#for red

If JYP knew he’d see it as weakness—no, worse than that, as defiance. The care we had for each other, the bond we shared, was both our strength and our greatest liability. If he caught even a glimpse of it, he’d use it against us. Love was always the most threatening weapon of them all. 

We passed by Changbin on the way. The sweaty man didn't spare us a second glance but I saw his fists clench in restraint out of the corner of my eyes. 

Meetings with JYP only meant one thing. The job was important, and when the job is important its dangerous. The head of our company wouldn't bother to brief us for routine assignments. But, he certainly wouldn’t trust a third party to relay the details of high-stakes operations so those required his direct involvement. 

When we reached the office door, JYP held it open for me and I slipped inside. My pulse steady despite the knot in my stomach. He closed the door behind me with a soft click, then turned the lock. The metallic snap seemed louder than it should have been, the sound cutting through the thick silence of the room.

His office was clinical and cold, much like the man himself. The walls were bare, save for a large clock that ticked incessantly, marking each second as if to remind me that time was a luxury we couldn’t afford. A black desk sat in the center of the room, polished to a mirror finish. The only personal touch was a single framed photo of JYP with a handshake partner whose face was obscured. It was turned slightly toward his chair, as though the memory was for his eyes only.

“Sit,” he said, motioning to the chair opposite his desk. His tone was clipped, offering no room for argument.

I did as I was told, folding my hands in my lap to keep them still. JYP lowered himself into his seat with practiced precision, his eyes already on me. They were sharp, calculating, and unrelenting, as if peeling away layers to search for cracks in my armor.

He reached into a drawer and retrieved a thin manila file, sliding it onto the desk between us. The sound of it scraping against the wood was deliberate—he wanted me to feel the weight of what was inside, even before I opened it.

“This,” he said, tapping the folder with a single finger, “is your next assignment.”

I swallowed but kept my expression neutral and flipped it open. 

Nothing could have prepared me for the faces on the first two pictures inside. King Lee Know and Prince Hyunjin. One of which is the killer of my best friend. The thought of being so close to him sends a rush of excitement through my veins. Killing him just got ten times easier. 

As I studied their pictures I remember that the summer and spring fae kingdoms that hadn't been known to have an alliance. Yet, as I scanned the details beneath their faces I suddenly knew different. They were almost brotherly. 

"Prince Hyunjin is to be crowned king by the end of the month and we need someone on the inside to know what he is planning," JYP starts. He grabs the photo of the friendly looking high fae out of my hands and points to it. "We suspect that these two are highly involved in the shades ring," he continued, his voice lowering.

He watches me closely as he speaks. His last words sending an ice cold shiver down my spine. The shades ring. My stomach churned as memories of my services and darkened halls clawed their way to the surface. The very slave ring I had once been shackled to as a child, reduced to a pawn in their depraved games.

But I couldn’t let that show. I couldn’t let him see how much it still haunted me. I keep my face neutral pretending that the slave ring I once worked under meant nothing to me. 

"We need to know what they are planning and how much they know," he leans forward resting his elbows on the desk and discards the photo back into the file. 

He motions for me to move to the next page and I do without hesitation. 

LEE FELIX. 

The bolded name and face besides it has already been burnt into memory. His photo is one of seven that we have posted on the cafe KOS board. Kill on sight. 

I can't deny that like the royal fae, he is a beautiful man. His hair is blonde, probably a shade or two lighter than mine and his features are soft, almost angelic. If I didn’t know better, I might have mistaken him for someone kind, someone innocent. He was anything but that. 

"Felix was one of ours before he defected." My gaze shoots up at his words. "His last job with us was to kill the Summer Prince on the same night your club was burnt to the ground," JYP closes his eyes tightly as if in pain by the memory. 

"He was our best, yet he defected to the enemy. Now he works to protect slave rings like yours, ones we work so hard to dismantle." 

The words hit me hard. I feel the air in my lungs evaporate and my blood run cold.  

The file seemed heavier in my lap, its weight pressing down on me like a curse. My chest tightened, anger and horror swirling together in a tempest that threatened to crack my carefully constructed mask.

Felix. A betrayer. A protector of slaver rings. Another person who contributed to Red's pain. The thought made my skin crawl, my fists tightening around the edges of the file.

"He used to work closely with Chris so I hope you understand why I couldn't use him for the job," he says. 

I nod my head in agreement. Felix already knows Chris's true alliances but I'm just another nameless face. A human that no one ever saw as a threat.

I turn to the last page of the file and see my placement, term, and reiterated objective. 

PLACEMENT: Domestic services, section 1: needlewoman, gardener, cosmetic artist. 

TERM: 6-12 months. 

JOB: SHADES INFORMATION, SPRING AND SUMMER PLANS.

NAME: Chee Suki

AGE: 21

"Your a human so to them you are weak. Don't let them even question that for a second," his tone is firm. 

I glanced up at him, his gaze piercing, unrelenting. The words weren’t advice—they were an order.

“Yes, sir,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm churning inside me.

“Good.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands as he studied me for a long moment. “You’ll be leaving in three days. Use that time wisely. Prepare yourself, and bury whatever weaknesses you think you still have. You won’t get a second chance to succeed.”

As I stood and turned toward the door, JYP’s voice stopped me one last time.

“Suki.”

I paused, glancing over my shoulder.

“Remember who you’re working for. And remember what failure means.”

His tone was ice, cutting straight through the air between us.

“Yes, sir,” I replied, and with that, I left the room, the file still clutched in my hands.

Felix. The royals. The shades ring. I’d infiltrate their world. I’d learn everything they wanted to hide. And when the time came, I’d disappear with enough information to bury them.

I didn't care if it killed me but when my job was done I wouldn't let them see another day. 

When I had what I needed they would die by my hand. For Red.

_____

The next day I trained hard but not in the ways I was used too. 

No knives, no sparring, no shadowy maneuvers in the dead of night. Instead, I spent the day mastering skills I hadn’t touched since my earliest days of survival.

Sewing, cosmetics, and gardening. 

It was going to be a long job that was for sure. 

Each stitch, each brushstroke, each careful planting of seeds—it was all tedious and foreign to the part of me honed for combat and espionage. But it was necessary. If I wanted to pass as a domestic worker, my cover had to be flawless.

I started with sewing.

The needle felt nice between my fingers, small and delicate. My hands were used to wielding blades, but happily remembered threading fabric. I hardly even fumbled at first, the thread slipping only once loose, my stitches even. This wasn’t about perfection but I mastered it anyway; it was about convincing them I belonged.

Cosmetics came next.

I sat in front of a mirror with an assortment of powders, brushes, and lip stains spread before me. My reflection stared back, tired and impassive, as I worked. Applying makeup wasn’t about vanity here—it was a tool of deception. The fae valued beauty, and I needed to present myself as unassuming yet competent, just another cog in their gilded machine.

By the time I finished, my reflection was strangely familiar. Softer, with just a hint of color on my lips and cheeks. My eyes looked larger, framed by careful shading. It wasn’t me, but that was the point and it reminded me of my days as Cherry. 

Thats why it was familiar. I looked more like her in this moment than I had in the last five years. I fought back a disgusted shudder and closed my eyes tightly. 

Thankfully it wasn't my make up that needed to be done, and I doubted the fae would care that a servant went about their day barefaced. 

Gardening was the hardest. It was something I had no experience with whatsoever. Having grown up in a concrete prison and liberated to another, my life had always been indoors. 

The weight of the soil in my hands, the sharp scent of freshly turned earth—it was grounding, but it also felt alien. Digging and planting required patience, precision, and care, traits I usually reserved for entirely different purposes. By the end of the day, my nails were caked with dirt, and my muscles ached in ways I wasn’t used to.

It was going to be a long job, that much was certain.

As the sun set, I sat back and stared at the small patch of garden I’d cultivated. It was neat, orderly, and unassuming, much like I needed to be. Yet, as I wiped the dirt from my hands, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the task ahead.

This wasn’t just about blending in. It was about surviving. 

I stood up and turned to head back inside and noticed Emi staring at me from the exit doors. Slowly I made my way over to her. 

As I approached, the corners of her mouth tightened, like she was wrestling with something she wanted to say. Her dark eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

She was the one to break the silence. 

"When do you go?" her voice shook revealing a small hint of the sadness she was feeling. 

"The morning after tomorrow." I walked past her and continued inside, headed for the elevator.

Inside, the familiar hum of the building greeted me, but it felt hollow tonight. My footsteps echoed as I made my way to the elevator, the file in my hands a reminder of everything waiting for me. The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and I stepped inside, pressing the button for my floor.

The doors began to close, and just before they did, Emi slipped through the glass panel joining me.

"Binnie told me you would get like this before you left," she whispered. 

I tried to ignore the guilt that settled in my gut. It was a nasty habit I had started before any assignment. This cold detachment from everything. Completely cutting myself off from my emotions was difficult and could only be done in tandem with coldness towards the ones who cared for me in secret. 

I thought it would make it easier to leave. But it never did. 

The elevator slowed to a stop, the soft chime breaking the stillness. The doors slid open to my floor, and I stepped out, half-expecting Emi to stay behind. But she followed, her steps matching mine as we walked down the corridor.

“You think it’s easier this way,” she said, her voice steady now. “Pushing us away, pretending you don’t care. But it’s not.”

I stopped in front of my door, turning to face her. “It’s not about what’s easy, Emi. It’s about staying focused. If I let myself feel—”

“You’re afraid it’ll break you, being human. Caring about us.” she interrupted, her gaze locking with mine.

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, I couldn’t respond. Because she wasn’t wrong.

“It won’t,” she said softly. “You’re stronger than that.”

I looked away, the weight of her words pressing against the walls I’d built so carefully. “I can’t afford to be anything else, to care. Not right now.”

By her expression my words had slapped her in the face. 

“Goodnight, Emi,” I said, stepping inside.

She didn’t follow. I heard her footsteps retreat down the hall, each one a reminder of the distance I’d forced between us.

I closed the door behind me, leaning against it for a moment before heading to my desk. The file sat heavy in my hands, and as I opened it again, I shoved everything else aside.

Their faces stared back at me—King Lee Know, Prince Hyunjin, and the traitor, Lee Felix. Cold, indifferent flawless expressions captured in photographs that couldn’t hint at the cruelty beneath.

The mission was all that mattered now. It was close to home. 

I would be dealing with my past, deceiving the people who kept children tied down to slave rings. People who sold the innocence of others. 

I needed to stay focused. They had taken everything from us. From me. And now I was being sent into the very heart of it all. I had to stay focused. Cold.