"V hyung."

Jungkook's voice is hushed as he tips his head towards the closed door. He winces as he runs a fingertip over the corner of his mouth.

My jaw flexes when I see a smear of red.

"Did he hit you?"

"My fault," He murmurs, his expression twisting. "I was thinking about something else, when I shouldn't have."

Then he motions. "He's in there. I'll be here just in case."

I nod. My lips purse in a flat line as I stride through the door, shutting it behind me. There's a pleasure snaking up my throat that I can barely suppress.

Finally.

Min Kian.

He was close to my father. Had been— until he'd recently been found sapping money for himself. My father had instantly stripped him of everything and had thrown him into Jungkook's mercy, with an order to kill.

He grins at me, a streak of blood drying on the side of his face.

"Interesting."

"What might the precious son of Kim Haein be doing in a place like this?"

I stare back, gaze fixed on his crooked smirk.

Cold-blooded snake.

He was only thirty. A few years older than I was, and had already murdered over hundreds under my father's orders. His beady eyes are sliding— flickering, everywhere. Even now, looking for a chance to escape his death sentence.

I laugh.

"I don't think you realize how serious this is."

My fist drives into his temple. And the chair binding him tips, crashing to the floor. He gasps, sputtering in shock. As if he hadn't expected that at all, from me.

Of course.

Only Jungkook and Jimin knew that I fought in the Underground.

A smile ghosts on my lips as I step on one of his hands, my foot angled closer towards his fingers. The blood drains from his face, and I lazily rock back and forth, playing with him and the fear slowly shadowing his face.

I could easily break his fingers. Any of them.

My voice is low as I whisper.

"That was for touching Jungkook."

Then I press down. And I hear the clean snap of bone as his ring finger gives under my foot, before his agonized screams fill the small room. I revel in the sound.

"And that's for Jimin, three years ago."

He continues screaming.

"I don't fucking know a Jimin!"

"Oh, I know," I muse. "You've hurt so many that it just all slips from your mind, doesn't it?"

My voice is deathly soft as I remind him, of what he had done. He's begging, barely listening to me through his pain. All I can hear is his pleads, echoing against the walls.

"You really don't remember about the bartender you made a fucking mess out of three years ago?"

His face dawns with realization.

"I..."

"Yes. Do you remember now?"

It had been the opening night of Jimin's bar. He had been so excited, to serve his first customers. Becoming a bartender had been one of his dreams since he'd been young.

When we were children, there wasn't a single night that Jimin hadn't come to my room late in the night, wanting to show off the tricks he were practicing in secret.

And in that very first night.

I shift my foot towards the next finger, a reaper smile on my lips. And he screams again, this time from pure terror. His other hand grasps around my ankle.

"Please," He gasps frantically. "I'm sorry, okay? God, I'll never forgive myself. I swear. I was just so fucking drunk back then, and he was just there. Wrong place, wrong time. So it's not—"

Fury turns my vision white.

...wrong place.

Wrong time?

That night, I'd found Jimin in the hospital with his entire body covered in bandages. All I'd been able to see when I'd first laid eyes on him had been white.

White, tinted with red.

The doctors had to remove over a hundred pieces of glass from his body that night. Shards of glass, covered with champagne and thick alcohol.

It had taken an year for him to heal, both physically and mentally.

"...you really don't understand, do you?" I murmur, as he spills excuses. "You really don't understand."

His eyes go wide when I draw out a knife.

"W-Wait," He stutters, and I sigh. My fingertips run over the sharpened edge of the blade.

His voice wavers wildly.

"I-I-I'll tell you anything you want to know if you let me go," He says, trembling at the sight of his own death waiting for him. "You k-know I've worked for your father for over a decade. I know everything— anything you possibly want to know. Just..."

"Anything?"

He nods desperately. And I see a flicker of hope in his eyes when I draw back the knife.

Fool.

I'd kill him the moment he told me everything I wanted to know.

"Then tell me about Seohan."

________________________________

Hm.

This must be the place.

And for a long moment I stand there in front of the doorway, rocking back and forth on my feet in hesitation. But finally I raise my fisted hand, about to knock when I hear a hushed voice echo from around the corner.

"So he killed the entire class just for making something better than his."

Oh shit.

I turn and run. And I skid around the corner of the house, just in time as I see the silhouettes of two men appear.

My palms against the soft grass, I carefully peek my head out on the bottom.

It's Jungkook.

And that guy named V.

"Yeah." V says, and I can sense that he's angry. "The entire class, so that none of the information would ever be leaked. Because they refused to sell it to him for a price."

...what are they talking about?

"But he said that a single student might've kept records of the entire process. They could just never find the notes, to destroy them."

"...whose?"

The voice lowers even further. And I barely catch the name.

"Shin Aemin."

My eyes widen. The moment I recognize the name of Aeri's deceased older brother, I realize everything that they'd been going on about.

Now I remember.

Seohan University. Aeri had never liked to talk about her past or her family with me, but one time she had told me the things that had happened. I remembered being completely shocked into silence.

"Miss Aeri's brother."

"Yeah."

Then there's the sound of the footsteps, before I hear the door swinging close. And I'm left there, uncertain of what to do with the things I'd just heard.

Should I tell Aeri?

I should. It wouldn't be right to keep this from her.

Sniffing, I slowly edge towards the shut front door. Then I count a minute in my head, to pass at least a little time before I knock.

But the door swings open on the fiftieth second.

Jungkook.

I gulp at his unwavering gaze.

"H-Hey." I mumble. "I'm just here for—"

"You heard, didn't you."

My eyes widen. And I quickly try to hide the surprise from my face, but it's useless. He's already seen through everything.

So I just nod, defeatedly.

A soft sigh echoes from his lips.

"Come in," He says, stepping to the side. Now I feel so awkward as I shimmy past him, glancing up at him in curiosity. I'd half-expected to kick me out and cancel the deal.

"Miss Rin."

I stop, turning around.

I'm not one to squirm. I'd never been that type of person, since I was a young child.

But he's so close that I can almost feel the heat of his broad figure. I tense a little, my fingers cinching together.

"What?"

"Will you tell her?" He asks, and I know he's talking about Aeri. I stare at him, hesitating. Thinking if I should lie.

But he'd know the truth anyways.

I slowly nod, carefully watching his reaction.

But he doesn't say anything. He just beckons me

towards a line of stairs leading up to the second floor, and I can't help but keep glancing at him.

Why was he just so unpredictable?

Did he want me to tell her or something?

"Up here." He says. And I follow him, getting more and more excited as he pushes open a closed door. There are so many doors up here, on the second floor.

I sniff, my heart still beating a tiny bit fast.

Rich loser.

But then my excitement overwhelms the awkwardness when I see what's behind the door.

The room itself isn't big. But the floor is covered with a firm matting, and in the corner there is a rack of equipment. I don't recognize most of them, but I do recognize some weights and training weapons.

I squeak in happiness.

He throws a look at me over his shoulder. And I smile widely, trotting towards the center of the room where there is a dark sandbag hanging from the ceiling. The rough material is worn with use.

I bounce on my heels.

"So what are we going to do? Should I get those glove-looking things? Or should I—"

"No."

His voice has suddenly changed. And I look up, blinking slowly. Something in the air has slightly shifted.

My voice trails.

"So then what should I..."

He tilts his head.

"You're going to drop,"

"And give me a hundred push-ups."