#tsarkiller

There’s a part of him, quite a big part, that’s resentful of the entire situation. No one had told him that Ms Kang was being replaced, and it felt a little like a punch in the gut to be informed when Mujin distractedly ordered him to deliver the new lawyer some papers. It’s not his place to argue, not necessarily his position to be kept informed of choices like that, but he was still number three, he was still in charge of knowing what went on within the organisation.

It’s that resentment that’s hardening his face when he gets to the office door, raps his knuckles on it, and then pushes it open. The office was quite clearly in the throes of being rearranged, Ms Kang’s careful anonymity in the process of being stripped away and replaced with what looked like some very expensive furniture, his eyes land first on an art deco lamp that’s yet to be plugged in, then several boxes of discarded decor he recognised from his many meetings with Dongcheon’s previous legal mind.

Finally, his gaze finds him, and Taeju is secretly relieved that he had developed, very early on, a truly astounding poker face. This was not what he had expected, not at all. He keeps his gaze locked on the lawyer’s face, resisting the urge to study the broad lines of his shoulders, or stare at his long legs. He doesn’t even allow himself to truly drink in the high cheekbones and curve of sculpted jaw. He’d finally dug himself out of a workplace infatuation, he wasn’t going to fall head over heels for another man the moment he laid eyes on him. Taeju flashes the briefest, tightest of polite smiles, and nods his head.