SUSPIRIA

@ncliying​

empty glasses && raucous laughter — the crowd grows rowdier as the night progresses. minseo peers down at the dance floor a level below them, far from the sweaty crowd in the comfort of their booth. she could see everything — the girl stuffing capsules into her silver clutch. the man bumping into another, the shattering of glasses amidst the loud music like a sound echoed from far away. some girl jumping onto a tabletop, shoes smacking loudly. another joins her and the dance suddenly becomes a lot steamier, both too high or drunk to care.

minseo’s skin prickled with a feeling all too familiar — an itch, a weight sliding over her form. she could almost tell what he looks like without shifting her gaze: a good suit, probably a little grey at the temples. he would be watching how her lipstick stains the glass in her hand as she finishes her drink, would then slide his gaze to the pretty companion beside her. she stares back, watching him watch the executor. good black suit. expensive. grey streaks in his hair. it was all too predicable the way he nods at them, a hesitant smile unfolding across his face.

“how adorable,” minseo says in mock amusement, leaning back into the velvet booth, back into the shadows. “i bet he’s married too.” sure enough, the ring gleamed in the dim light as he moved. by all means, this would be a ripe hunting ground had minseo not grown bored, preoccupied with another game and its own brand of arsenic. what use did she have for pawns when the queen sits next to her? 

she takes liying’s half finished cigarette and raises it to her own lips. she’s a little drunk, the chandeliers above twinkling like stars as she exhales smoke. envoy and killer — deadly duo engaged in a game only they know how to play without ruin. painted lips curve into a half smile as she hands back the cigarette, fingers brushing against hers. anticipation thrums in her veins, all sweet && heavy, something unresolved. her black dress hikes up, revealing more skin as she crosses her legs, intent laced in every subtle action. “i heard something about you flying to hong kong again next week.” the man still stares at them, and minseo’s smile tightens. “—will you be gone for long?” 

it’s been two years since she landed in seoul, and the club scene has yet to surprise her again. it only took two months for her to get used to the watered down drinks, the pills ( most sourced from yuripa ) so carelessly shoved from one palm to another, the stares from married men yearning the taste of someone younger and so out of their league.

liying takes a long drag from the cigarette between her fingers as she watches a man practically undress her friend with his stare. a part of her is often irked by this behaviour, but she’s also fully aware that this is more or less part of a game minseo plays. she’s guilty of playing it as well. though this time, there’s a more private game going on between the two women. the man’s gaze darts over to her and she rolls her eyes when he smiles at them, catching a glimpse of the wedding band on his finger.

“definitely married. bet he has kids too.”

the cigarette is plucked out of her grip and she looks away, dark eyes now on minseo. she’s reminded of their little unsaid game — not that she ever forgot — but it’s brought to her attention regardless when the other hands back the cigarette, now two different shades of red staining the tip. her gaze drops to minseo’s legs for a second before she finishes the rest of it, wisps of smoke slipping past her lips as she crushes the cigarette in the ashtray.

hong kong—an international hub consisting of everything lee yeonju has ever hated in men. that’s not to say the nauseating (handsy) selected few she spent the last couple of hours with represented an entire island of people. but given the fact that she had been dry (note: clean veins and clear eyes) since she arrived, yeonju has been considerably cranky. fidgety. 

a picturesque example of someone en route to being completely unhinged—all wrapped in a pretty little package. in this case, whatever occasion fitting dress she could pull out of the closet last minute.

if she’s honest, yeonju hasn’t been out of her mother country in her life. never found any particular need to travel, not when paradise exists at home, pills tucked under her tongue. hong kong, had it not been standing between her and her high, would’ve been the ideal place to see.

“so,” she starts, words slightly slurred. her mind remains clear despite this, yeonju learned early on that a clumsy tongue coupled with a pretty face is what lowers the guards of others. and she can play the role perfectly (though, she would not lie, she would have preferred to be actually drunk). “you never told me what you promised haejin unnie in exchange.” for her.

not that liying has to clarify. as if yeonju could even doubt for a second the sort of sadism that seizes choi haejin. 

“it’s gotta be something good…” she moves as she speaks, hiking up her dress to retrieve the weapon strapped to her upper thigh. “not that i know what you wanted me for to begin with,” her nose scrunches, painted lips stretched into a lopsided smile when their eyes meet, apples of her cheek rising. her tone is entirely playful, perhaps a little bit too much—considering her partner and all not that she cared. “if it’s schmoozing, i’m sure you could tell from just now or all night tonight that i’m not the best at it.”

                                                           (when sober)

                                                                                      —tagging @ncliying

the late morning was spent discussing important relations-related topics in a private room during yum cha. the afternoon spent sightseeing places yuripa’s envoy has seen more often than the clearview hotel. despite how frequently she visits, she still finds the urge to roll her eyes at the triad leader’s shorts difficult to overcome. her insults masked as jokes are returned with nervous laughter from the other members, though the boss doesn’t seem to mind.

precisely why maintaining friendly relations is so important.

“i promised her that i’d bring you back alive, which could’ve been a challenge.” liying sits on the bed, leaning down to take off her heels. the evening was spent at the usual lavish bar they frequented whenever she came to hong kong. she glances up to give yeonju a pointed stare, albeit a somewhat harmless one. “don’t think i didn’t hear your little comments. you should be thankful he doesn’t understand korean.” her lips form a small smirk as her fingers form a gun and she pretends to shoot the bodyguard. 

“otherwise, my promise to haejin would’ve been broken — oh, she also wanted you to abstain a little.”

the smirk turns into an amused grin. she knows just how much yeonju’s addictions bother her friend. hell, even she would doubt the girl’s skills as a bodyguard when she’s high at least ninety percent of the time. but that’s not why she brought yeonju with her. she has other means of protection for these trips.

a knock on the door interrupts her before she can even say anything. she raises a brow at yeonju, getting up ( now five inches shorter ) to answer it. “can i help you?” the triad boss’ right hand man stands outside, a few other members behind him. she plasters on a sweet smile, easily switching back to cantonese. “sorry to bother you, ms zhang, but one of my guys said that your girl has something of his and you know how the boss is about these things.”

@ncliying 

a white orchid was all it took for kiyoon to stand on the other side of liying’s door. it wasn’t the consistent text messages of her travels or the late night messaging, but a single orchid. perhaps it reminded him of their first normal conversation with each other. where it was just two people without ties to something greater than themselves. they both laid there without thinking of what the next day held for them. a moment when time stopped just for them. kiyoon still thinks about it from time to time, wishing it was a dream because then he won’t have hopes of it happening again. to him, dreams never equal reality. dreams simply never come true.

she mentioned that night how she loves white orchids. it was a fleeting fact about her, one she might’ve not expected him to remember, but when he showed up with one on their first date, he could sense her cold exterior crack. she was a conquest unlike anyone he’s ever encountered. she was strong alone and made it clear to kiyoon that he was replaceable if needed be. her confidence built his desire stronger. the more he couldn’t the more he wanted to. more importantly, she was a reason for him to be excited with life again. as a soldier with constant orders over his shoulders, he’s long forgotten the little pleasures of living without looking over ones shoulders. remembering the simple pleasure of leisure or an adrenaline without danger gripping his very throat. liying became a change in his axis tilting into a perfect balance.

a gentle press of a finger let her know of his presence and suddenly waiting outside of a door he’s most familiar with became the most nerve-wracking of them all. even while she was away, coming back felt like coming home, but things are much different now. still, he bears his regular body, expression, and mannerisms as if nothing was eating him up on the inside. his constant reminder of “being friends” ticks away in his mind, that nothing is different, except for everything he’s used to.

once again, he’s on her mind.

it’s not that the film playing on her tv is particularly dull. quite the contrary, in fact. it’s her fault for randomly picking a decades-old film that they just happened to watch together at one point. she can’t help but scoff, rolling her eyes as she brings her legs up closer to her chest. her resolve should be stronger about this whole thing.

it isn’t some schoolgirl pining or anything of that sort. she hasn’t been denying herself of anything because of it either. honestly, it shouldn’t irk her in the first place. it was mutual and they’re on good terms, which is better than nothing. though, the context of the break up doesn’t make it as simple and clean as it should’ve been.

long story short: this behaviour is foreign — pathetic coming from her of all people.

the movie is nearing its end when the doorbell rings. she looks away from the screen towards the door, pausing the film before getting up from her couch. she checks her phone first, noting the time and the lack of any text messages or calls from anyone important. her gun isn’t too far out of reach. with a job like hers, a little safety precaution doesn’t hurt. opening the door, liying raises a brow and lets out a soft chuckle.

speak of the devil.

“you’re interrupting my movie night, y’know?” she glances at the pot of white orchids in his hands. her lips tug into a smile. “but those make up for it.” she leaves the door open for him, an unspoken come in and make yourself at home. instead of heading back to the couch, she heads to the kitchen.

“the movie’s nearly done so pick another one if you want.”

Happy Valley for horse-racing, Lantau for hiking, Victoria Peak for taking in the cityscape, Central for high tea but be sure to steer clear away on Sunday, Tsuen Wan for dim sum but if the queues are too long a cha chan tang will do, too. What began in his head as a casual weekend solo getaway some months ago quickly spiraled into a full-fledged seventy-two itinerary on the island. Jeyun absorbs as much as he can from his little book of notes—collected from late-night research and a university acquaintance who’d given him no shortage of unsolicited travel tips—and inserts it back into his bag.

He’s signed his name off at the bottom of his arrival card when an attendant dips into view, red lips rounded into an ‘o’ punched out as if by an awl. In her hands is a thin tray and on the tray a glass of red wine. Jeyun raises a brow. But before he can object, the attendant steps aside to reveal the glass’ sender, who is sitting with legs crossed across the aisle. He bows his head and mouths his gratitude, then swirls his glass and takes one languid sip. An acidity slithers down his throat in a neat, thin trail. While not entirely unpleasant, airplane fare—business or otherwise—is what it is.

Still, the gesture isn’t lost on him. Jeyun paces every sip with the hand on his watch so he can squeeze in a formal, face-to-face thank you. He finishes the glass, calls for the attendant, makes a stop to the bathroom, washes his hands, rubs them down with a pea-sized glob of hand cream. Then he steps out to the other side of the cabin.

Now that he is up close it seems the woman is not Korean; his tongue shifts gears and he offers a nod, “I’m very sorry to interrupt,” he says, “My name is Jeyun. I just wanted to thank you for the glass just now before we landed and I missed my chance.” His eyes flit to the book on her lap. “May I ask what it is that you’re reading?”

liying meets his gaze, nodding in acknowledgement with her lips curled into a smile, before returning to her book. though, she doesn’t do much reading as much as she does drinking, despite how the supposed best wine they offered still leaves a strange taste on her tongue. the greek epic was starting to get rather boring anyways. 

instead, her thoughts are occupied, trying to place that strangely familiar face with something.

her glass is empty once again when he returns, this time standing by her seat instead of heading back to his own. she lifts her gaze from the page, a courteous smile on her face. at the mention of his name paired with the familiarity of his face, something in her brain clicks. what a coincidence. raising a brow, she shuts the book without bothering to bookmark the page.