TO SATIATE

He paused, his eyes trailing toward Jungah beside him and watching how she tried to avoid eye contact. He’d need to tell her that she had to look past this further and to hold her head high—there was no need to showcase fear. It’d only prod their mysterious enemy along. Now, if she listened to him, that’d be another story…

That’s when Jungah spoke out of turn.

“There wasn’t a time I’ve ever been that vulnerable before.” Her thumb and index finger squeezed the stem of the wine glass lightly, a question of how much pressure would it take to break the glass, the support.

(How much more she could break herself.)

“As a leader of the Kangmulpa, I cannot have that happen again.”

She had a role to play, and so Junho let her speak. There were some things she had to handle on her own for the eventual day he would no longer be there.

“I cannot have our members thinking we can be attacked so easily, or that we’re afraid.” The Yoons were too proud to allow that to happen. Jungah was no different in that regard. “Friends or enemies… it doesn’t really matter, does it? If it can happen to us, it can happen to you.”

Junho: She’s right. You aren’t safe either. The chaos that would ensue if we got pulled into something… it wouldn’t be quiet. They can only hide for so long and they’re aware of it—they have to be if they’re willing to make themselves known again. It’d pull you in regardless. It’d be best if we stop this before it gets out of hand and ruins friendships.

soohyun stills, surprised by her sudden outburst of something so personal. whatever happened before the recent disturbance must have left a heavy impression. a trauma, perhaps? she’s only twenty two, really. he wonders if she ever recovered from it, or is in the process. he lets out a low hum of sympathy. 

“hmm, do you know what they want? an enemy with an objective is far less dangerous than an enemy without.” 

and how he feels about the yoons;

“...haha,” soohyun lets out a short lived laugh, ducking his head as he smiles. ah, this old man. soohyun’s fingers tap light against his glass, “...yes,” at the bottom of the pit they live in, smart allies make good enemies. junho has always been smart. jungah, too, probably. it’s expected. “of course. i understand.” 

Somehow his gaze ends up right back to his each time, held until the other lets go of it. And there’s too much anger there, suppressed and succumbed for brevity. But Juwon knows better, and he knows, (that very much like the Dead, he is impossible to tame). 

“아니라고 했잖아요.” He’s talking about the name. “이젠,” Soohyun speaks of it as if he possess it, speaking of it until is his, then not, then his again. “아니라고요.” Yet Soohyun isn’t a liar, and that’s what makes this difficult. He can’t blame this on the lies, and certainly not on the truth. In between the tense glances and brief silences, he finds no good reason to fault his spite; nothing real to find the blame. Soohyun’s given him no cause for hate, and yet he stands in front of him, heart-full of it.

He hates the fact that he bought the dream when he sold him one. 

“애초부터 왕이 될 마음은 하나도 없었어요.” He’s choosing his words wisely, but he still feels like a child in front of him. “그냥 뭔가, 무엇이라도 되고 싶었을 뿐이였어요. 딱 그때 형이 어디선가 저를 찾아 왔고.” There’s too much space in between his words, cracks big enough to let him right in. 

The glass in front of him empties out again, as soon as it’s filled. His fingers around the brim are trying to let go, in an effort to make the smart decision. And yet the alcohol keeps pouring in, just the same way his heart keeps spilling out. “제가 한 번도 뭐가 없이 거래를 했나요?” 

“당연히 받아 냈죠.” 

just like how a mother would always look for her first born, soohyun’s gaze wavers despite his efforts, his anger, all the resentment he’s been nursing instead of the boy he took in years ago, ”뭔가 되고 싶었는데 왕은 무리였다, 그거야?”

he’d thought knew what juwon as a boy wanted. an orphan with a sister that no one really wanted as much as they did with him. the boy craved affection, someone to fill the void from being thrown away. soohyun had seen what made his eyes light up and what made him cringe away. soohyun had used this to coax juwon into his arms. and yet. 

“...한심한 놈. 뭐, 너 처음부터 만날때 감정에 취해서 제 멋대로 행동하는 건 알았지만. 이렇게 도망칠 줄 몰랐지. 너 좋은 기회 놓친거야.”  

it’s almost as if he’s asking him to come back. juwon had come all the way here, after all, after so long. soohyun doesn’t know if he can let go of him as easily as he did like the first time. maybe this time he won’t run. 

“좋겠네, 뭔가 생겨서. 지킬 가치가 있나보지? 내가 뭘 할줄 알고?”

soohyun tips his head back along with his glass, emptying the scotch into his mouth before slamming his fist down to the bar counter with it. it fractures, sharp jagged pieces digging into his palm and digging deeper into his skin as tightens his grip around it. “내 뒤통수 치고 떠난거, 내가 용서한 것 같아?” 

slowly, soohyun reaches out before laying a hand over juwon’s.

“...한번만 기회 더 줄게. 나한테 다시 돌아와. 너가 갖고 싶은거, 하고 싶은거, 다 해줄게. 해주게 할게. 이 세상에 더 바랄게 없게 해줄게, 주원아. 하지만 너가 날 또 거절한다면,”

he swipes a thumb over juwon’s knuckles, leaving a trail of dark red to dry. 

(He looks for it: the tempest.) 

He hadn’t ran away from the house of Jupiter without expecting hellfire, after all, and yet what followed had been nothing. No wrath, no wind. No single clap of thunder.

“지옥에서 지옥만큼, 아니, 어쩌면 지옥보다 더 한 곳으로 대리고 왔잖아요.” Another glass full of whatever goes down, the contents of the cup not nearly close enough to a distraction. When it hits his throat, it’s not the alcohol that burns, but the resent residing in between Soohyun’s language. He finds himself unable to meet his eyes for a second longer, diverting it to the strangers at the other end of the bar. 

(It’d never been the storm, but rather the calm of the eye that slayed him, after all.) 

“… 저는,” There’s a bare, dim reflection casted on the surface of the bar right beneath him. He looks upon himself at Soohyun’s question, eyes strangely catching the sight of his hands. He observes the way dirt (–ash, blood) stains his palm lines, and fails to respond. His hands (–weapons) fall onto the bar, as he finds no safeguard.  

There is war between them, and he is losing. (Still.) 

“기대는 아이들?” He doesn’t have it in him to expel the laughter. “꼭 그 애들이 선택이 있었던 거 같이 얘기하시네요.” He’s talking about the kids, but he’s talking about himself, all while trying to hide the slight tremble after each syllable. “형은 어쩔수없게 형을 기대개 만들 잖아요. 뭐를 뺏어가던, 누구를 죽이던. 형의 손 밖에 없게.” 

as the old saying goes, there’s no end to a man’s greed. soohyun doesn’t deny the centuries old wisdom, doesn’t deny the blood drenched reality that he’s made for himself that he’s always dreamt of. he worked for it, he earned it, he deserved it, and he deserves even more. 

‘아가,”

what stands between them is just the bar counter and unspoken resentment. soohyun could just reach out- juwon is only an arm length away, maybe even nearer. a little stretch and he could have a hand around his throat.

“넌 그 지옥에서 왕이 될수 있을 기회를 놓쳐버린거야.” a king of his hell that he built. soohyun saw what juwon could do, could have done, 

should have done.

juwon could have had the world. but of course there was a price to it. soohyun looks into his eyes, once warm now cold. it’s almost foreign, but expected. soohyun should feel so bitter about this change. 

“난 너에게, 세상을 밭쳤는데. 나에게 뒤통수를 치다니.”

the corners of soohyun’s lips curl downwards slightly, finally indicating the anger he’s been sugar coating with a smile. he grabs hold of his glass and pauses, as if he’s wondering if he should laugh into his drink or at juwon’s face. 

“뭘 뺏어갈게 있어야 뺏어가지,” there’s no change in inflection of his voice, but there’s just too much anger and poison that he holds towards him that it overflows from the way he speaks, the way he holds his glass, the way he holds juwon’s gaze. “아무것도 없었던 주제에 할말이 많네?”

 “흐음,”

soohyun cocks his head, his expression melting into something smug. 

It wasn’t particularly well known, but it was somewhat of a rumor among the area crime families that something had happened to Jungah. The Kangmulpa refused to talk about it, and the families refused to ask—the wrath of the Kangmulpa that would be thrust upon anyone who messed with the Jewel was not something they wanted to witness.

Jungah was sipping her wine, her gaze having moved from Soohyun’s and toward her father, sometimes her glass. It wasn’t her favorite conversation to have. The P.T. knew where she would be and they knew where she currently lived. They were smart and worse, they were quiet.

Junho: And they’ve sent us a little reminder of that incident. I don’t like being toyed with and I certainly don’t care for my family to be toyed with. This is a personal threat by an unknown enemy.

He cast a glance at his daughter who was swirling the contents of her glass, watching the legs of the wine trickle downward. Slowly she looked up at her father who had already turned his focus back on Soohyun as he sat his glass back down.

Junho: An unknown enemy to one is an unknown enemy to us all. Do you see why I’ve called you here now?

now, if he only enjoyed alcohol as he acted like he did. the scotch would make an excellent collection to the bar, or make his office look more impressive if he puts it on display. soohyun laughs lightly, bowing his head before thanking him.  

how all very vague, but soohyun doesn’t press further, at least not in front of junho. maybe he’d ask jungah about it later on. everyone but the family had talked about it once by now. his employees giving little updates or one of this talkative clients gossiping, soohyun should have expected this meeting to happen. the world they live in is smaller than they think, easier to control but easier to destroy. the kungmulpa doesn’t respond to those who they think are worth it.

so to kim soohyun, this is all very interesting. he almost smiles. almost. 

“i see.” he takes a sip of his whisky so the glass can hide the way his lips quiver from amusement. “i’m sorry you had to go through that. it must be an inconvenience.” though, he doesn’t know who the you is in this situation. so he’ll carefully ask-

“i’m guessing it’s,” he looks over at jungah and waves a hand towards her direction, “miss jungah who’s the target here?” it made sense. it made sense why she’s here and it made sense to target her. hit them where it hurts the most- he’d have done it too. soohyun isn’t too interested in the details, and gives jungah even a wider smile. “but, an enemy of my friend is my enemy too. i’d be glad to help, mr. yoon.” he pauses.

“it’s what friends do for each other, isn’t it?”

with so many enemies made over the years, soohyun doesn’t even know where to start with the who, what, where and why’s. he can understand why they need his help. an outsider who’s on the neutral side unless one player benefits him more than the other. 

and for a while now, it’s been kangmulpa. 

What he’d thought to tuck under his tongue and hide between his bones only stares right back at him, eyes colored in the ire of fire. For a moment, he swears he can’t breathe. That’s always been the thing about Soohyun, he made your lungs forget the air around you, just like he’d remake you into everything but yourself. 

He tries to suppress the images, but one word is enough to bring the whole scape back: the genesis of his make down from human to machine. Everything from the damned secrets to the mornings wondering if he’d murder his sanity before another killing. (For what? He can’t seem to remember.) Their eyes meet and his body recalls before his mind has a chance to cease the motion.

(The attention. You reveled in the attention.)

“이젠 아니에요.” He moves his head back and forth, too well knowing of the gaze focused on his neck. This was always the problem with Soohyun. The obsession with possession. 

“이젠 아니에요. 아이.” He presses his lips into a thin line, the hidden teeth behind holding youth in between. He needs to be mature, everything astray from a child. He puts up this facade all knowing too well that it all deemed useless in front of him. This was always the problem with Soohyun. His eyes got around to wreck havoc at all of his secrets before even he could have a chance to build them up into something half-believable.

His eyes look for a distraction and finds it in the glass now laid before him. “아직도 이 더러운 일 하시는 건가요?" 

And with each word, he finds youth slipping from his grasp. 

"형은 시간이 죽도록 지나도 죽도록 변함이 없네.”

it’s obvious that soohyun is displeased by his words, his face doesn’t move except for the raise of a brow. he blinks, letting his lips curl up instead of schooling his expression into something more neutral. 

juwon feels like home. but not in the good way. juwon is a place where he can take his shoes off but there are rooms still that he aren’t allowed to enter. juwon hasn’t been under his care long enough to make him fully his. juwon grew up too quickly on his own, a miscalculation. soohyun sees him almost as a,

mistake.

“허, 개구리가 올챙이적 생각 못한다 더니.”

kettle, meet pot. soohyun doesn’t let juwon’s glass go empty by filling his glass two thirds full. “널 그 지옥같고 지긋지긋하고 질 낮은 곳에서 벗어나게 해준 은인에게 할 말인가?” 

still, juwon has been one of his firsts. strange how first times can do to you; it bubble wraps all anger and resentment with endearment. soohyun believes that although that juwon disappeared without a trace comes into a factor, but that fact that he didn’t search for him plays a big deal when it comes to juwon having survived. 

a mistake, yes. but also a token of mercy, a living proof that kim soohyun isn’t the kind of person juwon believes him to be. 

“그리고 더러운 일이라니. 그럼, 넌 깨끗한거고?”

it’s a question they both have an answer to.

“내 생각에는 아닌 것 같은데.”

he bends down to bring an empty glass to the bar table, pouring himself a drink as well. 

the boy couldn’t imagine a time in which somebody has apologized to him sincerely, genuinely, with all their being and their heart and their spirit. he could not. nobody with such compassion existed, not even himself. he’s a boy that depends upon his own kindness rather than the kindness of others, yet, he’s a boy that lies through his teeth even when it makes his jaw ache. 

compassion, compassion– God, who the fuck even has that anymore ?

though he stands firm with both his feet planted to the ground, and his spine straightened to show the length of his body, his hands still tremble when they tighten their hold around the straps of his bag. he lets go, chucks them into his pockets. he’ll forget about them for the moment. forget about the numbers too. he’s started counting in french around a week ago. 

tired of repetition, with days that seemed the same but had different names.

he only listens. there isn’t much for him to say. he’s only wondering if the devil exists in this man’s body, or maybe, he’s using the devil as an excuse to live. “hm.” the boy looks down at his shoes. never at the body. never at the stranger’s hands. never at the stranger. he only ever looks at his shoes, his jeans, the split light that spills in between them both but never fills the space that exists amongst them.

“uh– God. I dunno.” he’s looking back up, somewhere behind the stranger’s head. jungkook isn’t sure about what he feels anymore. fright ? anxiety ? or perhaps, some stupid bravery, some kind of childish confidence, some alien feeling of relaxation. he doesn’t know. he doesn’t ever seem to know anything.

it’s a just rule. the boy, if he’s telling the truth, should be left a lone. but wooseok doesn’t want to let him go just yet. the boy is the first bread crumb to track down the core problem of all of this. he won’t hurt him, he hates hurting children anyway

the boy has pretty doe eyes, he notes.

“so,” wooseok murmurs, for a fleeting moment he’s talking to himself again, all mumbles under his breath with a hand on the back of his neck. “this means you’re not much use to me. ah, ah, this... this is rather unfortunate.” their leverage on each other does not balance. so what if the boy’s caught being the errand boy. in the end, the boy knows nothing. the boy, on the other hand, has witnesses a murder. the leverage does not balance. “are you alone right now? is there someone else coming?” he asks, eyes following where jungkook is looking. 

maybe the boy is lying. maybe he knows something. but wooseok is short on time, he can’t force information out of him when he has more pressing matters to attend to now. he finds all of this distressing, and it shows in the way how wide his eyes are, lips twitching with displeasure. this goes on in silence for a while, before his lips twists into a smile. he moves forward until a hand is on his shoulder, fingers tapping at the nape, semi dried blood smearing onto fabric and exposed skin.

a killer grows hungry for the weaponry of its sinful doings. a cold blooded puppet assassin he is, yes, in need of a supplier for the perfection of a crime committed in the dead of the night when screams are but white noise swallowed by sheer darkness and washed away into a river of velvet reflecting the moonlight above. he is, yet again, caught by a puppeteer’s strings.

before monochrome hues lies a hand extended, a human greeting. oh, if he had any control over his own body perhaps it wouldn’t have come to the split of second ignoring the latter’s palm. he has no choice of his own. he’s a shell, empty and simply being used to shed blood and rip to shreds whatever was left of his sanity. there’s no reaction through the blank reflection in his eyes until the request is brought up through words, a measured flick of his gaze towards the other male shifting back the hoodie thrown over his skull. “i’d like to have what i came for.”

it’s a shame he’s a client. wooseok holds a preference for pretty faces, and it shows in the way he watches him, his gaze coveting heavy with curiosity. it’d be nice to have him in his collection, locked up and ready to destroy. what a pity, what a waste. wooseok would have put thomas in a good use, if he was his. 

of course. he comments mentally as his greeting goes unanswered. his palm is left empty and cold, and wooseok glances down at it before withdrawing with a polite chuckle. no hard feelings. “yes, of course. i’ll bring them to you right away. would you like something while you wait? some tea, maybe? i’ve prohibited coffee around here recently since some of my little angels found it too anxiety inducing,” he briefly mentions the young killers in training, his gaze crawling back to the red curtain behind the cashier. “...anyway, give me a minute.”

“ah ha, i definitely will,” wooseok almost tilts his head to see if there’s any flicker of interest in thomas’ eyes before turning away to retrieve the stored weapons. 

he’s back with two large black cases in his hands, placing them onto the desk between them as he opens them one by one. “feel free to check if they’re okay,” a simple routine has developed between them after thomas’ first visit. “please do keep in mind you have a month until they have to be returned. they’re quite high in demand these days. i see that you’re a trend setter, mr. oh.”

the innermost unease comes with the knowledge that this is temporary. permanence is something that he cannot afford; not when mortality is a gaunt ornament that color kyungsoo’s existence. and to put it simply, he is scared.

there’s no exit door, but still, he convinces himself otherwise.

sits on a stool of a half-empty ( half-full ) bar. orders his drink. shows his id to ensure that he’s not underage.

of course, jongin’s response is expected. no one wants to die again. wooseok doesn’t know how jongin has managed to survive, slip out of his grasp. one little slip opens up so many questions, each holding a danger of their own that poses as a threat to what wooseok has managed to establish so far. his pride, his life time work. 

“id, please.” he asks again, the smile doesn’t disappear but there’s pressing authority behind his teeth this time. wooseok moves so his body is blocking jongin’s way to the exit in case he tries to leave. there will be leaving this time.

“it’s just, you look very young. you don’t mind showing it again, do you? my staff is relatively new, so i have to double check everything. just in case.”

the spirit of children differ than that of man – the world can not process the pain of someone who does not understand it, seldom ever deserves it. rather than the throaty rasp of woes and anguish, they place images in her head. after living amongst children for the past couple of years, she’s grown sensitive to the unique messages. she sees the fear and stumble of a fighting spirit, sees the image of two somber faces where her heart blossoms with affection for. their parents, the child misses their parents. she wanders until the connection was vivid, seeing vague depictions of frightening men kidnapping him into the night. children’s views are less in touch with logic and more connected to a pathos approach. half of it was repressed but she knew too well what had happened. 

he appears friendly and it pains her that the thought entered her mind. a lax smile, a vaguely apathetic demeanor, he looked like nothing but a kind uncle telling stories to a child. she looks at the little one’s eyes, sees the distress muting any life from them. 

“i’ve been here for…a while,” she’s thinking of a way to steal the child back. he doesn’t know it but he’s begging her for help in his mind. she must respond. it would be unjust if she were to ignore it. what is stopping her is her lack of a plan for after their successful escape. where were she to bring the child? his parents are more than likely long gone, and she herself has nowhere to go. would it be better to leave him here or subject him to the horrors she face? 

he notes the hesitation in her voice ( smart girl ), and the curve of wooseok’s eyes grow thinner as his smile stretches, “i do. i really enjoy the company of children, they’re so...” he pauses, the carefully crafted lines of kindness on his face disappearing into the depths of the gentle dips where his lips twitches into a quick frown, “...easy. to be with, you know. no mind games that grown ups play.” he rests his head on his palm, elbow on his knee as he looks at her. he wonders what gives his facade away, usually children are easy to lie to. perhaps he’s undermining her too much, placing her under the wrong category. there’s a slight shift in the power balance as he starts to reevaluate her.  

wooseok places a possessive hand on top of the boy’s head- a motion of affection- as he smiles again, “he’s fine, just a little shy. i’ve befriended him a few weeks back. he’s very smart despite how easily scared he gets, but we can work on that. together. no need to worry.” there’s an unsaid i’m taking him with me in the way he skims his fingers across the boy’s forehead.

perhaps he’s take them both.