return of the king.

If he had to have one more of these talks, entertain one more of these ideas he was going to start shooting people after their confessions. He's tempted to do so right now. His gun sits nestled in the back of his pants, covered by the suit jacket he sports. An odd outfit for breaking into houses but he'd spent the better part of his night handling business -- a lot of cash transactions and watching idiots snort cocaine off bare stomachs in the Mockingbird. He'd worn the face of disinterested drug lord well, even though that was Hanbin's department but Hanbin wasn't there and who was Jaehwa to turn away free money?

Jaehwa is trying to decide whether he wants to destroy the refrigerator or whatevers been sorted out of the grocery bags, when his shoulder is shoved. On instinct, Jaehwa's hand shoots out, fingers gripping at Yukwon's neck. Intent to kill apparent on his face. He tries to warn people not to touch him. He reacts strongly when it's done. A fact Yukwon should be well aware by now, but this is a good refresher. Jaehwa loosens his hold, and shoves him hard, meant to send him halfway across the kitchen as he continues his raid. "Don't touch me." He cuts through whatever he's being told -- he doesn't rightly know -- he has no interest in anything that isn't about him. Yukwon is still going on and frustrated bordering on murderous, Jaehwa turns around arms folded across his chest to listen to whatever dumb fucking spiel he has at the ready. Once again his personal space is violated and he stares at Yukwon, the temptation to spit in his face strong. He holds that though, eyebrows furrowing as Jaesop is mentioned. Not Jaehwa. The fuck?

“Are you sure you can hold down your drinks well? You’re already showering me with praise I clearly don’t deserve.” There’s that laugh again, too bubbly for her lips but just sweet enough to be played off as genuine. A woman who relishes in compliments never is seen too highly, and it’s for that reason that she brushes off his words with the façade of bashfulness. Just as soon as she’s sure the onslaught of admiration has died down, he’s back on the balls of his feet. Back on his game only because she’s sure he’s caught onto what she’s been hinting at. She’s drawn the line between herself and Hanbin, he was territory she wasn’t comfortable venturing into and so she kept herself at bay. There was unfamiliarity in his actions, and it doesn’t sit well with her.

His eyes follow her hands to her lap, gaze stopping at the edge of the table when he can no longer see them only the shuffle of her shoulders. He looks back up to meet her gaze, hand across the table to pour himself another glass just to prove that he isn't drunk. High though, that was a different story. "And why should I not? Unlike my brother I know something good when I see it. I know a prize." She is very much a posession to be won. Something to tuck away as cannon fodder when he wanted to hurt baby brother the most. He wonders if she knows this. Couldn't possibly see how she wouldn't and yet she remains. Laughter fluttering across the table and right into the pits of his stomach. His eyes wander to her lips, and then down just a bit further, right at her collarbone. His thoughts have gone raw and he keeps himself there until he can think up a proper answer in response to what she's said.

(...)

Somewhere between his fourth and fifth drink he finds himself a block over with some of his men in an old building his father owns. He's sitting on the sink with the real reason he even bothered showing up earlier sitting across from him on the toilet. Jaehwa lured him into a bathroom with the intention of talking business. He'd heard some thing's during his time away. Some of his liaison's were getting out of hand. They mistook his little leave of absence for weakness. He thought they might. Jaehwa is disliked enough to where nearly the entirety of his operation would enjoy seeing him fall. They'd much rather Hanbin be in charge but he's going to break them all in. One by one if he has to. Starting with this one.

“So you put yourself in charge I heard, while I was gone?” Jaehwa is lighting up a cigarette, legs knocking back and forth against the cabinet, as he awaits an answer. He doesn't get one right away. Nervous eyes are what he's offered instead, but this  guy's shoulders are pushed back like he just might challenge him if he got the chance. Jaehwa kind of wants him to. “Well I-I as just trying to keep everyone on track. I thought you'd like that. For everything to be in order when you came back....sir.”

Jaehwa sniffs just a little, running a hand across his mouth as he stands to his feet and takes a long thoughtful drag out of his cigarette before giving a solid nod. “I do like it. Initiative. You know that gets you a long way in this organization. I'm appreciative of it. So much that I've got a job proposition for you.” Jaehwa grins as his hopeful looks at him. This man has to have at least five years on him but it's difficult to tell in their current positions.

“You do?”

Jaehwa nods, puts his cigarette back in his mouth and reaches behind him, taking him up by his neck. It's not a particularly hard grip – could almost be perceived as friendly with the way Jaehwa's grinning. He even winks at the guy and then proceeds to slam his head down on the marble edge of his sink. He watches him stumble, hands to face. Dazed. He's not done yet though. "Still want the fucking job?" He's got him knocked off his feet, hands fisted in his hair as he pushes him down to his knees. There's fear in the air. He breathes it in, tries not to salivate at the smell. He hadn't quite worked those parts of himself out yet but he was getting better at it. 

He looks down at his prize, something like sympathy in his eyes. “Are you sorry?” The man stares up at him -- confused no doubt. Soldiers were never smart. He probably made the assumption that this was all apart of the job initiation. “Wait, maybe you didn't hear me.” Jaehwa pulls his head back and leans down, ear close to his mouth. “Are you sorry?”

There's a pause but he's given a weak nod of the head. Jaehwa takes a step back and nods. “Good. Turn around. Don't get up. Just turn around. Face the toilet.” He waits, watches as he does what he's told. His shoulders are shaking. Jaehwa can't tell if it's sadness or anger that's got him there but he doesn't ask. He doesn't care. He puts his hand in the other man's hair again, pulls his head back and slams it against the porcelain of the toilet. Once. Twice. Three times. Until there's blood smeared across the seat. Until his screams die out underneath him. Jaehwa stands over him, blood pooling from his head and out of his mouth. He's missing a few of his teeth now. Choking on them maybe if the gurgling noise is anything to go by. He crouches down, pulls his cigarette from his mouth and frowns as ashes drip onto the chest of the man beneath him. His free hand comes up to smooth his hair back. 

“You ever call yourself taking initiative again in my racket, I'll be flushing pieces of you down this toilet. You understand?” It's a rhetorical question because he doesn't wait for an answer. He's back on his feet and stops in front of the mirror to straighten the cuffs on his shirt and the collar of his jacket. Blood free. Good enough. He steps out of the bathroom, stares at the stoic faces of the two men who'd been watching the door for him. “Aqueducts.” He shrugs, he wouldn't be seeing him later. Jaehwa didn't make empty threats. He couldn't even leave him with a warning. If he wasn't dead already he would be. He'd want to be. But it's not his mess to clean up anymore. Instead he's back out of the bathroom making his way down the hallway only to get to the top of the stairs. 

One of his men is on his hands and knees, bleeding all over Jaehwa's floor and there's another one towering over him. They're staring at each other. It doesn't take much to assess what's happened. Jaehwa is still spurred on from his previous business dealing, whatever this is, him getting involved wouldn't end well. An eyebrow raises as he stares down the stranger, mouth pressed into a tight line as he tries to figure out what he plans to do here. 

There’s something about the day, something that she can’tput her finger on. She’s staring at the date on her phone, but only because she’s reading his message again. There was nothing to suggest anything out of the ordinary. She was to get herself ready because they had something to deal with. He didn’t specify, but she’s learned throughout the years that most times, he won’t waste that much effort on explanations. She’s expected to go with whatever’s given to her, and typically she’s not this passive. There’s something, just something, about the day that has her replying with a simple “okay” to let him know that she’ll be dressed much earlier than he’ll arrive. More often than not, messages like these meant looking good. Jaehwa already knew her well enough to know that Ebony is always dressed to be presentable, the fact that he had to emphasize the point meant this required more than just summer dresses she likes to wear around the house.

She’s donned a burgundy and black dress, along with necessary jewelry. Her eyes stare back at her, a bright brown than they haven’t been in some time, and there’s new found confidence flowing through her. Ever since she had gotten a hold of her feeding schedule, things seemed to be looking up. Maybe she was imagining it all, or perhaps there really was something in keeping herself healthy that in turn kept her happy. Running fingers through ruby hair, she carefully pins it up into a rather intricate looking up-do. Braids, and a curl of her hair, all because she wants him to notice her. She wants him to notice the change, her calculated climb to success, she wants him to notice it all just as a reminder to who she was. She hasn’t been at her best the last few times they’ve met, but now the tables were turning, and she’s intent on making sure he knows.

Once she’s satisfied with her appearance, she’s shrugging on a black peacoat and heading downstairs. There’s no way she’s letting him pick her up at the door of her penthouse. There’s a line she draws between them, and him getting that close to a place she considers home is one she doesn’t want to cross. The sight of a couple in the elevator should have sounded alarm bells, but instead she does nothing but smile back at the woman who offers her a bright, and particularly knowing, grin. Paying no mind to any of it, she’s out the metal doors before they are. It’s snowing outside, but she doesn’t mind waiting in the cold. She’s early, like always, so she waits patiently till her eyes fall on a car that no one else in the neighbourhood could afford.

He doesn't really like it himself but he could deal with it in the same way he dealt with everything else. He's overthinking it all now though. What suit, which shoes, a pretty girl is doing his hair and massaging moisturizer into his hands but he barely pays any attention to her. A week ago they'd be in the shower somewhere and he wonders if this change has killed his libido. Disappointing but that hardly worries him. He's caught up on the other things that have stirred in him and he figures the best way to get rid of that is throw it all out on the table. Today of all days it seems, but she knows him and he knows she won't think anything of it.

They've done this so many times. Dressed head to toe in elegance and luxury just to spend fifteen minutes snapping at each other under their breath about business and then they part ways. It's been the basis of their relationship for awhile now. Since post-Paris where everything was okay. Before he decided he was bored and she was holding him back with her thoughts, and emotions, and attachments. He wonders if he could ever stomach going through that again after everything he's been through and a cold hard truth settles within him. One he didn't think himself capable of. But it's there -- doesn't mean he's going to face it in this moment. Instead he pulls up in front of where he'd been instructed, sunglasses dropped down to the bridge of his nose even though the sun is setting. The window rolls down, and the door pops open on the passenger side. He should say something nice, or at least get out and the open the door for her.

One simple question tearing through the seams she pulls together so neatly. Why would she willingly put herself into such a situation when there were so many ways for it to go wrong? Maybe it’s because she wants to be there to physically point fingers at him. Let him know that her life had gone askew ever since that night. It wasn’t solely his fault, but she’s not willingly to put the rest of the blame on herself. It’s always just so much easier to lay everything onto his shoulders because he burns it off with retaliation she can never seem to muster. He lets it roll down his spine and relishes in it with a sinister grin, and that’s all it takes for her to deem him the villain. Yet all of it was a fabrication of a life she weaved. He was no villain, she was no saint. They were both monsters waiting for reality to kick in – and clearly hers was taking far too long.

She used to think she’s gotten used to the smell of smoke that clings to every fiber of his being. Yet here she was with a wrinkled nose, and frustration etched into the furrow of her brows. Her senses have been heightened, a restlessness in her bones, and with all of that came the ability to feel charcoal in her nostrils. A slight cough leaves her lips, as if such an action will rid her body of the ash he’s already filled it with. It does nothing to help, especially not when the door’s swinging open to allow even more smoke to billow into the hallway. She doesn’t know how he manages to live in such conditions, and the thought of entering his flame fuelled room has her even more uncomfortable than before. Fire and the skin of a being frozen in time was never a good combination, and yet here they were. Flames inches away from ice, destruction was all they brought in their wake, and they reveled in it.

There’s that beep of a smoke detector gone off and it sounds like sirens in her ears. She swats at the smoke from the cigarette daring to inch so close to her, practically glaring at the item aflame in his hand. At the rate he goes at, she’s surprised he’s not dead, even though she’s sure his lungs wouldn’t work like that of a typical human’s. Maybe she’s wishing he was, but it’s a fleeting thought that makes her stomach clench, so she turns her attention back to his words. “I was caught up with something.” She quickly dabs at a corner of her lip with her thumb, paranoia seeping into her veins. She knows she’s cleaned herself up, but it’s almost as if she can still feel the blood clinging to her flesh, dried and permanently there to remind her of what she is. “Now, what’s so urgent that you needed me to come to Japan so hastily?” Her next question slips out before she can bite it back, but there’s curiosity in her tone, and a name that she shouldn’t mention weighs heavy on her tongue.

"You always have time for me." It'd be better if he were joking but he's not. He's so far into himself that he can't even think outside of she and him. Like there was life before and after. Like there was a life for her when she wasn't around. He'd be lying if he said he didn't expect her to be there waiting on his calls. It felt like that, but maybe because she always turned up when he needed her. If he were the sentimental type that might mean something to him but it's over his head. Too complex of an emotion for him to bother processing.

 He's focused on the business now. He doesn't know what to tell her. Isn't sure what to explain first. His hand comes up to his head like that would do it. But the words don't come out the way he wants them to. He runs his hands down his face and spits his cigarette out onto the carpet and steps on it before it can burn something down to the wood floor under his feet. Before he can even explain what's going on with him, the sound of his brother's name is rolling off her lips and Jaehwa grins. He laughs more like it. The kind of unsettling thing she's only seen him do when he's killing a man and taking pleasure in it. The kind of thing he hardly ever lets him see because she looks at him funny, a little too different, a little too hungry, he never understood it until now.

 "When the fuck did you talk to Hanbin?!" He's yelling now. It doesn't feel like it though. It feels like his voice is soft, he wants it to be soft like what she said doesn't have any effect on him but they both know that's not true. She knows how he feels about his brother and it's nothing pleasant. When would they have time to talk? Why would Hanbin even be talking to her? Jaehwa is already looking around the room for his phone. He had more than a few choice words for his older brother but he thinks that maybe Hanbin wants that, to see his younger brother unraveling at the seams just a little over her. Hanbin can play Jaehwa better than anybody and Jaehwa knows this. He has to calm down. 

This is not her vengeance, nor is it a pair of ruthless hands coming together in prayer for mercy from a god she is not even sure exists. She has never wanted to burn her own book of rules until now, having watched herself strike all the matches in the palm of her hand every time she comes up with another reason to spare another one of his breaths. This is not guilt raining down upon her resolute allegiance. This is the revelation that the creator of her own destruction is none other than Jade herself; this is the acknowledgment that she has let Jaehwa take a part in its unveiling.

"I think you’re a little mistaken." Her voice is calm and steady as always. About three decisive seconds later she gathers up all the strayed intentions within her to address his abrasive assumptions. They seem childish. But then again, she has passed limits of toleration and redrawn boundaries with him countless of times, and things are bound to grow trite by now. “The only thing I’m betraying is righting a wrong, and you know how I feel about that.”

Death lingers within these palms of hers, crooning for the lost lives resting in the quiet ends of her fingertips. She has felt their voices calling for Jaehwa to meet the final chapter of an identical fate. She has felt them like a crushing weight on her chest until she fell in between the cracks of her transparent skin. This is the offering of her loyalty coated in glass shards pieced together with the same kind of transparency, skin tearing wide open before he can brand his name upon the damage and call it his own. Everybody is already dead these days, so what makes him any different?  

Eyes soften around the edges, framed by the fan of her eyelashes that brush across the peak of her cheekbones when she blinks away the silence between them. “Tell me something, Jaehwa. Have you ever felt disappointed in my work?” A slight pause. The question is not meant to be answered. “I am the best of the best, and you know that. You wouldn’t let something like this distract you. If you are as smart a man as I think you to be, then you would be happy to keep me at your side.” A gentle gaze touches the flower vase on the coffee table in front of her. Then his hands. Then his eyes. Her voice drops in volume, but the serenity of its texture withstands the potency of her argument. “I want to work with you. But I suppose it’s your choice.”

She’s turns towards him, small of her back pushing off the comfort of the sofa. She appears as Jade and nothing less: thin neck exposed, fragility of her bones within his very reach. And for the first time, she drops the veil to reveal the most genuine of her intentions — his hands still speak of her death, but she is not afraid to die.

“Jaehwa. Think about it.”

This is the kind of disappointment that runs deep. It churns in the pits of his stomach as he tries to keep his temper at bay, there is nothing but space separating them and it'd be so easy. It almost looks as if that's the route he'll take as he stands to his feet and reaches into his pocket. His gun remains hidden away in his waistband however as he produces a box of cigarettes and places one in the corner of his mouth. He cups a hand around it and lights the end, but he's never pulled a lighter out. He doesn't know if she knows that it's coming from within or if she even cares. They never got to have that conversation. Jaehwa is starting to think they never will.

He moves away from her because distance is the only thing that'll work in her favor at this moment. Smoke follows. A hand rubs across his face, squashing and misshaping his features as he tries to dig the frustration out of himself. It mixed with his anger are only going to escalate this moment. Instead the questions start coming. She distracts him with questions before it goes too far. Before he can think too hard. He doesn't take any of this lightly and if she wants to come clean it won't happen without a fight. She has to know that. She knows him.  

“Righting a wrong.” He laughs, repeats the phrase and laughs. It's soft, but he knows she can hear it. He's smiling now but he won't look at her. He can't look at her. “I should kill you Jade. I want to kill you.” He nods his head, inhales until the end of his cigarette is a bright glow that pulls his gaze down. “I should put a fucking bullet right in your pretty head.” He's talking more to himself now. Disappointed in himself. Why did he let it go this far? The circle of people he can trust seems to thin the more he moves up the ranks. Everyone he expects it from remains loyal, it's the people like her that surprise him and he curses himself for that. He doesn't think he can hate her more than he does in this moment.

But there it is. The reason she's even telling him all of this. She's right. She's good. He'd be an idiot to waste talent like that. To kill that off. Doesn't change how he feels. Stubborn. Trust is fragile with him to begin with and how can he ask her to step to his side. Whose to say she won't run off with someone bigger and badder ( as if they could ever exist  in his mind ) that moment it suits her. This is no way to do business his father would tell him, but Jaehwa is not his father.   

This is the city she bears on her shoulders as she steps off the elevator, a lax frame clad in the most pristine of crème silk that flows in slow ripples over her curves with every deliberate step she takes. Cheeks are rosy not with the vehemence of winter’s icy breath, but with the ruddy colour of her sins. It’s a pleasant contrast to the blank canvas of professional indifference that she has already adopted, replacing the city’s crown of thorns with a safety net strung together with the same sins that taint her hands, her tongue.

When she arrives to the promised destination, she spots him right away and the safety net disappears, rendering her caught instead by the curves of her own smile. One quick stolen glance at her watch tells her that she has thirty seconds to spare. The only sound she chooses to hear is that of the blood rushing through her veins. Twenty-two seconds. She has let her blood spill like water and some still dare to call her weak. Eighteen. She is reminded how brave she is to make promises and to mean them. Fourteen. How brave she is to forget them. Eight. How each click of Prada’s latest wrapped around her ankles fortifies the city on her shoulders. Four… three. This is for the man who does not see she has come to burn his kingdom down.

One.

He has all the information about her but Jaehwa has always been better reading people when they're up close and personal. On paper she was perfect. One or two quick glances and he definitely knew that he had to have her. Nothing but the best for him and when he wanted it, there wasn't a situation in which he couldn't have it. Call it ego or unrealistic expectations but it was that kind of ambition that brought him this far and moved him so high up the ladder with the family. Or else he'd still be playing at Hanbin's level, looking for a handout to push him forward instead of paving his own way. Jaehwa wasn't looking for anyone to elevate him other than himself, at best people were better left used and then thrown out. He wondered how far he could get with Jade before her time was up. He'd see.

“So glad you make it, and in such a timely manner too. Punctuality is important.” Not that he'd know anything about that. He'd only gotten there on time because he was just upstairs, had she done the same to him he wouldn't have made it. In fact he wouldn't have even bothered showing up. “So let's talk business I'd ask you how you're doing and all that but I'm a busy man. As you know I work down at the Mockingbird and business has been a little...oh sloppy lately. Whenever I'm not around to put that pep in everyone's step things tend to fall to the wayside. I've got a lot of overseas traveling to do in less than a month. So I need you to work with me and work fast. You got it?”