scorpio;

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helloooooooooo everyone 🥴 im chen (he/him) and this is late in coming but it is here regardless so !! no plots rn cause honestly he’s a stick in the mud when it comes to everyone but if ur interested in ur boy do ilhwan, who’s the faith virtue and cv’s right-hand man, pleathe msg me on discord and i will do my best to reply as soon as i can !! bg info and some random trivia facts abt ur favorite supervillain in the making is under the cut x.. @virtuemedia​

[...]

and maybe there’s a light that flicks on in the faint corner of dongmin’s brain. a shiver up his spine. yes–

“i know you don’t listen to a lot of things i say,” dongmin leans forward. “but if you listen to anything…. i wouldn’t get too comfortable with him.”

leaning back, there’s a glint in his eye. “it’s a bit too Risky… no matter the steps you have planned ahead.”

ilhwan isn’t uncouth enough to snort at dongmin’s words, but he produces a barely-there scoff. “if by fun, you mean riddled with mayhem, then undoubtedly they’re unlike me.” the temperance lineage, in comparison to its brother lineages, didn’t have typical pledges to begin with.

there’s ryu changho, whom he’s known for quite some time: the mad hatter of the upper class with a past matching the dark hues of society’s underbelly, someone who cares more about the challenge of archery on horseback or some sort of new levitating board technology rather than making an appearance at charity events.

and then there’s cha suyeon, a rising entertainment persona whose parents ilhwan is more familiar with than the person himself. the only thing he knows for certain about the other is that there was a recent scandal that followed him into his candidacy, and the other seems more enthusiastic to make the lineage over changho.

he can’t say which pledge would be the best to cast his lot with at this point in time. neither of them fit in his projections of what’s to come, both short-term and long-term, but if either were to approach him, perhaps his neutrality would change.

when dongmin’s eyes drift to some point in front of them, ilhwan knows what their conversation will turn to next. dongmin has always delicately side-stepped names and figures whenever he manages to catch him unguarded, but there’s a metaphorically large elephant that he now seems brave enough to address.

“if you mean my partnership with jaehyun, then the benefits are certainly worth more than the risks.” he observes the strange glint in dongmin’s eyes, cast by the chandeliers abovehead. not many people know the sordid details about jaehyun and dongmin’s falling out, but jaehyun has never been one to keep his mouth shut around ilhwan. it’s almost a pity that dongmin was discarded like common trash in the end.

“i take the route of what is the most beneficial to me,” ilhwan continues. “you seem to be under the assumption that just because i prefer to hold absolute authority and supervision, that means i’ll abstain from partnerships...”

he swirls his flute. “but you see, dongmin, the choice to partner is something i still hold control over. there is no reason why i can’t be in a supervisory position in a cooperation. even the old masters of europe in the 19th century allowed pupils to paint in their name.”

perhaps it would have been better to compare himself to a watch crown—ilhwan has always been keen on watches. the crown, a crucial component of a wristwatch, provides the energy necessary for internal movement to occur… but that movement still relies on cogs to tick along, and he requires many, many cogs to fulfill his ambitions.

[...]

he inches closer, maybe too drunk or unfazed to care for personal space, “you know so much, and i’m just curious on why little o’ me got nominated, come on, spill your secrets, i’m dying to know.”

ilhwan barely glances at him. he doesn’t need to see changho to know the other’s already inebriated. “you reek of alcohol,” he says, but he doesn’t make to move away. unfortunate as it is, his and changho’s families are well-acquaintanced—his father’s hired steel since he was twelve, and starting at the age of thirteen he was required to appear at each business meeting under his father’s tutelage. they weren’t close by any measure of the word; sometimes he’d see changho appear at these meetings and sometimes he wouldn’t. when the entire ordeal happened with the other’s family… well, he could only offer condolences in his thoughts.

regardless, he’s gotten too used to seeing the other over the years, and eventually, the business dealings between their fathers were placed under their responsibilities to host instead. or rather, ilhwan’s responsibilities. he doubts changho would remember a meeting otherwise if not for his timely texts. briefly, he contemplates whether his need for steel’s services outweigh changho’s demerits.

“there is no reason why you shouldn’t have expected me to be here,” ilhwan says, glancing at his wristwatch. the hour hand has barely passed eleven, but he’s starting to feel the exhaustion accumulated throughout the day catch up to him. “and if you were as foolish as you made yourself out to be, i wouldn’t still be talking to you.” they both know that virtues can’t hold any sort of fraternizing with pledges, but he doesn’t put it past the other to push the boundaries of the society’s code of conduct.

[...]

dongmin watches the faint movements of ilhwan’s face, the way that they’re standing in this little pocket away from all of the rest of the ruckus. that initial hunger is building up in dongmin’s stomach, something that makes him so eager he’s ready to pounce… but good things always come to those who wait, and dongmin has never had any problems with playing the long game.

nothing is ever kept a secret for long within their circles. regardless of how ilhwan responds to dongmin’s gripes about his secrecy, he knows that eventually all secrets will all be brought into the light for unrelated parties to scrutinize and gab about as they please. what is different between the unveiling of his secrets and that of others, however, is that ilhwan can choose when to allow its revelation—call him overly meticulous, but planning ten steps ahead in his stratagem grants him choices in how, when, and where people find out about his societal affairs. he doesn’t respond to dongmin, opting instead for silence.

is the pledge class truly something else? it would be bereft of him to not mention the talents he spies in their incoming ranks, naturally, but there’s nothing particularly awe-inspiring concerning the pledges. the virtue society has always been, and always will be for, the crème de la crème: the wealthy, the famous, and the talented. this year, it seems as though there’s less of the latter two and more of the former; ilhwan can’t begin to recount the faces of those he recalls from business dealings in high-rise hotels and social gatherings at the most exclusive clubs.

ilhwan abandons the i don’t think you’re privvy to that information thought as soon as dongmin gives voice to it, and he scoffs. “you know me well, it seems,” he begins. “i can only postulate, then, about whatever absurd thought that is ricocheting around your skull, provoking you into inconveniencing me.”

a waiter passes by the two of them, and he holds up a hand to flag down the help before taking a chilled flute off the serving tray. “your wording is peculiar,” he says. he swirls the flute to watch the carbonation rise: a discourtesy to the champagne, but the aromas of the moet & chandon had long since been stifled by narrow serving glasses. “have you had your eye on anyone recently, dongmin…?”

not every society member knows about what’s recently happened with the yoon family, but then again, do ilhwan can’t possibly be grouped with the rest of his contemporaries. the do family and the yoon family have had long ties, after all—when the do family was at its lowest, having barely survived a shuffle of powers that came like a thunderbolt out of the blue and the greedy eyes of external forces, hoping to absorb dio’s government contracts, the yoon family was willing to withstand public scorn and offer a hand.

of course, he doesn’t believe they did this out of the kindness of their hearts; he remembers looking through dated company documents and noting that his father had priced dio’s services a fraction of their usual remuneration. that, plus the yoon family’s fervid desire to spread gospel, laid the foundation for a mutual partnership.

through this near decade of cooperation, amid successful construction of megachurch auditoriums and their accompanying bookstores and activity centers, ilhwan has established his own line of communications to observe and report back. after all, he needs to stay informed on what other affiliated parties are doing, especially one that was recently unearthed in an unanticipated exposé.

he walks through the rotating glass doors at the library’s front, scanning his student badge to be let through an entrance gate and to tread steadily towards the elevator located posterior within the atrium. the samsung library, for all its imposing exterior and ground-breaking technological innovation is worth, looks and feels like a building constructed in the late 2000s, and he skeptically eyes peculiar smudges left near the elevator buttons before he sighs and presses for the fifth floor.

the elevator creaks to life, shuddering minutely as it begins to rise. he ascends past study rooms jutting above the atrium, packed with students frantically studying for their next examinations, as well as the pc clusters on the subsequent floors, some completely in-use and some empty.

soon after, the elevator slows to a stop, and a chime rings overhead. “this is the fifth floor,” the speaker announces. the glass doors gradually open.

[...]

"anywayy,” dongmin starts back up again. “i did have a question for you, actually.”

ilhwan looks like he’s about to reject dongmin once again, but dongmin cuts in before he can cut their dialogue short. 

“i’m not extending my offer again or anything,” dongmin holds up his free hand as a form of surrender. “i was just going to ask what you thought of the pledge class this year.”

ilhwan sighs, a heavy exhale that reaches down into the pit of his stomach. being around the temperance virtue has made him prone to that, he notices. “the less you say, the better it is for my psyche,” he replies drily. “perhaps if you were a bit less predictable—” or more unobtrusive, he thinks, “—i wouldn’t need to decline in advance.”

but dongmin would never adopt a taciturn nature. the young man has a certain magnetism that attracts the attention of those around him, like he’s a one-man production swathed in a lurid spotlight and the adoration of nameless others. he’s frequently seen such sights before, walking around campus and identifying the virtue animatedly chattering in the center of undergraduates. personally, ilhwan doesn’t think the time and effort are worth the vexing moths that congregate around the first halo they see, desperate to lengthen their stay within the sanctuary of amiable prominence whilst ignoring their decrepit backgrounds shrouded in the dark.

when he hears dongmin’s next statement, it’s slightly surprising to him that the other is willing to drop the topic for once. dongmin usually latches onto subject matters like a dog with a bone, something that makes him both an acceptable news reporter and a terrible conversation partner.

“you know i’m not one for small talk, dongmin,” ilhwan says instead. he knows that dongmin means to imply something. “you’ve undoubtedly casted your lot already. what is your aim, here?”

[...]

ilhwan’s greeting is so very much him…dongmin almost wants to laugh. 

“aw, c’mon… what kind of greeting is that?” dongmin tuts, shaking his head and busying himself with his tiny plate. “i just wanted to y’know… say hello and all..”

“you’re never one to just say hello,” ilhwan begins. “there’s always a price to be paid when in your company.” though dongmin’s attention is on the avocado mousse sitting atop his smoked trout, he knows the other isn’t genuinely interested in his food. it’s a ploy he does, and one he utilizes often—it’s very dongmin to portray a natural ease of joining in the camaraderie of others, with just the right touch of light-hearted companionship that others are immediately fooled by his facade.

but ilhwan isn’t as easily fooled as the rest of skku’s student body. dongmin, despite his carefully crafted front, is both duplicitous and sharp, and above all else, he isn’t a cretin. the temperance virtue has most certainly did his research on ilhwan’s background, just as how ilhwan had looked into dongmin’s as soon as jaehyun informed him of who the other was.

his initial impressions of kwak dongmin: a discarded companion, sent packing by his friend’s mother, of all people, who was undoubtedly coming after him to unleash hell.

except… ever since they met face-to-face over a year ago, dongmin has approached him time and again to offer a certain proposition: a tempting devil’s bargain with high risk and high reward, but something that would uproot all of his designs currently in play. and despite his exceptional ability to calculate his benefit margins, do ilhwan is not a gambler.

the event has long since transformed into a casual affair, sungkyunkwan’s cream of the crop losing themselves in the infectious energy and drinking themselves into inebriated stupors. several pledges have overestimated their own sobriety—two rowdy young men are near the side of the ballroom, shotgunning delicate champagne glasses like they’re at some sort of commonalty house party, surrounded by peers goading them into a slew of bad life decisions. ilhwan’s far away enough that he can’t discern any familiar features, but there’s a persistent feeling telling him he shouldn’t investigate further, lest he give himself another inconvenience to keep track of tonight.

in many ways, this evening is different from years prior: different pledges, different venue, different dealings behind closed doors. there’s no doubt that the virtue society today has changed from the virtue society he was first introduced to, two years prior, and completely altered from the virtue society it was in the years prior to that.

but there is something in how the light fractures off the chandelier crystals overhead and the prevailing notes of fruit-freshness in the air that conjures a sense of deja vu. if he closes his eyes, it’s almost like time has repeated itself.

he recalls the other faith pledge, her last name but not her first—how enamored she was with the idea of being named pledge, how excited she was for what was to come, standing somewhere to his right, as he carefully pressed his stained thumb against crisp parchment and watched the ink from his signature perfuse through the threads of the paper.

that was then, though, and this is now. that half-forgotten noveau rich student has long-since been sent overseas, and ilhwan himself is less than a year away from graduation. all his methodical planning over the past several years has culminated to his reality today.

ilhwan doesn’t pay much attention to the table of hors d'oeuvre in front of him. he’s much more interested in the hushed conversations all around him—ears piqued for a conspiracy here, a sordid affair there. he’s cleaned half of his champagne flute already, but he’s drinking it out of polite disinterest more so than actually enjoying it. for one, whoever filled the flute has over-poured the moet & chandon, and his champagne has long-since gone warm. for two, he's never been one to drink champagne as an aperitif.

in between exciting retellings of a young starlet supposedly sleeping with the cfo of a large restaurant chain, someone sidles next to him, quick enough to alert him out of his surveilling, close enough to make him uncomfortable fairly fast.

it’s half past one, a quarter of an hour prior to his multinational management course and five minutes after the waiting time they provided for his drink to be ready. it’s understandable; despite the numerous hired hands bustling behind the glass counters, the number of students milling about waiting for their orders vastly outnumber them. he’s accounted for the delay, expected it since the first time he accompanied jaehwan to this location and was introduced to their tea drinks.

it’s understandable, but still irritating. ilhwan’s not one to be crowded out of his spot like some sort of corralled animal, but he does mind the smell and sweat of other people polluting his tailored brunello cucinelli button-up. everytime he glances down at his watch to see the second-hand slowly completing its revolution, several ignorant patrons have taken up space in close proximity, forcing him to move further and further away from the door until he’s been nearly squeezed beside the pick-up counter and a fake decorative plant.

he looks down at his watch again. a mere five seconds have ticked by. should he make it out of this suffocating space intact, he’ll speak to his father about negotiating with the chain regarding the square footage of their floor plan. if an extra hundred square meters can be added every which way, he’s sure it will leave the profit none the worse for wear.

a harried barista shuffles behind the pick-up counter with a large drink in hand. “iced matcha latte, no sweetness, egg pudding with sea salt cheese foam!” she calls out at the top of her lungs before sliding the drink next to the other orders ready to take home.

that’s his drink, and he’s ready to leave. twenty minutes before he’s considered late to his afternoon management class.

ilhwan reaches out for his drink, but instead of touching condensation-heavy plastic, he accidentally touches warm skin.

he recoils immediately, unable to restrain his feeling of distaste as he turns to face the offender trying to steal his drink. when he sees who it is, he’s moderately surprised before indifference settles on his face.