i'll change this later tbh

Namjoon was torn between feeling grateful to have everything off his chest, and completely embarrassed to have told Jiyong everything. What if Jiyong didn’t feel the same? If he didn’t, it was likely that their friendship would be ruined forever. It was already too late, though; Jiyong knew now. He was desperate for some sort of reply from the man, but at the same time he never wanted to know what Jiyong had to say about it. Somehow he felt as if things would almost be easier if they both pretended this hadn’t happened.

But just as the thought crossed his mind, Jiyong whispered his name, and a second later his body went completely slack, hand dropping from Namjoon’s own to fall at his side. It took a few seconds for Namjoon to realise what was happening, before any rational thoughts he had left his mind all at once. “Jiyong!” he all but screamed, taking his hand again and gripping it tight. “Dammit, Jiyong, don’t do this! Fuck!” Pressing two fingers to Jiyong’s wrist, Namjoon felt for any sign of a heartbeat, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it was still there.

Not wanting to waste any time, Namjoon picked Jiyong up, carrying him carefully out the front door and into the car. He placed him in the passenger seat, trying to make sure he wasn’t putting too much pressure on his shoulder before putting on his seatbelt. “Stay there, sunshine, I’ll be right back,” he told him, as if Jiyong could actually hear him. Heading back inside the house, Namjoon approached the intruder, still unconscious on the floor. He quickly searched him, not finding much in the way of identification but also not really expecting to find any. He had a poorly made fake ID, but it would be enough to track him down later. Pocketing it, Namjoon grabbed both of his ankles, pulling him out the front door that way and depositing him onto the lawn. “I guess we’ll see in a few weeks how much you like havin’ a hitman sent after you,” he muttered.

Locking the front door, Namjoon raced back to the car, quickly getting in and taking off. The nearest hospital was just down the road, but it felt like forever to Namjoon. He kept looking over at Jiyong, watching how much his shoulder bled, and hoping he could still be saved. Rushing him into the emergency room was easy enough, with Namjoon yelling at the top of his voice getting just about everyone’s attention. Jiyong was quickly taken by a few doctors, and although Namjoon didn’t appreciate being separated from him, he was forced to stay back and fill out paperwork while they waited for the doctors to patch up Jiyong.

It felt like years passed until he finally got word back from someone, only to be told that– it wasn’t serious. At all. He had lost blood, but he had only passed out so quickly because of a lack of nourishment. The bullet had gone all the way through, so there was nothing to take out and the damage was minimal. Anything Jiyong had said that implied that he was dying was, as the doctor put it, Jiyong being a drama queen.

So, a few hours later, Namjoon sat in the room with Jiyong, impatiently tapping one foot and huffing every so often. “Kwon Jiyong,” Namjoon breathed. “You better be fuckin’ prepared when you wake up, boy, because you are going to die.”

When Yang woke up, all he could hear was the steady beat of his heart monitor.

His shoulder was bandaged up, and all he could think about was his tattoo. It was going to have a big, ugly scar in it, and he hated the idea of that. An irritated huff passed his lips, and he reached his hand up to rub his eyes. He was exhausted. His entire body felt heavy, and all he wanted was Namjoon.

Namjoon.

Yang sat upright quickly, but immediately regretted it. “Fuck, ow,” he moaned, resting his hand on his forehead. It was only then that Namjoon’s words registered with him. He cleared his throat, glancing over at the other man. If anything, Namjoon looked more tired than Yang felt. He didn’t know how long he had been here, but he was sure that Namjoon had been by his side the entire time.

“You can’t kill me. I’m injured. My arm almost fell off,” Yang whined, jutting out his lower lip in a pout as he looked at Namjoon. Truthfully, he felt terrible. He’d worried Namjoon so much… and he’d made him think he was actually dying. But in his defense, he thought, he had thought he was doing a good job of over-exaggerating.

He scooted over in bed, patting the spot next to him. “C’mere. As long as you ain’t gonna reach over and strangle me as soon as you sit down,” he grinned. He didn’t want to have this conversation. He didn’t want Namjoon to be upset with him, though he knew that he deserved it. Namjoon was the sweetest human being Yang had ever met, and to see him put through that much stress…. Yang hated it.

Honestly, Namjoon wasn’t sure what compelled him to actually try and take out the intruder himself, but now that he had done it, he was glad. Fighting was one thing that Namjoon had never ever been good at, but he supposed it didn’t take much skill to throw an object at someone, and having porcelain forcefully broken over the head would knock anyone out. He just wanted Jiyong to be safe, and he would’ve done anything to make sure that he was.

But it seemed Jiyong wasn’t quite out of the woods yet. He was still injured, and the wound looked quite bad. Jiyong was losing quite a bit of blood, and Namjoon honestly wasn’t sure how much he could even lose before he lost too much. There was just so much blood. At Jiyong’s words, though, Namjoon felt his heart stop. He grabbed at the hand that Jiyong put to his forehead, wanting to hold him and be as close to him as he could. “N-No, no, Jiyong, please, don’t,” Namjoon stuttered.

A million thoughts were running through Namjoon’s mind – was Jiyong really going to die here? They had so much left to do together, he couldn’t die. Jiyong’s words though, caught him off guard. Profess his undying love? Is that what he should be doing? Namjoon had never thought his last words to Jiyong would be telling him that he loved him. Undying, though? Well, Namjoon definitely couldn’t imagine spending a minute of his life not completely in love with Jiyong. “Profess my…?” he whispered, more so to himself than to Jiyong.

There wasn’t a better time than now – or rather, there wouldn’t be. Jiyong could die right now, and he would never know. The thought itself brought more tears to his eyes. “S-Sorry, I shouldn’t be wasting time,” he began. The more he thought about what he was going to say, the more he got choked up. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he didn’t say everything he wanted to? Namjoon wasn’t sure he could live with himself. “I, uh, I’ve always loved you. Like, always. I don’t even fuckin’ know what I would do without you, man, I fuckin’ need you.”

This was already turning out to be probably the worst love confession out there, but by the time Namjoon thought about it, he was already too swept up in the moment to really care. “Fuck, you know, I don’t even know how long I’ve loved you. A long ass time. Since I saw you first? Man, I don’t know.” At that, Namjoon all but lost it, burying his face into Jiyong’s chest as he cried. “Please don’t go, Jiyong. I can’t live without you. I– I was happy in America, I didn’t want to leave. but I knew I couldn’t stay because I could never be away from you. I want to be where you are. I love you so, so much. You are everything to me. You’re m-my– my other half. Please, please, stay with me, Jiyong.”

Yang was fighting to cling to consciousness. He wanted to faint, but he didn’t want to leave Namjoon to deal with him on his own. But Namjoon grabbing his hand pulled him back to real life. Was this really happening? Was Namjoon really thinking that he was going to die? Yang’s heart clenched. He felt like an asshole for letting this continue - but God, his curiosity was getting the better of him.

He seemed to be taking Yang’s comment about professing his love seriously, which was only making his heart race. He had to be awake for this. But his heart ached. Namjoon was taking this so much more seriously than he needed to, and Yang felt terrible for it. And he opened his mouth to speak, but Namjoon beat him to it.

The moment Yang heard I’ve always loved you, he immediately fell silent. He could feel tears gathering in the corner of his eyes. He could’ve meant just as friends, of course - they were the best of friends, and always had been. Namjoon was, in all instances of the word, his soulmate. He would be completely, utterly lost without Namjoon.

Yang blinked hard, darkness growing at the corners of his vision. He was losing blood - not a lot, but more blood than he was used to losing. And he hadn’t eaten properly that day, and his body was definitely letting him know it. It was wanting to shut down for a little while, let him recover, but he didn’t want to. Not now. He couldn’t leave Namjoon like this.

“Namjoon,” Yang whispered, reaching a hand up to touch Namjoon’s cheek. His hand trembled slightly, and he could feel himself growing clammy. He hated the feeling of passing out, and he especially hated it now. His lower lip trembled. Namjoon, I love you too. I always have, and I always will. My soulmate. He wanted so badly to speak, but he couldn’t find the strength in his lips.

Namjoon could count the amount of times he had been woken up by a frantic Jiyong in the middle of the night on one hand, and last time it had happened, Namjoon had dropped everything to move all the way across the world with Jiyong. Suffice to say, he never took it lightly when this happened, and Namjoon was up and moving in just a few seconds. Bunny slippers half falling off his feet, Namjoon bolted from his room, hoping to catch up to Jiyong before anything happened. Truthfully, he hadn’t heard anything that made him suspicious, but he trusted Jiyong. If he was on-edge, there was likely a very good reason for it.

He was nearing the stairs when the sound of a gunshot made Namjoon stop dead in his tracks, his heart pounding in his chest. It was dark, but Namjoon could make out two figures downstairs, and he prayed the one on the ground wasn’t Jiyong. Picking up his pace, he descended the stairs as quickly as he could, trying to hold back tears as he did so. Please don’t let Jiyong be dead, please don’t let Jiyong be dead.

Upon realising that Jiyong was, in fact, the one on the floor, Namjoon ran past him, not stopping to check and make sure he was still alive. As much as he wanted to, this intruder needed to be disposed of as quickly as possible. If Jiyong was still alive, which it sounded like he was if the complaints about ruining his tattoo were any indication, then he needed to be somewhere safe, and this intruder needed to go. All but launching himself into the living room, Namjoon grabbed the nearest thing that could possibly be a weapon – of course it would be one of his favourite figurines. He tried not to mourn the incoming loss of his prized porcelain Naruto figurine, but it wasn’t as if he couldn’t get another one. Jiyong was irreplaceable.

With as much strength as he could muster, Namjoon hurled the figurine at the intruder, a yell leaving his lips as he did so. He watched with satisfaction as the man crumpled to the ground, though seeing his Naruto figurine shatter to pieces broke his heart more than he would’ve liked to admit. “Believe it, motherfucker,” he snickered. Any amusement, though, was gone the second he looked over at Jiyong, and Namjoon rushed to his side, pulling the man into his arms. “God, fuck, Jiyong—are you okay? Fuck.”

It was probably a bad thing to ask, since Jiyong could only be so okay with a bullet in his shoulder. “I don’t even know how to take care of a bullet wound, damn. We should—we should get you to a hospital,” he stuttered, voice brittle. He was vaguely aware of tears streaming down his face, and only made small attempts at wiping them away. “Are you gonna be okay to move? I can, uh, shit, I should call an ambulance. Just stay awake, sunshine, please.” 

Yang could hardly focus past the pain - but he could focus on the fact that Namjoon’s finishing words were ‘believe it, motherfucker.’ He burst into uproarious laughter, which only lasted for a moment as every minute movement sent another wave of pain through his shoulder.

“God dammit, Namjoon, I love you,” he muttered, still grinning. Namjoon truly was something else, he thought. He still couldn’t believe that this sweet, furthest-from-violent boy had actually taken out the guy who had broken into their house. Namjoon was the last person that he had expected to do so.

He allowed himself to be pulled into Namjoon’s arms, and this was where the theatrics began. He was always something of a sarcastic man, and today, he wanted to put his acting skills to the test. “Nam…joon…,” he whispered, putting on the deepest rattle that he possibly could. He forced a cough, which he immediately regretted. His wince against the pain was real.

Yang’s eyes rolled back slightly. “The light… is calling to me. Darkness… is getting closer… I can’t… see….” Dramatically, he rested a hand on his forehead, eyes fluttering shut. It was taking all of his effort not to burst into laughter, but the nagging wound on his shoulder was definitely helping that.

A stab of pain made him grimace, and he truly was starting to feel faint, but not quite as much as he was letting on. He gripped his shoulder dramatically, and his head lolled back. “Isn’t this… when you should be… professing your undying love to me…?” he asked, a few coughs punctuating his words.  

Jinki took his phone from his jacket pocket, huffing as the screen refused to come on. Figures he would have to replace his phone again; this was probably the third time this month. Not that he ever used the thing much for anything besides work and to occupy himself so strangers in public wouldn’t talk to him. Jinki absolutely hated the idea of having to actually go out to get a new one, but he figured the leader of Isanghan wouldn’t care too much for having no way to reach Jinki to give him his assignments.

The sound of footsteps on grass caught Jinki’s attention, but it wasn’t soon enough for Jinki to avoid being seen. So, of course, here he was, faced with his target – fussing at him for using the pool? “E-Excuse me?” Jinki blanched, expecting anything but what Kwon Yang had just said. He was mad about Jinki falling in his pool? He would’ve thought the fact that he was in his backyard would have made him more angry. Although, Jinki couldn’t deny the fact that this dumbass being mad at him over falling in his pool irritated him quite a bit. “You think I’m here for the pool? I’m here for you, dumbass. You just happen to be the only person in this entire world that decided having your pool right up close to your fence was a good idea,” Jinki huffed. He was probably losing his temper a bit too much, but after the night he’d had, he didn’t particularly care. This man would be dead in a few minutes anyway, so it didn’t really matter if he got an earful right now.

Brushing his dripping wet hair out of his face, Jinki unclipped his gun from his belt, pointing it at Yang. “Okay, listen. Do you know who I am? Anyone who’s into shit like you are should at least know what your enemy looks like. In case you still can’t figure it out, I’ll give you a hint: I was hired and sent here to kill you. Someone wants you dead and I’m being paid pretty good money to give my client what he wants.” From how he had been described to Jinki, Yang seemed like the kind of person to be intimidated by a gun to his head, so Jinki just hoped he really would be.

It wasn’t part of his assignment, but the client had expressed interest in seizing Kwon Yang’s computer equipment to be looked at, so maybe they could undo whatever it was that this man had done to piss them off in the first place. There would be no additional reward, and although Jinki hated the kind of people he worked with and the people who hired them, Jinki always felt an extra sense of purpose when surpassing the expectations of a client. It was the only thing holding Jinki back from putting a bullet through Yang’s head right then; the man was going to hand over his computer equipment himself.

“So this is how this is going to work, Kwon Yang,” Jinki started, trying not to think about how him being completely soaking wet was detracting from his overall intimidation. “You’re going to turn around and walk right back into your house. You’re going to gather every piece of electronic equipment you use to do whatever the hell it is you do, and you’re going to put it all in one place. Do it right, and you’ll die a completely painless death. Pull anything funny, and I’ll make every last second of your life complete agony until you beg me to kill you.”

Monsieur was still barking his head off in the house, and Yang hoped that it wouldn’t wake the neighbors. Focusing more on Monsieur than the man in front of him, he didn’t pay much attention to what was being said to him. It wasn’t until he saw the gun pointed at him that he realized the gravity of the situation. His eyes widened a fraction, staring down the barrel of the gun. He couldn’t lie - he was getting scared. He hadn’t been held at gunpoint since he was a teenager. This was all too similar to what had happened before - except, of course, this man looked like a drowned puppy.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I know this is supposed to be real serious and all, but you look like a wet dog… and kinda smell like one too,” Yang said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I mean, I get what you’re goin’ for. Someone sent you to kill me, and take all my shit ‘cause of what I do for Doksa, and you’re gonna get a shit ton of money for it, whatever. But like– I’m so sorry, dude, but I can’t take you seriously.” He erupted into laughter, wiping a stray tear from the corner of his eye.

But he felt bad for the guy. He looked sweet. He had a baby face, Yang thought. He couldn’t have been older than Yang. He looked maybe 20 at most. He had a job to do, and honestly, Yang wouldn’t really have minded if he did it. But he didn’t want to leave Monsieur on his own. “Hold on, let me get you a towel. You can dry off, and I swear, man, I’ll let you do all this all over again. ‘Cause it’s not really fair that you gotta try and intimidate me when you kinda just… look like a puppy. Hold on, like, two seconds. Just, uh, if my dog runs out here, please don’t shoot him. He’s a good little guy.” He held a finger up at the man and hurried back into his house, shutting the door quickly behind him - but not before Monsieur raced out.

The dog had probably jumped up on the intruder by now. Not that he would do any damage, of course - he was probably trying to lick the man to death. Yang grabbed the fluffiest towel that he could find. He felt bad for the kid. It was hard to be so deep in gang activity at that age, and he was a pretty small guy. He couldn’t imagine how hard this was for him. And being a hitman? Yang had to give him credit - he was tough.

It was a full hour later that the staff had finally given up on making the store presentable. Taeyeon had given help where necessary, but she later found out that the establishment had been largely instructed to close shop for the day as soon as they could and let it be cleaned up outside of business hours. Upon hearing that, Taeyeon had offered to leave, but the barista behind the counter insisted that they were still open for a little while, so Taeyeon was quite welcome to stay. She was still sitting in the same spot by the window, checking in on one of her target stores and contentedly drinking her coffee.

She hardly even noticed as another man walked in, glancing up once she heard conversation being made between him and the barista, but quickly turned her attention back to the surveillance camera feed she was watching. Some of her men were collecting the money for her services, and though it always went well with this particular store, Taeyeon always liked to keep an eye on things. It was just as her men were about to leave the store that she was approached, noting out of the corner of her eye that it was the same man that had walked in not too long ago. He hadn’t ordered anything, just questioned the barista in a very concise, purposeful manner, which likely meant he was a—

Police officer.

Great.

Kim Jaewook. That was a name to turn over to the hackers. If this man was going to be a bother, then he needed to be taken out. Of course, Taeyeon wasn’t about to make any rash decisions without first observing the man. Any immediate hostility towards him would point his suspicion right in her direction. “Oh, hello, officer,” she greeted, locking her phone and setting it down on the table in front of her. “Of course, have a seat.” Not that Jaewook probably needed to be told, but Taeyeon wasn’t about to drop her role of being the one to give the orders just because she was faced with a police officer.

At his question, Taeyeon shook her head. “No, I was not. I entered just as the attackers were leaving. It was a group of men, all with masks on and wearing black suits. Nothing stood out,” she spoke, not even worrying that she was using informal language with him. If he wanted her respect, he would have to earn it first. She didn’t particularly dislike the police, since they were only doing their jobs, but that didn’t mean it was any less irritating when they got in her way. It had been years since she started doing what she did, and still the Uijin police had no information on her; they didn’t know her name or her face, and they could only guess that she was female because not many men would parade around under the name Amourette. Her men would be switched, as per their normal rotation, so giving this officer the information regarding their attire meant nothing. Come next assignment she gave them, they likely wouldn’t even be in uniform, and Taeyeon always liked dressing them up in typical outfits bearing symbolism of gangs she had no involvement in – just to throw the police off a bit.

Standing up from her chair, Taeyeon walked over to throw her now empty coffee mug away, then returned to the table to retrieve her phone. One of her men had contacted her, realizing that she was with a police officer and was most likely worried, but she didn’t answer. Taeyeon knew exactly what she was doing. “I was just about to walk to the mall. Today’s my day off and I have yet to do anything for myself. Walk with me?” It was more of an order than a question or offer, and Taeyeon walked out of the coffee shop without giving the officer much time to protest. “Have you been looking into all the attacks around here? I heard you recently moved to Uijin, so you’re likely not aware that this area is plagued constantly by attacks like that. The police largely concluded that they are not connected, but it may be still worth looking into, if you’re interested.”

The first thing that Jaewook noticed about the girl was that she was painfully informal. He wasn’t used to being talked to in such an informal manner. He was a police - hell, the chief of police - and yet this girl was acting as if she was talking to a friend. It rubbed him every way but the right one. But he brushed it off. He had to get information out of her, no matter how frustrating she was being.

He pushed past her tone to listen to what she was saying. But she was no help whatsoever. Her details were vague. Men with masks and suits could have been anyone. His first thought was Doksa, but with nothing more than that to go from, he couldn’t say for sure. And frankly, it was infuriating. The girl didn’t stop talking, but none of it was information that he needed. Even still, he scribbled down ‘men with masks and suits’ in his notebook - not that it would probably be of any help to him.

Jaewook glanced at her as she rose from her seat in mid-conversation. This girl really was something else. He’d expected to have every bit of her attention, but she seemed to think that this encounter with a cop was a mere blip on her radar for the day. He couldn’t tell if that made him less suspicious or more, but he was leaning more towards the latter. She’d obviously run into cops before. He knew what people did when they hadn’t - they stuttered, made themselves look guilty even if they weren’t. But this girl was doing the exact opposite.

“I– erm, sure,” he said, not truly feeling as if he had a choice in the matter. After all, he wanted more information from her, and nothing in the world was going to convince him that she wasn’t connected to all of this. She had her hands in it - he just had to figure out how. He jumped from his seat to follow the girl out of the coffee shop, making a mental note to write more about the conversation in his notebook. Maybe these were more clues than he was really reading into.

“Take out Kwon Yang. Should be in his house this time of night. Here’s the address.”

Jinki ended the call with the press of a button, sighing as he deposited his phone back in his jacket pocket. This was to be his third hit of the night, which wasn’t abnormal, but Jinki just wanted to go home. His last target, some CEO of a company Jinki didn’t care to remember the name of, had a tendency to stay late at work but the client had neglected to mention he also liked to keep an army of bodyguards with him while he worked well into the night. Needless to say, Jinki escaped with his life and proof of the target’s death by his hands, but it was probably one of his messiest kills in the past few weeks. He never liked leaving a trail of bodies behind him, but leaving with his life had been more important at the time.

Even so, more blood on his clothes than he would’ve liked, Jinki traveled to his third, and hopefully final, target’s residence. It was a nice house, rather fancy for Jinki’s tastes, but judging by the kind of person his client was, this was to be expected. There wasn’t much in the front of the house in terms of a way in, and by the way the light shone through the curtains, Jinki guessed his target was still very much awake and active. Going through the back seemed like a much better idea.

At least, it did, until the tall wooden fence came into view. “Damn, everyone’s just trying to make my life harder tonight, aren’t they?” Jinki sighed. Korea was small enough as it was; why did these damn rich people need to have tall fences in their backyards like this? Deciding he wasn’t going to get anywhere just sitting there and hoping it would disappear if he glared at the fence long enough, Jinki got as close to the fence as he could and jumped, just barely catching the top edge of it. Quickly, he pulled himself up, huffing in frustration as his jacket got caught on the fence. “Fuck you, Kwon Yang. Fuck you and your stupid fucking fen– Ahh!”

Pulling on his jacket probably wasn’t the best idea, and before Jinki had time to catch himself, he slipped off the other edge of the fence – and right into Kwon Yang’s backyard pool. It took a second for Jinki to realise he was now in water, then another for his reflexes to finally kick in. Damn, that was a loud splash. Kwon Yang probably knew someone was in his backyard now. Quickly pulling himself out of the pool, Jinki ran to the one side of the house, out of the way of any of the windows. If he knew he’d be taking a swim tonight, he would have worn a binder that was a bit bigger. By this point, his chest was just about screaming at him. “Who the fuck,” he huffed, trying his hardest to catch his breath, “has a pool that close to their fence.”

MONSIEUR, HIS SAINT BERNARD, WAS CURLED AT YANG’S FEET, SNORING AWAY. THE SOUND WAS ODDLY COMFORTING. HE’D NEVER MET ANYONE, DOGOR HUMAN, WHO SNORED AS MUCH AS THIS DAMN DOG. BUT YANG LOVED HIM. HE TOOK A SWIG OF WHISKEY, STILL WINCING AT THE HEAT SLIDING DOWN HIS THROAT. IT WAS A TRULY ADDICTIVE FEELING. HE LAID BACK IN HIS SEAT, ALLOWING HIS EYES TO FLUTTER CLOSED. IT WAS RARE, TO BE THIS RELAXED.

BUT THE WORLD HAD SOMETHING ELSE IN STORE FOR HIM. A LOUD SPLASH DREW HIM FROM HIS RELAXED STATE, AND HE JUMPED. MONSIEUR WAS JUST AS STARTLED. HE STARTED BARKING HIS DEEP, BELLOWING BARK. YANG WAS ALWAYS GRATEFUL FOR THE BIG LUG OF A DOG. HE WAS THE SWEETEST DOG ON THE PLANET, BUT HIS BARK WAS TERRIFYING. “HOLD ON, LITTLE DUDE, STAY HERE,” HE WHISPERED. HE DIDN’T WANT A REPEAT OF THE LAST INTRUDER - HE WAS GOING TO KEEP HIS DOG SAFE THIS TIME. HE REACHED DOWN TO RUFFLE THE DOG’S FUR AND HURRIED OUT THE BACK DOOR, LOCKING IT SECURELY BEHIND HIM.

ONLY TO REALIZE THAT HE DIDN’T BRING A WEAPON OF ANY KIND.

YANG’S SELF PRESERVATION TECHNIQUES WERE EXTREMELY LACKING, BUT HE WAS SURE THAT WAS BECAUSE OF HIS LACK OF DESIRE FOR SELF PRESERVATION. HE’D KNOWN ALL ALONG THAT HE SHOULD PROBABLY HIDE HIS IDENTITY WITH HIS AFFILIATION WITH DOKSA - HE WAS ALREADY WANTED BY THE AMERICAN GOVERNMENT, IT PROBABLY WOULDN’T BE A GOOD IDEA TO BE WANTED BY THE KOREAN ONE AS WELL. BUT ALSO, HE COULDN’T BRING HIMSELF TO CARE TOO MUCH.

It wasn’t often that Taeyeon hung around a shop she was targeting, but this was thankfully only temporary. She changed her appearance often, so come next week, it wasn’t likely that anyone who had been here today would even recognise her. Not that it truly mattered, since as soon as the news got to the CEO that one of his stores was attacked, he would know exactly who it was. Eventually he was going to have to give up on protecting his own stores, and the thought amused Taeyeon to no end.

Taeyeon feigned interest in a few racks of clothing as she kept a close eye on her men, waiting for them to strike up conversation with the cashier. She personally wouldn’t be having any interaction with the store for a few days, but she always liked seeing her men trash one of Kafka’s stores, and that was the only reason she insisted on being here. She hadn’t yet targeted this particular branch, but she knew that it would be just as easy to get them to hire her as every other branch of Maddox she had under her protection. Thankfully, Kafka was a CEO that wasn’t too terribly involved in his stores, and instead focused on business at his own level. That meant she had much more time before he found out, and much more time to get as much as she could out of each individual store before the CEO tried to get rid of her.

Today was a quiet day for this particular store, with only one other person besides herself and her men inside the establishment. Taeyeon wasn’t worried; he was a scrawny looking guy, likely around the same age as Taeyeon herself, and would probably go running as soon as her men started getting violent. Which, by the looks of it, would be any second now. As discreetly as she could, Taeyeon reached up to her earpiece and clicked the button on the side. “There’s another man in here,” she spoke. “Scare him off. He’ll probably go running anyway, but make sure he does. I don’t want any bystanders, do you understand?”

HE LEAFED THROUGH RACKS OF CLOTHING, WORRYING HIS LOWER LIP BETWEEN HIS TEETH AS HE THOUGHT. IT WAS OFTEN HARD FOR HIM TO DO ANY KIND OF SHOPPING, AS HE FOUND HIMSELF THINKING MORE ABOUT WHAT TO BUY FOR NAMJOON THAN WHAT TO BUY FOR HIMSELF. BUT SOMETHING TOLD HIM THAT BUYING NAMJOON SOMETHING FROM HIS OWN STORE WAS A LITTLE FAUX PAS. HE NEEDED A NEW SUIT ANYWAY.

BUT HE COULD TELL THAT SOMETHING WASN’T QUITE RIGHT. THE STORE WAS FAIRLY QUIET, WHICH WAS VERY UNUSUAL. THIS WAS A POPULAR STORE, AND ALWAYS FULL OF PEOPLE. BUT FROM WHAT YANG COULD SEE, THERE WAS ONLY ONE OTHER PERSON IN THE STORE. HE SAW A GIRL DASH FROM THE FRONT DOOR, AND IMMEDIATELY, HIS GUARD WENT UP. SOMETHING WAS ABOUT TO HAPPEN, AND HE WASN’T SURE IF HE WANTED TO STICK AROUND FOR IT.

A MAN STANDING A FEW FEET AWAY FROM YANG WAS TALKING INTO AN EARPIECE, WHICH PUT YANG EVEN MORE ON EDGE. THAT MEANT THEY WERE GANG MEMBERS. SHIT. HE WASN’T ABOUT TO LET ANYTHING HAPPEN. THIS WAS NAMJOON’S STORE. WERE IT ANY OTHER PLACE, HE PROBABLY WOULD HAVE TURNED A BLIND EYE AND LEFT. BUT HE HAD TO PROTECT NAMJOON’S STORE.

“THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN’?” HE DEMANDED OF THE MAN WITH THE EARPIECE. HE GRIPPED THE MAN BY THE SHOULDERS, SHOVING HIM AGAINST A RACK OF CLOTHES. HE’D APOLOGIZE TO NAMJOON FOR THAT LATER. “I SUGGEST YOU FUCKIN’ SCRAM, BEFORE I MAKE YOU REGRET TAKIN’ YOUR FIRST BREATH.”

If there was anything in the world that Taeyeon hated more than anything, it was when her men had to be babysat.

Taeyeon had been quite content keeping an eye on a nearby Maddox store, shifting through clothes as she listened to a live audio feed from the store manager’s office through an earpiece. It was unlikely Kafka recovered from this so easily, but it never hurt to be prepared in case they decided her protection wasn’t good enough for them. That was, of course, before one of her lead men called her claiming they had tried to intimidate the owner of a small, locally owned coffee shop, and a scene had broken out. It wasn’t a scene that Taeyeon could diffuse – she just had to hope that none of the other racketeers in the area jumped on the coffee shop before she could salvage the situation.

Likely, it was in her best interest to head over to the coffee shop herself and witness the scene herself so she could step in, giving her lead man the specific instruction to stall the scene and make it last until she got there. If he had to get his hands dirty, then so be it. Although she hated these sort of situations, as creating scenes always led to people talking, it would look strange if she offered the shop her services without actually being there. She stepped into the coffee shop just in time to witness one of her men knocking over a few tables and quickly fell into her role, feigning shock and taking a few frightened steps backwards. Man, had they trashed this place. If this didn’t mean money for her, she would almost feel bad for the owners. Regardless, despite being locally owned, it was a rather well off shop. They would survive.

It only took a few minutes for her men to take their leave, threatening the barista behind the counter that they would be back. The remaining coffee shop staff that hadn’t scampered off in fear were starting to clean up the shop a bit, and Taeyeon struck up some conversation, helping to stand up some of the overturned tables and chairs. “I work for Maddox Corp, I’m actually one of the designers there. Our stores used to get attacked by those men all the time. We actually hired someone to look out for our stores, and we haven’t had one attacked since. I could pass along the contact information, if you’re interested?”

“Fuck!” he yelped, immediately pulling the soaked cloth from his skin. Was this what kind of day today was going to be? He sighed loudly, pulling the talkie to his lips. “What?” he barked.

“There was an occurrence at one of the coffee shops in town. We think there might be some gang activity involved,” came the voice of Jaewook’s second in command, Jang Sangwoo. The man’s voice always grated on Jaewook’s nerves, but it was likely because he’d never had a second in command before, and he hated the very idea of it. The only time there had ever been any kind of second in command when Jaewook was working was when he was working under his father, and his father was the chief. He was lucky to have even had that position.

Jaewook sighed. “Fine. I’ll head down now.” But he definitely needed to change first. He could already feel a painful blister bubbling beneath his shirt. That was the very last thing he needed today. But he ignored it, changing into the spare button down that he kept in his office. His chest was now sporting a brilliant red burn that stung like hell, but he supposed that he did that to himself. He reached a hand up to rake through his hair before heading out of the office.

Once he arrived at the coffee shop, he could tell that the place had been ransacked. Tables were still flipped over, and there was trash strewn all over the store. “God dammit,” he grumbled under his breath. He didn’t want to deal with this, but if it would help him catch at least one of the members of these damn gangs, he didn’t mind it so much. He chewed his lower lip, surveying the scene. There weren’t many people in the shop at the moment, unsurprisingly - except for a woman with peach-coloured hair.

People with different coloured hair were never up to any good, Jaewook thought. Maybe it was just him being old fashioned, but he could never find it in himself to trust people with odd hair or too many tattoos. His father had been the exact same way, and it had been hard to wipe himself of that prejudice. He had a quick word with the barista first, who was quick to tell him that she wasn’t the one who had been present, the other barista had gone home.

Just his luck. He sighed once again and thanked the still-terrified looking girl. What Jaewook couldn’t understand was why anyone would attack a coffee shop, of all places - unless it had connections to gangs as well. Nothing would surprise Jaewook these days.