#yunnki

Skin: Do you tan easily?

#ERROR 404 { previously-answered: You will now be redirect here; }

Windpipe: Do you sing?

#ERROR 404 { previously-answered: You will now be redirect here; }

Wrists: Have you ever broken a bone?

#ERROR 404 { previously-answered: You will now be redirect here; }

Stomach: Do you feel confident in your body image?

a masterlist of prompts and sentence starters (x)

give alise a pencil and paper and she could write a professional essay in under an hour, give her a simple task as painless as putting books on shelf and, well— the outcome was anything but perfect. it wasn’t wholly because she was lousy at alphabetizing, or organizing, or whatever she was doing, it was a matter of how tedious it became. then again, she didn’t see reason in trying to make it perfect because the bookshop wasn’t itself: small, plain, the complete opposite of orderly— hence currently trying the find a place for books on the crowded shelves. twenty minutes into it and she was already rethinking her life choices. especially this one when she thought it’d be a brilliant idea to volunteer at his bookshop. though, not entirely voluntary. the time spent went into her community service hours, so she couldn’t gripe like she wanted to. but still, it was free labor for him. free. alise still couldn’t wrap her head around that one, and that certainly didn’t stop her completely from fussing.

mumbles of random complaints was the only voice that filled the tiny space, not that she assumed he’d even try to acknowledge them, let alone her. running out of space on the shelf she was working on, she reached up to fit the book on the shelf above it. and alise could have sworn the last time she checked she was just shy of six feet, so why in the world was she having trouble reaching the top shelf?

feet perched up on the lowest shelf, eyes meeting with the edge of the uppermost, alise was sure now that this obviously wasn’t a place to shelve, but there was no where else to put the books and she hated the fact that he just let them be on the dingy carpet. besides, he’d had his back to her the entire time, he probably wouldn’t even notice. nonetheless, before alise could even get the book up there, the shelf she hung onto gave out and the left side fell, the items following, some plunging to the ground beneath her. she closed her eyes and waited, surely that caught his attention.

"What did you do this time?" 

dear detective kim,

I need your help. 

I hope that you don’t mind the sudden letter, but I received your address from a connection and was told you could provide some sort of help, if not information, for my situation. The letter, I assume, has to be short since I would only continue writing without the proper mindset and would probably end up childishly revealing far too much information than you need.

The basic issue is that there’s someone I’ve been looking for for a while, someone that I haven’t heard from for a long time and regardless of the lack of information that I have on her, I hope that you can try to help me in any way that you can.

I’m desperate, Mr. Kim and I have no one to turn to that could be of any use to me but you, or so it seems that way.

Money is no issue and the amount of time it would take for you to help me or even reply to this is no issue, or at least I presume that it isn’t on my end.

If you need a number to contact me instead of writing me back in the form of a letter, my number and email address are listed below. I hope to hear from you soon.

[email protected] 02-776-4853

It wasn’t the least bit uncommon for the consulting detective to receive business inquiries though mail. Majority of the time, most of his cases were private consultations that reach out to him unless he was brought on as a police consultant for the Seoul Metropolitan Police Agency. So if a prospective client(s) were in need of his unique services they would correspond with him via electronically (e-mails and messengers) or physically (in person or mail). Yet, in his present case, this person in particular opted to choose the latter. All for the sake of concealment and privacy, he could imagine.

Woobin was soon able to determine the general nature of this prospective client’s case offer. Judging by the few bits of information he was provided with from the letter’s contents, it appeared to be a missing person’s case. However, they were never as simple as that as they first appeared. Though that only fueled his interest in cases like these further.

When a case like this turns cold, one of two things could have occurred. One, being the most obvious, that the police who were handling the investigation were complete imbeciles. Second being there weren’t enough solid leads to investigate; meaning the handler failed to look into the details in order to connect the dots. Regardless of how it ended up cold, it is a cold case no less which means he has his work cut out for him.

Reaching for his laptop, he pulled out his outlook and began typing up an e-mail response. He could have just as easily called this Yoon Kijoon, but it was late and he didn't want to disturb the other in case he was sleeping. He wasn't always courteous like this, but sleep is a luxury he knew to appreciate.

Date: 10 JANUARY 2015 To: Yoon Kijoon <[email protected]> From: Kim Woobin <[email protected]> Subject: Re: I need your help.

DEAR YOON KIJOON,

I have received your letter and am further contacting you to inquire a meeting. In order for me to see just how I may be of service to you — if I may be of service to you — you would need to come and see me for a consultation.

DATE AND TIME: At your earliest convenience LOCATION: Room #221, Cheonguk Apartments, Hongdae

I look forward to your response.

dear kikwang,

It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Ace of Spades? Did you miss the wonderful banter and loud, melodious voice that I provided you with everyday for two months? I bet you have, ‘cause I sure missed your stupid video games and rancid messes. Does everyone still think the nerdy IT kid is too good looking for it to be fair?

Alright, aside from the nostalgia of things I’ve completely made up in my head, I’m hoping that you’re still a driver. I need you to drive me in a couple hours. A couple being 12-ish hours. Maybe. Maybe more. Point is, I need you to help me for the night.

There’s no one I can trust enough to be drunk around and you’re as close to “trusting” as trusting gets for me. Just call me Kijoon in public and don’t talk to me like I’m some sort of police officer. I quit that for now, but I’ll get back probably, just not now.

Do that and I’ll try to shut up about your agency business. I’ll have cash in my pockets so just grab what you need and I’ll put the address of the pick-up location under this.

Yongsan-gu, Itaewon-dong 118-23.

Keep your head down and stay in the car and the foreigners probably won’t talk to you, no problem. I’ll tell you the directions to the place I need to be dropped of when you pick me up. Maybe. If I start talking nonsense I’ve got the address on my phone.

Don’t flake out on me, Leeki, I’ll see you then.

‘Who sends messages like these anymore?’ he silently thought after reading the letter. Kikwang had to admit, this wouldn’t be the first method of communication he would choose to hire himself for his non-official cover job. However, knowing the other as well as he did, he understood why he did what he did. If Kijoon wanted to keep this off the records, there wouldn’t be a paper trail linking both of them together if someone were to track via online. It was quite ingenious actually and he had to commend him for that.

Placing the open letter on the tea table, Kikwang looked at his watch before letting out a sigh. The only information he had was the pick up location and that money was ensured. Other than that, he wasn’t sure when exactly Kijoon needed him by so it left him wondering when he should head out for the job.

                       ❝ Yongsan-gu, Itaewon-dong 118-23, ❞ he repeated out loud                            to remember. ❝ I guess I should be heading out soon then. ❞

( sms : ace williams ) nah, but i should probably go there before she comes, i left sunja there.

( sms : ace williams ) did you tell her about the dog—

( sms : ace williams ) wait who is it? 

( sms: kijoon )           riiight... sunja. i forgot. gonna                                     text her about it.

icebreakers i

Curious eyes rested on the curve of the girl’s nose, his interest soon directed towards the sense of disbelieving amusement he felt in her tone, and saw in her eyes.

To lie was a second nature for Kijoon. A flow of fictitious lines and tall—no, soaring tales spilled from his mouth the second it was opened. But he wouldn’t describe himself as a liar, he was merely a good storyteller. A great one, in fact. He (as he told himself) captured the interest and the hearts of anyone willing to listen. His fingers, voice, tongue, they controlled them. With each turn in the story, each pull in the book. They were his puppets, and Kijoon felt that he should delight in the thought. 

But there was always the inevitable. The skeptics that poked holes at his stories with the thoughts that they were higher than him, all knowing. He hated them. Hated the way they looked at him, the way they squinted as he spoke, as if doing so would show them the truth behind his words. 

He labelled the girl as someone that he should disregard and Kijoon was on the edge of doing just that until he took another glance at her features. She was familiar. He didn’t know where or from when, but he had often seen her face before. When he finally pieced the puzzle together, he was—for a lack of a better word—starstruck. So much so that he paused in the middle of his sentence and turned his frame towards the girl. 

"And what are you doing in a low class place such as this?” Kijoon spoke with a practiced curve at the corner of his mouth, his body intentionally now leaned closer to the girl. “Surely this isn’t the place for you, nor is it the place for you to be eavesdropping on my stories, don’t you think?” 

His brows raised in a seemingly amused state, and something inside him wished that he could feel more than just indifference upon seeing an idol. It pulled at him, and at this point he didn’t bother to pull back. Instead, he cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, though, if it is you, that is. Faces mesh together when you’ve been in this part of the city long enough. I may just be going crazy.” 

Her words left her mouth before she had a moment to rethink her actions. She didn't even know who the man was, nor did she really care to find out. Gayoon just had a habit of calling people out when they needed to be. Just so happened this stranger needed just that. It seemed top have made no difference to him. Like her words hit a barricade before they could hit him. The small idol tightened her grip on the jacket that one of her members suggested for her to take before leaving the practice room. Undoubtedly, the lather didn't seem to care much for her words or her presence. 

At the sight of him preparing to exit, she took it as her queue to leave as well. The next few moments caught her off guard. Especially for a man who seemed like he wouldn't portray such curiosity. At the sudden semi-interrogation Gayoon blinked a few times. The closeness of the other made the woman clear her throat quietly to herself as if to make him aware at the intrusion without being rude. 

                                                                                                     ► It chimed.

She walked inside of the bookshop with quiet footsteps, the way she used to when she was little. Because her mother would be sure to tell her to never run when entering the library they had in the mansion. Books are sacred, they hold more information than any creature's mind can. Be it in fictional stories, or in the one meant to retell history, so that people would learn from it, or just get some sort of knowledge out of the past doings. Books held everything within thick or thin pages, worn out or so new that it tickled her nose.

So being quiet while walking inside, was a mean to respect those words, a mean to respect what her mother deemed worthy of it. Even if a library and a bookshop were entirely different to her, proof was that she had to stop some noises from reaching her ears the moment she ventured further inside. Because a library required silence the way her mother's tongue told her to, but a bookshop only required to not damage the goods.

Books were being sold here, rather than admired. Rather than devoured on the spot, they had to wait to be read. There was a beauty in that too, so that it didn't really bother her. Once she got used to it at least, it stopped bothering her and she stopped avoiding them. Although she still favored libraries, for the way the book smelled was ancient and alluringly so, than the way they did in bookshops.

Although some of them did still have a hold of the oldest manuscripts written, as a mean to sell them or not, it didn't matter, Because once her sense caught it she knew this was what she'd get. She wasn't even sure how it found its way here, but with her strong sense of smell she would always catch the oldest ones of the bunch and then take her pick from that collection, because she was not here for new books. She had no use of new books, she wanted the ones that had fingers imprinted on them. Ones that hundreds or thousands of eyes had skimmed through, eaten alive. One that almost got wrinkled yet those wrinkles only served to show the straight lines of a story that had been worthy to read hundreds or thousands of times.

It was a Brothers Grimm's fairy tale.

It was not thick, because it only contained one of their stories, but there it was in her hands and she brought it up to her nose, taking a sniff out of it. It just gently spread her lips around a content smile. Like one of those substances that humans thought made them reach the highest of peaks, when they had the natural kind right under their noses. Such a shame that they were all so very limited on resources.

The saying the more the merrier did not apply to this, the less people knew about this, the better it was for those who knew of it. For they had more to rejoice on, and did not have to share it with the billions of other beings inhabiting this planet.

"How much for his one?"