#goaeshin

Eugene sits upon his throne of bone, gazing at the gathered ladies from a nearby village. For some reason, about forty years ago, the villagers around his dwelling had come up with the idea that offering him a virgin female every once in a while would appease his hunger and protect them from his fangs. Though Eugene still hunted several of their townsfolk if it pleased him, he wasn’t going to disabuse them of the notion. Female flesh and blood was particularly sweet and supple, especially from the younger women. Being fed pleased him, even if it didn’t entirely satisfy him.

The women tremble before him, as the village translator does his best to calm them down. He almost never spoke to the townsfolk, and those who heard his voice were never alive for long. However, ten years ago, he’d spoken English and found the confusion and terror of the people hilarious. It had become his greatest entertainment. In response, they had hired a young man who was fluent in Western Languages two years ago. To Eugene’s horror, the young man was witty and smart. Enough that even an old vampire like Eugene couldn’t help but grow fond of the silver-tongued boy. Gwansoo had grown comfortable to an almost insulting degree around Eugene, but he was under no false impression as to the true nature of his Master. He had been witness to enough of the vampire’s feedings to avoid feeling any kind of sense of security around the ancient creature. He knew that whoever was selected among the ladies would be promptly torn to shreds. If they were lucky, of course. Sometimes, his Master was perverse enough to play with his food.

Gwansoo had only seen it once. Eugene now did him the courtesy of asking him to leave if he was in a cat-and-mouse mood.

Still Gwansoo does his best to calm them down. His master does not like hysterical women. In one instance the villagers cannot forget, the women had been so vocal and upset, Eugene had slashed the throat of the lot in anger. All twenty women, they said, dead in a flash. Gwansoo has been calmly talking to them about nonsensical things for the past few minutes, as his Master lounged and watched them all behind hooded eyes.

Now, his Master stood, his head slightly cocked to the side. Gwansoo follows his Master’s golden gaze, which falls upon a lady who sits at the very edge of the group. She stands apart in her finery, sitting upright and primly on the cold wooden floor. It’s the granddaughter of the wealthiest man in the village. Most of the nobles have sent their daughters off to “study abroad”, but Lord Go believed in no such things. Lady Go Aeshin must have turned seventeen this year, for her to be offered to the vampire. She sits with her hands folded in her lap, her gaze fixed on the wall just beyond the throne of bones. She doesn’t even flinch when Eugene comes to stand before her, his cloak pooling like a shadow barely an inch from her knees.

When Eugene points at the loudly wailing woman, then waves his hand, Gwansoo obeys. He’s made his choice.

The rest of the women are escorted out by wan, unhappy slaves, but Lady Go Aeshin stays kneeling. The Master is still standing before her, and it would be rude if she should exit without being directly dismissed. Gwansoo, as he ties the now screaming woman, wonders if good manners have ever been the death of anyone. His eyes search his Master’s face, but Eugene is inscrutable. Bowing, he makes his exit, dragging Guidan out. She will be locked and fed properly until it pleased his Master to feed on her.

Eugene continues to stare at this defiant young woman, interested in spite himself. There have been many women over the course of his existence. Some have approached him, seeking to share his eternal youth. Others have begged him to be their lovers, hoping his hunger would be appeased by sexual favors. He had killed every single one of them. As all of them, without exception, had stank of fear.

This lady, though, sat entirely devoid of fear.

He crouches before her, seeking her gaze. She meets his eyes, then demurely lowers hers. She is behaving as though he were simply a human noble. Perhaps she doesn’t understand his nature? His lips curl in distaste, wondering if her bravery is based on idiocy or ignorance.

Gwansoo is already at the door. “Gwansoo, bring her here,” he says in English, his eyes glowing faintly. The lady’s eyes slide up to his and she starts in surprise. His golden eyes are luminous as he allows for his hunger to show. His fangs elongate at the prospect of a meal, and he relishes in the way her eyes round in terror. To her credit, she doesn’t flinch away from him, standing her ground as she watches him. Gwansoo brings the screaming victim to his Master, but merely leaves her halfway across the throne room. He knows Eugene well enough that, once the feeding starts, the vampire will be unable to differentiate between friend or foe. At least, until he is sated. However, Eugene doesn’t instantly dive for his victim, staring at Guidan as she squirms where Gwansoo made her kneel. He jerks his head toward the lady, “make her watch.”

Gwansoo runs across the room, sliding in place and apologizing as he forces Lady Go Aeshin to turn and look as Eugene circles hungrily. “He wants to you watch, my lady,” he whispers urgently, wanting the lady to understand how important this is. This isn’t the first time Eugene has taken two victims, forcing one to watch as the other dies. It is a particular game the vampire enjoyed. And should the second victim look away, that victim suffered a long, agonizing death. “You must watch. If you don’t, he’ll make you pay dearly for it.”

Go Aeshin’s eyes are wide, but there’s a determined light to them that gives Gwansoo hope.

Together they watch in abject horror as the feeding begins, the throne room echoing with the terrified screams of Eugene’s victim. She thrashes where she kneels and Gwansoo knows his Master is being particularly vicious this time. Sometimes, he’s kind to his victims, giving them an instant and painless death. Guidan seems to have awoken something primal in him and the vampire feasts with a warped pleasure as he feeds on her flesh, blood and pain. The crunch of bone makes Gwansoo flinch and a tremor run through Go Aeshin’s body where she still kneels.

Eugene rises, his eyes still glowing somewhat as his hunger recedes. It’s rare for the vampire to finish the entire body in a single sitting. Eugene stalks with deadly grace toward his crouching translator and kneeling guest, his cloak sweeping behind him and soaked in blood. Eugene rarely eats messily, but his face, white chemise and chest are all covered in bloodstains. His tongue darts out across his bottom lip, catching the beads of blood that remained in a single swipe. He smiles, his fingers curling outwards, signaling for Gwansoo to get away from his guest. Gwansoo jerks to his feet and bows, beating a hasty retreat.

Eugene comes so close that his cloak brushes the lady’s knees. Her hands are still on her lap, but clenched around her skirt. Eugene observes her with interest, crouching once more to seek out her gaze. She meets his eyes just as fearlessly as before. Though she does have a scent about her that speaks of fear, it doesn’t have the same rank odor Eugene knows.

“You are not afraid,” he remarks in Korean, the words perfectly fluent, natural and understandable.

She blinks, clearly not expecting him to speak in Korean, but rallies admirably. “No.”

“Why?” he asks, his bloody hand reaching out. She leans back a bit, but manages to stop herself from retreating. There’s no disgust on her face, but she doesn’t look pleased as he stains her cheek almost perversely. A budding desire blossoms in Eugene’s bosom, something foreign, but not unwelcome.

“I am angry, rather,” she confesses, if a little unwisely. “But I’m not afraid of you… of death.”

Eugene isn’t sure if that’s heroic or stupid. He tells her so, and smirks when her incensed gaze pierces him. Not even Gwansoo dares to look him in the eye like this. “I see,” he says, mockingly. “And why aren’t you afraid?”

Aeshin stops, thinking her answer through. Her brow furrows and Eugene finally puts a word to the desire in his cold, rotten heart.

“Noble ladies live lives like flowers,” she says softly, touching the delicate pattern on her skirt. They’re peonies, and Eugene wants to touch them. He stops himself, remembering the state of his hands. He might have wanted to taint her cheek and skin, but he respects her clothes. They’re a symbol of her status and her virtue; he would not destroy that. “I will live like a flame, instead.”

Noting her word game, he smiles faintly. “Flare, then go out?” he asks, wiping his hands on his cloak. She nods slightly, and he stands, offering his now clean hand. She stares at it, wondering at the elegance of a hand which had, not too long ago, torn a woman apart with ease. Aeshin takes his hand and he pulls her to her feet, gently leading her to the door. She stands at the threshold of his throne room, appropriated from the Joseon king well over a century ago. He smiles at her again, and Aeshin breathes deeply. Reminding herself of the scent of blood that shrouds him like a shadow.

“Come back tomorrow, my lady,” he invites. Aeshin wonders if she really has a choice. His grip on her hand tightens, evaporating the idea of free will. “Please.”

Aeshin nods, hiding her small smile. The vampire’s interest, at least, would discourage her grandfather’s recent attempts at forming an alliance with the Kim Family. His invitation has marked her, one way or another, and Aeshin wonders what his interest in her will bring.

“I’ll be here,” she says, stepping out. The slaves usher her down the dark courtyard, leading her back out the palace walls. She looks back only once at the pale figure still standing beneath the awning, almost hidden entirely from view under his black cloak.

Eugene watches her go, as the feeling curling in his gut spikes.

Eugene looks back at his beloved, tears forming in his eyes. “I’ll keep going forward. This time, you must take a step back.” He says in a small voice, pleading for her to understand. Her eyes go wide as she looks at him, then she firmly grabs his coat in a death grip.

“No,” she snaps, looking scared and annoyed all at once. “Either together or not at all.”

The tears spill as he realizes that this woman, his wife, would never let him walk into the flame alone. She was both the flame and the strength at his side, a dichotomy he hadn’t fully understood until now. She steps closer to him, nodding toward the Japanese businessman.

“He’s our shield. Shoot the link. We’re both empty, but they don’t need to know that.” Eugene gives her a half smile, before turning his attention to the Japanese soldiers he had been slowly herding backwards out the door and through the next compartment. He stands his ground, almost takes a step forward until a small hand at his back reminds him he has something worth living for.

He shoots the link seconds after they enter the tunnel, pulling Aeshin close as he ducks, so the businessman is their cover. The Japanese soldiers know better than to open fire in the dark, shouting obscenities as their part of the train slows and is abandoned on the tracks in the tunnel. Aeshin kisses him softly and Eugene loosens his grip. She looks over his shoulder and gently opens the hand he’s still using to grip the businessman. And without remorse, she pushes him out off the cliff, not even blinking at his scream as she cups Eugene’s face.

“Are you alright?” she asks, a tremor in her hands. Eugene grins, pulling her to him and kissing her for all he’s worth. By the time they come up for air, he can tell she’s weak-kneed.

“Never better.”

[cred. ppeanutbutt on Twitter]

Aeshin stares at him in horror for a moment, angry he would ever think to leave her like that. “You reckless man,” she growls, grabbing a fistful of his lapels. She pushes him back, slamming him against the wall. Eugene grunts, confused, and only barely manages to blink as she covers his mouth with her own. But he doesn’t stay this way for long, relaxing into the kiss and pulling her closer against him. Her hands slide up to cup the back of his head, rising almost on her tiptoes in her enthusiasm. Aeshin relaxes as he deepens the kiss, showing her he’s here and he’s real.

[cred. ppeanutbutt on Twitter]

Part 1

Aeshin, Eugene and the rest of the Righteous Army are received gladly by a smiling Song Yeong. Upon hearing of their troubles, he ushers them onwards, tucking Aeshin protectively under his arm and whispering furiously. Eugene stands back, a bit annoyed by the casual skinship this man shows his wife. However, Aeshin proves her loyalty by ducking out from his grip and rushing back to grasp Eugene’s hand, urging him to join them. She smiles widely as she introduces Eugene Choi as her husband to the one living friend her parents have. Song Yeong looks at him dubiously, having heard much of this once Marine Captain, but his eyes turn hard as he inspects them both.

“Have you had a wedding ceremony?” he barks, making the pair jump. At their guilty expressions, he nods primly, stepping between them like a schoolmarm and making noises of disagreement. “First thing tomorrow, you two shall be wedded. We’ll have it approved by the legation here in Manchuria. These may be times of war, but things ought to be done right.”

Eugene looks over his head at Aeshin helplessly, wondering if he should laugh or cry at this development. She smiles at him, looking almost gleeful, so Eugene decides to consider this a welcome development. Song Yeong herds group three, and four, into the humble inn he’d bought as a front for the movements of his organization. They pass through, buying rooms as though they were staying as guests, though they will be camping out in a single room for the sake of safety. Song Yeong sternly says they must sleep, before whispering something to Joonyoung on his way out. The boy colours, looking at everything except his captain and his once-teacher.

Growing curious, Eugene ambles over. “What did he say to you?” he asks, sitting down and smiling disarmingly. Joonyoung cannot resist a direct question, but he blushes even more as he answers. “He told me to keep an eye on you,” he hisses, looking as though he’d like the Earth to swallow him whole. Eugene bursts out laughing, and Joonyoung watches this new expression on his face with awe. His laugh draws the attention of Aeshin, who walks over after unpacking her things.

“What’s going on?” she asks, smiling beautifully. Eugene reaches out with his left hand, reaching for hers, and pulling her down to sit with them. She does so, still smiling, and the couple look at each other for a moment. Joonyoung commits this to memory, seeing the people he most admires in peace and happy.

Then Eugene leans in, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Song Yeong seems to think I want to have my wicked way with you.”

All this run around has only managed to piss him off. The black shooter on the rooftop is a pain in the ass, being not just an impressive marksman, but also a man of wit. Dongmae turns from the shattered phone, shouting in anger. If the train must leave without him, he may as well just target the shooters of the Righteous Army who are present. Even if he can’t get his hands on the runaway Geisha, he can extract other kinds of information about their organization from them. He runs outside in an instant, racing after the running figure in billowing black.

The man is agile, jumping from rooftops and ducking under obstacles without losing momentum. One of his men shoots at the gunman, only to be struck down in return. Dongmae ducks, snatching up the gun, and keeps running. He’s not exactly good with guns, but he can shoot down a target as large as a man if he aims for the chest. Gauging from the black gunman’s speed, this person is only just hitting their stride. The Righteous Army gunners could run for days, if necessary. Dongmae’s men aren’t runners; they’ll never keep up with the black gunman. If something must be done to capture the black gunner, they’ll have to incapacitate him.

As he runs, chasing him across dizzying twists and turns, Dongmae assessed his surroundings. If he must shoot in this mess of panic, he’ll need higher ground. Spotting a tier of stacked crates and haystacks, Dongmae vaults on up to a neighboring roof. He lands, pulling the rifle up to his chest.

Dongmae’s landing is perfect, he has a direct shot. The world slows as he inhales, the muzzle of the rifle following the black gunman as he runs across a rooftop a building away. Something about this person unsettles him; his grip on the rifle loosens. The gunman raises his head and their eyes meet.

Gu Dongmae feels his blood freeze as recognition filters through. He knows this person, this black gunner; this Righteous Army member. Her eyes have always pierced through him, and he forgets to breathe even as he follows her movements with the rifle.

He doesn’t know what Go Aeshin thinks she is doing, shooting for the Righteous Army. He cannot think, but he must act. Her eyes pass over him, dismissing him, as they always have.

If anyone will catch this black bird, it must be him. No one else can touch her. Resolved, he grips the gun tighter and shifts his focus. Just as she jumps gracefully onto the next roof, he fires. The gunshot echoes funnily in his ears and he flinches when he realizes he hit his target dead on. Aeshin crumbles, rolling down and onto the other side of the rooftop. He rises to his feet and jumps down, running headlong to the street his black bird fell into.

There is nothing but a bloodstain.

With Gu Dongmae’s information on hand, President Jin, rises. His phone is already in his hands and he signals toward the snipers on the roof. The laser lights congregating on Gu Dongmae’s chest disappear, but Dongmae can tell the snipers have yet to stop training their weapons at him. He decides to drop one more bomb, wondering if his wife was right in saying that the mighty President Jin had been ensnared by a black bird in a cage.

“The Mori family is said to be ruthless,” he remarks casually, looking at his nails and pretending he doesn’t see the red dots materialize onto his chest. “It’s been almost three hours. I shouldn’t wonder if she’s dead already.”

President Jin’s steps slow and he turns. Gu Dongmae barely gets a view of his profile, but there is something threatening and bloodthirsty in the shadow of those eyes. Though a smile stretches thin lips pleasantly, Gu Dongmae can tell President Jin wants nothing more than to paint the walls with his blood. “If she is dead,” President Jin says, without a hitch to his tone. “Then you’ll be among the first to know, Oyabun.”

He stops at the door, not even bothering to turn his head. “Do say hello to your wife for me,” he says, casually threatening.

Dongmae represses a shiver, watching until the shark that swam into his waters slides away. 

Aeshin doesn’t move as the men pace in front of her, looking furious as they speak in fast-paced Japanese. She says nothing, watching them and crouching on the floor in silence. She’d barely had time to get a glimpse when she was brought in, but she counted at least six exit points and a good dozen windows that didn’t lead to the walled off gardens that seemed to crouch along the back of the building. It’s old, built in Japanese colonial times, and Aeshin could confidently say this building had been in some sort of power struggle. She’d spotted gunshot holes all over the walls and even in the tatami mats. Someone had replaced the vast majority, but she could see signs of what might have been a battle. If her memory serves, there had been some sort of uproar in Suwon among the differing groups of Japanese mafia. Her grandfather had grumbled about it for two days the week before, angry.

For about two hours she’d observed her captors, memorizing their names, faces and habits. None of them were wearing masks anymore, so she’s rather sure they do not intend to release her at all. Judging from their frustration, they might have made contact with her grandfather already. He’d probably refused their demands. That would have been about thirty minutes ago. She’s not entirely certain how they got past her tight security, but she suspects they may have been watching her for a while now. Her thoughts lead back to the slick, handsome President Jin. He’d been circling her like a vulture, slowly closing in on her, hungry for her money and power. She was no fool, she knew his intent since the moment he’d approached her grandfather at a soirée he’d hosted months ago. He hadn’t noticed her then, but she had been standing a few feet from where he’d stood, speaking with silver-tongue eloquence to her beloved grandfather. She’d kept an eye on him since then, wary of his connections.

She shakes her head a bit, trying to clear it. This is not conductive to her present predicament. In fact, she’s sure President Jin isn’t behind this. Thought the Japanese had been very effective in kidnapping her, they’d barely been able to do much else. Had President Jin been behind this, Aeshin is positive more machinations and movements would be taking place. She’s sure she’s in Suwon, about an hour from Seoul; at the complex stolen from an infamous Korean-Japanese Oyabun. If her grandfather doesn’t get here first, from what the men are discussing, retaliation from the Musin Society isn’t too far off. It’s been nearly five hours since she’d been kidnapped, but nothing much has been happening among the gathering of armed men. They’re probably waiting for their boss. They haven’t harmed her, after all. They haven’t even spoken to her.

All of the men snap to attention when a tall, slim young Japanese man steps in. Aeshin watches him warily, wondering if they’ll get around to hurting her now. She’s been working on her bonds since she arrived and she’s positive she’ll be able to slip out of the tape they’d wrapped around her wrists. Aeshin had already broken the one around her ankles, and she’d tucked her legs underneath her to hide the fact. He walks right up to her as another man places a chair at his side. The man takes a seat, smiling pleasantly. “It’s a pleasure, you must be Lady Go Aeshin,” he says in only slightly accented Korean. “I apologize if my men treated you roughly.”

Aeshin decides to keep up the façade he’s attempting to put in play. If he wants to pretend like they’re at a luncheon and not a kidnapping, she’ll be able to draw him into conversation and waste time. Her grandfather has likely already mobilized people to save her. She just needs to stay alive until then. “I have not been harmed by your men,” she says, looking at the gathered Japanese gangsters in their cheap suits and sunglasses. She shrugs one shoulder elegantly, sounding unconcerned. “All things considered, I am well.”

“Ah,” the young Japanese man says, slapping Aeshin across the cheek without warning. Aeshin bites back the yelp of pain, exhaling slowly from her nose. “I forgot to say. I’m Mori Takashi. Please be formal when you speak to me.”

Aeshin blinks, realizing she’d spoken informally and wonders if Mori Takashi has something of an inferiority complex. Deciding it best to keep his violence to a minimum, she gracefully obeys. “I apologize; I did not know you were a person of such high standing.” Aeshin lowers her gaze demurely, her expression unchanging as the tape on her wrists loosens. Takashi is watching her carefully and she hopes he cannot see the sweat beading on her brow. Her hands shake slightly in anger. No man has ever laid a hand on her and this little mafia boss dares… It takes every ounce of her self control to avoid sweeping the chair out from under him.

Mori Takashi laughs in the face of her poise, somewhat impressed by her levelheaded responses. “My men have called your grandfather,” he says, gauging her reaction. “It seems he’s a very hard-hearted man. He told them he’d never negotiate with people like us.”

Aeshin, having expected such a response, says nothing. She has been kidnapped at least on three different occasions, and every single time, her grandfather had refused to cooperate with the kidnappers. Instead, he made hell rain on them by mobilizing his entire sphere of influence. Lord Go Sahong is more fearsome than many people believe him to be. However, it seems that this time, his rescue is taking much longer than usual. Mori Takashi smirks in the face of her silence.

“He must not love you very much,” he casually blurts, perhaps hoping to get a rise out of her. He’d have more luck slapping her again.

Aeshin sighs, wondering why all those who have kidnapped her think her grandfather doesn’t love her merely because he refuses to betray his principles to save her. “You have your answer,” she says, wondering why he’s keeping her alive and making conversation. “So then, what will you do?”

Mori Takashi smiles, grinning widely. “Because while your grandfather may refuse to pay for your freedom, you can surely pay for it yourself. I’ve been told you’re quite wealthy in your own right.” He gestures for something, and a man rushes to place a table and a laptop between them. Aeshin is pulled up to a chair, and she does her best to keep her ankles locked together, praying the tape won’t slip and let them know she’s free. The man pulls at the tape on her wrists, which Aeshin keeps a tight hold of. Seeing her still tied, they boot up the laptop and open a website. Her bank’s main webpage sits blaringly in front of her. Aeshin’s mind races, realizing they’ll try to convince her to wire the money to them, then most likely kill her. She’s seen their faces, after all. Whether she accepts or refuses to pay, she’ll wind up dead. Her eyes slide up to stare at the smiling Mori Takashi, who seems delighted. He’d seen the brief play of emotions on her face, though it hadn’t struck him as odd. The flash of panic had been enough to convince him he had her totally in the palm of his hands. Aeshin flexes her hands, counting the six armed men in the room and wondering how she can best attack to remain alive.

“So choose,” Mori Takashi says, pushing the laptop toward her. “Either you die, or you pay and I’ll let you go.” Aeshin stares hard at the screen, thinking fast.