𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃 / 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

I breathe everything out like a thousand times Normal and special, they are just some lines One deep sigh, then it slips away, fades away What I try to keep never want to stay

' there is no contract. ' who would say that out of the blue ? tony earned a confused look for that, and yeong was sure the oil paintings were joining him. he was about to ask why, but tony decided to turn the tables without warning. ' i don’t need a tool to use and throw away. that’s easy to come by. and it is cheap. tools don’t argue with me. ' he said all of that while looking at the window, as if he was telling a story. yeong’s fingers fidgeted with the day cover as he felt the blush creeping up on him. how dare he say something like this in a bedroom ? ! his eyes snapped to the ground.

so. he was no tool to him. he had been so sure about it … and also so unsure. tony was miserable at being calculated, and honestly, that was admirable. but also very confusing. his remark about talking back … he wasn’t lying. yeong rarely fell on his mouth, and in his own defense, he simply wasn’t that trained in any kind of relationship or communication. still, he was always eager to get his point across, even against a wall of stubbornness named tony alexander. and even though he was of a shy nature, something about the stillness in tony’s presence made him braver. tony just let him be. there was never a moment where he denied him that. controlling as he was, he wasn’t trying to change him — and that was enough for yeong to get comfortable around him. much to tony’s distress or delight, he wasn’t sure. “one of us has to fill the silence ...” he said, deciding to take a little offense at the remark. and he doubled down on it. “i sound pretty… annoying in your mouth.” his voice was small as he tried to suppress the smile forming on his lips. pride was flooding his mouth. he didn’t even know what he was doing to him. don’t look, don’t look, don’t look !

' i want you as a special advisor. my advisor. not temporary. ' my advisor. not temporary. their gaze met and yeong wasn’t able to say anything. he couldn’t. what do you say when you get what you wanted ? what ? this was his confirmation of trust. a confirmation of something mutual — something tony would appreciate him doing. now was not the time to spiral. he needed to say something. “okay, boss.” plain and simple. that was enough, right ? after tony simply echoed him without batting an eye and cut him off before he could speak, leaving the room with his statement, not even looking back, yeong pressed his lips together and nodded. he probably deserved that. ' and i don’t brace for judgement. i brace for disappointment. ' and then he was gone.

yeong didn’t move for a moment. just sat there on the edge of the bed with that sentence settling into the room like smoke after a door closes, filling the space slowly, finding the corners. he stared at the floor. there was a difference between the two and he understood it now, turning it over in the quiet. judgment meant the verdict was still out. meant tony was waiting to see what yeong would find, bracing for the possibility of being condemned. but disappointment … disappointment meant he already knew. had decided long before yeong walked into any room he occupied. had built something enormous and armored around the certainty that whatever was found would only confirm what he already believed about himself. yeong thought about the bathroom floor. the library. the gun with a name engraved on its side. a decade of scars worn without explanation. how long had he been carrying that ? how many people had gotten close enough to confirm it ? and then yeong had come along and found … nothing. the void. the absence with no bottom. and instead of relief, tony had braced anyway, because the waiting was the part he knew how to survive. the impact was almost secondary.

yeong pressed the back of his hand against his mouth. he had no right to feel this much about someone else’s damage. especially not in their guest room. especially not at this hour. he filed it. the folder was genuinely at capacity now, structurally unsound, threatening to collapse entirely. now he was alone. but not alone anymore. he had to let that sink in. greed made an appearance. the salty taste couldn’t be swallowed this time. he heard tony’s steps fade and fell back onto the mattress, staring at the ceiling. the smile he had been hiding all evening was finally visible. he was no tool to him. maybe he wasn’t a tool to anyone else either. maybe.

he closed his eyes, letting the warmth rush through his veins. comfort, trust, and something to look forward to. even though he wasn’t fond of getting to taste much more, that was a small price for everything that had just been offered. today he had landed a new job, gotten a promotion at his regular one, and they had an actual conversations, with difficulties ... but that was normal, right ? that was a casual thing to happen. he decided on that.

but then there was sadness. grief, even … about all the years he had missed that feeling. he sat up, trying to shake it away, his eyes landing on the paintings. he still felt watched. he wouldn’t allow himself to grieve his past here, not under these lifeless eyes. two fingers pointed in their direction, letting them know he was watching them too. then he got ready for bed, which involved exactly one step … taking his clothes off, since tony hadn’t officially invited him to sleepover. it took some time to fall asleep in these new surroundings, but eventually his exhaustion won.

the next morning the plan had been simple. find tony in his natural state : sleepy, unpolished, hair pointing in several directions, human in the way that powerful people were only human when they didn’t know anyone was watching. it had seemed foolproof at the time. yeong had even prepared a mental catalogue of possible reactions to witnessing the crime lord before his morning armor was fully assembled. he got up, got dressed, and followed the sound of the house waking up. he rounded the corner and stopped. tony was already there. new clothes. impeccable. not a single hair out of place, sitting in the chair with the specific quality of someone who had either not slept at all or had woken up three hours ago specifically to be ready for this. the fashionable equivalent of a trap. yeong stood in the doorway for a moment. again. “good morning, boss.” this man, he thought, is not human. “you don’t often have guests, hm ?” he asked, watching tony, who looked completely unbothered. “how come you’re not starving ? i’m starving.” in other words: you better give me something to eat or i will quit before i even started. “before i start my day as your advisor, please drop me off at my home so i can take a shower, eat and change my clothes.” he empathized the word ' eat ' because right now his life was depending on it.

   in   the   swallowing   darkness   of   dusk   long   gone,   he   inhales    ---    long   and   slow.   a   man   gasping   for   air    ---    but   not   willing   to   admit   how   much   he   needed   it.   that   should   suit   him   well.

   the   smoke   had   left   a   translucent   fog   in   the   dimly   lit   drawing   room   both   had   priorly   occupied,   veiling   the   warm   light   almost   into   rings   of   halos,   vibrating   in   the   dense,   stale   air.   tony   stands   between   a   threshold   again    ---    leaving   his   gaze   to   leisurely   glide   across   the   abandoned   room,   buzzing   with   a   gloom   that   he   had   no   name   for    ---    except   to   appoint   it   the   opposite   of   loneliness.   alike   a   statue,   who's   eyes   had   lowered   themselves   upon   a   focal   point   only   to   be   speculated   upon    ---    the   crime   lord   remained   in   this   strange   liminal   space,   unable   to   fully   separate   himself   from   the   leftovers   of   a   strange   night.   his   shadow   trails   his   feet,   stepping   into   the   pristine   kitchen    ---    entirely   left   in   the   dark.   polished   counters    ---    most   of   all   empty.   opening   the   fridge   door   once   more,   the   cool   light   flooding   his   face   alike   a   camera's   flash.   squinting   at   the   only   content   it   currently   held    ---    a   sealed   bag   of   blood.   packaged   and   airtight,   lounging   on   the   shelf,   tony   had   thrown   it   on   at   their   arrival.   a   loud   exhale.   and   the   door   closes.

   whatever   bizarre   circumstances   had   led   to   this   particular   journey,   they   seemed   to   leave   the   crime   lord   in   a   state   of   growing   confusion   rather   than   clarity.   a   silent   hum   passed   his   lips,   before   he   let   his   hues   glide   across   the   large   windows,   exposing   the   well-kept   entrance   to   the   gardens.   what   gentle   disposition   had   possessed   him,   each   time   yeong   slipped   into   his   own   life's   perils   in   front   of   tony's   eyes   ?   and   what   strange   providence   moved   his   own   hand,   again   and   again,   to   pull   the   other   out   of   their   misfortune   instead   of   letting   fate   take   its   course   ?

   silence   laid   itself   upon   the   estate,   like   a   blanket   of   newly   fallen   snow.   mid-summer,   swelling   heat    ---    a   strange   tension   remained   in   the   air,   never   to   entirely   pass.   the buzzing   of   energy,   retired   inside   the   guest   chambers   of   yeong   now.   soon   enough,   the   master   of   the   house   himself   would   slip   into   the   protective   darkness   of   his   bedrooms    ---    but   the   light,   spilling   underneath   the   door's   gap,  would   remain   on    ---    until   the   early   hours   of   dawn.

   the   creak   of   an   unoiled,   dated   door   chirps   through   the   upper   hallway    ---    its   echo   descending   in   a   house   of   an   average   morning's   peaceful   quietude.   tony   alexander's   estate   at   early   rising   hour   was   simply   serenaded   by   its   surroundings;   bird   songs   and   the   rustling   of   a   mountain   range   above.   wind   chimes,   for   the   large   windows   functioned   as   doors   at   the   same   time    ---    and   remained   open,   in   the   hottest   days   of   july.

   the   notorious   curse   of   lacking   sleep   plagued   the   crime   lord    ---    albeit   not   visible,   in   a   countenance   that   spent   all   its   energy   into   restraint   and   mastering   its   stoicism.   freshly   groomed   hair,   exposing   his   forehead   cleanly    ---    a   fresh   aquatic   scent   hangs   around   his   neck,   strong   without   being   heavy    ---    and   today's   breeze   twists   and   twirls   it   to   an   invisible   halo   around   him.   all   that   seemed   to   stick   out   was   the   scarred,   jagged   tissue   running   over   the   right   side   of   his   features.   as   if   the   skin   had   been   irritated,   a   red   gleam,   lighter   than   crimson    ---    drew   a   thicker   thread   today.   a   phone   in   his   left   hand,   a   cigarette   in   the   other,   frowning   at   whatever   seemed   to   displease   his   temper   at   the   current.

   even   if   yeong's   arrival   from   the   moment   of   the   door   opening   could   have   been   calculated   by   the   second    ---    somehow,   it   managed   to   still   startle   the   crime   lord   internally.   the   last   possibility   of   yesterday   night   to   be   a   mere   mirage,   a   hallucination   or   a   dreamy   vision   evaporated   !

   goodmorning   boss.

   tony   smirks   internally,   the   right   corner   of   his   lips   tugging   upwards   barely    ---    despite   his   gaze   only   lifting   once   yeong   mentions   his   requests.   mustering   the   other's   appearance.   he   had   slept,   if   not   a   full   cycle   of   eight   hours,   enough   to   give   him   relief   from   exhaustion.   clothes   from   yesterday.   something   else   lurks   within   the   imperfect   presence   of   his   guest.   intimate.   gentle.   but   tony,   repressing   a   shudder   sat   upon   his   shoulders    ---    casts   his   gaze   away   at   once,   rising   from   his   seat   with   a   clearance   of   his   throat.   cigarette   now   dangling   from   his   lips   as   he   speaks,    "    the   chef   is   on   holiday.   how   many   eggs   do   you   want   ?    "    by   the   by,   as   the   crime   lord   slides   leisurely   into   the   large   kitchen.   something   had   changed   about   the   empty   interior    ---    a   variety   of   groceries   had   popped   up.   tony   barely   bent   down,   opening   a   drawer   for   a   large   pan   before   setting   it   on   the   gas   stove.   "    i'll   drop   you   off   after   you   ate,   hm   ?    "   he   muttered,   coating   the   pan   with   a   small   cube   of   butter,   immediately   sizzling   away.   effectively   turning   his   back   to   the   other   for   a   moment,   the   warmth   of   something   different   crawls   up   his   neck,   up   into   his   face.   his   quiet   huff   drowns   in   the   pan's   orchestral   music    ---    and   tony   swallows   his   smile   as   quickly   as   it   had   shaped   his   nicotine   lips.   instead,   he   swiftly   turned   on   his   heel,   taking   three   eggs   out   of   the   carton    ---    only   to   turn   to   yeong,   closer   than   necessary    ---    despite   inches   to   separate   their   bodies.    "    i'm   using   these.    "    announced,   as   if   an   urgent   matter   to   be   communicated.   huh   !   what's   the matter,   tony   ?   eyes   staring,   scanning   yeong's   countenance   in   a   different   kind   of   hunger    ---    before   turning   to   the   stove   almost   immediately,   cracking   one   open   into   the   pan   already.    "   hot.   "    muttered,   while   he   turns   the   heat   lower.   must   be   the   cooking.

in spite of best efforts, a smile slips through the cracks. splits bright cherry into twain; reveals an undeniable delight at the turn of events. gentle hands clutch the kitten closer to the heart and accentuate just how small she is—so fragile, so nascent. an entire life awaits her still, with countless adventures to unfold and dive into. how could anyone turn away such a sweetheart?

"well, that's just the thing about having children, darling. you make time for them." vibrant aquamarines and rich caramels stare back at tony, daring him to deny the pair once more. a clean hit; critical damage. "in fact, i've already done so much for her. medicine, food, toys, beds, accessories... everything a growing girl could want and more because i'm just so considerate like that." fine silk flutters and flows, just skimming the slender frame that finds a home at the edge of tony's desk. encroaching on his garrisons, on the precipice of breaching. a few well-timed blows and surely the fortress will give way. all they need is a crevice wide enough to slip through, to infiltrate, to inhabit. co-habit, ideally.

   they   waltz   to   the   edge   of   his   desk,   adorned   by   translucent   silks   to   spin   their   glimmering   veil   around   their   body.   eyes   up,   tony   !   oh,   they   should   have   landed   on   julien    ---    rejecting   his   audacious   idea   at   once    ---    instead   they   get   caught   halfway   up.   the   baby's   tiny   mouth   opens,   for   an   almost   voiceless   meow    ---    aimed   straight   at   the   crime   lord,   in   mild   curiosity   and   confusion   alike.   jeweled   hues,   sparkling   big   and   wide    ---    the   innocence   of   a   heart   stared   right   back   at   him.   what   are   you   going   to   do,   tony  ?    flee   because   of   a   kitten's   ferocious   greeting   ?   pah   !   still   supported   by   his   bent   elbow,   his   glance   snaps   up   finally    ---    accumulating   his   last   defenses.    "    i   can't   remember   having   said   i   want   children   with   you.   "    it   comes   out   as   awful   as   one   could   have   made   it,   framed   by   a   stern   frown   of   a   man   who   has   no   recollection   of   any   event   in   question,   oblivious   to   it,   at   that.   however   the   more   investment   juli   spoke   of,   the   less   did   the   crime   lord's   certainty   of   his   impenetrable   iron   wall   of   a   will   remain   solid.

   'considerate',   is   what   julien   crowns   himself   with.   tony   would   have   scoffed,   had   he   not   been   in   such   ill   spirits.   once   his   eyes   cross   the   kitten's   anew,   this   time   deliberately,   tony's   unoccupied   and   curled   palm   extends   by   the   slight    ---    offered   in   front   of   the   baby   as   a   greeting.   who   would   have   thought   !   had   tony   always   admitted   defeat   so   peacefully   ?   certainly   not.   but   he   is   too   busy,   to   register   such   curious   transformation   at   all.

   their   new   furred   child   sniffs   it   for   mere   moments,   before   giving   it   a   rough,   small   lick    ---    rubbing   her   cheek   against   jeweled   fingers.   mild   intrigue   to   dawn   on   the   crime   lord's   features,   that   had   remained   unmoving   until   now.   the   fur,   soft   against   his   pale   hand    ---    and   he   has   yet   to   remove   it.    "   i   like   venus.    "    sudden   husk   of   lowered   voice   vibrates   against   his   throat,   entirely   lost   of   its   sharper,   warning   edge.    "    they   say   she   was   born   from   the   sea.   from    ---    from   the   ocean's   foam.    "    a   strange   tone   occupying   him,   as   if   to   recite   an   event   witnessed,   seen,   felt   !    he   finally   lowers   his   hand,   resting   upon   own   thigh    ---    unimpressed   or   simply   stoic,   glancing   sideways    ---    at   nothing   in   particular. silent.       "    does   that   mean   i   am   a   father   now   ?    "    dry   as   the   wall   behind   him.   oh   tony.

“should i be offended that you already forgot about it ? let me remind you.” standing behind him now, he propped his chin on tony’s shoulder, his eyes glued to the side of his face. “i actually don’t need to be this close to smell your scent,” he whispered, inhaling it like it was the most normal habit in the world. it was everywhere — how could he not ? “but i selfishly do that anyway.” a pause bracing himself for what he was about to say. “because i can. with you.” a quiet confession. greed, gluttony, and pride mixed together in his throat like a poisonous cocktail. he entered the second loop : caught in a moment of forced intimacy, closeness to another person. he should have felt bad about it. should have been disappointed in himself for still longing for it. but he wasn’t. this was all he was allowed. all he had left, against everything that had been haunting him for the past decades. the warmth from tony coexisted with his own. he surely would have gotten lost in it, if he hadn’t been so aware that this experience was just one sided.

he pulled back. the absence left him cold. gave him a reality check, humbling enough that even his feet went cold. the wooden floor felt like an ice rink now. he walked around him, reappearing in tony’s line of sight. a smile tugged at his lips as he shook his head. he didn’t flinch this time. this was too familiar. you want to make me feel like a waste of space ? you haven’t met my parents yet. that was what he thought. the attitude was visible in his face anyway. “on one hand,” he said, looking straight into tony’s eyes, “you, out of all the people who could have acquired this useful tool, went out of your way to reclaim it. you took it personally. i might be unsocial to a degree that’s… concerning. but don’t belittle my senses. they are my weapons.” wrath was boiling within him. the warmth of the alcohol was spreading through his whole body by now. “and on the other hand, you want to tell me you don’t care what i think of you … even though you brace for some kind of judgment every time i speak to you.”

he took a deep breath, trying to push the feeling of regret aside. the cigarette was still burning in tony’s hand, and he took advantage of it, grabbed the hand and pulled it toward his own mouth, taking a drag from it, the dare displayed wide open. the air felt charged, like a storm brewing within these high walls. a good moment to put some distance between them. preferably far enough to get struck by lightning instead. this moment of boldness came to an abrupt end. he knew his place, and tony had made sure to remind him of it — so why was he even trying to hold up against that truth ? he should have been tired of proving himself. honestly, he was. and now he had to sit with that, alone, because there was no way he was going to try to bring it across. not now. not when tony doors closed. when everything he said felt like salt sprinkled into a wound he hadn’t inflicted. his armor was strong. yeong had known that from the very beginning. it was one of the first things he’d noticed about him. the power radiating off of him. and yeong had no idea what his path was, nor any right to demand to know it. he was nothing to him. which he understood. maybe he was just too desperate for some kind of connection that he’d misread the signs willingly.

that’s what loneliness does to you.

he turned the thought over once more, slowly, the way he turned over everything that hurt, checking it for an exit, a loophole, a version of the sentence that didn’t apply to him specifically. there wasn’t one. there rarely was. loneliness didn’t make exceptions for people who were inconvenient to be lonely, and yeong had been inconvenient about most things his entire life. he thought about boonyi, briefly, and how she used to say that wanting things wasn’t shameful … that the shame came from pretending you didn’t. he had spent years getting that backwards. pretending was easier. pretending cost nothing up front, even if the bill came due eventually in rooms exactly like this one, with exactly this kind of silence sitting between him and someone he had no business wanting anything from.

he wasn’t sure when tony had become someone he wanted things from. it hadn’t been one moment. that was the worst part … he could have managed one moment, could have filed it away as an aberration, a fluke of proximity and circumstance. but it had been an accumulation instead. the bathroom floor. the library. the blood in the car. the pine smell that haunted him every time he stepped outside this house. small deposits, each one harmless on its own, compounding into something he hadn’t noticed building until it was already too large to pretend away. and now he was standing in tony’s house, having just made a small scene about senses and weapons and judgment, watching the air between them go quiet in the specific way it went quiet after he’d said too much.

he was tired. not sleepy-tired, though that too … tired in the deeper sense, the kind that lived in the structure of a person rather than in their eyelids. tired of performing composure he didn’t have. tired of measuring every word for how much of himself it revealed. tired, most of all, of standing in beautiful rooms feeling like a guest in his own life. he needed somewhere to put himself down for a while. somewhere with a door he could close. he looked at tony for a long moment. the silence between them had a texture now, something he didn’t know how to smooth over with humor or deflection or any of his usual tools. the only thing left was to shove his emotions into the grave he made for his four-year-old self. “draw up a contract.” he said finally, quiet but steady, “and i’ll sign it. that’ll be the end of it.”

he wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by it. the reading arrangement, maybe. or something larger and harder to name — an attempt to put a frame around whatever this was, give it terms and a signature line and a clear beginning and end, because contracts didn’t ask you to sit with ambiguity. contracts didn’t leave you standing in a hallway at midnight wondering what you actually wanted from someone who would never ask you the same question back. it was easier to negotiate than to want. he had always known that about himself. he just hadn’t expected to say it out loud, dressed up as something practical, in tony’s own drawing room. tony didn’t answer right away. yeong didn’t wait for one.

he excused himself without making it sound like an excuse or at least tried. just stood, set his glass down with more care than it required, and walked toward the hallway with the specific energy of someone who needed five minutes alone before he said something he couldn’t take back. the house, predictably, did not cooperate. he made it down one corridor before he hit a junction he didn’t remember from earlier. then a second corridor that looked identical to the first one, except for a painting he was fairly sure he hadn’t passed yet … or had he ? the house had too many doors and not enough certainty, and every hallway carried the same dim, expensive quiet that gave him absolutely no information about which direction led anywhere useful.

he stood there for a moment, mildly insulted by his own sense of direction. then he turned around and walked back. tony hadn’t moved much. still in the same spot, glass in hand, the air around him carrying the last residue of whatever had just happened between them. yeong stopped in the doorway and looked at him with the particular expression of someone who had tried very hard to maintain a dignified exit and failed completely. “this is humiliating,” he said, “but i don’t know where anything is. i tried to find a room. i found four hallways that all looked like a metaphor for my life choices and ended up back here.” a breath for courage filled his lungs. “could you just … show me where i’m sleeping ? before i end up in a closet that leads to narnia by accident ...”

   and   yeong   indeed,   looks   hurt.   wrong   place,   wrong   person.   tony   feels   the   same   way   about   himself.   their   chin   lands   on   his   shoulder.   sudden.   a   motion   carried   out   in   a   burning   urgency   to   get   rid   of   it.   he   can   tell.   he   moves   like   that   too.   instead   of   swatting   their   intrusion   away,   the   crime   lord   merely   freezes   into   his   spot    ---    cigarette   idly   puffing   its   lock   of   smoke   in   his   tight   grip.   as   if   any   executed   move   could   have   triggered   a   mine   beneath   his   step   to   blow   him   apart.   there   hovers   a   knife's   blade   against   his   neck,   flat   upon   his   broad   shoulder    ---    in   the   form   of   a   gesture,   that   reminded   him   of   a   gun's   barrel,   pressing   into   his   spine.   any   moment.   any   moment.   tony   must   have   forgotten    ---    who   walked   around   with   a   firearm,   carrying   their   name   carved   into   its   polished   surface.   but   his   system   registers   it   under   the   only   category,   it   can   name   it   to.

   it   glitches    ---    blurring   the   line   between   two   realms   belonging   to   one   world,   tony   remained   wandering   in   and   out   of    ---    not   remembering   where   is   current   foot   was   placed   any   longer.   system   error.   but   he   gets   no   code,   to   figure out   what's   wrong.   the   sound   of   inhaled   air,   right   next   to   his   ear    ---    crawls   up   through   his   neck.   a   shiver,   finding   neither   notice   nor   action   upon   his   countenance    ---    except   for   own   eyes   to   grow   narrower,   rougher   around   their   edge.

   yes.   the   elevator.   pressed   against   his   side.   he   had   smelled   him.   had   labelled   it,   remembered   it,   filed   it   under   'because   i   can'.   brave   enough,   to   deliberately   repeat   his   action.   yeong   had   stood   there   and   basked   in   his   forbidden   little   eden,   named   tony.   is   that   a   guilty   pleasure,   he   hears   ?   the   other's   words   carry   a   conviction   in   a   voice,   tony   rarely   encountered   in   him    ---    even   less,   by   anyone   speaking   to   the   crime   lord.   they   had   both,   equally,   admitted   their   own   selfishness   in   an   indulgence   with   no   name   but   all   the   world's   guilt   in   it.   if   tony   had   been   less   stunned,   than   he   was   at   present   moment    ---    a   smirk   would   have   surely   raised   the   corners   of   his   lips   at   least   several  degrees   !   pride.   but   yeong   would   never   know.

   they   smile,   shake   their   head    ---    not   impressed,   not   impressed.   actually,   not   interested.   using   his   moment   of   surprise,   his   guest   lays   it   on   the   table.   not   his   cards.   but   tony's.   this   is   what   you   want,   this   is   what   you   do.   this   is   how   it   is.   if   the   crime   lord   had   been   the   notoriously   acclaimed   man   of   ego   and   cruelty    ---    he   would   have   loaded   his   gun   and   gave   him   his   answer.   tony's   denial   would   come   at   the   cost   of   one   man   spent.   and   indeed,   he   could   not   speak   himself   free   of   having   done   such   thing   in   a   not   very   distant   past.   present   ?   past   ?    but   yeong   is   no   street-scum.   he   is   not   an   annoyance   or   an   inconvenience   to   be   dealt   with    ---    but   a   guest,   he   had   dragged   by   the   heel   into   his   estate.   can't   save   your   face   any   longer,   tony.   you   brace   for   judgement.   you   brace   for   everything,   he   should   have   said.   but   it's   hardly   something,   that   could   have   been   as   easily   observed. 

 tony   is   about   to   chew   the   words   out,   swirling   in   a   system   that   still   felt   its   palms   itch   to   rack   a   slide   and   hear   a   click.   but   what   would   that   give   him   ?   a   pile   of   bodies   growing   larger,   in   his   head.   something   tugs   at   him    ---    and   in   his   disarmed   state,   all   tony   does   is   let   his   head   drop   to   catch   the   motion.   yeong   had   grabbed   him,   raising   his   hand   to   their   lips    ---    for   his   cigarette.   what   daring   boldness,   to   cut   through   whatever   tony   had   established   impenetrable   before.   and   instead   of   interrupting,   hissing   and   grabbing   the   other   by   their   collar    ---    the   crime   lord   watches   it   unfold.

   too   slow   to   give   any   immediate   retort   or   clear   sign   of   resentment.   yeong   had   just   left   two   knives   sticking   out   of   the   crime   lord's   sides,   ready   to   bleed   him   out   once   pulled   out    ---    and   ended   it   with   an   agreement   to   a   contract   that   sounded   like   a   pyrrhic   victory.   at   what   cost.   at   what   worth.   and   tony   is   smart   enough   to   know,   when   to   stop.

   back   to   business   then    ---    and   no   confirmation   is   needed   for   the   other,   as   they   rise   to   their   curtain   call.   tony   turns   his   gaze   away idly,   lowers   it   towards   the   table's   surface   and   lets   his   own   numbness   wash   against   him   until   it   felt   like   drowning.   a   loud   exhale   huffed   out,   his   tongue   clicking   against   his   teeth   quietly    ---    his   features   returning   to   the   slow,   sticky   intoxication   of   a   twisted,   cynic   satisfaction.   one   that   would   have   said;   there   it   is   !   had   you   expected   something   else,   tony   ?

   yeong   drags   half   of   the   weight   from   the   room's   oppressive   silence   with   him    ---    leaving   the   rest   to   tony,   who   still   felt   no   intention   to   move.   about   to   reach   for   another   cigarette    ---    gradually   sinking   further   into   his   ruminating   poison   of   own   confirmed   nature.

   that   is   until   yeong   returns,   stood   in   the   entrance   of   the   large   room    ---   their   gazes   crossing   in   a   very   particular   way.   yeong,   attempting   to   find   a   humane   way   of   expressing   his   own   sentiment   and   clear   overwhelm   about   the   bizarre   situation,   he   had   just   left   from.   and   tony,   like   a   man,   who   snapped   himself   out   of   his   looming,   thunderous   dark   cloud   with   raised   brows    ---    and   rounder   eyes.

   the   crime   lord's   estate   was   indeed   an   overly   large   complex    ---    following   no   clear   or   simple   layout.   numerous   corridors,   dotted   with   closed   or   locked   doors   on   each   side.   most   of   them   empty,   expensive   furniture   and   antiquity   covered   by   white   sheets.   tony   registers   their   request,   letting   his   gaze   silently   rest   upon   the   other   at   first   before   raising,   setting   his   glass   on   the   table,   while   clearing   his   throat,   "    it's   fine.   follow   me.    "       with   sharper   formality   of   his   posture,   leading   the   way.   stairs,   tucked   into   their   left   side   become   visible,   once   tony   flicks   a   switch   for   dim   lamps   to   illuminate   the   carpeted   steps.   creaking   under   his   weight   or   that   of   anyone   for   that   matter,   in   deepest   wood   of   umber.

   the   air   feels   more   dusty.   stuffed.   tony   knows   why   but   he   feels   too   disturbed,   to   mention   it   at   all.   he   simply   rarely   spent   any   time   up   here    ---    even   if   the   master   bedroom,   his   bedroom,   was   at   the   end   of   this   corridor,   connected   by   two   opposing   double   doors.   the   stairway   ends   in   the   railing   stretching   to   a   balcony    ---   giving   a   complete   and   open   view   of   the   squared   shape   having   led   them   up.   no   blind   corners.   yes.   guess   why.

   tony   blinks   the   specks   of   dust   away   that   his   sudden   pace   brought    ---    before   opening   the   first   door   on   the   right.    there   was   nothing   extraordinary   about   the   room,   as   it   was   held   in   the   fashion   and   taste   of   the   rest   of   his   estate.   which   meant,   in   luxurious   furniture   and   two   large   oil   paintings   hanging   from   the   high   wall,   above   a   chimney.   having   entered   merely   two   steps   into   the   room   after   yeong,   the   crime   lord   half   turns   towards   him    ---    his   eyes   scanning   the   room   without   needing   to   find   anything.    "    this   is   the   guest   room.    "    his   hand   rests   in   his   pocket   because   he   is   currently   about   to   ball   it   into   a   fist.

   silence.   tony   is   still   searching,   for   something   that   he   couldn't   find   a   name   for.   it   rattled   and   rattled   against   the   cage   of   his   heart    ---    until   he   could   not   take   it.   he   wasn't   looking   at   the   room   at   all.    "    it   hasn't   been   used   in   quite   a   while.    "    meaning,   years.   half   a   decade.   but   the   room   looked   spotless.

   silence   again.   until   tony   pulls   out   the   knife,   yeong   had   slipped   between   his   ribs   earlier.   watch   out   for   the   blood,   tony.    "    there   is   no   contract.    "       it   should   sound   ridiculous   but   coming   from   the   crime   lord's   mouth,   it   merely   sounds   like   a   small   printed   clause mentioned.   one   that   sounded   too   heavy,   to   be   small   printed   at   that.    "   i   don't   need   a   tool   to   use   and   throw   away.    that's   easy   to   come   by.   and   it   is   cheap.   tools --- uhh,   don't   argue   with   me.    "    his   hues   rest   upon   the   large   window   of   the   room,   pitch   black. 

 another   pause.   "   and   they   would   not   talk   back   to   me   the   way   you   do.    "   a   tilt   of   his   head,   something   must   have   stirred   a   memory.   less   in   disturbance,   more   in  valued   remembrance.   huh   !    a   long   second   to   pass.   "    i   want   you   as   a   special   advisor    ---    my   advisor.   not   temporary.   "    his   jaw   tightens   once.   eyes   settling   on   yeong at once.   unwillingly,   about to slip   again   after   his   words.   so, lightly frowning,   tony   heads   towards   the   exit   of   the   room,   halting   without   turning   his   head   in   a   brief   pause.    "    and   i   don't   brace   for   judgement.   i   brace   for   disappointment.    "

MAP OF THE SOUL ON:E CONCEPT PHOTO BOOK