is talking about.
A deep chuckle leaves Sehun's shapely lips, "Compassion for a fellow human being..."
he repeats, amused, "I didn't think what we did last night can be defined as an act of
compassion. If so, that's very – how should I say it —generous of you."
Sehun is teasing him, and he is allowing it. Luhan clenches his jaw and his brows pull
together in vexation, "You're done eating right?" he asks though it's evident Sehun
isn't. Without waiting for an answer, Luhan steals Sehun's half-filled bowl then takes
his own before stomping his way to the kitchen's adjacent counter.
Luhan empties the sticky noodles to the bin then chucks the dirty plates to the sink. He
had spent three hours worrying about Sehun and longer about their supposed talk. And
yet, Sehun prates on the subject like it's nothing but a bad joke. Luhan squeezes the
sponge so violently it runs dry of bubbles. He squirts the dishwashing soap again and
adds a little bit too much, the sponge begins to change its color. Rolling his eyes, he
slaps and slathers the sponge to the spotty bowl.
All of a sudden, a pair of slender arms slides from behind him and circles his waist.
Luhan freezes at the electric current and the tantalizing air of Sehun's after-shave.
Sehun snuggles his head on the depth of Luhan's neck, and Luhan can feel it, his
laboured breathing across his flesh, whirling him to a hurricane of stirring elation.
"RV's checking to see if any of Akita's associates fly here to Korea. That's why it's
alright I go places alone." Sehun says.
To Luhan, it seems as though Sehun is giving him permission to worry. He pushes his
luck, "Did something happen while you were away?"
Sehun shakes his head, his lips sweeping Luhan's blushed skin, "Nothing I can't
handle," he says. He heaves a deep, fatigued sigh, "Now that I'm here, I don't feel so
tired anymore."
It is so unlikely for Sehun to say such a thing. Surprised, Luhan stops breathing
altogether.
Sehun raises his possessive arms from Luhan's waist to his stomach. "You can breathe
you know."
Stunned by Sehun's intimate touch, Luhan unconsciously tucks his stomach in. A
stifled laughter fills Sehun's voice and Luhan can feel him shaking in mirth.
"Sehun..." Luhan finds his voice. But when he tries to speak, he wavers, "I- Is it- Is it
okay for me to worry about you? Can I do that?" The tone in his words sounds
tentative, as though he is testing the idea.
Sehun swivels Luhan to face him and a shadow of alarm spreads through his captive's
cheeks. Eyebrows raised inquiringly, Sehun asks, "If I say no, what will you do?" He
presses his palms on the sink's counter, imprisoning Luhan until there is no room for
him to breathe.
There he goes again with that intonation. "I guess... I'll stop worrying?"
"Don't stop." Sehun says quickly, "Worry about me. Irrationally. I want you to worry
so much you can't sleep until you know I'm alright. So much you have to see me or
you'll go crazy."
There's no more time to reel from Sehun's captivating words, Luhan can no longer
deny himself of his touch. He presses his lips to Sehun's for a moment quicker than a
second then instantly grows hot with embarrassment.
A smile lights up Sehun's sharp profile, "Another act of compassion,"
Luhan wags his head violently but knows no response. It isn't an act of compassion.
But rather, an act of... something he still can't construe. He gazes deeply at Sehun who
then arrests his lips in an enthralling kiss. Luhan moves his mouth against his willingly
and holds onto Sehun's wide shoulders as if it were his last bit of rationality. The kiss
takes Luhan to a place of weakness, where his mind bequeaths all the theories and
postulations of what he feels for Sehun or what Sehun feels for him. The only thing
that's relevant is that Luhan wants to be touched by Sehun, moved and changed, until
Luhan himself forgets who he really is.
Sehun wraps his arms around Luhan and plunges his tongue deeply onto his mouth
before retreating to plunge over and over in a compulsive, unpredictable rhythm.
Luhan's lips soften and melts against his captor's. He stands on tiptoe and crushes his
chest against Sehun, urging the kiss to burn a sensuous light between them. It is surely
everything but an act of compassion.
A lifetime later, their lips part ways, feeling the loss and hoping they meet each other
again soon. Sehun's lids come down swiftly to look over Luhan. Luhan turns away,
crimsoned in a fidgety expression. It's a mystery how Luhan can act courageous one
minute then coy the next. Perhaps it is his way of teasing him, Sehun thinks. "It's
working," he says aloud.
"What is?"
Sehun takes Luhan by the hand, "I don't have anything else to do today. Should we go
do something,"
Luhan gulps an obviously nervous one.
Sehun laughs and realizes the number of his gleeful expressions for the day have
surpassed more than he usually shows in a year, "Oh so you're thinking of doing... that.
In broad daylight."
"That?" Luhan's irises dart up and down and he stammers, "What? That- I- No- Why-"
His reaction amuses Sehun. The beginning of an irresistible smile curves his lips, "I
was actually thinking something... more violent."
Luhan turns pale white. But when Sehun drags him to the backyard to show what he
meant, Luhan's foreboding turns into a terrifying breakdown. A timber table stands on
one side and on the far end are three wooden square backstops. Sehun takes three
bullseye targets in cardboard and hangs them on each wooden square, while Luhan,
blinded by the sets of black thick rounds encircling a red center sphere, struggles to
know what his captor is planning. When Sehun dismantles a pistol and lays the metal
parts on the table, everything becomes lucid.
"You want me... to learn how to shoot?" Luhan's mouth drops in disbelief.
"I'll teach you first how to assemble a gun," Sehun says, insensitive of Luhan's
stupefaction.
"Wait. Sehun, I-"
"Stop talking and watch my hands."
"Sehun, I ca-"
Sehun picks up the recoil guide and the spring, "So you put this there–"
"Sehun!" Luhan shouts then grabs the guns' segments from Sehun. At warp speed,
Luhan inserts the recoil guide to the spring then expertly attaches the barrel to the slide
and the recoil set to its bottom. He adds the assembled portion to the gun's top frame,
inserts the magazine, then points downrange and racks the slide. When he looks up at
Sehun, he is welcomed by widened eyes. "As I was saying," Luhan brags, "I am
perfectly capable of assembling a gun."
Astonished, Sehun leans back, "I don't think you can amaze me any more than you do
now," He draws a slow, affectionate smile, "Are there any more suprises, self-defense,
crossbow shooting, making a bomb maybe,"
Luhan shakes his head, the assembly of a gun being the only violent bone in his body.
He bows his head and murmurs, "I can't shoot."
Sehun goes behind Luhan, braces him from either side and holds his arms in the
direction of the target, "How'd you learn how to do that,"
Luhan freezes at the proximity. After a while, he manages to speak, "My brother was
in the police force."
Sehun nods, his head reposing on Luhan's shoulder. He guides Luhan's fingers to the
gun's handle before precisely positioning them. "Hold the grip as tight as you can," he
says.
Luhan can't concentrate. Sehun being too close for comfort is already intoxicating in
itself, but his hands that lingers in Luhan's skin and the feel of his hot breath flurrying
in his ears only add fuel to the flames. His heart feels like a minute from beating out of
his chest.
"Why are you so nervous when I'm this close, It's not like we haven't done all kinds of–
"
Hands unconsciously tightening around the handle, Luhan weakly retorts, "I'm- I'm not
nervous."
"Then why are your cheeks red, your hands cold, your–"
"Can we please just focus on this?" Luhan says, pretending to squint at the target.
Another smile. Sehun is thinking of just letting the smile live on his lips. On purpose,
he speaks closer to Luhan's ears, "You have to grip it hard, until it shakes."
How can he stop his mind from going blank when Sehun's lips is almost brushing
against his skin? Luhan decides to redirect his frustration to the strength of his hand.
He clenches the gun and begins to quaver.
"Good," Sehun says, "Now breathe... Relax... Just a little..."
"Do you think you can talk just a little farther from my neck?" Luhan complains.
Though in all honesty, he'd rather have Sehun there than anywhere else.
"Stop thinking and just breathe..." Sehun says.
Luhan struggles to keep his inhales and exhales in order. He keeps his eyes on the red
circle and focuses on it, blurring everything else in a vignette of a black. Soon, the gun
finally stops shaking.
"There," Sehun says, "Now, steady the gun." He steers Luhan to cup the gun and cradle
his firing-hand. "The slide and the hammer should be clear. If your fingers get caught
there and the gun is triggered, you'll get hurt."
You'll get hurt, Sehun's words echo in Luhan's mind. The way Sehun had said it made
it seem as though it were the most important thing in his mind. Pursing his lips, Luhan
grins.
"Focus." Sehun sternly says, "Now. the right stance." His hands rub against Luhan's
thighs pushing them apart. The touch jolts Luhan in a panic, it's a mystery he doesn't
accidentally click the trigger. Sehun nudges Luhan's left foot forward before once
again clasping his body from behind.
"You see that front sight," Sehun points to a steel bead near the weapon's muzzle, "The
target should be a little bit above that." He stations it in the perfect aim, "When you
think it's good enough, you shoot."
Luhan nods, he's really getting into it.
"Load the gun and let's see what you got."
One round into the chamber and Luhan pulls back the slide before releasing it. He
recreates all that Sehun taught him and positions himself for the shot.
"Keep your breathing stable. You'll shoot only after you've exhaled. Put the safety off,
then squeeze the trigger. Even after the shot, keep your position." Sehun says then he
covers Luhan's ears with his warm palms. "Are you ready,"
Luhan nods then takes a deep breath. Safety off. Inhale then exhale. He releases the
trigger and the loud bang of the shot flies through the air. The bullet pierces through
one of the black circles surrounding the target, but misses the center red.
"Again." Sehun commands.
Luhan fires the gun three more times all while keeping in mind Sehun's instruction.
However, he doesn't seem to grasp it, for the shots that follow fail to hit the target. Not
knowing where his fault lies, Luhan drags a boisterous sigh in frustration.
"That's good enough," Sehun says, "From here on out, we'll do this everyday." He
takes the gun from Luhan, unloads it then welds it to his pocket.
Every single day? "I don't want to, I'm obviously bad at this. I shot way far from the
target."
"Just be glad you at least made it inside the square."
"And practicing everyday? Why do I even have to keep doing this?"
"You're in a relationship with me. Learning how to shoot a gun is basic."
In shock, Luhan hesitates, blinking with bafflement. In a... "Relationship?" he blurts
aloud by mistake.
The gold in Sehun's eyes flicker with amusement. He pulls Luhan towards him by the
chin, "Our relationship," he whispers, "Hostage and captor, right," He closes his
dreamy eyes and seizes Luhan's lips in a gentle kiss. "And that one other thing we
have."
Sehun walks back inside, leaving Luhan still striving to process his incredible
statements. Our relationship... We... With me... The phrases jumble Luhan's head like a
puzzle far from being solved. He is not into grammar, but the terms "possessive" and
"personal" pronouns begin to make sense. A sunny glow flows through Luhan, his
chest tightens and his knees enfeeble. Just one word from Sehun and everything turns
rosy, just a touch makes it flaming red. Though he doesn't know why, he is certain the
day of reckoning can't be stowed forever — he wants nothing else but to be Sehun's
possession.

•••

Like trapped in a web of peril and collapse — this is how Sehun feels when daylight
dissipates, replaced by the murkiness of nightfall. He was doing alright earlier. It had
been a good day, one he hadn't had for quite a long time. Luhan had said he wanted to
talk about certain things and Sehun wanted that talk to happen, given that there were a
number of matters to clear up. But then, Ryu called him to ask if they should meet
regarding updates on Akita. Because of this, Sehun's mood instantly veered to irritable.
Sitting across his underling in the living room, Sehun turns wary of the threatening
particulars of their operation.
"It's been quiet hyungnim," Ryu says, "Too quiet."
Sehun takes a hit from his cigarette, "Did you cross reference his known associates to
the flight lists,"
Ryu nods decisively, "Ga Yun's been keeping track of their every movement. So far,
there's nothing."
"How about the ships' passenger list,"
Ryu inclines his head, "We've been surveying those too."
"Akita knows I'm coming for him. If I know him, and I do, he'll try and beat me to it.
Make sure you hunt down all possible means of transportation. Plane, ship, train. Hell,
even the cabs. If you see anyone in our territory that even looks slightly Japanese, you
shoot to kill."
Ryu notices the odd edge of Sehun's timbre. He doesn't think he has seen their leader in
a state of agitation, "Is everything alright hyung?" He dares to ask.
"Shrug those stupid thoughts Ryu," smoke escapes as Sehun grimly speaks, "And get
your head on killing Akita."
Ryu bows partially, "Yes hyungnim."
"We'll stick to the plan we made. We leave for Japan the day after tomorrow."
"We're ready hyung. All that's left is to meet Akita guns blazing."
"Good," Sehun answers with an impersonal nod. It's another suicide mission, one he is
no stranger to. And yet, he doesn't want to push things through, as though the odds that
are already so miniscule have turned to zero.
Ryu formally bows to leave. Sehun is aware that Luhan is waiting by the swing, hoping
to talk to his underling. For a reason he refuses to comprehend, he feels oddly restless.
As soon as Ryu shuts the door, Sehun goes to lean on the wooden frame, lighting
another cigarette as he waits for their conversation to unfold. It's unethical and
obviously uncalled for. But when did he ever give a damn about right and wrong? He
wants to know why Ryu and Luhan always seem to have something to talk about. And
with that in mind, he squints his gaze and focuses on listening intently to each hint of
movement from the other side of the door.
"Are you still mad at me?" Those are Luhan's first words.
Ryu sits beside him and rocks the swing, "I'm not mad... What I said was out of line. I
was stressed, and you just happened to be there. That's all."
"So we're okay then?"
Ryu turns to him with his usual comforting smile, "You look different... Did something
happen?"
Thoughts steering to how things played out between Sehun and him, Luhan turns
cerise red. He bites his lips, "No- nothing really."
"So you've been doing alright?"
"Now I am," Luhan says, "I was worried the past days. I thought you really hated me."
"There's nothing to be worried about. Truth is, I was feeling the same. I thought that
because of what I said, you'd hate me too."
Luhan laughs gently, "I can't ever hate you Ryu."
Quirking his brows, Ryu tosses his head back dubiously as though he doesn't believe
Luhan's words.
"It's true," Luhan bends his head and studies his hands, "I think If I didn't meet you...
if you weren't there... I wouldn't have made it this far."
"You're overselling it," Ryu eases into a radiant smile.
"Am I?" Luhan laughs. Then he pauses for a minute or more. He drops his hands to
hold onto the rim of the seat then urges the swing back and forth. His face begins to
cloud with discomfiture as he struggles to retell a story he had long tried to bury,
"Before my brother died," he swallows hard and manages to continue in a feeble voice,
"Before Jin died... there were three of us. I was ten years old then and Jin was sixteen.
Because of that gap, we didn't have a lot of things to talk about. I- I really found it hard
to talk to him. Even though he was protective and thoughtful like an older brother
should be, he always looked like he wanted to be alone... Then one day, he met a new
kid in school, Nam Sun."
His name burns a memory in Luhan's mind, "Nam Sun got into Jin's life quicker than I
could. They did everything together. Went to the same college, lived in the same dorm,
then joined the police academy. Jin opened up to him like he was his real brother...
Because of that, for a while, I really hated Sun-ah. But it all changed after an incident.
It's still so clear... I remember I was in highschool then,"Luhan looks far off, imagining
the past as it unfolds before him, "My mom called to tell me Jin got into an accident. I
panicked. I ran six miles to get to the hospital. I think I almost fainted. But when I went
inside Jin's room... He was sitting down unwounded near the bed, and someone else
was lying on it. It was Sun hyung."
"Sun hyung pushed Jin to safety right before the motorcycle hit him. And so he was the
one who got injured... he came by a scar on the chest because of it. That moment, I
understood. Though it took me a while, I finally figured it out. Nam Sun hyung was the
only one who could make my brother open up. There was no Jin if there was no Nam
Sun. And there was no Nam Sun if there was no Jin... Their friendship was like that."
"You can only imagine what it was like when Jin died," Luhan bows his head, "I felt
like dying then. No- I- I tried dying. But my mom had no one else but me. Even if I
wanted to die... I couldn't."
Ryu doesn't say anything but reaches out and squeezes Luhan's shoulder, hoping to get
through to him somehow.
"But if I felt like that... I wondered how much worse Sun hyung felt... It was
impossible to describe in words how hard it must have been for him — for him who
had lost the only person he wanted to protect. But I guess, that was our fate — all three
of us, we had such a terrible fate."
"Luhan..." Ryu says in a strained tone, "Why are you telling me all this?"
Drawing a deep sigh, Luhan turns his gaze to Ryu, "Because the first time we met, you
reminded me of Sun hyung." a lonely smile sweeps against his face, "My first thought
when I met you was, 'so this was what Jin must have felt like to have someone like Sun
hyung...' that was what I thought... That's why it's never possible for me to ever hate
you, Ryu."
Luhan's words pierce through the other side of the thick wall and Sehun who had just
taken a hit from his cigarette stops short in surprise, forgetting to even let the smoke
slip off of his lips. So this was what Jin must have felt like to have someone like Sun
hyung, his captive's voice sinks in the pit of stomach and settles there like a boulder
weighing his entire body down. He clutches the door knob, his hands as tense as his
chest.
That's why it's never possible for me to ever hate you, Ryu.
Dread explodes through Sehun and he strangles the knob before twisting it. The door
bolts open and shakes against its hinges. With fists clenched and eyes narrowed, Sehun
faces Luhan whose lips had parted in surprise. Ryu is already out of sight.
"Sehun?" Luhan mutters, confused.
Sehun snaps suddenly and wedges himself between Luhan's legs, pushing the swing at
its farthest and holding it in place. One hand latched on to the swing's pole, Sehun
drags Luhan by the neck. Then he drives his mouth to Luhan's in a brutal kiss meant to
humiliate and punish him.
Luhan squirms beneath him, "Sehun, stop-" But his retaliation only makes Sehun
angrier and the kiss more painful. "Sto-stop," This is not the Sehun from today. Or
from last night. This Sehun scares Luhan. Lips turning red, Luhan gasps against his
mouth, "Se- Sehun please."
Sehun slowly loosens his grip and his lids come down over Luhan, his cold eyes
softening at the sight of his captive who is shaking in shock. Two deep lines of worry
appear in Sehun's face as he realizes what he had done.
"Please..." A tremor touches Luhan's features, "Please stop doing that when you're
angry. Talk Sehun. If something's wrong, I can listen. I will listen."
Surprised by the frankness with which his captive spoke, Sehun blinks, feeling screams
of frustration at the base of his throat. His gaze drops to Luhan's swollen lips , "I- I'm
sorry," he hears himself say, stifled and unnatural.
"What?" Luhan sits back, baffled by what his captor had just said.
There is no response from Sehun. Luhan does know what he had heard, but he has yet
to wrap his head around it. Never has he heard Sehun apologize to anyone and never
has it been possible to be imagined either. Sehun always speaks as though his words
are well-thought of, strong and unwavering, like the command of a superior to a
subordinate.
Settling beside Luhan, Sehun abruptly feels exhaustion take over him. With a long
sigh, he looks at his captive whose brows wrinkle in disoriented thoughts. Sehun hasn't
been himself the past few days and he wonders, how a small, seemingly clumsy and
careless person has changed him so much.
"Luhan..." his own gentleness is unfamiliar, "Tell me."
"Tell you?" Luhan whispers, "Tell you what?"
"Something. Anything... Everything," Sehun says, "I want to know everything."
"I- Okay..." Luhan answers, though he doesn't really know what they're talking about.
This is always how it feels like when talking to Sehun, as though you miss what it is
you're talking about, as though you yourself can't comprehend. Each conversation with
him seems trivial and crucial at the same time.
"If you feel something for Ryu, you can tell me," Sehun's gaze weaves a light in the
night's calmness, "You can tell me. And I will hear you out. But don't expect me to let
you go."
Luhan's mind disregards Sehun's doubt about Ryu and directly moves to focus on his
declaration of possession. He takes deep breaths, until he is unflustered enough to
swivel and face Sehun, "You- you heard everything?"
"Don't say it like there was something you didn't want me to hear."
"I-" Luhan feels heat steal into his cheeks, "Wait, are you being jealous right now?"
"Yes," Sehun answers without delay. Luhan takes a moment to reorient himself. Sehun
continues with quiet assurance, "You don't tell Ryu something like that again.
Actually, not just Ryu. But anyone else. You don't tell something like that again to
anyone else. You don't get worried because of someone else. You don't say you like
someone else. Better yet, just don't talk to anyone else."
Luhan is almost embarrassed by how happy he is at Sehun's overprotectiveness. He
purses his lips to conceal his smile, "I didn't say anything about liking Ryu."
"Saying you can never hate him is as good as saying you like him," Sehun says, tongue
heavy with sarcasm.
"Don't you think you're being too fussy about this?"
"Fussy?" Sehun hurls a cynical laugh then enunciates, "I am being very... very lenient
right now."
Luhan can see how hard Sehun is trying to alleviate the squal of bitter resentment
within him. The feeling is selfish, Luhan knows. And yet he can't stop from glorying in
gleeful satisfaction. He wants to know what this means, why he is so drawn to Sehun,
so much he wants to be taken over by him in every way possible, so much he wants to
see more of him frustrated and angered at thought of losing his captive. Luhan moves
closer to him, his dainty finger faintly touching his captor's, "Sehun..." his eyes
tenderly melts against his, "I want to tell you everything too."
Sehun's expression stills as though he is being lulled to calm by the waves. For a
fraction of a second, his misty rose lips part open.
 "There's nobody else." Luhan says in a fragile yet doubtless murmur, "The only one
who can affect me this much... is you."
Surprised by his fearless revelation, Luhan struggles to hold Sehun's depthless stare. It
is the array of Sehun's timely and calculated expressions that pins him down. Luhan
likes all of them, he comes to realize. He likes Sehun's blank expression, eyes shallow
and dark like the sea, eyebrows arched, fingers smoothing against the velvet of his lips.
"You're the only one I worry about... so much my heart beats too fast. I always feel like
I'm about to faint." Luhan presses his hand against the erratic beating of his bosom
against his chest.
Luhan likes Sehun's amused expression, how his gaze wanders around the room, in
sweeping movements, and flickers for the smallest second, a touch of smile. He likes
his thinking expression, the way he entangles his fingers and presses them towards his
lower lip, his brows scrunching, his sight glued to the ground. "You're the only one I
stare at... and feel like a lifetime of gaze would never be enough."
Sehun captures Luhan's eyes with his. The rings of gold in Sehun's irises shimmer
against the speck of diamonds in the moonlight's rays.
Luhan wonders what Sehun sees in the depths of his gaze, why his captor's stare seems
as though it wants to rivet all of him. Then he realizes this is the expression he likes the
most. He likes the way Sehun's mercurial eyes deepen against his in a stare that brings
him to a single truth — Sehun can see him too... he is looking back at him too.
A day will probably come when Sehun disappears, when he does not return. He will
probably do something Luhan doesn't want him to do, say something Luhan doesn't
want to hear. Luhan's decision of taking Sehun into his life will probably make the rest
of his days a cordon of hurdles and difficulties. But one look at those dark eyes and
Luhan knows, nothing else carries weight. Nothing stands except that dire need of
Sehun, that burning desire to have him that can only be described with the words that
escape Luhan's trembling lips, "Sehun... I love you."
Sehun flashes a hint of surprise then he looks up at Luhan, gaze mellowed, searching
his eyes and hoping to reach his thoughts. He doesn't say a word. He presses his hand
over Luhan's, his fingers sliding through its curved abysses in a gentle interlace. Then
he softly wounds his captive's head atop his silent shoulder.
"I love you," Luhan says one more time.
Sehun's lids come down swiftly to a close, his lashes faintly brushing the warmth under
them.
Sehun peers
around the room,
the bright orange
of the sunlight
glaring like the
blinking red of an
alert sign. The
windows and
doors are
securely locked.
Everything is still
in the same place
as that when he
dozed off the
night that passed.
He checks the
gun and knife
stowed inside the
bedside drawer
before fumbling
for the hidden
pistol under his
bed. This to him
is the morning
routine he had
done since he
learned how to
shoot a gun at the
age of five. It
comes to him as
easy and as
natural as
breathing does.
Once he is
certain there is no
danger present,
he is to continue
with the rest of
his meticulous
drill. He is to get
out of bed, pour
himself a glass of
scotch then drum
the cigarette butt
on the tabletop
all while gazing
at the placid
greenery Seoul
has to offer. Then
the day goes by
like any other,
comprising an
ample amount of
planning and an
excessive of
killing.
This time, however, is different. He succeeds in checking for inconsistencies in the
room but fails to let instinct set in as soon as he notices Luhan's arms flopped on his
sturdy chest, their bodies snug beneath the covers. Sehun smiles. He does not like
change, in fact, he abhors it. But this one, this kind of change, he seems to be
particularly fond of.
Luhan comes around. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes that slowly flutter beg to
say good morning. Still half-asleep, he mutters what resonated like a grumble. He
nuzzles up to Sehun, "Can we go somewhere today?" he asks carefully, as though he
had memorized the question the night before.
Sehun sweeps away a strand of hair that cascades Luhan's ivory face, "Where do you
want to go,"
"Anywhere is fine," Luhan says.
'I love you' — for no reason at all, Luhan's words cross Sehun's mind. He nods, closes
his eyes and pulls Luhan closer to him. He can smell the cherry blossom scent from
Luhan's tangled locks. As he breathes in, it begins to whirl a sweeter tone. He rests his
lips in the wisps of Luhan's hair, "I need to go somewhere. We'll go when I get back."
Luhan cannot restrain a drained sigh. He is becoming greedier, and he is aware of it. It
is no longer enough to just hear the words 'when I get back.' He is desperate for an
assurance more convincing — a promise surer than the sun that rises in the east,
stronger than what a single phrase can ever give.
"I'll be back," Sehun says. He takes Luhan's delicate lips. If only a kiss can last an aeon,
if only it can make time stop, he'd like nothing more.
The painful process repeats, Luhan in the bed, Sehun dressing up, Luhan buttoning his
shirt, Sehun walking to the door, Luhan watching him fade away. As Sehun strides to
the gate, he takes a cigarette to prevent himself from glancing back at his captive.
Luhan had said he loves him. But what does he mean? Sehun wonders. Loving him is
not just loving. Loving a person like him is different. Loving him is all about waiting.
And that's what Luhan will always do. Wait, wait, and wait. There may be good days,
unforgettable moments and tender stares, but at the end of the day, that is all there is to
it. For the rest of their time together, Luhan will inevitably suffer. Sehun ponders if
Luhan will still love him after he finds out such truth. Then he realizes, he wants to
keep Luhan in the dark for as long as he can.

•••

Perhaps it is an illusion, how the sea reflects the shading of the beautiful skies that don
a hue of cobalt and gold. The port is empty as it usually is, a patch of wooden-railed
concrete surrounded by a blanket of azure waters. Though the RV yacht had docked
early in the morning, other than Ryu, not one of the other members knew that Sehun
would be waiting by the harbour the hour that followed.
"How are the kids doing," Sehun sows a stick in his mouth before tucking his hands in
his pockets.
Ryu takes out his lighter. Cupping the flame, he ignites Sehun's cigarette, "They've
been preparing for our attack tomorrow."
"Good," Sehun nods briefly, "Did you tell them to fix their affairs before we leave,"
"Yes hyung," Ryu maintains his curtness, "I told them that this time tomorrow we'll
probably all be dead."
Sehun nods again. Briefly, his brows wrinkle in contemplation. "And Akita. There's
still nothing," he asks.
"Unless he travelled up to here by feet, there's no way we wouldn't have been aware."
There is a long silence. Sehun lets his gaze travel to the stillness of water. Ryu is right.
This time tomorrow, he'd most likely be dead. It did not matter to him before. And yet
now, a part of him wants to stop — stop fighting Akita, stop the war, stop doing
anything but breathe that person's scent.
"Why did you call me hyung?"
"Did you bring it,"
Ryu hands him a couple of documents, "Why did you want me to bring thi—"
Sehun rips the papers with the paucity of any emotion. Slits of white waft through the
frigid air, gradually reaching the sea and drowning in its void. Ryu blinks, speechless
and confused. Before he can stagger from Sehun's actions, another unexpected furore
follows. "Luhan and I are together," Sehun says, with no signs of wavering.
Too startled to say anything else, Ryu merely repeats Sehun's words, "Together?"
"Yes," Sehun says, "Together."
"Wha-what do you mean hyung?"
Sehun had thought that Ryu knew or maybe noticed that he isn't acting like his usual
self. He is momentarily bereft of speech at his underling's surprise. But when he finally
speaks, his voice that carries no bewilderment comes off low and with a ring of finality,
"Together. What together usually means. Dating. Sleeping together. All that."
"For a short time or—"
"No," Sehun shakes his head decisively, "The kind where you promise to stay together
as long as you’re alive. That kind. "
Ryu is quiet. The waves continue belting against the resistance of the dock and though
the gust of wind is but faint, the boats tied to the poles sway with the cadenced
movement of the water, "Why are you telling me this hyung? Why did you destroy your
will?"
"Because I want to change it." Sehun says, "As I stated in my previous will, all of the
three RV hotels will be given to you, Jun and Ga Yun. The dealings from the drugs and
weapons, all of the profits will be divided equally to the rest of the guys. Keep it that
way." he pauses. With his usual air of impatient authority, he continues, "But the yacht,
my house, the rest of my properties, the money under RV holdings and my funds in my
offshore accounts, name it all under Luhan."
Ryu halts. His mouth partly drops open, "Hyung... Are you—"
"Yes. I'm sure." Sehun takes a long drag of smoke, "Just do what I say Ryu."
"Have you thought about what this means hyung? About what being with Luhan
means?" Ryu attempts to ask. He can already see just how much suffering Luhan will
go through. And RV has hurt enough people. They have hurt enough of the people they
care about.
"Do you think I would have decided to do this if I didn't know," Sehun says with mock
severity, "When I killed Nuri. I knew what I had done. For RV, it would've been better
to let him live. But for Luhan, it could be dangerous. I can't let him die. I can't take any
chances that Nuri will betray me again and Luhan will be in danger. And I chose to kill
Nuri. I chose Luhan over RV. And when I did that, I knew that there was nothing else
left to think about."
Fear, stark and deep, glisters in Ryu's eyes. For what exactly, he doesn't know. "You
care about Luhan that much..." It is unclear, even to Ryu, whether it is a question he
poses or an affirmation he seeks to declare.
"Like I've completely lost my mind," a ripple of amusement touches Sehun's lips, "I
never thought I'd come to this... but I really... I just really... don't want to die."
Ryu stares at Sehun and notices the detached smirk with which the leader tries to cover
his agony. In the years they've known each other, Ryu had never heard Sehun mention
anything about dying or about what he reckons of it. Dying has always been part of the
job, so much so it is not just an occupational hazard but a life they have to live. Death
as life, nothing is more tragic, "It's not like we've learned about the possibility of our
deaths yesterday. And it's not like the odds are smaller anyway hyung," Ryu sighs.
"True," Sehun chucks the cigarette to the sea and he watches it float then undulate in a
dismal dance, "But why does it seem too tragic," A sad breeze of laughter echoes from
him. When people like Sehun starts to thaw from an inescapable numbness they've long
lived with, the rest unfolds like a pitiful blight. The moment Sehun starts to care about
someone, it’s as though he is taking a gun and pointing at that person's head. How
miserable is that. Feeling like he is always a second to killing the person he cares most
about.
Taking in Sehun's inner turmoil, Ryu puts his hand atop the leader's shoulder.
"What Luhan would be like if I died tomorrow... I can't imagine." Sehun lays his eyes
on the farthest cerulean possible, hoping the answers rest there.
"He'll probably die."
And I who died will probably die again, a voice inside Sehun says. What gnaws at his
confidence, other than the incontestable possibility of him dying — what really gnaws
at his confidence is the foreboding that even though he dies, he can die again, just
seeing that person in pain. "If by any chance, I die tomorrow and you live," Sehun says,
"Stay away from Luhan."
Jovial laugh floats up from Ryu's throat. He bows a full ninety-degree towards Sehun.
Taking his time, he holds the position while the ripples of blue crash the tangible and
the flurry of air rush in what one can never see. When he finally lifts his chin, he
swallows hard and drags a sigh. Of all the things he had done for RV and for Sehun,
blotting ink in a piece of paper turns out to be the hardest.

•••
When Sehun was twelve years old, he can never fail to remember, his father told him an
advice he took by heart. 'Don't think that tomorrow you'll still live. If for even once you
do, you'll die,' was what he said. Sehun can remember the staid calmness with which
his father spoke, and how it choked him, the pauses an old frail man seized to take a
waft of his tobacco, and how it frustrated his own child. But from that day forward,
Sehun had always bore it in his mind, repeated constantly, 'tomorrow you're going to
die.' And with just that, Sehun lived for a day. Just like that, he lived for another.
Watching Luhan waiting for him at the swing, feet pushing the floor as he tumbles on
it, Sehun wonders where his captive's aimless gaze is focused at, how long he had been
waiting, and why he doesn't seem to get tired of moving to and fro. Sehun doesn't
realize he had stopped in his tracks as he lets his eyes, unspeaking and observant,
steady on Luhan. But like a swing that though forever pushed will only sway but never
move, Sehun can only stare, motionless. Thank you for waiting, sorry for waiting —
these are the words he doesn't have the luxury to say.
Luhan looks up and as soon as he catches sight of Sehun, featherlike lines of smile
crinkle in his fragile face. He stands up, palms curled, features smoldered with a smile
that bit by bit widens into a radiant display of relief. When Sehun reaches his side, the
shadows slowly disappear, replaced by a warm glow.
Sehun suddenly feels sorry. He smiles one that lacks luster, "Did you already decide
where you want to go," he asks.
Luhan leans towards him then hesitates. Eyes darting everywhere, he finds his voice, "I
want to uhm- go... I want to go to the beach?"
"Let's do that then."
Brows raised in joyful surprise, Luhan's lashes flutter up, "Can we really do that? Is it
safe to do that?"
Sehun inclines his head. He takes Luhan by the hand and entwines his fingers in its
curves. When icy hands meet flushed ones, the sensation is warm, not too hot, not too
cold — just perfect enough to make them not want to let go. And so, even as they ride
the car, Sehun can't find it in him to unfetter his grip on his captive. One hand on the
wheel, the other still interlaced with Luhan's, Sehun decides to bring Luhan to a beach
in Gangneung he had once visited.
"Gangneung?" Luhan says, "Isn't there a flea market there this time of year? Can we go
there too?"
Sehun nods. If it were any other time, he will probably disagree, reason to Luhan about
the dangers of dealing with a sea of people. But not today.
"I went there when I was a kid." Luhan retells, "It was Jin who taught me how to swim.
It was summer then, there were too many people. I was really embarrassed," he laughs
then turns to Sehun.
Sehun remains silent. He opens the car's windows and a breeze of wind drifts through
his face, lifting a lock of his dark chestnut hair and slipping it against his cheeks.
"There's a pine forest near the beach too. Have you been there? I never really liked
flowers, but there were wild roses all around. It was beautiful," Luhan smiles, "In the
rocks off the beach, Jin, Nam Sun and I went fishing. One time, when we went there
during Spring– there's a cherry blossoms festival there, right? – we rode bicycles along
the lake. We got to watch the flower exhibits. Jin was really amazed. I also got to taste
this special candy they sold, it was a red-bean one. Sounds weird, right? But it tasted
really sweet. I liked it. Though I haven't tasted it again after that."
Still, no words leave Sehun's lips. He had been in Gangneung before. Though unkindly,
Luhan's memories do not compare to his. But he wants to hear more of Luhan's voice,
he wants to know more about what he was doing before they met.
"When I was young, I was really an annoying person." Luhan grins to himself as he
speaks, "I didn't like a lot of people. And I didn't bother pretending I did either. But my
brother... I really liked my brother. He was the kind of person who always knew what to
say, who always knew what he wanted. He always had something to do, and he never
stopped until he finished it. To me, he was the kind of person I've always wanted to be
but can never even reach." Luhan becomes utterly enraptured in his story until he turns
to Sehun who is wordlessly peeking at the side mirror. "I-I'm so sorry," Luhan says,
"I'm talking too much, aren't I?"
Sehun pulls Luhan's hand that was locked with his and smoothes his lips on the warmth
of its back, "No," he says against Luhan's skin, "just keep talking."
And Luhan does. For the rest of the two-hour long ride, he doesn't think to stop even
though Sehun is unresponsive. Luhan talks about how happy he was during college,
how everytime their family was free, they'd go out to eat a restaurant they've never
eaten before. A sad beam fills his features as soon as he talks about Jin and Nam Sun
joining the police academy. He describes a picture they took during the inauguration
ceremony, not missing to recall that Jin accidentally had his eyes closed because of the
camera's flash. Luhan laughs at times, frowns at most. While Sehun, who listens to each
of his word, stays void of an inkling of any emotion.
But Sehun, who used to only be keen on peace and quiet, likes Luhan's voice. It doesn't
really matter if it is a sad or a happy story Luhan is telling, he likes the tune coming
from the gulfs of his lips. Luhan's voice is lightly fervent, with a hint of passion and a
trace of intensity that a fragile body doesn't normally evince — not a monotonous voice
like Sehun's own, but a mellow, winding one that makes all kinds of stories sound
interesting.
When they finally reach the market, Luhan's eyes widen into dazzling saucers of glee.
There is long strip of a variety of sheltered stores : clothing shops, antique and
memento kiosks, jewelry shops and boutiques that sell marked down branded goods.
Outside, clusters of people crowd the street — couples fastened together, kids playing
near the stalls, some riding the bicycle, others walking with their pets. Bell chimes ring
endlessly as people amble in and out of the store. Laughter and chatter echo from the
tented stalls of food, trinkets and souvenirs lined up at the center of the fenced avenue.
One can smell a faint aroma of coffee and honeyed butter almost touching the palate.
The beam of sunlight suddenly seems brighter. If irises can turn into sparkling bits of
sugar, Sehun thinks Luhan's will.
"I want to eat first," Luhan rushes in excitement, "Or no, let's go to that souvenir shop,"
He points a finger to a stall filled with wooden crafts then suddenly retracts his hand,
"No! Let's go shop for clothes first."
Sehun's lips tremble with the urge to smile, "Okay then. Let's do that. Let's do all that."
He says. Had he known going to the market would make Luhan this happy, he would've
brought him sooner.
The store they enter is smaller than Sehun's room. On the window, there is a male
mannequin wearing flower-patterned board shorts and hawaiian polo. Sehun feels
uncomfortable, partly because being out in the open with too many people isn't
something he normally does, and mostly because he'd rather stroll around naked than
wear anything with a fleck of floral. Luckily, Luhan goes to a row of plain-colored
shirts.
"Try this," he hands Sehun a button-up collar shirt. Its dark blue color that only shines
through when in bright luminiscence has a jet-black effect in room lighting.
Without so much a protest, Sehun strides to the dressing room and puts on the shirt. He
doesn't bother to look in the mirror. When he goes out to see Luhan, he realizes he need
not to. Luhan's mouth briefly drops open while his rounded sapphires twinkle in
surprise and awe. He can see in Luhan's expression that he wants to say, 'you look
incredibly handsome whatever you wear.'
What surprises Sehun though is Luhan wearing the same blue shirt — same everything,
same color, same design. Luhan asks the sales lady to pack up the clothes they have on
so they can wear the set of their new identical ensemble. Couple shirt, the term crosses
the threshold of Sehun's mind. Though he normally recoils from such kind of display of
sentimentalism, he avoids complaining. Even when Luhan asks the lady to take a
picture of them together, he doesn't say no. Luhan, awkward and stiff, poses beside
Sehun. Just before the phone's camera flashes, Sehun drags Luhan by the waist to his
side, and with his free hand, takes Luhan's arms to circle around him. Click.
If tomorrow, Sehun is no longer around, Luhan will probably look at the photo. He will
study every inch of it, petrified he may miss a detail. He will measure how tight Sehun
had clung to his waist, how subtle and unreal his lips were, how his cheeks flushed a
new color, and how he smiled like he had lost his mind. Sehun wants to take ten more
photos — no, a hundred maybe — but keeps the wish a secret from Luhan.
Walking out of the shop, Sehun slips his hand against Luhan's palm and locks it in a
clasp.
Luhan stiffens, "Sehun, there ar-" he briefly pulls his hand from the captor's possessive
grip.
But Sehun only takes it back and clutches it tighter. He doesn't feel at ease not having a
bit of his skin touching Luhan. He can feel Luhan's drowning stare. "What do you want
to do next," Sehun asks, gaze fixated on the concrete pavement before them.
Luhan answers with but a wide grin as he follows the smell of chocolate and vanilla
that had captured his full attention. Beaming from ear to ear, he rushes to a nearby ice
cream stall and eagerly stands behind the kids in line. Sehun follows him, a smile of
enchantment touching his strong features.
"Three scoops please. Strawberry, vanilla, strawberry," Luhan orders with a contagious
smile, "And for him, just one scoop. Vanilla."
"Vanilla?"
"You don't look like the chocolate type. Especially not the strawberry kind."
Sehun can't control the burst of his laughter. While Luhan, who hands him his serving
of ice cream, shakes in an even more full-hearted chuckle. In laughter, their consuming
gazes meet. And even as the blithe song of happiness dissolves into a quiet, warm
smile, they don't break their stare. Sehun is disarmed by the dimples in Luhan's temples
and the captivating glow in his eyes. He, who has never lost a fight, decides to
surrender.
The curves in Luhan's mouth deepen, "Let's go?"
Sehun leans forward with a mischievous twinkle then presses the cold velvety texture
of his ice cream onto the corners of Luhan's lips. He watches in amusement his
captive's smeared face and the defeated daze that overtakes it.
The frosty syrup of the dessert slides through Luhan's warm skin. He gasps. With eyes
narrowed in annoyance, he swivels quickly and turns his back on Sehun.
Sehun's laugh dies out, "Are you mad?" he reaches out and swings Luhan to face him.
Luhan thrusts his ice cream to Sehun's face. The pink cream smudges against Sehun's
wintry skin in perfect precision. Reveling in his victory, Luhan throws back his head
and lets out a great peal of amusement.
"Sly." Sehun shrugs with yet another smile. He is becoming so used to smiling, it's
distressing.
Luhan takes the tissue that circles the cone and wipes Sehun's face. While Sehun also
takes his and gently rubs the arcs in Luhan's lips. I want to do this everyday, Sehun says
inwardly.
They continue walking the streets with hands chained together. Sehun loses track of
everything when he stares at Luhan, he realizes. They stop each time Luhan sees
something he wants to eat. From time to time, he feeds Sehun. And Sehun opens his
mouth with a smile, as if it were the most natural thing to do. Then Luhan wipes his lips
with his thumb, hesitating briefly while his cheeks show all shades of red. This would
make Sehun smile a broader one. They also end up buying a door chime. As Luhan said
it, 'let's buy one for our home?' — Our home, it makes Sehun feel strange, in an
unforgettably good kind of way.
"Now I'll know when you get home," Luhan says as he lets his fingers twirl the hanging
strings of beads and bells in the chime, "I'll know right away when you're home."
There is a sharp pain in Sehun's chest, far more aching than any stab he had suffered.
But he shows no signs of it to Luhan. He merely nods. For some reason, it tends to
make it hurt all the more.
Their final stop before heading to the beach is a musician's acoustic performance in the
strip's centerstage. Sehun guides Luhan to the front, shoving the crowd away from his
captive, and giving them a glare as they stare in irritation. As they finally get closest to
the singer, Sehun stands behind Luhan, his lips resting on the back of his head. He takes
both of Luhan's hands and joins them to his. It's the cherry blossom scent again.
Heaving quick breaths, Luhan still can't concentrate when Sehun is too close. He
focuses on the singer on stage and the magical music she is making with her guitar. The
notes soar through the air and reaches his soul, slowing down his already muffled
breath, and taking it completely as the crescendo brings the ephemeral melody to a
passionate, enchanting climax.
He unconsciously squeezes Sehun's hands, "I like this song," he smiles, "you?"
"You," Sehun says, "I like you." He clasps Luhan's fragility in the intimacy of his arms.
And in that crowd of random people, all listening to the steady beat of music, every
sound disappears from his ears — except Luhan's breathing.
Luhan's smile is a secret between him and his heart. He clings to Sehun's arms that
circled him and bows his head down so his lips touched his captor's skin, "It's almost
sunset... we should probably go to the beach now."
Sehun nods. The song is yet to be finished when they both walk out of the crowd and
head for the beach. Luhan doesn't need to spell it out for Sehun knows. Because he feels
the same way. They should just leave it at that, while the rhythm and lyrics of the song
are still in harmony. They should leave while the song is playing, so the feeling can't
ever end.
The beach is almost desolate except for three kids crafting a sand castle on the far-end
and a couple of divers readying their gears near the shore. The flaxen grains of sand stir
and shape each of Luhan and Sehun's steps as they walk hand in hand to a lonely piece
of the coast. When they finally sit down, they bask in the warmth of the sunlight against
the dunes and watch the yellow iris that shimmers a shape of pyramid diamonds in the
sea.
Sehun had lost count of how many times he had stared at the sea. But perhaps, because
he always had something in mind, he never once noticed its appeal. He regards the
scintilla of waves that rush to the shore, leaving white froth at its wake, the strokes of
colored hues in the azure and the music of the gulls singing in the strings of wave
caressing pebbles.
All of a sudden, Luhan clears his throat. His voice comes out in a gentle whisper,
"Sehun... I want to ask you something... may I?"
Sehun nods and places their entwined hands atop his lap.
"Wh- why can't you swim?" Luhan glances briefly at Sehun, then brings his gaze back
to the sea. It is evident that he regrets having asked.
A heavy sorrow rips through Sehun and the memories from seven years ago ache in the
blank silence of his mind. But he wants to tell Luhan. Not because he wants someone to
listen, but because he wants to expressly know if Luhan will. "When I was inducted in
RV," he says, "the tests were different everyday. Except one. There's this one test that
they do at the start of each day." Sehun's brows tremble briefly as he remembers the
vicious hand that pulled his hair and shoved his face in the murkiness, "Sometimes, it'd
be in a metal crate filled with water. They'd ram me under. It didn't matter if I kept my
mouth shut. After a while, I'd just give up. The water will be forced to my throat. Then
to my lungs. Sometimes, they played things up. They'd pour with a drum of water on
my face. Once the water is inside me, they'd push down a wet rag to cover my mouth–"
"Stop!" Luhan throws his shaking arms around Sehun's neck and lets his cheeks rest on
his captor's neck.
Sehun falls back slightly, his palms bear down on the sand. "Luhan..." he mutters. He
can immediately tell that he is holding back the choking sobs shaking him, "Luhan, it's–
"
"It's not okay!" Luhan shouts against Sehun's skin and ultimately yields to the tears,
"Ho-how can it be okay?"
"Because it's done. It had to be done," Sehun rubs Luhan's back up and down, in a
comforting, heavy pace. It's okay to him because it's the curse of those with power. No
matter how hard they try, they can never stop the people they care about most from
crying. Like a man who can’t swim, buying a yacht and spending the rest of his life in
the ocean. It’s that curse.
Luhan gulps down and releases himself from his hold. Sehun brushes his tears away
with his thumb. Even without the tears that slip through his paleness, Luhan still looks
desolate, "Why? Why did you have to go through all that? Why did you have to do all
that you did?"
I think it's because of all the bad days, of all the evil things, of all the uncertainties and
flaws in me, everything I did was all so I could meet you, Sehun muses. But those
words don't come out, "I don't really know," he chooses to say.
Holding Sehun's gaze for a moment, Luhan's features soften. When he speaks again, his
voice is a suffocated whisper, "When Jin died... I asked myself the same question. And
I got the same answer as you did. So I vowed to myself. From that day on, I vowed to
find a reason behind his death. Maybe that's why I'm still living..." he pauses, "But I
don't want anyone else to live like I did. To live only to find a reason for death. Because
there's– there's none. I want you to live for anything but that. I want you to answer that
question now so in the future... In the future, you can live for something else."
"Then..." Sehun sweeps the back of his hand against Luhan's flushed face, "Should I
just live for you?"
An outcast tear falls from the corner of Luhan's eyes and races to his cheek, "No..." he
says, "You don't have to live for me. Ju- just... I want you to... not die. For me." He
crumples the sand in the rifts of his fingers, "Everyone's dead. Jin died. Nam Sun died.
My dad died... Everyone's dead. So you- you can't di-"
"I won't," Sehun pulls him into an embrace, "I won't die." Like this, Luhan will not see
his face. And he will not see the traces of deception in his fatigued bearing. Without
warning, Sehun remembers his father's words. Perhaps if anyone in the world deserved
to die most, it'd be Sehun, it'd be him — him who can't remember the number of people
whose lives he had taken, him who can't remember a single face of those he looked in
the eye before he killed them. And yet, it is this person, this himwho hopes to bargain
every trifial thing he owns all so he can live another day.
Tomorrow, I don't want to die.
Luhan positions himself in front of Sehun, sitting in the gap of his wide open legs and
leaning on his firm chest. The cherry blossom scent still hasn't faded. Sehun swings his
arms around Luhan's body and pulls him closer so he can feel the pounding of his heart
beneath its unsealed cage. For a while, there is silence. Their relaxed breathing mingles
with the sweet sound of the sea. Sehun's deep voice steals into the reverie, "Last night...
you told me what you felt."
Luhan nods but waits for his next words.
"I've lost count of the number of people I've killed. And there's that– There's this thing
that happens. Once I've killed someone, I can't remember their names. Nor their faces.
And it doesn't really bother me..." Sehun swallows hard, "One of these days, I'll
probably kill someone again. Even if it's like this, even if I'm like this... why do you-"
"You won't." Luhan draws his legs up and hugs his knees to his body. There is defying
certainty in his tone, "From here on out, every time you'd want to kill someone... You'll
remember me. You'll think of me... And you won't be able to go on with it."
To such statement, Sehun can't find the right response. His heart beat pounds then
stops. And it repeats that course until he feels he is about to faint. He wonders if Luhan
can feel his chest beating against his back. His gaze shifts from the color of the skies to
the fading orange of the sun and he can almost touch the warmth, as though the sun is
slowly leaning towards his sentiment and melting the coldness of the sea which he had
always been familiar with. As it happens, it is those ordinary, daily occuring things that
makes one realize how different a perspective is from the reality of time spent with
someone one cares about.
Instead of the sunset, it is Sehun Luhan is enraptured with. He leans his head on Sehun's
neck and can't help but look up and watch, with undeniable admiration the person
embracing him. Luhan had finally found it — something more beautiful than the sunset,
more arresting than the rays of light that blinds his gaze.
"You said you wanted to watch the sunset. If you wanted to watch me, we could've just
stayed at home," Sehun jests, not breaking his glance at the picturesque dusk.
Luhan doesn't say a word. He continues staring at the perfection that is finally his.
"Luhan..." Sehun says, "Aren't you afraid,"
"Of what?"
"Of me."
A smile finds its way to Luhan's lips. For to him, nothing is more implausible. Sehun
hushes his entire being into balance like those waves that rise magestically, of which
most want to fear, but can't. He cups Sehun's face with his palms, "How can I be
terrified of something so beautiful?"
Sehun tenderly clings to his helpless regard then captures his lips into a passionate kiss.
He smoothes his hands over Luhan's back and waist, heaving him to his body as though
he is trying to steal every bit of his soul into his own. A burning wave of shiver glides
through Sehun's sturdy frame as Luhan arches into him, responding with a deeper kiss
and folding his arms tightly around his neck.
Sehun feels a sharp pain in his chest as though his heart is being squeezed to the hilt. At
each touch of skin to skin, heat to heat, emotion to emotion, the pain only worsens. The
feelings Sehun had long tried to numb, the happiness, the sadness, the anguish and
elation he had violently attempted to bury, come crashing inside him in a single desire,
Please love this person back, a voice inside him screams. Please love Luhan back, the
voice insists.

•••

Going back to their home, Sehun comes across a new feeling. Tomorrow, he is
determined not to die. He doesn't know for sure if Luhan's belief in him, if Luhan's love
for him is enough to win over death. But tonight, he decides, that it is enough to win
him over.
They ride the car in stillness. Sehun lets down the car windows while Luhan swings his
palm out in the open to sweep at the cold gust of air. Looking out, he notices that the
darkness does not change anything in the festival as they pass by the street. The lights
that glister are even brighter, happier than it was in daylight. The colorful streaks of
blue, red and yellow lights dance in their gazes and in the interval, spurs of music and
people's voices blend a song he has never heard of before.
Sehun glances at Luhan whose face shines in rosy cheerfulness. He wants to see him
like this everyday. How lucky must he be to find Luhan, to find someone who smiles at
the simplest things and whose presence is enough to make every hue vivid.
After a few minutes of driving, Sehun sights a small store standing alone in the road
with a small poster that catches his notice. Amusement flickers in his eyes, "I have to
buy something real quick," he tells Luhan, "wait here."
Luhan nods with cheerful excitement, "Alright."
Sehun parks at the road and leaves the car in a hurry. He is smiling. Why is such a
small thing making him so happy? When he gets to the counter, he immediately asks
for it, "That red bean candy, give me all you have."
The kid in the counter is startled with the urgency Sehun is showing, "A-all of it?"
"That's what I just said," Sehun says in a tone of annoyance and impatience, "What are
you still standing for,"
After rushing to the storage room, the kid comes out with two boxes of the candy.
Sehun's smile turns into a wide grin, "How much is it?"
As though waiting for a prank or a joke, the kid glances sideways at Sehun who then
glares at him for his tortoise-like pace. Afraid of Sehun's threatening demeanor, the kid
briefly wobbles while packing up the candy boxes and sealing them with tape. Sehun
taps his fingers against the counter in restlessness. He can only think of how big
Luhan's eyes will get as soon as he sees the red bean candies. And he can't wait. He has
to see Luhan with a smile he tries to stop but can't contain.
The string of coins and bells chimes at the door as Sehun goes out. Later tonight, Luhan
and him will hang the bell chime they bought by the door. Luhan will eat an incredible
amount of the candies and he will urge Sehun to try some too. They'll make love and
lock themselves in an embrace as they sleep. Sehun can't wait. For the first time, there
is something — so many things, in fact — that he is looking forward to.
As soon as Sehun looks through the car window, he notices that Luhan's silhouette is
gone. He puts down the boxes of candies calmly and opens the door. There is no trace
of him. He looks out to the road, "Luhan?"
An unsettling cold sweat runs through his forehead and through the back of his neck,
sending chills down his spine. There is something wrong. No, he shakes his head, it's
just his paranoia. "Luhan?" He walks aimlessly down the road, Luhan must have simply
gone out to get some air. Cars come rushing in the crooked pavement, breaking into
shards the unnerving silence. At each glare of the swarm of headlights, Sehun shuts and
opens his eyes then staggers in his step.
There's a welling in his chest, He feels like he is about to faint, He shrugs his head
fiercely, "Luhan," his voice becomes louder, more agitated, wedged by the quick
breaths in his throat, "Luhan!"
As if to banish the aching truth screaming through his body, He takes a step back. No,
Luhan promised he'll wait. "Luhan, you got me," He lets out a bitter, forced laugh,
"Now come out."
Still nothing.
Vicious thoughts begin to gather speed in his head. He feels like he is about to black out
by the hammering of his heart, like the wings of a bat in a dark, crampy cellar. The road
begins to spin in his eyes. Just then, a young man passes by.
Sehun blocks his way, "He's about this high," He motions with his trembling hand, "He
has dark brown hair, small face, round eyes, have you seen him?"
In alarm by Sehun's threatening glare, the passer-by turns away without a word.
Sehun seizes the man by the collar, crumpling the textile into savage fists, "Where is
he?" his mouth twists into rage as hysteria creeps its way into his utterance, "Where is
he?" he screams.
The man pushes his disoriented and confused body to the ground then runs away like
lightning. The cement is as icy as a coffin taking his soul away. But he can't move. He
pushes his body upwards with his palms then helplessly falls down again.
The ringing of the phone sends wave of relief through him, "Luhan?" he answers right
away, "Where are you? I'll come get you."
"Hyung, thank God you're alright." Ryu says sternly, "Something happened. One of
Akita's associates came an hour ago. You weren't picking up. We were sure they were
going to come after y-"
"No." Sehun whispers then his voice turns into an agonized scream, "No! Lu- Luhan
isn't-"
He drops the phone savagely to the ground. With all the evil things he had done, all the
blood he had shed, all the sufferings he had caused, he knew that one day retribution
would come. In the shadow of physical death. And yet, he was oblivious that another
form of dying existed. All of the emotions he had long stifled come rushing in one blast
before disappearing into a flash. He can breathe, though erratically, and he can still feel
warm blood rushing through his veins. But somewhere inside him, in the part that
matters the most, he dies.

•••

There is a pellucid light coming from above Luhan. Surge of memories accelerate in his
brain. He feels no pain from anywhere, no rope tying his hands. He struggles to open
his eyes, rubbing them.
"He's coming," he hears a faint voice says.
When his muddled gaze clears, Luhan realizes he is an abandoned warehouse, cramped
up on the cold floor. His first thought makes his stomach clench tight, "Se- Sehun..."
"Kumicho," the three men shout rigidly.
 Luhan looks up and his eyes that broaden in surprise is reciprocated by Akita. Tense
silence envelops the room as a flood of apprehension swamps them both. Luhan blinks
at the familiar face before him and the scar that is faintly visible in his chest.
"Lu-Luhan?" Akita's mouth drops in disbelief.
It's that voice. It's that same voice. Luhan struggles to stand up to move closer to Akita.
He reaches out to him and a tear falls from his sullied face, "Na- Nam Sun hyung..."
In Sehun's
eyesight, the
road is but a blur
of black and
gray. He is
trembling, every
vein in his body
seems to turn
cold, freeze, then
break into
shards. He rushes
to the car, shoves
the clutch and
with hands that
slide against the
leather, shifts on
fourth gear.
Nothing
happens. There is
no key in the
ignition. Breath
rapidly cut off,
Sehun clings to
the wheel and
squeezes it to his
fullest. An
incomprehensibl
e scream escapes
his mouth. He
refuses to
consent to the
panic deluging
him. For he had
never felt this
kind of feeling
before — a kind
of fear that seeps
in, plants itself,
and detonates.
Sehun, the man
who had taken
on every threat
without a
second's
hesitation, is
afraid, so much
so he no longer
knows what to
do.
"Luhan..." he closes his eyes so tight that wrinkles around it begin to appear, "Tell me
what to do."
The memory of Luhan waiting by the swing comes back without permission. And
Sehun holds to it, as he would to a life preserver in a daunting sea. He starts the car and
pushes the gas pedal at its fullest. The rush of leaves hurtles at the speed's wake while
Sehun is blinded, unable to see anything but bright white in the windshield. He
overtakes two more cars and almost gets hit by one from the other direction. But he
doesn't flinch.
He is almost to the airport when a call from Ryu comes. Despite the acute sense of loss,
the ice numbing his entire body, he manages to speak, "I'm close to the airport. We're
going to Japan now. Meet me there."
"Hyung, Zemin still hasn't delivered the weapons. We'd have to wait until tomorrow
morning. Or we'll go in un–"
"They took Luhan," Sehun replies with a tinge of detachment, as though he refuses to
believe in his own words.
Silence assails Ryu.
"They took Luhan," Sehun rushes, "Send me Akita's location. His house- no his
warehouse- or- no his office. Send them all to me. If I leave now I'll- I'll be there in
three hours right? I can bring my knife- On the checked-in luggage-That's- It's o- I'll-
There's a- It doesn't matter. Just get me his–"
"Hyungnim... you have to calm down."
Wrath suddenly plagues Sehun and his breath begins to burn his throat. He strikes the
wheel, "How can I calm down when they've taken him from me?" his voice breaks into
a scream.
"If you go now, you will die."
"Send me Akita's location or you will." Sehun throws the phone to the headboard.
Luhan is waiting for him. He's probably threatening his captors though deep inside he is
terrified. Fearful images of what Akita can do to Luhan swamp Sehun. He shakes his
head violently, he is about to lose his mind. It should've been him. They were going to
take him.
As soon as Sehun gets to the airport, he ditches the car. He runs to the entrance and
stumbles on the way. His eyes darkened with grief, and he still can't see anything else.
He impels the crowd of people to the side and makes his way to buy a ticket. All of the
earliest flights are fully booked. He pounds the counter with his fists and threatens the
attendant. But the way Sehun trembles, the way his eyes blacken in rage, there is no
stopping him.
He charges to the boarding area to catch his flight. But Ryu appears out of nowhere and
halts him by the wrist.
"Hyung, Luhan doesn't want you to do this," Ryu insists, "Just wait till tomorrow and
we'll save him, I promise."
"Don't you dare," Sehun's rage seethes through his clenched teeth, "Don't you dare tell
me what Luhan wants and doesn't." He violently breaks free from Ryu and bolts away.
"You'll die Sehun," Ryu yells from behind him.
"I'm already dying." He whispers to himself then disappears into the sea of people.

•••

Sitting across Akita in an empty office, Luhan can't help but stare. He blinks repeatedly.
Those brows, those eyes, that face — how come he didn't realize it before? How much
Nam Sun resembled his brother Jin? Seeing Nam Sun was like seeing Jin and it made
Luhan warm and hurt, it made him want to cry in joy and despair. He presses both of
his hands over his eyes and his brows scrunched in confusion. Why is Nam Sun
fighting Sehun? Why is the person he had grieved for when he lost, trying his hardest to
kill the person he can't ever lose?
"It's okay Luhan," Nam Sun says, "I'll explain everything to you."
"Hyung..." Luhan swallows hard and bites back the tears, "You were dead. Jin hyung
died. And you never showed. They said you were dead. I thought you were dead."
Nam Sun kneels in front of Luhan and squeezes his shoulder with his rough palms, "I'll
be your brother now. You don't have to worry. Jin would've wanted us to meet again.
And he would've wanted me to protect you."
"Jin hyung is dead. And the dead don't want anything. They can't want anything."
Nam Sun's jaw tensed, "Don't talk about your brother like that."
"I thought I can spend this life trying to become what Jin wanted me to be," Luhan lets
his gaze rest on Nam Sun, "But hyung, I was wrong. We need to let Jin hyung go."
Nam Sun's hands fell onto Luhan's, "No Luhan. We have to kill the people who killed
him. Only then..." he repeats with quiet emphasis, "Only then can we let him go."
The people who killed Jin? A flicker of fear courses through Luhan. He is brought back
to that night seven years ago — the Christmas song, Jin's carefree smile as though he
owned the world, and the masked men who ruined every bit of memory they had
together. "The people who killed Jin..." Luhan ponders in trepid recollection.
"Yes Luhan," Nam Sun nods, "They have to pay."
He can no longer deny himself of the question, "Wh- who killed Jin?"
Nam Sun surveys Luhan with a withering glance before ensconcing himself beside him.
He locks his hands and places them atop his lap, leaning forward as though being
driven back to the past, "There is something you need to know."
Luhan waits for his words.
"Your brother didn't finish the academy like you all thought," Nam Sun retells, "He was
tasked to go undercover to graduate. Undercover in one of the expanding organized
crime units in Korea. In Rota Volvitur."
Luhan believes he is responding, but his throat so dry it aches, prevents a word from
coming out of his mouth.
"He was undercover in RV for one year. I told him to get out. To get his life back. I told
him he was putting not just himself, but his family in danger," Nam Sun speaks as
though it is Luhan he is convincing, "But Jin didn't listen," his shoulders drop, "'I took
this job to save everyone Sun-ah, not just my family,' he said that and I couldn't say
anything back."
Luhan glances to one side then bears down on his head, raking it in frustration. How
scared must have Jin be? And yet none of them knew.
"One day, he came to my flat. He was in a panic. He was shaking like I've never seen
him before. I knew then that something had happened. He told me to get you and your
parents out of the country. And that he'd follow. I wanted him to explain more but he
was in a hurry. He was running from something, from someone. When I came to your
house that night, I had already bought tickets so we could all leave. But–" he pauses and
his face makes a bitter cringe, as if he had bitten on something pungent, "When I
arrived, there were those yellow barricade tapes." He crumples his hands onto fists and
it takes him some time to continue, "I made sure you and your parents were alive. And I
left. I left the academy. I left everything. I threw Nam Sun and became Akita… all so
this day would come."
A million questions flood Luhan. But he speaks calmly, no light in his eyes over the
realization, no surprise in his face for what he has learned, "Hyung… what exactly
happened to my brother?"
"Are your parents okay?" Nam Sun asks, delaying the inevitable truth.
"Mom's in China. Dad died a few months after Jin. He got sick."
Shadows deepen under Nam Sun's eyes. Luhan's parents were more of parents to him
than his own, "I'm sorry," he whispers, defeated, "I'm sorry I couldn't do anything to
protect you. And now you're- you're even-"
"Hyung..." Luhan turns to face him, "That night... That night they came for Jin. I saw
them. There were three men. But they wore masks. Do you- do you know who they
are? Did they find out Jin was undercover? Please tell me."
Nam Sun stands up and walks to a desk on the far-end of the room. He comes back with
a folder. And for a reason Luhan can't put his finger on, he doesn't want to see what's
inside. Nam Sun hands the folder to him, and his fingers quiver. Luhan holds onto it,
tightly, afraid the bludgeoning terror inside him will take over and cause him to drop it
altogether.
"The people who kidnapped you, who tortured you, who made you into this state," Nam
Sun speaks in a grudging voice, "They were the ones, Luhan. That bastard- That bastard
killed your brother."
Body trembling, teeth chattering, Luhan flickers the folder open. There is a photo of
Sehun standing in a lamppost near their old house, surveying the location. A
suffocating grip begins to strangle Luhan's neck. He turns away and the tears that
quaver on his eyelids fall heavily on his sallow face.
"I don't know how they find out Jin was working with the police, but they did. It was
part of that bastard's initiation to kill your brother. And when he realized your uncle
was onto him, he killed him too."
Luhan shakes his head. He leafs through the documents. Jin's autopsy findings were
there revealing the marks of the knife that had killed him, what follows is a photo of
that knife. Luhan realizes it is the same as the knife Sehun always carries around. He
shakes his head, more urgently this time. He looks once more at the papers, there were
emails between his uncle and RV, his uncle threatening them that he will tell the police
the truth. Then there's a list that goes three pages — a list of the relevant people Sehun
had killed. Luhan traces the record with his benumbed finger, Jung Mi Kyo, a ten-year
old daughter of a mob leader, Nuri and Guozhi's name appear, and so do three of
Sehun's family members, his older brother Oh Seung Won, his cousin Oh Ji Hoon and
his uncle Oh Byung Kyo. Then there's Jin's name. Died at the age of 21. Stabbed to
death.
"No..." Luhan whispers in quiet torment. He throws all the documents to the floor and
shakes his head once more in disbelief.
Nam Sun grips his wrist, "Sehun will pay. For what he has done to Jin, to you. To us.
He will pay. He will die, Luhan."
Luhan snatches his wrist away and stands up, "He didn't do it," he mutters.
"What are you talking about?" Nam Sun shouts and swivels Luhan to face him, "That
man killed your brother, your uncle! He kidnapped you! Tortured you!"
Luhan falls to the floor and the cold concrete shocks his entire body that the tears he
had been trying to control violently come lashing out, "He didn't do anything. He
didn't."
He runs away before Nam Sun can say anything else. Though he knows there is no
point. He doesn't know where in the world he is.
Does Sehun know where he is? Will he come for him?
The number of wrong questions in his head does not suffice the answers that this world
can give. He ends up at the overcast part of the warehouse where he was first brought
to. There is no one, the warehouse is as desolate, as dilapidated as his trounced being.
He drags himself to the shadowed corner and all strength escapes his body as he falls
down to the ground. He hugs his knees to his body, crosses his arms and buries his face
in its futile embrace. He begins to rock back and forth in helpless tears.
He closes his eyes and struggles to imagine Sehun's face the last time he saw him, the
gentleness with which his skin touched his own, the smile he only shows with him. But
Luhan can't remember Sehun's face. What invades his mind is that night from seven
years ago. He saw his brother being beaten down to the floor while the rest of the house
had been broken into shambles. Three big men had invaded their house, carrying with
them knives and paddles that were already stained with his brother’s blood. Luhan
froze. His mom was shaking terribly, crying as she held the ends of the dining table.
Then there was his dad, kneeling in front of the masked murderer, begging for his son’s
life.
His shoulders heave against the sobs. It was as if his body is being sliced open, "Find
me... please," his voice shatters in desperation.
But the harder Luhan tries to fight the truth, the more it persists. Sehun became RV's
leader seven years ago. He killed a cop like Ryu said. He can't remember the faces of
those he killed. He killed his own family, what could've stopped him from killing Ji-
Luhan screams, "No!' The pain that squeezes his heart can no longer rest inside, it
bursts into a long, agonized scream of sorrow.
He crushes his own skin in a fisted grip and his nails dig into his flesh, "Find me..." he
begs, "And tell me it's not true."
In this absurdity, Luhan realizes that the tears that keep falling, these tears themselves
are the perpetrators of the continuous surge of salty beads. For they are proof that there
is no longer any convincing to be done, that all of it, what he and Sehun had, what they
wanted to have, had been crushed heartlessly.

•••

Pellucid red blur outlines the clock: it is almost midnight. Sehun steps out of the cab
and views Akita's mansion, a two-floor grandeur that stretches from one end of the
street to the other. He rings the doorbell. Once. Twice. A man heftier than he is, with a
katana casually located on his waist, opens the gate. He looks at Sehun quizzically.
Before he realizes it is their number one enemy before him, Sehun knocks him to the
ground. He falls unconscious to the floor.
This night, there is no moon in the sky. There is no light except the flash of danger in
Sehun's irises. The house is completely dark. He trudges, no suggestion of concealing
himself, and sees two guards sleeping next to the door's entrance. He goes in front one
of them. He presses his knuckles against the temple of the guard's forehead, the thinnest
part of the cranium. In a quick second, the strike causes a profuse internal bleeding. The
other guard stirs awake. Sehun strikes the flat of his forehead with his cold palm and
forces it to the wall. Patches of red smear the pallid brick.
Inside, there are no more guards. Sehun sees a number of servants who scream and hide
to the darkness' shadows. He comes across a handful of other guards. He beats them to
a pulp without a sweat. Then he rummages the mansion, demolishing every piece of
ceramic, every furniture, every living flesh that gets in his way. He kicks all of the
doors open, so forcefully they are sent flying off of their hinges. But there is still no
sign of Luhan or Akita.
Marching to the second floor, Sehun doesn't notice, his knuckles are already bruised
and soaking red. Mechanically, as though there is a button pushed to move him, he goes
across each door, bolts them open, and hopes to see Luhan.
Nothing.
On a remote area of the house, there is a two-door entrance. Sehun feels adrenaline
pumping through him, like alcohol burning in his arteries. He swings it open and sees
the silhouette of a man standing near the window.
"Lu-"
The man faces him. It is one of Akita's premiers. Sehun does not know him by name,
but he knows the man's face and the unvacillating loyalty with which he had stood
beside Akita. People like this man, people who grip to their moral cause as they would
their own life, are the most cruel, most brutal people in the world. They are the types of
people who can destroy anything and anyone, as easily as a swatter macerates a fly. Just
thinking of this man touching a strand of Luhan's hair brings Sehun into a tornado of
rage.
"You have a second to tell me where Luhan is before I snap your neck," a ripple
twitches Sehun's mouth.
"I told those idiots to take you. They took that pathetic kid instead—"
Sehun darts to the enemy's side as fast as lightning, and places his knife that he had
sharpened earlier in the line of his throat, "One more word that isn't Luhan's location,"
he urges the knife to his flesh and small pellets of scarlet begin to ooze.
The man contradicts Sehun with a smile that grits his teeth on edge, "35 Hoiru. In any
case, Akita is waiting for you."
Sehun puts down the knife then thrashes the enemy's head to the window. He falls
down face first, leaving a trail of red on the glass. Sehun then sets off to the warehouse.
He is in a stupor of massacre, hypnotized by the smell of blood in his hands and the fear
rumbling in his insides.
35 Hoiru, the rusty nameplate is hanging detached on one of the columns. In the dead of
the night, the rain pours down the soaked ground, cold under foot. Sehun doesn't waste
a second. He thrusts open the gate to the warehouse and trudges against the squelch of
the mud in the pathway. His sleeves are dripping wet. Blots of rainfall surge on his
face, leaking around his jaw and befogging his eyesight.
The shadow of two of Akita's men patrolling the entrance to the lock-up welcomes him.
Sehun doesn't bother to take cover. The darkness is his ally, the bleeding of silhouette
in the dark corners and crevices are his spars. In the darkness, all of his actions are
justified.
He takes out his knife and slithers his fingers in the guard. He marches slowly towards
them, almost robotically, as though his instinct is the only awareness leading him. Then
he attacks. He kneels across one of the guards, and swings the knife at his legs,
disabling him. Before the other can take out his katana, Sehun thumbs the flesh between
the jaw and collarbone with his skewed hand. The man slumps to the ground,
paralyzed.
Two more of Akita's men come back from a break. They wield their swords at their first
sight of Sehun. Sehun easily dodges their assault. He turns one of the men's katana
against its owner. The blade punctures through the enemy's stomach to his back.
Sehun doesn't slow down. He positions the blade pointing downward, his locked fists
turning red against the knife's handle. Then he slashes upward the face of the only
enemy left. The slit runs red from the enemy's brow, to his lacerated eye, down to the
corners of his mouth.
The stench of blood begins to mix with the reek of the drenched mud. Sehun pushes the
door open. The image of Luhan in the swing storms him once more. Inside, there were
about twenty men, a group playing cards on one side, others sparring against each
other, the rest hitting the bottle. There is still no sign of Luhan. In a second, the men
catch sight of Sehun. The once rowdy air of the room turns into the foul smell of silent
threat. They take their katanas and surround Sehun.
Encircled by brusque men ready to attack any second, Sehun looks at the ground. His
hold around his knife tightens. Luhan is here, he can feel it in the blood rushing through
his very thread. Luhan is here.
"Let's get this over with," Sehun says with sedate calmness.
The first wave of men rushes to him, katanas aimed at his neck. He gets down to the
floor and sweeps a kick that knocks their legs out from under them. He stands up and
strikes his knife to any flesh it can detect. Blood gushes from somewhere. He throws
heavy punches at each, broken bones crack against his own knuckles. The second wave
leads. All the men stand up once again. The number of men doesn't seem to diminish.
Sehun beats one to the floor then stabs one on the shoulder. One of the enemies takes an
arching shot on his arm. Sehun doesn't have time to dart from the attack. The blade
lacerates the fabric of his clothes and reaches his skin. He doesn't flinch.
Screams begin to surge against the thick sound of the swing of katanas. Red-soaked
bodies drop one by one on the floor. Sehun's shirt is tattered and stained, his bones are
broken, his skin is torn and a gush of blood keeps streaming from his wounds, taking
with it every sap of his strength. At each attack with his knife, Sehun feels nothing. His
brain had shut down.
A kid not older than Sehun attempts to attack him with a lethal blow. With all his
strength left, he goes behind the kid and wraps his arm just below his neck. He
positions his knife to cut through the kid's throat. His first lethal attack in the night's
blackness.
You won't... From here on out, every time you'd want to kill someone... You'll
remember me. You'll think of me... And you won't be able to go on with it.
Sehun freezes. The kid takes his chance and strikes his katana facing his back, sliding
against the side of Sehun's stomach. Another enemy slashes Sehun's spine from behind.
He falls to the floor, his breath racing against the incessant dripping of his blood. A fist
connects to his face, then a kick to his stomach, then to his chest. The group of men
closes in on him. Until the ceiling light of the warehouse is clouded in nothing but pure
black. The pain begins to attack Sehun from everywhere, a burn on his guts and a sting
on his ribs, ripples of agony through his torso.
Just when Sehun feels his entire body is about to give up, the men part open a gap.
From that gap, Akita stands looming over him. The intensity of the light spears his
irises and blinds him. It takes a few blurred seconds for the view to finally clear up, but
still, he doesn't see Akita. His battered eyes can only fall upon one being, "Lu-Luhan..."
a spill of blood spurts from his frayed lips.
Luhan stands a few inches from Sehun. Sehun instantly lets his eyes travel to his body,
there are no wounds, no bruises. Luhan is breathing normally. He is still standing. And
yet, why? Why does he look hollow and lifeless as though a corpse? Sehun's shaking
hands smashes into fists at the thought of what Akita could have done to Luhan.
Akita is saying something. But Sehun hears nothing. He only looks directly at Luhan,
studying his breathing, measuring how high his shoulders heave. He pushes himself up
with his stained palms but is just as quickly knocked to the ground. The iciness of the
concrete doesn't numb the wounds that persist. All of his joints feel broken, all his veins
stricken and the blood that was once scarlet had quickly blackened. But Sehun wants to
reach Luhan. He forces his body up once more, "Luhan..." This time, he makes it a few
seconds before tumbling to the floor in a harder collapse.
The sharpness in Luhan's face takes a different turn. His expression closed, as if
guarding a secret as he moves forward to Sehun. This unbearable moment, it is Sehun's
turn to wait. Sorry for waiting, thank you for being alive — Now, he is ready to say
these things. Him being unable to stand up, him being unable to speak without spewing
blood — none of these will matter if he says those words.
Luhan finally reaches Sehun's side. But instead of running to gaze at Sehun, instead of
hurting for the wounds that tainted Sehun's body, Luhan turns to Akita, "Sun hyung..."
he whispers then looks away, "Don't kill him."
Sehun momentarily battles with the uncertainty. He regards Luhan, his impassioned
eyes showing the agonized dullness of disbelief. He hears sounds, muted and sharp at
the same time. He refuses to register what he had just heard. Luhan walks away and
disappears onto the inky black of the room. Sehun falters in the silence of the physical
pain that swiftly loses its momentum, replaced by an estrangement much more
agonizing, much more destroying. There is something else he needs to tell Luhan.
But realization always comes too late, the truth always reveals itself when there is no
one left to listen.

Luhan walks up the stairs and at each step, the heaviness of his ashen-colored body
worsens. When he finally reaches the door, he shuts it, holds the knob. Then he
collapses to the floor. He cries as though his brain is being grated inch by inch from
inside. Streaks of pain come rushing from his every pore. He screams it all out, throat
stretching to release raw shrieks of pain. But not a hint of solace comes to his desperate
call for help. He keeps holding onto the doorknob so his body doesn't faint from its
violent trembling.
He had decided to ask Sehun if he did it. If he didn't. If he had an excuse. What is that
excuse? Tell me please, I need to know so I can breathe. Luhan wanted to hear a word,
any, it didn't matter. But when he saw Sehun's eyes, everything turned dark. In a blink,
Sehun's eyes became an image of Jin, a remainder of that indelible night, of the seven
desperate years Luhan spent to forget the guilt and its misery. Though it was those eyes
that made Luhan fall in love — he saw those sad, empty eyes of Sehun and he realized
he wanted to occupy, embrace and blind them with his emotion. Forever.
And yet, don't kill him, this left his mouth. Because of that image of Jin. I'm sorry I
love the person who killed you, Luhan thought of this. And he wanted to die.
More persistent, more racking sobs begin to shake him. His sight, clumped by his
dampened lashes, turns into a blur of color that ultimately diminishes to gray. He
clutches his hand into a fist and beats his chest until it bruises. But the torture inside
still does not subside. For hours, all he does is cry. Strength may run out. Power, trust,
and hope — all these may run out. But tears don't.
An urgent, forceful knock on the door reverberates on Luhan's back and hurtles him
back to the reality that had defeated him enough. Enough of this, he prays. With a frail
hold, he pulls the door open.
Barely standing, Sehun meets Luhan's swollen eyes. Sehun's once pristine face is
covered in dark green and close to black bruises. His lips are torn, the dampness in its
corners is savage red. His whole body is engulfed with dislodged bones, distorted joints
and his shirt stained in blood shows a new blot of wound every second. His hands, its
long elegant fingers, are now grotesque with traces of flesh within its nails, slits on its
knuckles, his small finger convulsing in ache.
But Luhan sees none of this. Once again, all he can recognize is Jin's face.
"Let's go. Ryu and them are here. There's no time, let's lea-" Sehun catches him by the
elbow.
"Sehun," Luhan asks thickly, "Di- did you do it?"
Sehun's hand releases its hold of Luhan. It falls to his side, almost lifelessly, as if it is
no longer a part of him.
Luhan gulps hard, and the tears revisit his face. His quiet tone turns into a damaged
scream, "Did you kill my brother?" He bites his lips to control the wrath clamoring
inside him. His shout becomes louder, "Did you kill my brother?" Then he dissolves
into defeat, into a whisper of torment, "Ple- please... Did you kill Jin?"
Sehun freezes. There are raging sounds of cries and chairs and tables being pulverized
in the battlefield outside the room. Slashes of katanas and swings of fists breed a pool
of blood too stale Sehun can smell it. Sehun opens his frayed lips partly, but not a
breath comes out. He can't give an answer to something his mind does not remember.
He was about to say no, about to lie to the person he wants to see through him. But his
eyes act quicker than his words. And in that faint second, Luhan sees it, in those eyes
once again, the smear of doubt.
Shaking his head incessantly, Luhan slowly backs off, "No..." He plummets to the cold
stone. He shuts his lids to control his erratic breathing. Something locks in his throat.
He wants to throw up, "No..."
Sehun kneels across him and places his palms in Luhan's shoulders, "Liste-"
Though his hands are trembling, Luhan manages to shove Sehun away. "How could
you not remember my brother? For seven years.... For seven years, I- I couldn't sleep
without a nightmare. I couldn't wake up without his thought. Ho-"
Sehun moves towards him again, but before he can reach Luhan, Jun bolts the door
open, "Hyung, they took Ryu. We have to go now!"
Without flinching, Sehun keeps his eyes pinned to Luhan, though Luhan can no longer
look at them, "I'm not leaving here without you," he says.
Yet all Luhan does is cry and blame him, shout at him, ask him what it felt to kill his
brother. The rest unfolds hazily in Luhan's sight. Nam Sun comes around with five of
his men, charging with their swords. Jun fights them off while Sehun refuses to even
give anyone a glance but Luhan. The enemies tip the scale. And left with no choice, Jun
takes Sehun by force. Sehun kicks him, struggling to free himself and come back to
Luhan. Let me go, he screams to Jun. Then Luhan, Luhan, Luhan, he cries for his name
endlessly. As though it is his last hope.
 Nam Sun slams the door then locks it. Luhan merely stares somewhere between the
wall and the ground, void of any emotion other than the stream gushing on his cheeks.
He stays motionless, until he stops hearing Sehun call for his name. Bit by bit, the
noises die down. Then nothing. Silence ensues as though preventing the darkness from
ever dissipating again.

A few hours later, the bright white light starts spilling from the room's window,
concealing all the shadows of the night that passed. Luhan looks up with his inflamed
eyes. He covers his palms to prevent himself from drowning in the sun's beam. Nam
Sun comes by again a little later and tries to shake him out of his hypnosis though to no
avail.
By this time, RV Korea is hiding out in a secluded room in a street near the warehouse.
They've lost a man to save one who did not want to be saved. Sehun tilts a bottle of
whiskey to his lips and he admits to himself, he is devastated. What he wanted was for
Luhan to see him, so clear he no longer has to hide in the same excuses, in the same
facade. But at this second, Luhan who is still on the floor, wants no more than to
apologize for loving the real Sehun, his brother's murderer.
Finally, they both understand, Sehun staring at the window with a burnt out cigarette on
his lips and Luhan struggling to see despite his tears, they now understand how weak
they've become. Because cruelty appears in all directions, the person who makes you
strongest is the same person who incapacitates you, and the thing that draws you most
to that person always turns out to be the exact thing that keeps you apart.
The pattering rain
as it hits the
pavement was a
sweet sadness to his
ears. He had learned
to listen to the
echoes as it hit the
roof, the notes
softer than his
heartbeat. The
sound of it made
him smile. He sat
by the window,
staring at the
downpour that fell
down like silver
shooting stars. The
droplets raced down
the pane, the bigger
drops consuming
the smaller ones as
they chase towards
the sill. He reached
over and wrote his
name against the
wintry glass, Luhan.
From the reflection,
he saw the jet-black
suit he was wearing
and the withering
white carnation
pinned to its
sleeve.
He may not
have cried an
hour ago on his
dad's funeral.
But it did not
mean he was
not in pain. His
existence had
become a piano
without strings,
no matter how
beautiful he
played, no
sound was
made. It had
become the
crumpled
edges of a
music sheet,
repeatedly
turned but
never read. But
it was still the
same song, it
was still the
same story. He
was still dying
inside.
From the
pocket of
his jeans,
Luhan took the
sleeping pills
he had bought.
He crushed all
twenty-eight
pills and
poured the
powder onto
the bottled
water. He
pressed the tip
of the bottle on
his lips. All of
a sudden, he
heard the
shatter of glass
fragments from
the kitchen,
aggravated by
a high-pitched
scream. Luhan
put down the
bottle and
rushed outside
his room.
There he saw
his mom,
slumped on the
floor, crying
hysterically.
Luhan rushed
to embrace
her.
Perhaps if that
moment seven
years ago, his
mom hadn't
thrown the
bottle of
perfume he
was supposed
to give his dad,
none of what is
happening now
will happen.
Luhan wouldn't
have realized
he couldn't die
because his
mom needed
him. He
wouldn't have
realized that no
one deserved to
die. He
wouldn't have
realized his life
mattered. And
he would have
ended all of it.
As the first
light deepens
into a frigid
afternoon,
Luhan thinks
about this. He
ponders if he
should've
drank those
pills that night,
without
restriction, and
just surrender
to his
misfortune. He
thinks that
maybe he was
meant to die
then. Because
as he now tries
to face the
truth
confronting
him, he
realizes this
future is not
what anyone
would've
wanted.
He had lost
track of how
many days it
had been since
he confronted a
matter too
leaden to bear.
Nam Sun
would come
three times a
day with a
meal in hand.
But Luhan
wouldn't touch
it. Yet at the
moment, he
feels no
discomfort, no
hunger, no
frailty. All he
is... is empty.
Nam Sun
would say
something
about Jin from
time to time
but Luhan
would only
give him a nod.
And he'd take
it as an
indication he
didn't want to
talk about his
brother. In the
same way,
everytime Nam
Sun would let
slip Sehun's
name, Luhan's
eyes would
border with
tears and he
would stop
breathing
altogether.
Luhan doesn't
need to tell
him, Nam Sun
already knows
that his
relationship
with Sehun
isn't as simple
as captor-
captive. He
could see it in
the throes
Luhan is
carrying, a
kind of
hollowness that
can only be
brought about
by loss and
betrayal.
On one of his
talks coaxing
Luhan to open
up, Nam Sun
accidentally
slips that they
had taken Ryu
hostage. For
the first time in
days, Luhan
responds, with
a terror-
stricken face
and a scream,
"He has
nothing to do
with this!"
"No. He has
everything to
do with this,"
Nam Sun
stands up
abruptly, "He
can tell us
where Sehun is
hiding. From
there, we can
ambush him."
"Stop!" Luhan
draws back
into his bed
and leans into
the wall, "Let's
just- let's just
leave Sehun
alone...
Please."
Nam Sun's cold
eyes roam his
face, "How can
you say that?"
"How- How
can I?" he
whispers in a
tormented
voice, as
though he is
genuinely
asking himself
how those
words could
have possibly
left his lips. He
shrugs his head
in denial,
"But... But I
can't. I can't
watch him die.
I won't."
A forced laugh
leaves Nam
Sun's mouth,
"You've gone
crazy."
"Yes!" Luhan
shuts his eyes
and surrenders
to his defeat, "I
can't even hurt
the person who
killed my
brother," tears
begin to choke
him, "I felt like
I died when Jin
died and the
person who
made me feel
alive turned out
to be the one
who caused my
own family's
death. Tell me-
Tell me hyung
how am I
supposed to not
go crazy?"
"You push it
inside you,"
Nam Sun's
features soften
as he plants
himself at the
edge of the
bed, "You bury
it deep. Fill it
with alcohol,
revenge, anger.
Until you
forget it. That's
the only way
you'll survive
without
completely
losing your
mind."
"What have I
done?" Luhan
stares out in
the space,
"What have I
done so bad
that these kinds
of things had to
happen to me?
Am I being
punished? For
what? I've tried
so hard to
live... why is
fate driving me
to death?" A
drop of tear
leaves
abandoned in
Luhan's
cheeks.
Nam Sun
stands up,
expression
closed, "I'm not
gonna watch
you cry over
your brother's
killer," he says
as he heads to
the door.
"I-" Luhan
interrupts him,
"I think I'm
going to die
hyung."
Nam Sun stops
his hands from
trembling by
clutching it
into fists. He
takes the gun
fastened on his
belt and walks
back to Luhan.
He points the
gun's nuzzle to
Luhan's
forehead, his
face as rigid as
stone,
expression as
stern as a
murderer.
It is as though
someone had
strangled
Luhan's neck.
Unable to
speak, he
struggles to
even breathe.
The coldness
of the metal
touching his
skin sends
shivers down
his spine.
"Then die,"
Nam Sun grits
his teeth,
"Die!"
"Hyu-"
"For the first
time, I'm
thankful —
God I'm
thankful —
that Jin is
dead." Nam
Sun's thumb
tightens on the
trigger, "So he
doesn't have to
see you like
this. He doesn't
have to see
what you've
become.
Wanting to die
because of his
murderer." A
bitter laugh
escapes his
trembling
mouth, "Open
your eyes
Luhan! That
bastard lied to
you, used you,
left you!"
Luhan's hands
climb slowly to
the gun. He
doesn't stop
quavering,
though his grip
on the
weapon's frame
is firm, "When
I see Sehun, all
I can think
about is Jin.
But though it's
like that-
though I feel
like that... I
still want to see
Sehun. Those
wounds Sehun
had, have they
healed? Is he
still hurting?
Did he cry
when I
screamed at
him? When I
pushed him
away? Did I
break his
heart? — I
think about all
of this. I feel
like I'm
shattering into
pieces. But to
end this pain, I
don't even
think about
killing him. I
think about
killing
myself!" He
urges the gun
closer to his
forehead, it
begins to mark
a bruise of red,
"I should die
hyung. I should
really die."
Nam Sun
walks out of
the room,
leaving Luhan
lying in the bed
in tears.
Wouldn't it be
nice if he could
just disappear
or go back to
when he still
haven't cross
paths with
Sehun? But in
forgetting,
there is never a
prerogative,
there is never a
choice.
Forgetting is a
traitorous
friend, who
rests to deceive
you as though
it is always
there to give
you a way out,
but double
crosses you at
the last minute
and leaves you
alone and
broken.
•••
Luhan walks
the rusty spiral
staircase that
leads to the
basement of
the warehouse.
It is never
morning here,
the darkness
swallowing
every nook and
crevice except
for the
lightbulb
restlessly
hanging on the
ceiling. There
is a strong
smell of
something
corroding, like
metal being
melted in open
fire. Stains of
red run down
the walls, like
veins in flesh,
and Luhan
realizes that the
pungent smell
is coming from
the dried blood
that can never
be ridden. As
soon as he
catches sight of
Ryu, his
stomach drops
in anxiety. He
rushes to him
who is
shackled to the
ground, one
eye half-closed
in bruise,
clothes frayed,
one arm
twisted
horribly.
"Ryu," Luhan
kneels in front
of him and the
bulb swings to
give a clearer
view. He pales
in horror. Ryu,
with all the red
lesions
obliterating his
face, is close to
unrecognizable
. Cradling
Ryu's chin,
Luhan tries to
hold his tears
in check but
fails instantly.
"I'm gonna get
you out of
here."
"There's a key.
Akita has it."
Ryu speaks. He
flinches at each
stretch of his
lacerated lips.
The iron chains
are fastened to
the far-end
corners of the
room,
imprisoning
both of Ryu's
wrists. Luhan
tugs them and
notices the
keyhole at the
center of both
tarnished cuffs.
"I'll get it from
hi-"
As if on cue,
footsteps begin
to violently
disrupt the
silence of the
room, its
echoes banging
loudly against
the walls. Nam
Sun appears
before them
with two of his
guards. He
eyes Luhan for
a quick second,
drags him
away from Ryu
and pushes him
to one of his
men. The lanky
overweight
man holds
Luhan by the
arm so firm it
hurts every
time he tries to
break free.
Without so
much a hint,
Nam Sun
strikes Ryu on
the face. The
shackles
shudder in the
impact, like a
chain pulled by
a wheel,
overpowering
Ryu's stifled
cry of pain.
"Stop it
hyung!" Luhan
yells and
squirms
beneath the
man holding
him.
"If you tell me
where Sehun
is, all this can
stop," Nam
Sun tells Ryu
matter-of-
factly.
"Go. to. hell."
Ryu spits out
mucky blood
that lands on
Nam Sun's
face. One of
the men bolts
to Nam Sun
and wipes off
the mire of
saliva and
sanguine.
Nam Sun
glares at Ryu
with burning
eyes, "By now,
Sehun
should've
rescued you.
But he hasn't.
He has left for
you dead."
"If you think
that kind of
trick will work
on me, you're
dumber than I
gave you credit
for."
"Let's make it
easier then,"
Nam Sun says
in a
challenging
threat. He takes
the pistol from
his belt and
points it
towards Luhan,
"Tell me where
Sehun is or I
kill Luhan."
Ryu's eyes
become as flat
and as
unreadable as
stone. He looks
down,
clenching his
discoloured
mouth, "Did
you really
think a single
life can amount
to my loyalty?
More than my
own life, more
than Luhan's,
more than
anyone else! —
it is RV I
prioritize."
A crescent of a
smirk
manifests in
Nam Sun's
expression. He
brings down
the gun, "You
see Luhan?
These people
don't give a
rat's ass about
your life."
Luhan remains
silent and
unmoving. But
Ryu's words no
longer come as
a surprise.
When their
eyes connect,
Luhan tries his
best to relay
with a nod that
it is alright,
that he
understands
perfectly what
RV means to
Ryu.
"I'll give it one
more day. By
then, either
you'll talk or
you'll beg me
to kill you,"
Nam Sun
directs his
threat to Ryu in
an unnerving
whisper.
A smile that do
not indicate
compliance
twists Ryu's
lips, "You
think you've
won just
because you've
seen our leader
wounded. But
Akita, you're
barely out of
your diapers.
Sehun had
been to hell
and back. You
won't defeat
him like this."
Nam Sun turns
his back and
nonchalantly
strides to the
staircase. He
halts midway,
"That may be
true... But
you're
forgetting
something." he
pivots his head
partially, "I
have the only
thing Sehun
cares about in
this world.
Right here. On
my side."
Luhan sheathes
the uneasiness
he is feeling.
Nam Sun
disappears as
easily as he
had repressed
the room with
his terrorizing
words.
Everything else
falls silent
except for a
rhythmic sound
in the room, a
leak dripping
from the floor
above. At each
drop, Luhan
learns to
embrace the
stillness, as
though it is his
salvation, his
only exit from
the fear and the
pain racking
his insides. But
the relief is
short-lived.
"Just now I-"
Ryu murmurs,
breaking the
calmness.
"You don't
have to
explain,"
Luhan sits
down on the
grimy concrete.
"I know how
important RV
is to you."
"It is- it is
important to
you too, isn't
it?"
Luhan stares
blankly,
"Sehun killed
my brother. He
killed Jin." He
bites down
hard on his
lower lip.
More than
Luhan's
revelation,
what seems to
stun Ryu is the
void of
emotion with
which he
divulged it, "If
you want to
hear me say it's
not true. I
won't be able
to. Because I
really don't
know," he
hesitates for a
moment, "But
you already
know that... so
why are you
still telling
me?"
"Because I'm
trying to find
the right
answer..."
"Answer to
what? To how
you should
forgive Sehun?
Or to how you
should hate
him for the rest
of your life?"
Luhan's
expression
darkens,
"Answer to
how I should
live... how can
I live... from
here on out."
A long sigh
escapes from
Ryu's wounded
lips then his
eyes roam and
rest at Luhan's,
"I know. I
understand
why you're in
pain. No one's
asking you not
to mourn, not
to be sad. But
Luhan... This
happened
seven years
ago. Sehun
didn't know
you. You didn't
know him. And
you knew who
it was you
were falling in
love with. You
knew what
kind of Sehun
person is."
"Do I? Really?
Do I really
know what
kind of person
he is?" Luhan
looks away,
"How can you
say it's not
Sehun's fault
when you,
perhaps more
than anyone
else, know how
cruel he can
be? How
cold... how
unfeeling."
"I'm not saying
it isn't his
fault," Ryu
says, "I'm
saying that if
Sehun can go
back to seven
years ago. He
would in a
heartbeat. And
he would do
anything just to
protect your
brother. Do
you really
think he would
have done- he
could do
anything to
hurt you?" His
voice becomes
louder, more
persistent,
"Before Sehun
planned to
attack Akita,
he went to me.
He changed his
will and
decided to give
you everything
he has. He was
so sure he was
going to die.
But instead of
thinking about
his own death,
his own life, all
he thought of,
all he was
worried about
was how you're
going to get
hurt if he died.
You being sad
means more to
him than his
own death. To
me, a person
who cares as
much as that,
deserves the
chance to give
his
explanation."
As soon as
Luhan hears
this, the torture
from inside
him worsens.
There is a well,
in the pit of his
guts, where he
is struggling to
bury it all like
Nam Sun said.
If only Luhan
can convince
himself that
Sehun really is
unfeeling,
maybe
everything will
be easier. But
no matter how
hard he tries to
deny it, he can
no longer
deprive himself
of the fact that
Sehun feels —
and that, in
this entire
universe of
misfortune and
chaos, is the
most
unbearably
painful thing
he has to
carry.
"I love him..."
Luhan's throat
aches with
defeat, "I just
don't think I
can forgive
him."
"Because it's
not an answer
you need," Ryu
finally says,
"You need the
right question.
You need to
ask yourself,
when all is said
and done... is
your love
enough to
make you see
nothing else
but him?"
Luhan walks
away, resigned.
He goes to his
room and basks
in the salvation
of his bed,
curled up in the
warmth of his
blanket. There
was a time
when Luhan
thought he
could never
love Sehun any
more than he
already did. In
other days, he
would think his
love needed to
be greater
because the
tenderness and
warmth
burning inside
his heart was in
a whirlwind so
intense, his
mind could no
longer catch up
with the right
words to
describe it.
There was a
time.
Waiting for
Nam Sun to get
back, Luhan
thinks of a
plan. He will
get the key
from him and
free Ryu. Then
he will urge
Nam Sun to let
Sehun go for
the sake of his
brother and
their
friendship. And
from that point
forward,
everything will
be but a part of
the past. Sehun
and Luhan will
simply be two
unfated souls
whose stars
didn't align
even before
their paths
crossed. That
will be for the
best.
Fate really is
vicious. At the
worst possible
moment,
Luhan
suddenly
remembers
Sehun's face.
So clearly —
as though he is
laying down
right beside
Luhan, his
warm breath
filling the
slender space.
He reaches out
to Sehun's
illusion. His
finger connects
to the air but in
his mind, it is
pressing down
the gap
between
Sehun's
eyebrows.
There are
wrinkles there,
small and
almost
unnoticeable,
that waver
when he's
irritated.
"How many
problems could
you have had
that you've
already got
these lines..."
Luhan
whispers. Then
he slides his
finger to the tip
of Sehun's
nose, following
its sharp and
tall contour.
Finally, he
lands it to his
firm lips, the
hue of cerise-
red that
radiates from
its inner part to
its corners.
Luhan closes
his eyes to
inhale the
familiar smell
of menthol and
liquor, infused
with a cherry
scent he never
seems to get
enough of.
"It's not easy to
avoid being
someone I've
always been,"
Sehun
murmurs. His
voice echoes
softly in
Luhan's ears as
though he
really is there.
For a moment,
Luhan no
longer knows
whether the
man before
him is a mere
memory or a
misfortunate
dream.
"I never asked
you to do
that."
"What you're
asking is much
more difficult,"
Sehun gently
tucks Luhan's
hair away,
"You're asking
me to have
been someone I
can no longer
be."
"Tell me..."
Luhan looks
deeply in his
lover's eyes,
"Can love be
enough? Can it
be enough in
this situation?"
"Do you want
me to be
honest?"
"Yes."
Sehun holds
Luhan's pale
red face with
both of his
hands and the
lines appear
once more in
the depths of
his brows,
"Love is never
enough Luhan.
Not in this
situation, not in
any other."
Sehun's answer
breaks Luhan's
already
shattered heart.
"Then what is
this all for?"
Incapable of
feigning calm,
his words
tremble.
"I really don't
know," Sehun
looks away,
"And that,
more than
anything else,
is what I am
most sorry to
you for."
Luhan rests his
head in the
chest of Sehun.
He can hear his
heartbeat, the
rhythm and the
pause fighting
over anxiety
and despair.
Hot tears begin
to roll down a
wavy path in
his cheeks as
he buries his
face closer and
closer to his
captor's soul.
When he opens
his eyes, the
image of Sehun
is gone, his
arms hanging
forsaken mid-
air.
•••
Ryu looks even
worse when
Luhan comes
back with the
key. Nam Sun
had carelessly
left it at the
sidetable of his
bedroom, a
misstep that
seemed off but
nonetheless
fortunate. No
guards hinder
Luhan's
attempt to free
Ryu as he
rushes to
remove the
shackles off of
his wrist. He
pulls his
weakened body
up though as
soon as he
does, Ryu
tumbles to the
floor. He
swings his
bloodied arm
over his
shoulder and
strives to bear
his weight.
Knowing
they're running
out of time,
Ryu strains to
feel his limbs,
and with them,
the wounds
shearing his
flesh, all to
gain control of
his senses.
They soon
reach the
warehouse's
gate and still,
no guards
come in sight.
Luhan
suddenly lets
go of Ryu.
Ryu's pupils
widen and his
brows cross,
"You can't stay
here."
"I have to,"
Luhan moves
back farther,
"Go."
Ryu doesn't
budge.
"Te-tell him..."
Luhan looks
down, "Tell
Se-sehun..." He
is struggling to
find the right
words. But in
the end, he
doesn't find
them.
By then, Ryu
sights a couple
of guards from
a distance,
smoking in the
warehouse's
yard. Now isn't
the right time
to waver. He
turns his back
and limps out
of the gate.
Luhan closes it
and Ryu halts.
"I'm pretty sure
we'll meet
again," A grin
lights up Ryu's
injured lips,
"Sehun will
ransack this
world if that's
what it takes to
get you back."
Ryu disappears
from Luhan's
sight and a
flurry of wind
rushes to
Luhan's face,
his thoughts
dissipating
somewhere
between the
truth and his
dream. This
world – as Ryu
said it –
suddenly
becomes
meaningless to
Luhan. What
for are smiles?
What for are
simple jests
and profound
lines? What
use is seeing
this world
revolve when
all you feel is
the air from the
sidelines?
The familiar
fog of water-
rimmed eyes
begin to cloud
Luhan's eyes.
He wipes them
off quickly,
having had
enough of
pointless
struggle. Once
more, he looks
out the gate
before heading
back to the
warehouse.
Luhan soon
sees a group of
armed men,
clad in all-
black, heading
out. A slight
alarm strikes
his confused
face as he
rushes inside to
look for Nam
Sun. It is most
likely that they
have found out
that Ryu
disappeared
and that Luhan
helped him.
Inside one of
the meeting
room's of the
warehouse,
Nam Sun is
looking out at
that window,
firmly rooted
atop the table,
his stare
unflinching.
Luhan
cautiously
walk towards
him but Nam
Sun doesn't
turn around to
face him. He
fiddles with a
bronze bullet in
his hand for a
few minutes
before lodging
it inside a
pistol.
A cold shiver
runs through
Luhan's spine.
Having
realized what
he has done, he
is
overwhelmed
by shock. The
first opening of
his lips did not
surrender to
any words.
Finally, after
the war of
doubt and
agony inside
him, he
screams a
whisper,
"Please...
don't."
"One of our
men is already
following
Ryu," Nam
Sun declares
without a hint
of emotion,
"Sehun will die
tonight."
Luhan's knees
lose control.
He falls to the
ground, his
eyes glued to
what existed
between the
concrete and
the unreal.
Nam Sun,
indifferent to
Luhan's
reaction, heads
out the door.
Luhan grabs
Nam Sun by
the wrist, "I'm
begging you..."
his sight does
not leave the
floor. He can
feel his body
moving, his
heart racing
against time,
everything else
is moving
except his
weeping eyes.
"You need to
see his face
Luhan once he
dies." Nam Sun
kneels to his
level, "Only
then... only
then can you
forgive
yourself for
what you've
done. Only
then can Jin
forgive you for
what you've
done."
•••
When Nam
Sun and his
men broke
inside RV
Korea's
hideout, an
abandoned
parking lot in
Rippongo,
everything was
eerily quiet.
Near one of the
vandalized
posts, a couple
of chairs gather
about, atop
which red
stained
bandages are
placed. A small
lit lamp is
standing
isolated on
another post.
Sehun and his
men were
definitely here
a few minutes
ago, except not
one sign of any
of them lurks
about.
Luhan, who is
standing
behind Nam
Sun and his
armed men,
breathes a loud
sigh of relief.
Nam Sun
glances at him,
evidently
vexed, before
continuing to
ransack the
entire place —
kicking the
chairs,
breaking the
lamp, hitting
the cemented
post with one
strong punch.
Blood dripping
on his gripped
fist, Nam Sun
says, "They
can't be that far
away. Find
them. Find
him!"
His men shout
a barbaric yes
before
dispersing
completely
around the
open space.
Nam Sun turns
to Luhan as
they find
themselves
alone, "Are
you happy
now?"
Luhan does not
say a word. He
is unable to
hear any noise
other than the
shrieks of
mayhem in his
head. His irises
move from side
to side as he
drowns in
thoughts of
what the
current
situation
means. His
first conclusion
is a positive
one : Sehun
and his men
realized Nam
Sun was on to
them after
ordering
someone to
follow Ryu,
hence the
sudden escape.
But can Nam
Sun's men find
them? Have
they fled far
enough? Can
they leave the
country? Are
they wounded?
Do they think
he betrayed
them? Will
they be able
to–
"Luhan..." a
deep baritone
reverberated
from the
shadows.
The tornado of
thoughts in
Luhan's head
comes to utter
halt as it finds
everything
swallowed in
the center —
the kernel
where the
strongest winds
blow. He need
not ask whose
voice it is. It is
a voice he can
recognize from
anywhere,
from anytime
— the smooth
and scraped
voice he knew
he would never
forget the first
time he
listened to it.
Soon, the
darkened
figure emerges
from the light.
Sehun walks a
few steps
before stopping
too close to
suffocate yet
too far to
reach. Luhan
cannot
recognize what
state his heart
is in, broken
still or put
back, broken
again or pieced
once more. The
click of the
gun's safety
snaps him from
his catatonia.
His chest
tightens as he
sees Nam Sun
point his gun to
Sehun, who he
comes to
realize, is
carrying no
weapon.
Sehun is not
wavering at all
at the threat of
the barrel. He
is only looking
at Luhan,
breathing him
in with a half-
smile, as
though him
being okay is
all he ever
needed to see.
"Luhan..." he
calls him out
once more.
Luhan is
suddenly
swamped with
a longing, a
first since he
was faced with
the
circumstances
of Jin's death.
In this
imaginary
longing, Luhan
runs to Sehun,
crashes to his
arms and
surrenders
himself
completely to
his yearning. In
this imaginary
longing,
Luhan, despite
the sadness
piercing
through him,
does not cry,
for he only
regrets not
having
believed
Sehun. In this
imaginary
longing,
everything is
forgiven,
everything is
back to
normal.
But Luhan
does not
succumb to this
dream. He
faces reality
with a cold,
impassive
guise. He tries
to hide the
anger sidling in
him, Why did
you stay? Why
didn't you
escape with
your men?
Why aren't you
carrying a gun?
Why aren'y
you pointing it
to Nam Sun...
or to me? He
wants to
scream to
Sehun all these
questions. But
does not.
"You have no
idea how good
it would feel to
push this
trigger right
now." Nam
Sun smirks. All
of his life, he
has waited for
this, and now
that it has
come, there is
no concealing
the sense of
triumph in his
victorious grin.
"Just pointing
it at you—"
"Don't listen to
anything
Luhan." Sehun
comes closer
and Luhan
finds himself
backing away
an inch.
What the hell
are you doing?
"Don't listen to
anything else
and just listen
to my voice."
Sehun
continues.
Rage flares
inside Nam
Sun. Without a
word, he
charges to
Sehun and
punches him in
the face. Sehun
moves back,
his knees bend
a little from the
blow but he
doesn't fall to
the ground.
The pain
doesn't make
him wince.
Instead, he
wipes the
blood of his
face and starts
moving
forward. One
more step
closer to
Luhan. One
more step.
"I can't tell you
what I don't
know Luhan."
Sehun
whispers,
shaking his
head in
frustration.
Tears begin
running down
Luhan's cheeks
but no
expression is
visible from his
eyes. It is as
though a
stream of water
is mistakenly
left unblocked,
pouring
relentlessly and
without
direction.
Nam Sun hits
Sehun one
more, this time
in the stomach.
Sehun almost
falters, but the
courage inside
him to keep
standing up is
much more
potent than the
blood now
fleeing his
nostrils.
Luhan wants to
scream. He
wants to block
Nam Sun's
strikes. But he
cannot move a
single joint.
"I thought
maybe I could
lie and tell you
I didn't kill
your brother,
but I can't. I
won't. I can't
give you any
proof that I
didn't. I can't
give you
anything else.
What I can tell
you, for sure,
without any
doubt, is that
my love for
you is as real
as your love
for me."
By then, Luhan
breaks down
without
reserve. Every
cry is strangled
by his draw of
breath. His
brows meet in
pain, his lips
pressed in
agony. He feels
as though
something is
shredding
inside him. He
cups his mouth
to stifle his
cries, but his
sobs only grow
louder.
Nam Sun
strikes Sehun
once more in
the face. This
time, his nose
breaks. He
strikes him in
the chest and
an audible
crack of the
ribs follows.
Things turn for
the worse when
Nam Sun's men
arrive at the
scene.
Surrounding
Sehun, they all
throw their
merciless
punches and
kicks.
Harrowing
minutes later,
Sehun falls to
the ground
helplessly,
curled up as he
shields himself
from the
blows. Sehun
no longer
recognizes how
many bones
has been
broken. But
such physical
pain had
always been
familiar to him.
The only thing
that really hurts
him in the
moment is the
pain that goes
beyond his
very existence,
the pain he has
given Luhan
full rights to.
"I- I- will give
up my life to
give you your
brother back!"
Sehun screams
his loudest,
though it is
muffled by the
kick driven to
his face.
Nam Sun
curses before
pulling him by
the hair and
hitting his head
right onto the
cement,
"Silence!" he
orders.
Luhan
collapses and
follows Sehun
to the ground.
"Please stop
it," he begs.
It doesn't. The
bloody
bestiality goes
on and on and
on. Seconds,
minutes, hours
— Luhan loses
track. Out of
nowhere, the
men gathered
round Sehun
backs away.
Nam Sun
besmears his
expression
with a smile.
Luhan looks at
the center,
afraid and
hesistating. He
is hit fiercely
by what he
sees, Sehun's
bruised body is
no longer
moving.
Luhan's mouth
turns blue as
they drop,
almost
robotically.
"Sehun-ah-" he
calls out
frantically,
"Sehun-ah..."
he calls out
once more in
denial, "Sehun-
ah!"
Nothing. Not a
faint sound.
Not a hint of
any
movement.
Everyone stops
moving in
Luhan's gaze.
There is no one
else but Sehun
and him.
Everything else
ceases to exist.
And in this
void, in this
nothingness,
Luhan believes
only one
thing— he can
abandon
everything to
let this person
breathe. A loud
click echoes
from Luhan's
periphery. He
smiles and runs
to the lifeless
body of his
captor. A
boisterous
crack bounces
off the dreary
walls.
Sehun stirs
awake and
feels Luhan
trapping him.
Instinctively,
he pulls him
closer to his
chest.
Luhan smiles,
"Loving you
can never be
enough..." he
whispers, "not
in this
lifetime."
Sehun smiles
back and
brushes his
face with his
broken fingers.
A dark smudge
appears on
Luhan's
cheeks.
Struggling to
find where the
blood is
coming from,
 Sehun glances
at his hands,
dripping
vermilion.
"N-no-..." he
breathes hard,
"No- no!"
Luhan finally
succumbs to
his weariness
and allows his
lids to meet the
depth of his
eyes. At the
last moment,
he understands
what it is all
for. His love
for Sehun will
never be
enough, their
memories will
never bound
them together,
nor the smiles,
the tears, their
words or
actions. What
will bound
them for the
rest of their
lives is that
need — the
need to love
more and
more, knowing
the feeling will
never be
sufficient. To
keep loving for
the rest of one's
life — that's
what it is all
for.
From the lofty
window of the
passengers' waiting
area, Sehun can see
the line of immense
airplanes sitting
atop inches of
fluffy
snow. Though far
from taking off,
they looked as
though they were
already up in the
air, lounging in a
blanket of clouds.
Everyone likes the
snow, perhaps
because it conceals
everything in a
white, pristine
duvet. And yet, it
isn't really white at
all. The snow, in
truth, reflects all
colors and equally
combines all their
wavelengths. There
are air gaps
between the
crystals that form
the snow, all of
which bounce the
light beams, all
colors in, all colors
out, thus making it
white in our vision.
In other words, the
snow's color, in all
of its raving beauty,
is nothing but an
illusion.
An illusion.
Sehun didn't
want to dwell
on this. For
what, in all
those years
working for
RV, has really
accomplished?
He has traveled
waters and
sands, have
heard the last
breath of a
dying man,
have loved and
lost. But what
has he really
accomplished?
Could it be that
all of it was
merely an
illusion — just
that white
duvet that hides
the bloodied
pavement?
When he could
not protect the
only one he had
ever loved,
what, in this
world of half-
cruelty and
half-madness,
has he really
accomplished?
Before his
musings can
bring him to an
existential
malady, Sehun
turns his
attention to a
news report on
the gaping
screen just two
rows from him.
Everyone in the
airport is
engrossed in it.
What really
happened in
Riponggo? It
has now been a
year, but people
from all around
the globe are
still curious to
know what
caused the
shoot-out that
has killed more
than thirty men
in an
abandoned
warehouse. The
Bureau of
Investigation
previously
released a
statement
regarding this
incident, which
has come to be
dubbed as one
of the best anti-
terrorist
retaliations
since 2009's
Yokonama
incident.
Headed by a
Korean
immigrant
known under
the alias
"Akita", this
group of
criminals
intended to sell
military
weapons to an
international
bidder, whose
origins are still
unknown, and
ignite the threat
of advanced
warfare in Asia.
Reports say
that no one
survived the
unexpected and
quick response
of the police,
who arrived
minutes after
this weapon
transaction
started. The
group now
known as KRX
is officially
confirmed to be
terminated. The
question that
everyone is
asking is why
this terrorist
group have not
been heard of
before the
incident.
Various reports
are now in play
while evidences
continue to be
shrouded in ...
"KRX? Sounds
like a
motorcycle
model to me," a
man clad in all-
black, sitting
beside Sehun,
jests out of
nowhere.
Sehun can
recognize his
voice
immediately. It
suddenly feels
lightyears. "I
had the same
thought Ryu."
"It's gonna feel
weird but I'm
gonna ask
anyway," Ryu
pauses, "how
are you?"
A small smile
escapes Sehun's
mouth,
"Disappointed
really. I thought
I'd at least have
five minutes of
fame, but well,
Circum
Mensam
managed to
remove
anything
related to us at
all."
"The boys
wondered about
that too," Ryu
says, "They
were already
preparing their
creative mug
shots."
"How are they
doing?"
Ryu nods,
"They are okay.
Jun and Ga
Yun have been
living in
Mexico this
entire year. The
rest of the boys
are scattered in
Europe, like
you wanted. All
they're waiting
for is your
call."
Sehun feels a
tinge of relief,
evident in his
usually stern
face, "You
know where to
find me if any
of you need
me. But Ryu,"
he hesitated, "I
am cutting all
RV Korea ties
here. You
understand
right?"
"You'll never
know. You
might want to
come back
someday."
Sehun refuses
to answer and
turns to the
most important
subject yet,
"Did you bring
what I asked
you to?"
"I did," Ryu
hesitates, "As
your right hand,
I am inclined to
give this to
you. But as
your friend, I'd
really rather
not."
Sehun
disregards
Ryu's comment
and takes the
rubber banded
folder swiftly.
He takes the
stapled papers,
it is a list of
some sort,
filled with
dates and
names, some
blacked out by
a pitch-black
marker, some
not. On the first
line was Akita's
name. His real
name, Kim
Nam Sun, is
written in bold
on the column
marked victim,
the date 05
September
2015 with the
exact time
11:02 pm
follows. Two
spaces from the
time, it
says, killed by
gunshot. Sehun
knows what
names will
follow, but he
goes to each
one, for the
truth is always
easier to deny
than accept.
Nuri,
Guozhi — his
finger glides
through each
number, as
though
imbibing every
bit of
information.
Finally, it stops
at a certain
number, about
forty-four
below Akita's
name. All
blood dries up
in Sehun's face.
He closes the
folder as
quickly as he
opened it.
For perhaps
more than ten
minutes, Sehun
looks at its
trembling
hands as if in
them, there
would be a
reason or even
an explanation
that will save
everyone
involved from
the pain he has
gotten so used
to.
He is right. All
of it, all of his
life, is nothing
but blood
blanketed by
snow.
"Did you tell
anyone?"
Sehun finally
musters a
word.
"Tell what?"
Ryu feigns
clueless, "I did
not read a
single word."
"You asked me
how I am? I am
the person
who'll never be
able to sleep at
night." If there
were any more
feelings left to
show, this
moment is
perhaps the
only where
Sehun will shed
his first and last
tears. But none
was left. "I''ll
be living a life
of sleepless
nights. Until
one day, or
maybe night
because the
Devil works
like that, I'll
just see myself
in purgatory."
Ryu remains
silent, for he
knows no
words can be
said, not
anymore.
"But it doesn't
matter. I can go
to hell and
back, or
whatever it is,
purgatory and
eternal
damnation, if it
means he will
be willing to
follow me."
•••
Sehun barely
holds the
lifeless Luhan
in his arms. He
touches
Luhan's face
and a cruel
slash of red
from his thumb
stains his
lover's cheeks.
Weakness and
anger
overpower him
at the same
time. He wants
to cry but no
tears are shed.
He wants to
scream but no
words leave his
pale mouth. He
wants to die but
he, whose life
has been
meaningful
because of the
feeble person
he is holding,
cannot.
"I'm here." his
forehead falls
onto Luhan's,
"I'm right
here." he
whispers again
and again, like
a chant that is
long overdue, a
chant that
needs to be
heard. Luhan
can't die alone.
He cannot feel
alone. This is
all Sehun
thinks of.
Sehun can't
hear a thing. He
can't hear the
sudden sniper
bullets shot
from all around
the warehouse.
It looks like a
fireworks
display. A
group of
soldiers,
heavily armed
and protected,
rush to the
scene
seemingly from
out of nowhere.
A machine gun
blares loudly as
it disintegrates
every thing in
sight. A couple
of mercenaries
fight Akita's
men, a fist
combat. Many
screamed, some
tried to escape
but to no avail.
Just a few ticks
of the clock,
the warehouse
turns into a real
bloodbath.
Only Akita,
still shocked
from shooting
his best friend's
brother,
remains
standing. One
of the men
kicks the gun
off of RV
Japan's leader
and renders
him
incapacitated.
Akita's body
drops to the
ground. The
imposing man
looms over him
and kicks his
stomach as
though it were
merely an
exercise.
"Stop." Sehun
grits through
his teeth,
"STOP!"
An old
businessman
appears out of
the shadows
and off of the
sidelines. He
signals his
underling to
stop beating on
Akita and the
latter promptly
obeys the
command.
Sehun gently
lays Luhan
onto the floor
splattered in
merciless red.
He leaves him a
last kiss on the
forehead — a
soft one, unlike
anything he has
ever done
before. For a
brief moment,
he wonders
whether Luhan
can still feel.
When Sehun
stands up,
Akita drags his
beaten and
debilitated
body
backwards,
until he hits a
cement post.
For he can see,
he can discern
in Sehun's eyes
the death
waiting him for
him. His eyes
were darker
than burnt coal,
hungry for
blood, for
vengeance.
Sehun picks up
the gun and at
once, unleashes
the safety.
Akita coughs
up blood,
"Think Se-
sehun! Luhan...
he wouldn't
want you to- to
do-"
Sehun shoots
Akita in the
head. Blood
comes gushing
in globules.
"DIE!" He
shoots him
once more on
the head, on the
chest, on the
neck. The gun
runs out of
bullets. Sehun
still doesn't
stop. The click
reverberates in
the warehouse
again and once
more on an
almost pulse-
like rhythm.
•••
Everyone is
weak to a
certain
something, to a
certain
someone.
Sehun didn't
realize this
until it was too
late. And now
he, who once
thought himself
invincible, will
live a life of
fear. For the
truth, like the
sea, swallows
all it touches at
its wake. The
last hope he
holds to when
that time
comes, is that
person has
given too much
of himself to
ever leave.
When he
finally reaches
the Bay of
Islands, a cold
shiver runs
through his
body. How
long has he
waited for this
to come? A
year that once
felt like ten
suddenly seems
seconds. The
town of Russell
boasts a meager
population of
about 800
habitants,
standing far
north of New
Zealand. Sehun
bought the lot
himself and had
a villa built in
less than a year,
with a
breathtaking
view of the
hilltops and
pohutukawa
studded
coastlines.
There is a
private beach to
the side of the
lodging and a
wide patch of
garden across
it. When he
first saw it, he
knew it was
perfect. The
house remotely
laid at the foot
of a towering
mountain, the
seagulls wings
beat loud in the
silence, casting
somber
shadows
against the
water's bright
blue.
The style was
modern rustic
unlike his
habitual
modern
minimalism,
with stone
panelling the
walls and
wooden beams
exposed in the
ceiling. There
are cowhides
on every room
and big
windows
revealing lines
of tall birch
trees. It was a
spacious villa,
with two
bedrooms, two
bathrooms, a
grand kitchen
and a brightly
lit living room
disposed of a
traditional
wood-burning
fireplace. There
is a gym, a
sauna, an
indoor pool, a
library and a
small recreation
center.
Everything is
there. Sehun
has made it so.
There would be
no need to
leave the house,
except for a
candlelight
dinner out in
the beach or for
walks in the
plaza where
they can hold
hands, take
pictures and do
one of the
hundred things
he dreamt of
doing together
everyday. He
has imagined it
before. Their
quirky photos
displayed on
the walls, their
clothes hanging
together in the
cabinet, the
smell of coffee
in the morning,
that person
walking
barefoot around
the small
house, always
just a touch
away. This was
the dream —
now rendered
utopic musings
by a bunch of
folders.
Sehun sits
down right
across the lit
fireplace. His
heart is beating
out of his chest.
His hands as
cold as ice. The
silence of the
room does not
help. He looks
around the
hollow living
room, and feels
the emptiness
seep to his very
being.
"This is where
we would be."
he says aloud.
No one
responds.
•••
The doors of
the ambulance
open violently
and a number
of men in white
robes come
pulling the
stretcher out.
Sehun leaves
the car in a
daze, his mind
overwhelmed
by the clamor
of the people
and the car
siren's high-
pitched
screech. His
eyes don't leave
Luhan. He
watches as
Luhan's lifeless
body staggers
with the
stretcher,
pushed by the
nurses towards
the emergency
entrance. He
feels water run
through his
cheeks. He is
paralyzed,
unable to wipe
the tears. He
wants to run
after Luhan, but
his legs are
frozen. One
step left, one
step right! He
screams inside.
Luhan soon
disappears from
his sight.
"Sehun! Wake
up!" Ryu
shakes Sehun
to life.
Sehun hears
Ryu's voice
echoing as
though
suppressed in a
room. But he
can't move.
Every part of
his body is
physically
aching.
Ryu
desperately
strikes Sehun in
the face, "Pull
yourself
together!"
Losing
consciousness
by the second,
Sehun falls
down to the
ground, his
knees scraping
the rough
pavement. He
feels sharp pain
stab him in his
heart. The pain,
unlike any he
has felt before,
reaches its
peak. He can
no longer
breathe. He
didn't want to.
Not anymore.
Crumpling his
hand into a fist,
he bangs his
chest as hard as
he can. Perhaps
it would ease
the pain. He
strikes his heart
once more,
twice, thrice,
another time
and a scream of
agony leaves
his lips. He had
wished he was
shot with a
bullet. The pain
would be easier
to handle. He
had wished he
was dead. The
pain would no
longer come.
Ryu swings
Sehun's arms to
his shoulders
and slowly
carries him
inside the
hospital. He
too, is in
suffering. It is
not because
Sehun is his
friend. It is not
because he is
their leader. If
anything, it is
because he is
human. Seeing
such pain in
one person is in
itself painful.
How many
sides of Sehun
has he seen
since Luhan
came into their
lives? Too
much — too
much he can
say he has
never really
known Sehun,
not really. Now
he understands
why Luhan
mattered so
much. Because
there was never
any Sehun.
There was
never any
Sehun until
there was a
Luhan.
The emergency
room was
already closed
when they
arrived. Ryu sat
Sehun in an
isolated bench
near the door.
The doctor
soon comes
out, his hands
clamped
together.
"May I please
speak to the
patient's family
member?" the
doctor turned to
Ryu.
Sehun snaps up
like a hinged
branch of a
tree, "Can I see
him now?"
"Sir, the patient
is suffering
from temporary
paralysis from
the waist down.
We found the
gunshot wound
at the left
quadrant of the
abdomen. Upon
CT, we saw the
bullet has
fractured the
left pedicle and
is now lodged
in the spinal
canal. I need
your signature
to perform a
surgery to
remove the
bullet from the
vertebrae."
"Will he live if
you do the
surgery?"
"There is no
proved claims
as to whether
surgery is
better or not.
There is a
possibility that
this surgery
will worsen his
state. It can
either improve
his neurological
functions or
completely
disable them."
Sehun thuds his
forehead on the
wall, "What
else can we do
other than the
surgery?"
"I'm afraid
none."
"So I either
wait for him to
die or push him
to death?"
Sehun's voice
roars in the
corridor.
"I am very
sorry for this
difficult
decision. But
you must make
a choice now."
Briefly an
image of
Luhan's face
crops up in his
mind. "Let's do
the surgery,"
Sehun says. "If
Luhan lives,
you live. But if
he dies, you
die."
•••
It has been
three hours.
Ryu has settled
on one of the
benches while
Sehun sits on
the floor, his
back against
the wall, his
hands pressing
firmly on his
tired eyes.
Sehun waits for
the doctor to
come out once
again, but is
unsure if he
even wants to
hear from him.
He would
rather have it
this way,
waiting in the
darkness for a
bleak light that
he wishes to
never see.
A little bit
after, the old
man from the
warehouse
comes. Ryu
jolts upright to
bow before the
man who he
has quickly
recognized as
Do Hyun, one
of the members
of Circum
Mensam. Do
Hyun promptly
waves his hand
to signal Ryu to
sit back down.
He flops
himself at a
bench just
beside Sehun
but the latter
takes time to
notice his
presence. Do
Hyun's brushed
up grey-white
hair emphasizes
the wrinkles on
his stern face.
But neither his
hunched back
nor his walking
cane could
conceal the
authority and
strictness
behind his thick
brows.
"I'm deeply
sorry for what
happened to
your lover," Do
Hyun said
though no
compassionate
emotion can be
seen in his
crumpled face,
"But we want
to make sure
you will
comply."
Sehun keeps
his glare to the
bare walls, "Do
I look like I
give a damn
about what you
want right
now,"
"I will take that
rudeness of
yours as
grievance of a
mad man," Do
Hyun's clasp on
his cane
tightens, as
though tucking
away his anger,
"Circum
Mensam has
fulfilled its
duty. Akita hid
his identity as a
police officer
and has
murdered Nuri,
one of us... he
will long be
remembered...
Akita has paid.
This time–"
"You were
fucking late."
"Late is
generally a
relative term. If
we arrived
'late,' your
lover would
never be in this
hospital
because you,
who had
brought him,
will too be
dead. Now,
going back...
where was I—"
"I know what I
have to do.
Now get out of
my face."
Do Hyun
stomps his cane
against the
ceramic floor
and a loud thud
follows after,
"Stop cutting
off each and
every of my
sentence!" his
voice echoes
cruelly in the
empty hall. He
purses his lips,
trying his
utmost to
contain his
rage, "I am just
as impatient as
you to end this
rubbish
conversation
and leave this
disgusting
hospital. But
you listen to me
boy, we had an
agreement. We
were under
attack... do you
not have any
sense of
solidarity...
now we should
stand up, RV
Korea should
take the lead
and get us back
up to our feet. I
assure you that
your supposed
lover has no
place in this
said process.
Do you
understand
what I mean?"
Sehun does not
breathe a word.
"Do I have to
explain every
word? Nod if
you understand
dammit."
Resigned,
Sehun nudges
his head once.
"I'll see you
soon Sehun."
Trudging one
foot forward
before another,
the old man
walks to the
end of the
hallway. He
takes a halt
midway. He
does not bother
to look back
but speaks with
a smirk on his
face, "I gave
Ryu the list of
people that you
have 'taken out'
and I'm sure
you have
already seen it.
Just so you
know, I too
have seen it."
With this
threat, Do
Hyun
disappears from
sight.
•••
Wood-fire.
Flickering
light. Casting
shadows over
the sheepskin
rug. Fiery
beads jumping,
dancing in the
log. Falling.
Dying to
cinders. Sehun
settles on the
plank flooring
against the
couch, his left
arm resting on
his bended
knees, one leg
stretched on the
rug. He tries to
remember his
past. But no
immediate
image comes to
him. Suddenly,
everything that
surrounds his
identity turn
irrelevant.
There is no
longer any
point figuring
out who the
guy is that he
sees in the
mirror each day
— not without
that person by
whom he wants
to be looked at.
Sehun wanted
more than
anything to
become a
beautiful sight
to that person,
to be stared at
without any
reservations.
He wanted
Luhan to see
him not for
who he was,
not for his past
nor his present,
but for his
future, for who
he wanted to
become. He
wanted Luhan
to realize that
his eyes are a
mirror. Inside
them nothing
else can be seen
but Luhan's
very own
image.
He takes out a
worn-out piece
of envelope
from the pocket
of his jeans.
The cherry
blossom scent
has yet to fade.
He had seen
this letter so
many times he
could paint a
picture of its
tears and
crevices. The
tip of the
envelope's flap
sealed with a
brown and
pink-dotted
washi tape, the
sides of the
tape that have
been peeled a
couple of times
sticking out,
and the blood,
the deep red
marks of blood
all around. As
though treating
a bullet wound,
Sehun
delicately lifts
the tape off and
pulls two pages
of paper out. A
swift breath
escapes his lips,
as it does every
time he reads
the letter. He
leans forward
and begins to
read, the flaxen
light from the
fireplace
illuminating the
faded black
ink.
Dear Sehun,
An old man in
the middle of
the sea had just
thrown his rod
with bait to the
depth of the
sea. Humming,
he waits for the
yellow fish
tuna that had
just been
spotted by the
seabird to fall
into his trap.
All of a sudden,
he is pulled
towards the
water. The fish
had fallen for
his trick. He
waits for the
right timing.
But just as he
was about to
pull the rod
back in, and
with it his new
found treasure,
another boat
rams into his
own. The
fisherman falls
down, he loses
grip of his rod,
and misses the
grand
opportunity.
Angry, he turns
to the
godforsaken
boat. But there
was no one. It
was simply an
empty boat, lost
in the abyss of
the wide blue.
My mom kept
telling me this
same story
again and again
when I was
young. I did not
understand
why. For a
while I thought
maybe it was
the only one
she knew. But
now it becomes
clear, Sehun,
that this story
should have
meant
everything to
me. If only I
realized it
earlier, maybe
we would not
be in the mess.
Just now, I
imagined you
were lying next
to me. I talked
to you. You
replied.
I miss you. I
think you miss
me too.
I can't
remember at
which point
everything fell
apart.
The empty
boat... that's
you. That's me.
That's Nam Sun
Hyung too. We
are all empty
boats without
rudder, just
driven to hurt
those close to
us. What we
do, how we
feel... these are
all beyond our
control. Like
those lifeless
boats, we are
wounded.
These wounds,
they push us to
commit bad
things... bad
things we
would never
have done, if
only we were
lucky enough
to see.
And I never
thought I would
see. Until I met
you.
Thinking about
it now, it feels
as though you
were meant to
be my rudder,
as I yours.
I don't want
you to be loss
at sea forever,
unable to swim,
holding on to
an empty boat.
Soon, I'll be
releasing Ryu
from where
Nam Sun
hyung is hiding
him. I hope that
this plan will
work out. I
have no other
solution. I tried
talking to Nam
Sun hyung but
he is blinded by
revenge. I don't
know if I Nam
Sun hyung will
allow me to
leave anymore
after this.
Maybe we
won't see each
other anymore.
Not in this
lifetime.
But I want you
to know that I
loved you.
I love you.
And if things
were different,
I will always
love you.
- Luhan
•••
"He's awake,"
the doctor
promptly said
just as he
swiveled the
emergency
door wide
open.
Sehun fell to
the floor. It was
surely relief he
was feeling.
But his insides
were in such a
mess, it did not
know what
emotion it
perceived
anymore. He
buried his face
in the palm of
his ice-cold
hands that had
turned numb
from waiting.
The voices of
Ryu and the
doctor talking
reached his
mind like a
muddled
mixture of
sounds. At that
moment, he had
no other
thoughts. If
there were
anyone up
above, looking
at them,
guiding them,
he gave his
thanks. He
vowed to spend
the rest of his
life loving this
person, and if it
be allowed,
even after his
death.
Slowly, he
stands up. He
fails a few
times for his
knees are
weakened by
the insane
concoction of
pain, suffering
and utter bliss.
He trudges
towards the exit
with a smile
wrinkling his
exhausted face.
"You're not
going to see
him?" Ryu calls
out.
Sehun doesn't
face him, "You
know what to
do Ryu."
At that
moment, if
Sehun had
really walked
away, perhaps
everything
would come to
a beautiful
conclusion.
Perhaps that
was the
fairytale ending
that was
needed. Where
Luhan will not
glimpse a
shadow of him,
where he will
be kept safe
finally away
from the mob
leader, the
devil.
But the heart
that loves,
believes. And
the heart that
believes,
bridges be
burnt, tables be
turned, can
never ever
leave.
•••
"Hey," a voice
softly
whispered from
behind Sehun.
The heat from
the fireplace
becomes
warmer. Sehun
holds his
breath, the
letter hanging
between his
fingers mid-air.
When he
finally looks
where the voice
is coming from,
his eyes
dampen. He
gazes around
the room,
uneasy,
breathing
shallow, trying
to conceal the
millions of
emotions this
person
endlessly
incites from
him.
Luhan moves
closer to Sehun.
He let out a
small laugh,
"I've got to
admit, it was
longer than I
expected. I
thought one
year would
be—"
Sehun closes
the gap
between them.
He leans in so
his forehead
sinks into his
lover’s. Their
breaths meeting
each other in a
rhythmic,
suspenseful
dance. Without
wasting another
moment, Sehun
pulls Luhan for
a kiss — a kiss
that was not
meant to
possess him,
no, a kiss that
was meant to
hold him for as
long as
possible.
Sehun's thumb
sweeps over
Luhan's
moistened
cheeks. Both
their eyes are
knit closed,
their brows
drawn together,
as though
feeling each
other's lips is
too hard a task,
too riveting to
handle.
A long moment
later, Luhan
reels in from
the passionate
kiss that took
more than
seconds he can
count in one
hand. He
pushes Sehun a
shy inch away,
"There's so
many things to
talk about I
don't even
know where to
start," he says.
They settle into
the sofa, hands
intertwined.
Missing
someone — it's
an odd
experience.
Some say you
only realize
you really miss
someone when
they're gone.
But Sehun, at
this second,
refuses to
believe this.
How much he
has missed
Luhan, he
never realized
until he's
finally holding
him. The
spaces between
their fingers fit
too perfectly, it
hurt Sehun. He
stares at Luhan,
breathing in all
of the details he
once saw in his
dreams. But the
Luhan that
visited him
every night for
one year was
nothing like the
Luhan he is
now facing.
This Luhan he
now beholds, it
is this Luhan he
wants to stay
with.
"Circum
mensam... how
did you
escape—"
Sehun , "Let's
not start with
that."
"Ryu and the
rest of RV—"
"Don't want to
start with that."
"My brother... I
wanted to–"
"Let's not. Not
that either."
Luhan managed
a saddened
laughter, "It
seems like
everything we
need to talk
about are too
difficult to talk
about."
Sehun clasps
his hand
tighter, "I love
you. Let's start
with that," he
faces him, "I
love you
completely and
just– just
downright
selfishly. I love
you too much I
want you to
love me back
without having
the need to ask
me anything.
Don't ask me
anything.
Please just—
can't we let
everything go?
You. Me. This
life. I forgot
what exactly
was so wrong
with this set-
up."
"What's wrong
is we're too old
to try to let
everything go,"
Luhan retorts.
"What's wrong
is you're
afraid!"
Luhan rises up
from his seat
and untangles
Sehun's hold,
propelled by
explosive
anger, "Yes!"
He screams to
his lungs, "I'm
afraid! I'm so
afraid that
Circum
Mensam will
take you away
again for one
year! I'm afraid
you'll go back
to RV and one
day I— I'll
receive a call
from Ryu that
you're dead!
I'm afraid—"
he bursts into
uncontrollable
tears, " I'm
afraid that one
day you'll
realize out of
the blue that
you were the
one who killed
my brother!"
Sehun stands
up and
envelops Luhan
in a tight
embrace, "Me
too... I'm afraid
too," he gently
caresses his
back, "But I
want to be
afraid together.
Not apart.
Because what
the hell is the
point of being
afraid if I didn't
have you with
me? Circum
Mensam... we'll
be hiding for
the rest of our
lives. But I
don't give a
damn. This is
worth it. RV—
There's no
more RV. I've
chosen you
over RV the
moment I killed
Nuri. And your
brother..."
Sehun
hesitates. His
face cradled in
Luhan's feeble
shoulders,
Sehun hides his
undeceiving
eyes, "Ryu
gave me a
while back a
list of all the
people I... the
people I have
killed. Your
brother was not
there."
Luhan's cries
come to a
complete stop.
He looks at
Sehun deeply
in his eyes. It
takes him a
moment to
recalibrate, to
process what he
had just
learned,
"You— you
didn't— it
wasn't you?"
The tears
abruptly begins
flowing again
from Luhan's
already soaked
eyes. "Thank
you. Thank
you." he
repeats again
and again,
unknowing
what else to
say.
•••
Spring came,
the birch trees
outside their
new home was
once again
brought to life.
Summer
passed, the sun
shone through
the trunks,
shadows
reflecting
inside their
living room.
Autumn
arrives, golden
leaves surround
their patio. It is
21st of May
again. But this
time, Luhan did
not dream of
Jin. These past
months, he
barely had a
dream at
all. His mom
visited them a
few times,
bringing with
her turron and
jamon from this
small
supermarket in
Barcelona, just
a few walks
from the safe
house Sehun
had bought for
her. They talk
about how life
in New Zealand
has been, they
talk about the
beaches, how
Sehun and him
do the laundry,
do they garden.
But not once
did they talk
again about Jin,
nor about the
six months
Luhan was kept
captive. They
talk about his
mom's new job
as an assistant
to a florist and
how much she
liked it. About
how his Uncle
Lang finally
reappeared
after one year
of hiding. And
how they lost
contact once
more. But not
once did she
tell him to
come visit Jin's
grave.
Luhan likes
things as they
are now.
Sometimes, he
too have
doubts.
Sometimes, it
crosses his
mind, that
maybe his life
with Sehun is
just a dream.
That the things
left unsaid, the
matters left
unsolved, will
one day
materialize
before them
and ruin the life
they have
together. But he
brushes these
thoughts away,
for everytime
he sees Sehun,
he sees that
there's nothing
closer to the
truth to him but
their present
together. From
Sehun, Luhan
had not once
again heard
Circum
Mensam or RV.
Like he had
promised, he
leaves his past
completely. It
is as if he has
never even
lived it.
On this vibrant
autumn day of
amber and
bronze;
however,
everything will
change. Luhan
will face a
choice, either
he chooses this
beautiful life of
a dream or
wake up and
face a tragic
reality.
"I was hoping
we could fly to
Korea today.
I've already
arranged
everything."
Sehun says
hugging with
his hands the
warm coffee
mug.
Luhan's brows
raise, "To
Korea? Why?"
"It's the 21st."
Sehun puts
down his cup
and presses
Luhan's hand
with his, "You
haven't visited
your brother in
a while."
Luhan's lips
part open for a
second. He
purses them
right away. He
hides his
shaking hands
under the table
and with it, the
need to cry, the
need to scream,
the need to fall
down on his
knees. It is in
this moment
that he
discovers he
was right.
Everything was
just a dream. A
lone golden
leaf plummets
down from one
of the trees
hastily and hits
the patch of
soil. Luhan
realizes it was
Sehun who had
killed his
brother.
"I'll just go to
the restroom,"
Luhan says, his
voice shaky.
Luhan holds
the edges of the
sink as though
he is going to
break it. Soft
stifled sobs
escape his lips.
His heart feels
as though it is
being squeezed
to the hilt. He
can't breathe.
He stumbles to
his knees. He
tries to stop
himself from
crying, but the
tears flow like
the seas surging
at the dark
depth of night.
The dream was
too good to be
true. But the
future, it is the
future that
makes him
suffer the most.
Their future
together that
seems too
bright, too
peaceful, too
blissful. He
can't wake up
from this dream
even if he
wanted to.
Because
without this
dream, there
won't be any
him living.
•••
The lines of
window-paned
graves, behind
them white and
blue urns, seem
to Luhan's eyes
desolate rows
of dried flowers
and obselete
letters. He
sweeps the
glass encasing
Jin's urn and
sticks a white
rose to the side.
Both Sehun and
Luhan feels
guilt betray
them, like
waves crashing
to all their
memories,
trying to wipe
them bit by bit.
"Hyung,"
Luhan says
aloud. But the
next words do
not escape his
lips. The voice
in his head is
crying,
Hyung... This
person killed
you. This
person loves
me more than
his own life. I
love you. I love
this person.
Don't ever
forgive me,
wherever you
are. Don't
forgive me.
Sehun stands
upright and
makes two
deep bows
towards Jin's
grave. He holds
his third bow
for a long time,
I remember
your face. I
never
remember their
faces... But
yours I do. I do
not have the
right to ask for
forgiveness, I
know this. For
the rest of my
life, I will pay.
I will be
punished. I will
love your
brother until I
make it to hell.
And everytime
I look at your
brother, I will
remember your
face. Every
night, I'll wake
up from a
nightmare.
Everyday will
be a
punishment. I
will remember
your face.
Luhan reaches
out to take
Sehun's hand,
"Let's go
home."
Sehun nods and
clasps his hand
tighter. With a
heavy heart, a
heart that can't
help but give,
they walk out
of the
cemetery.