#jinchul

You'd've been foolish if you hadn't known this was coming; through the haze of your memories, you distinctly recalled mutilating your ex-boyfriend somehow. And, unfortunately for you, your ex-boyfriend was someone of mild importance in your neighborhood, so the police moved faster than usual to get you.

The actual investigation against you hadn't lasted very long -- they sat you down in a small, tiled room to ask you questions about your supposed motive. You could tell from their phrasing that they were already convinced you were guilty of whatever crime they were informed of, since each question was pointed and guiding.

After that, the trial itself was relatively short; you hadn't opted for a jury trial, so the decision was made by a judge. You had been detained in between the investigation and trial, cited to be "unfit to return to civil life" due to your apparent awakening and lack of control over your abilities. Your lawyer did most of the speaking for you, as your evidence was presented orally. There were only four separate court sessions total despite you having confessed to the crime, since the circumstances made the entire thing more nuanced.

When word first got out, it made national news -- it's not every day that a newly awakened hunter loses control of themselves and injures someone else unintentionally, especially not in a situation like yours. As a result, you lost your job due to the sudden criminal charges looming over your head. However, you and your ex-boyfriend's fifteen seconds of fame soon faded as the case progressed. The internet was full of arguments about who was in the right, with most people on your side since you were cheated on and abused. Your personal life was aired in every sense of the word, making you feel more like an animal in a cage than a human, and it felt like the entire world knew anything there was to know about your life by the time the trial was over.

The judge had deemed you guilty, but had given you a fairly light punishment given the scenario itself: you were to perform community service under the Hunter's Association. More specifically, you were to assist the Surveillance Team in something-or-other. You hadn't been paying close attention to the specifics, overwhelmed by relief that you weren't going to spend your life behind bars.

The same could not be said for your ex-boyfriend, however -- he lost his guild contract due to his mistreatment of you and was hospitalized for quite a bit to ensure his newly grown penis (courtesy of an A-rank healer) was working as intended. You had heard through the grapevine that it was extremely malfunctional, and you had taken a private moment of glee in response.

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The verdict had been delivered two weeks ago. Now, you stand in front of a mirror in your friend's apartment, dressed in the best business-casual attire you own. A loose white button-up, a pair of black leggings, and a crepe blazer that dangles over your frame. You find yourself once again grateful that your friend had agreed to host you until you were able to find your own place, despite it all. You make a mental note to buy her lunch later, thankful that you were able to save while you were stuck in that awful relationship. After all, your hunter ex-boyfriend had insisted on paying for everything to appear more "masculine" to whoever may have been watching, whatever that meant.

You take a deep breath, inhaling through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, straightening your blazer before pulling your bag over your shoulder. As you make your way out of the spare room and into the entryway of the apartment, you stop by the door to slip on a pair of low wedges to complete your outfit. You leave your slippers by the shoerack.

It doesn't take you long to reach the main building of the Hunter's Association. Upon your arrival, someone at the front desk whisks you away to a different building across the street, telling you that you need to be evaluated before your community service can actually begin.

You spend a good chunk of the morning waiting in the queues, trying to maintain an air of patience while you ignore the stares aimed at you. While you may have faded from national headlines, your verdict had been public and the case itself had been considered "juicy" for lack of a better term. It wasn't difficult to put two and two together to figure out who you were.

Right before noon, your name is called and you shuffle into the evaluation room. The giant sphere in the middle intimidates you, and you feel a pit of dread begin to form in your stomach when the attendant instructs you to place your hand on the surface of it. Some brainwashed part of you whispers that you hope you're not an E-rank, despite knowing that's impossible; you were able to harm your C-rank ex-boyfriend, after all. It's only when the attendant lets out a soft sound of surprise that you look up at her with a tilted head, a questioning look in your eyes.

"You're an A-rank," she says with a bright smile, and you wonder if they're trained to deliver all news with that expression. "In fact, you're on the upper end of the spectrum! Congratulations on your new rank." She gestures you over to her so you can look at the screen dictating your power levels. The graphs and images don't mean anything to you, however, so you decide to take her at face value.

"An A-rank?" you echo, confusion lacing itself in your tone. "That's... wow. I didn't think..." You trail off, struggling to get the words out.

The attendant seems unbothered. "If you're lucky, maybe you'll get scouted by a major guild!"

Her optimism sinks its claws into you, and you give her a weak smile. "I don't think that'll happen," you say earnestly. You've never heard of anyone with a criminal record being recruited by one of the big five. Besides, you have a stint with the Hunter's Association that has to be completed before you can even consider guild recruitment.

You thank the attendant for her time and head out, picking up your Hunter ID on your way out. You retrace your steps, crossing the street once more and re-entering the Hunter's Association HQ. The individual behind the desk herds you into an elevator this time, pressing the button for a floor higher up in the building. Soft music fills the tense, awkward silence between the two of you as the elevator ascends.

The muzak doesn't do much to quiet your thoughts, which are currently spiralling out of control. Ever since the incident, you had been trying to make sense of these sudden new powers, trying to see if you ever felt the sensations of those abilities manifesting since then. Simply put, the answer was no. In the past several months, there had been no itch in your fingertips, no sparks of red-hot rage. To be quite honest, you aren't even completely sure how awakening works -- you honestly think there should be more incidents similar to yours, because how often do people awaken with perfect control over their abilities? How did people even learn how to use them?

As if the universe itself is trying to answer your question, the elevator dings softly and the doors slide open to reveal a long hallway. You can faintly hear bustling and ringing phones off to your left, and you suppose that's where one of those huge offices with cubicles is. The secretary gestures for you to follow as they lead you down the long hallway, past the door you're sure leads to those cubicles. There are two rights and three lefts on your route, and you're working on memorizing them before the secretary stops in front of a door that matches all the other doors you've seen thus far.

"You can wait in here," they say, albeit not unkindly. They open the door with one hand, and you can feel their eyes on you as you walk inside.

It's a fairly average-looking personal office; there's a mahogany desk in the center, with giant windows as the backdrop. A swivel chair sits behind the desk, along with a neat stack of papers next to a monitor and keyboard. Several meters in front of the desk are two sofas across from each other with a coffee table in between. The walls that aren't windows are lined with tall bookcases, and closer inspection reveals that most of the books are about hunting, raids, and mana. The other few are fantasy novels and science fiction novels, which comes to you as a mild surprise.

The secretary closes the door behind you with a soft click, and you take the time to inspect the room some more. On the desk, there's a silver placard with the name "WOO JINCHUL" written in bold letters on it. The handwriting on the paperwork is extremely organized, as if whoever wrote it took extra time to ensure it's legible. The monitor isn't displaying a screensaver and the PC it's attached to is hidden out of view, but the rim of the screen has several sticky notes detailing important dates hanging from it.

You run your fingers along the placard, feeling the grooves of the letters. The metal is cool to the touch, and your hand comes away completely free of dust. You're beginning to form an image in your mind of this Woo Jinchul when the door suddenly opens rather loudly without warning, frightening you.

In your state of panic, your mind flashes back to the times your ex-boyfriend would do the same, usually with the intent to shout at you or worse. The itching in your fingers suddenly returns full force, and you find yourself firing off another one of those airblades at the newcomer. You let out a strangled "watch out," thinking about how you're about to have yet another criminal charge on your once-perfect-now-ruined record.

To your relief -- and perhaps shock -- the newcomer makes a slashing motion with their hand, and the incoming attack dissipates. Your knees suddenly collapse beneath you, the fear coursing through your veins too much to bear. It takes you several long, silent minutes to calm yourself. Once you succeed, you cringe at how awful of a first impression you just made on this individual.

"Better?" the person asks, tone polite and plain. The voice is deep and masculine, pleasing to your brain.

You blink a few times, taking the time to actually look at him. He's tall, clad in a black suit, and his blondish-orangeish hair is slicked back save for one curl that rests against his forehead. He's too far away for you to determine the exact color of his eyes, but from your vantage point you can see that they're on the darker end. His frame is broad, and something about the way he stands suggests years of experience at doing whatever it is he does. He also exudes a slightly intimidating aura, made worse by your embarrassing interaction just now.

"Um, yes, thank you, sorry," you manage to say, although your voice is not much louder than a mumble.

The man makes a show of dusting himself off before striding across the room and sitting on one of the sofas. He gestures to the couch opposite him. "Sit."

You pick yourself off the ground, wincing at the pain in your knees, and obey his command. Now that you're closer to him, you can tell that his eyes are a shade of violet. Pretty.

You swallow the lump in your throat, willing your voice to be louder this time. "I'm really sorry about that," you begin. "The door... startled me, and I don't have the best control ov--"

He holds up one finger, and you find yourself stopping mid-sentence. "Don't worry about it. I've dealt with worse." He leans forward, reaching his hand out over the coffee table. "Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Woo Jinchul, and I'll be your... case worker, for lack of a better word."

"Case... worker?" you echo, confusion laced in your tone.

"I'll be the one overseeing your community service," he clarifies. "I'm the Chief Investigator of the Hunter Association's Surveillance Team."

You blink, all these words making sense separately but not together. "So... that means...?"

Jinchul raises an eyebrow at you, perhaps the first sign of emotion he's outwardly displayed since stepping foot in the room. He slowly retracts his hand once he realizes you're probably not going to shake it. "It means my team and I keep an eye on hunters and investigate raid-related incidents when necessary."

You nod, things finally clicking into place. "I'm guessing I'll be helping you do that?" you finally say.

"Eventually. Firstly, I'm going to help you control your abilities. Then we'll see about fieldwork."

You note that he has a very straight-to-the-point way of talking, and he excels at keeping his voice even to ensure it doesn't betray his internal feelings. In fact, you can't actually get a read on how he might feel about this whole situation, as he's been nothing but polite yet somewhat cold during your entire brief interaction. Nothing about the way he's acted thus far suggests he's repulsed by you, at least.

"That's good, at least. Maybe this way I won't accidentally kill anyone for opening a door loudly," you joke.

The silence that follows your words is deafening. You find yourself wishing that there were at least crickets in the room, as their chirps would be more responsive to your comedy than Jinchul is.

After a bit, he just lets out a small sigh. "I look forward to working with you, Ms. Sun."

Perhaps it was your kindness that attracted him originally. After all, it's not every day that a C-rank hunter, someone well-known in your neighborhood, falls for the ordinary office worker, is it?

It began with him knocking on your door one evening and asking to borrow some ingredient; by now, you can't even remember the specifics. You had handed it to him with a warm smile on your face, engaging in polite conversation before finally closing the door.

The next few encounters were similar; they all involved him appearing at your doorstep and asking for something. First, it was more ingredients for more complex dishes, then it was to borrow a serving dish for a party, and finally, he asked you on a date. You had never thought to ask him where he first saw you -- you just assumed he was a neighbor on your floor. After all, you saw him around occasionally.

The relationship was lovely at first. He was all acts of service and gifts, showering you in affection and sweet words. Lavish dates that ended with the two of you tangled in bedsheets, cozy nights in with you wearing his hoodies. He even cooked for you (which was not something you really experienced in previous relationships) and showed you all the dishes he had asked ingredients for in the past. After a year together, he managed to talk you into ending your lease so you could move into his apartment, three floors above yours. Any and all warning bells were silent.

It was only in the third year of your relationship that things started going wrong. He became more interested in where you were going and who you were hanging out with. If you had told him you were going somewhere with a man, he'd insist on tagging along. Afterwards, when the two of you returned home, he'd tell you that the male friend was definitely into you and wanted to get into your pants. This was the case with any man that so much looked your way, and he used these explanations to justify telling you how to dress. If you wore anything too tight, you were a slut. If you wore anything too low-cut, you were a whore. If you so much looked at a man, you must have some form of feelings for them.

When these behaviors started, you had originally fought back. More often than not, there were screaming matches that led well into the night with the police being called multiple times by concerned neighbors. Each match ended with him tearfully apologizing to you, citing the stress of raiding and hunting as the source of his outburst. And, foolishly, you believed him each time and forgave him.

You started seeing your friends less and less, you dressed more modestly, and you never glanced at another person if you could help it. If neighbors came knocking on his door while you were the only one at home, you never answered. You tucked yourself away behind a shield of complacency, doing whatever you could to avoid those awful arguments. At night, or whenever he demanded, you let him have his way with you, allowing your body to be used as a toy. You didn't feel anything during those moments, because you realized rather quickly once things started deteriorating that he never took the time to learn how to pleasure you.

As time progressed and the relationship worsened, you became a shell of your former self. No longer did you hold the door open for people or say 'please' and 'thank you;' you barely spoke unless it couldn't be avoided. If you crossed a line, he would threaten you with his hunter-related abilities. More often than not you would find yourself sleeping on the couch, body trembling from pain due to the injuries he inflicted on you in a rage. It soon became apparent that your complacency was not enough to keep him happy; his accusations of your infidelity now ranged to include anyone you looked at, not just men. Even turtlenecks were no longer modest, and God forbid you wore anything but sweatpants. Your closet morphed from bright colors and flowy patterns to dull, drab grays and blacks. There had even been several occasions where he had appeared at your office when you weren't home at the time he expected you to be. He had been all smiles to strangers, but nothing but cruel and unforgiving at home.

But yet, you stayed. You knew that you wouldn't be able to afford to live elsewhere, since rent prices skyrocketed in your apartment building and your original unit had long been rented out. You barely saw your friends, the people who would've helped, as he never let you go out. Coworkers had made assumptions about your change in personality, chalking it up to a death in the family or mental health issues. After all, everyone has the occasional bad day, right?

Things came crashing down on a Thursday. The week itself had been relatively peaceful; he had not shouted at you, hit you, or done anything negative. In fact, he had been kinder than usual, once again giving you gifts and cooking homemade meals. The cycle of negativity had lasted so long that some part of you, buried deep-down, felt on edge by the sudden positivity. But, despite it all and despite his awful mistreatment of you, you decided to surprise him.

You knew that day he had no raids, so he'd be home. You had managed to get the okay to leave work early and stopped by a bakery on your way home to pick up some treats. They were artfully arranged in a box, and you took great care to ensure they'd remain intact on the metro.

You should've known something was off when your slippers were missing from the entryway. You chalked it up to misplacing them that morning, walking in socks through your apartment as a result. You should've known something was off when there were two cups set on the kitchen counter, one half-filled with a pale, fizzy liquid and the other empty. A frown fixated itself on your features as you continue through the abode, clutching the box tightly in your shaking hands.

Through some deep, well-woven denial despite the obvious hints, somehow, you still didn't think something was off when you stopped in front of the bedroom door. The faint thumping noises from within didn't register in your brain as you placed one hand on the handle, twisting it slowly, as if your subconscious was hoping to give whoever's inside a chance to cover up. With a deep breath, you swung the door open.

There he was, your boyfriend of four long, awful years, with some other woman on top of him, clearly naked. The box of pastries fell from your hands, landing on the ground with a thud.

He didn't even look shocked to see you, moreso annoyed that you had the audacity to interrupt his fun time. "You're home early," he had stated after a period of prolonged silence. The woman in his lap was looking at you over her shoulder, nervousness reflected in her gaze.

You had half-expected your initial response to be that complacency you often resorted to when he was angered, half-expected to let him get away with the exact act of infidelity he so often accused you of. But, to your surprise, it wasn't fear running through your veins at that moment: it was pure, unadulterated rage. Fiery hot spikes of anger had coursed from your toes to your arms to your brain, and all you were able to see in the moment was the color red.

"Are you kidding me?" you had asked, words incensed. Your fingertips had begun to itch with the urge to hit something. "I dealt with your bullshit for four fucking years, and this is how you repay me? By cheating on me after accusing me of being the cheater every day?"

His expression had turned from annoyance to irritation, and you were able to see the small jolts crackling along his skin. You had watched as he pushed the woman off of him, standing up from the bed in all his naked glory, his cock half-erect. "I put a roof over your head, you slut," he had spat at you.

You, once again, expected that usual feeling of fear to replace the wrath in your body as he stepped closer and closer to you. "It's crazy that you're calling me the slut when you're the cheater," you had responded, tone icy and cool. The fury in your veins only strengthened with his stupid double-standards coming into the light. At some point during your confrontation, the other woman had managed to slip away, unnoticed.

"It's not my fault I cheated," he snapped back. "You should be more entertaining in bed."

Something within you had broken at that moment. The resentment in your being had exploded, leaving behind volatile fireworks within your psyche. Some form of instinct took over as you lifted your left hand high before bringing it down, watching in awe as a blade made of compressed air sliced across your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend's body. You had faintly heard his screams, had watched as the part of his body that he loved the most -- his dick -- fell on the floor, detached from the rest of him, had watched as blood sprayed all over the front of his body as he fell to his knees, fumbling for his phone amongst the clothes on the floor.

You hadn't given him another word as you turned on your heel and left the apartment, officially single... and homeless.

You had managed to make it several blocks before finding yourself in front of the door to your friend's home, hands shaking and the vengeful feeling from before all but gone.

"What... what was that? How did I do that?" you had whispered to yourself before the world began to sway, and you collapsed.

He can't recall if that day had been particularly eventful before the news of your awakening -- and subsequent violent crime -- had shaken South Korea. He thinks that it wasn't that interesting if nothing comes to mind, but he also knows that big events such as that can overshadow even the most interesting days at work.

However, he can recall the conversation he had with Chairman Go Gunhee once your trial started; the Chairman had insisted that he talk to the judge and offer the Hunter's Association as a form of community service, since the public was so strongly in your favor. He remembers telling the Chairman that it didn't seem like a good idea, since, after all, you did commit a crime. The debate had lasted several hours, and Jinchul had returned home exhausted.

Genuinely, he remembers that he just couldn't understand the logic behind Go Gunhee's decision. Why would he want to recruit a potential criminal? Jinchul knew back then that most people who awakened by committing some form of crime tended to stick to the life of breaking the law, and he had sincerely doubted that you'd be an exception. Granted, he didn't know all the facts of your case (he wasn't one to stay caught up on national news if it seemed semi-irrelevant) but he thought he knew enough to form a solid opinion of you before you had even met him.

He remembers how his Teams app had gone off the next day when he was sitting behind his desk, filling out some paperwork in regards to the Double Dungeon that had popped up with only six survivors. He remembers that he felt annoyed, since he had gone out of his way to talk to Sung Jinwoo -- the last one to emerge from the double dungeon, a simple E-rank -- and he hadn't yielded any results. He remembers thinking how unusual this all was, the double dungeon and your awakening as an A-rank, as he checked his phone. The message had been from the Chairman himself, informing Jinchul that the judge of your trial had agreed with the Chairman's idea of putting you in the Hunter's Association as a form of community service.

"Also," the text had read, "you're going to mentor her. A-rank to A-rank. I know you disagreed with my idea to begin with, but I think it will do her a lot of good to learn how to control her abilities from one of the strongest A-rankers around."

The message had made his irritation spike, but he begrudgingly sent an affirmation in response. He wasn't one to go against the Chairman's orders, no matter how much he disagreed with them. It wasn't his place to disobey.

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The memories of those days leading up to the current one flash in Jinchul's head as he reads an internet summary about your court case. The secretary had informed him via text that you had arrived and were waiting in his office, so he decided that the best course of action would be to catch himself up on as much information as he could before he faced you in person.

He will admit that he was wrong about you originally; the article goes into detail about the abuse you suffered at the hands of your ex. It also mentions that the ex in question is undergoing another trial to address the countless cases of abuse you endured. It seems your lashing out wasn't unprovoked after all, he thinks to himself as he stops in front of the door to his office.

He raises his hand to knock, before deciding against it and turning the handle. He opens the door with a little extra force and lets the handle go, which creates a banging noise. He watches as you whip around, watches as the air-slash materializes in front of you and heads in his direction at a very high speed.

He feels the familiar tingle in the tips of his fingers as he makes a waving gesture, the air-slash dissipating, watches as the relief floods your previously-panicked gaze and as you collapse on the floor, hitting the wood with a thud.

Her ability usage is... rough at best, he notes mentally. Outwardly, there is no sign of what he's thinking; Jinchul prides himself on his pokerface. He lets you sit there for a few moments as he makes a show of straightening his suit, despite it being immaculate to begin with.

"Better?" he asks after a bit, watching you carefully with his violet gaze. He keeps his voice steady, determined to not give any tells about what he may think of you.

He can practically feel you scan him, can practically feel the gears in your head turning as you form an opinion of him based on his appearance. He can guess at what you're thinking -- that he's well put-together, clearly skilled at his job, used to this kind of thing. Unlike him, who keeps his emotions close to his chest, you're an open book. Jinchul makes another mental note of this too.

"Um, yes, thank you, sorry." Your voice is soft and shaky, clearly plagued by the panic you had felt earlier. He decides against offering you a hand up, wanting to see how you act without any assistance.

He strides over to the sofas, sitting on one and gesturing for you to sit on the other. "Sit." A simple command, but he's more interested in how long it will take you to gather yourself together from your spot on the floor, how long it will take you to break through the residual panic in your system before you move.

To his surprise, it doesn't take you very long at all. His eyes follow your figure as you stand up, wipe off your knees to remove residual dust, and walk over to sit down across from him. He holds your gaze when you make eye contact, and he finds that he can't tell what you're thinking in that moment. Odd, considering your heart was on your sleeve up until now.

His ears pick up on the sound of you taking a quick inhale right before you speak. "I'm really sorry about that. The door..." You seem to struggle to find the right words. "Startled me, and I don't have the best control ov--"

Jinchul holds up one finger to cut you off. He had heard apologies akin to yours countless times before, from other newly awakened individuals. From his personal experience, he thought the higher the level, the more natural the control over one's ability is. Usually those who were out-of-control were much lower ranks, like D or E. In other words, ranks too low to actually cause lasting damage. It'd been a while since there'd been a newly awakened with a rank above a C who was unable to manage their abilities. He figures you'll be a challenge of sorts, especially if your abilities vary wildly from his own tank moveset.

The words that leave his mouth next are entirely true. "Don't worry about it. I've dealt with worse." He shifts on the sofa, extending his arm and leaning forwards in your direction. "Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Woo Jinchul, and I'll be your... case worker, for lack of a better term."

He notices the confusion furrow your brows before you speak. "Case... worker?" Once again, he's unimpressed with how honest and emotional your words are. Maybe his expectations were too high -- you were an ordinary person before awakening, after all. Or maybe there's a newfound sense of freedom, since you're no longer shackled to that ex of yours; perhaps you're revelling in the way you can speak so openly, so emotionally.

His arm is starting to get the slightest bit tired, which would be unusual if he hadn't had a long day up until now. "I'll be the one overseeing your community service. I'm the Chief Investigator of the Hunter Association's Surveillance Team." When the confusion doesn't dissipate from your features, he finds himself briefly wondering just how much you knew about the world of hunters.

"So... that means...?"

Even ordinary people knew about the Surveillance Team and what they do, although maybe you can't be counted as ordinary due to circumstances beyond your control. He slowly lets his hand drop, deciding for the both of you that you won't be shaking it. "It means my team and I keep an eye on hunters and investigate raid-related incidents when necessary."

The nod you give him nearly has him breaking his pokerface from annoyance. A frown itches at the corners of his lips, desperate to be expressed. "I'm guessing I'll be helping you do that?" you ask.

"Eventually," he replies. The irritation coursing through his veins almost makes it a struggle to maintain a cool, calm facade. How could you be so slow? "Firstly, I'm going to help you control your abilities. Then we'll see about fieldwork." The way your body sags ever so slightly suggests that something about the conversation thus far has given you some relief. Relief from what, Jinchul has no idea, but relief nonetheless.

"That's good, at least." Nothing could've prepared him for the words that leave your mouth next. "Maybe this way I won't accidentally kill someone for opening a door loudly."

He's caught so off-guard that he doesn't respond for quite a while, not exactly knowing how to. He knows that the longer the silence stretches, the worse the tension will become. The slightest stiffening in your shoulders indicates that you're also aware of the tension in the room.

Deciding not to give the joke any more thought, Jinchul lets out what he thinks is an inaudible sigh. "I look forward to working with you, Ms. Sun."

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Mere minutes after you had left his office, the Chairman of the Hunter's Association took the time to personally seek out Jinchul. Clearly, Go Gunhee's aware of what's happening in Headquarters at all times.

"So," the chairman asks, making himself comfortable in the same spot you had been sitting in moments before. His hands are clasped in front of him. "What are your thoughts on the newest member of your team?" There's a thread of curiosity laced in Chairman Go's deep voice, making Jinchul think of schoolgirls who are excited to gossip after something big happens.

Unlike the Chairman's more relaxed demeanor, the Chief Investigator is standing in front of the sofa where he was previously seated, hands behind his back. "She's... emotional," he says after a few seconds of silence between the first and second word. It's the nicest way he can phrase his otherwise negative opinion of the individual. "I opened the door without warning and her instinctual response was to try and kill me with an air-blade of sorts."

To Jinchul's surprise, Go Gunhee lets out a hearty chuckle. "Oh, Jinchul," he says, his tone full of platonic affection for an employee. "You make it sound like having emotions is a bad thing."

"Respectfully, Chairman," the blonde begins. "It can be. How can I expect a subordinate to be unbiased in investigations if they let their emotions guide them?"

"You aren't even giving her a chance," Gunhee points out drily.

Jinchul sighs. "I'm not sure I want to give someone who tried to kill me a chance at all, sir."

The Chairman pauses, lowering his head ever so slightly so that his eyes are out of Jinchul's point of view. The younger man can practically hear the gears turning in the older man's head. "I think you're forgetting that she has no control over her abilities," the elder says at last. "You're holding her at fault for something she most likely regrets. It'd be wise to remember that she has... a troubled history, for lack of a better way of saying it."

He knows it's not intentional, but the Chairman's words sting Jinchul. The blonde man scolds himself internally -- how could he have forgotten about that miserable business with your ex? -- before unclasping his hands to straighten his suit jacket. "You're right, sir," he responds. "I think I've been holding her to the same standard I hold myself." That doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on her, though.

Go Gunhee makes a show of slapping his knees before standing up, as if the effort of doing so is immense. "I trust you'll come up with a suitable plan to help her control her abilities." He walks around the coffee table, clapping a heavy hand on Jinchul's shoulders. The blonde doesn't flinch or bend under the weight. "I'd like to see it when you have it done, if you don't mind. She's scheduled to start next week."

"Understood, sir." The younger man's violet gaze follows the older man's form as he strides to the door of the office with confidence, waving briefly at the other before exiting the office.

Jinchul feels several bits of tension leave his body all at once. He was, perhaps, too honest with the Chairman; it might've saved him some future effort to lie about his thoughts on you, but he also knows that the result would've been the same. Besides, he prides himself on being honest and detached, something Go Gunhee values immensely given Jinchul's role of Chief Investigator.

He thinks the Chairman is right in one aspect: he had been too harsh in his initial opinion of you. However, he is still a human at heart, and humans tend to take things personally despite evidence that may prove it wasn't intentional.

All Jinchul knows, in that moment, is that training you is going to be a lot of work.