non desistas, non exieries.
itâs always a big deal when gala season begins and all of koreaâs high society starts to wonder whoâs been invited to what events. each gala is an ostentatious display of wealth and connections, and itâs not unlike the hosts to try to show each other up by inviting anyone worth knowing. which, sua guesses, is why she gets invited to these stupid things in the first place. (itâs not uncommon to hear other celebrated dancers and musicians saccharinely referred to as âour artistsâ in heavily accented english, the r over-pronounced in an attempt to sound refined.)
tonightâs fundraising soirĂŠe is no different from the others that suaâs been to, and she sits with an air of ennui at her table. the bubbly socialites at her table are more than happy to include her in their insipid conversations, and she joins in with all of the enthusiasm she can muster. sheâs about to down her fourth flute of champagne for the night when suddenly, the jovial voice of the MC is interrupted.
ânobody move!â a gunshot. shattering glass. before sua even has time to scream, sheâs being pulled down onto the ground.
men in stiff tuxedos and ladies draped in silk and jewels crouch down on the floor, holding their breaths. crystal lies shattered on the ground below the skeleton of a small fallen chandelier, and the room still rings with the echo of a gunshot and the crash of glass hitting hardwood all at once. from her spot on the floor, sua can see the gun-toting intruders clad in black, ski masks pulled over their features. a chill runs down her spine. maybe itâs because of the sudden shock, or maybe itâs just her condition, but she starts to feel a little faint. seeking some sort of support, sua seizes whateverâs closest to herâ in this case, whoeverâs still holding her down onto the floor. she canât bring herself to turn around and look at who it is.
what should have only been a few seconds feels like years before suaâs irregular breaths even themselves out. âlet go of me,â the person next to her murmurs quietly into her ear.
âlet go of you?â sua whispers back in agitation as she glances over at the stranger, cold fingers still gripping the fabric of the strangerâs sleeve tightly. âlet go of me!â
of all the things he didnât think heâd be doing tonight, being a babysitter was one of them.
this evening, heâs babysitting a âchildâ who goes by the name jung sua; twenty one in age, dance performance major at the korean national university, and intern at the korean national ballet; research indicates that she was once an eminent danseuse up until march of two-thousand-sixteen. thatâs all he knows about her, thatâs all he needs to know about her. anything more would have been extraneous, and quite frankly, taeyong simply wasnât interested in othersâ lives. especially when heâs working. business is business, and anything in relation to such should strictly be kept impersonal.
      the ritz-carlton hotel.Â
      120 bongeunsaro gangnam-gu, seoul, south korea.
taeyong arrived at the hotel thirty minutes prior to the galaâs start time, fully clothed in black garments from head to toe. blazer, dress shirt, and slacks. all without the addition of a tie (he dislikes the way they feel around his neck; constricting and uncomfortable). if it werenât for his bossâ instructions, he would have shown up to the event in casual street wear; something he can easily move around it. he grips down onto the side-flaps of his blazer and pulls it further over his frame, before his palms trace down the material, smoothing out any possible wrinkles.Â
an hour, perhaps two, have passed since then, and the damn event still hasnât fucking ended. he wonders how much longer the hostsâ plan on making this party last. exasperated, jaded; taeyong wants nothing more than to go home and call it a day, but with luck like his, it seems like he wonât be doing that anytime soon. for heâs forced to interconnect and mingle with the guests when an obnoxious string of gunshots rips through the air. the music stopped; men shouted, women screamed, and taeyong tutted. heâs not surprised with the way things turned out, simply because events like these generally turn out disastrous. sparing a glance at the female he grabbed prior to the incident, he noticed how tight she was gripping onto his sleeve; as if she were holding on for dear life. though heâs tempted to pry her off, he has to endure it.Â
âi canât.â his answer was not immediate, not when he was too busy focusing on the intruders; observing them, monitoring their every move, and jotting down mental notes in his mind as he watched the group make their way around the room. one by one, men were robbed of their wallets and women were robbed of their clutches and jewels. theyâre slow, he mused, ebony orbs flickering towards the right. fortunately for them, they were beside a table donned with snacks and drinks. âsua, get up,â he orders, slowly ascending until heâs on his knees. within a matter of seconds, taeyong grabs the table by one of its legs and flings it out in front of them. once heâs finally on his feet, he forcibly pulls the female off the floor and moves her behind him. then he down three of the five chandeliers (excluding the one thatâs already fallen), each comes crashing down onto the floor, shattering into hundreds of thousands of pieces. heâs caught the intrudersâ attention, but before they could act, he shoots out the lights, shrouding the room in darkness. Â
      where did that kid go? find him andÂ
      kill him before he escapes!Â
heâs already made his move before the group spotted him, pivoting around on the heels of his feet until heâs come face-to-face with sua. âweâre leaving.â he doesnât give her time to respond, no; rather, he drapes an arm around her shoulders and guides her towards the exit; his gun still wielded within tightly clenched fingers, ready to fire if needs be.Â